#gilly glow

[sprinklesoncereal]

I'M NOT DEAD-

I'VE BEEN DOODLING A LOT AND I WANMA DIGITALIZE SOME OF THESE-

But I made more welcome home doodles + ocs :")))

AND THE REAL WORLD WH AU WAS CREATED BY @chez-cinnamon ITS SO FUN TO WATCH IT GROW, GO READ AND LEARN BOUT THEIR AU NOWWWW >:333

((Also the dude smoking in the poorly made school doodle is Fionn which is @//chez-cinnamon's oc!!!))

AND OFC WELCOME HOME WOULDN'T BE HOLDING ME HOSTAGE IN BRAINROT WITHOUT THE TALENTED @partycoffin AND THEIR AMAZING TEAM!!!! ^v^

BUT YEA-

WH OC PUPPPETS:

Boris Mist (wolf with goggles)

Gilly Glow (the short one with antenna who's a firefly!)

Lacy Silkweaver (Ms. Silkweaver) (The lil spider lady based off the bugs on the update!!!

((Gilly goes by They/Them and Ms. Silkweaver goes by She/They!!))

WH HUMAN OCS (FOR REAL WORLD AU AND POSSIBLY MY OWN AU ONCE I COME UP WITH A STORYLINE-)

Milley Rivera

Gillus (Gills) Wheatly

((Milley is genderfluid like Boris + Julie(aka goes by any prns!!) and Gillus goes by He/Him))

[[I SWEAR I'LL POST COLORED ART SOON-]]

[lcpmon]

Oh my god the board was so strong it overpowered the grey print for their eyes

They're evil now

[sherbet-powder]

"Nightlight, bright light,

Sweet dreams I bestow,

Sleep tight, all night,

Forever I will glow."

listen, i havent been posting or drawing lately but its because im too damn lazy. anyways, have @gilly-moon's nightlight^^

[hypewinter]

It started with his parents finding out he was Phantom. That led to him running away with only a simple go bag. Then after a few days of traveling, his hair started turning white. Next his lichtenberg scars started glowing a faint green only visible in the pitch black (he started covering them up with bandages just in case). Finally the pain came. Sometimes it came from the scars themselves. Other times, it was phantom pains from old battle wounds that had long since healed. On a few rare occasions, he would cough up thick green blood. It didn't make any sense. Why him? That's what he thought as he sat doubled over at a bus stop.

"You okay?" He faintly heard someone say. He looked up to see a teen barely older than him staring down at him. His eyes filled with concern.

Edit: this is partially base off of this post by gilly-moon.

[spiritussancto1]

Adventure!

Jegulus multiverse microfic wordcount-959

James has an idea for a date. Regulus does not like surprises.

May 25, 1978 2pm:

  Regulus’ coin glowed warm just as he was dozing off in History of Magic. A portable sun in his pocket. Glad of the distraction, he casually pulled the coin out and started playing with it like he was stimming. He glanced around the room. No one was looking. The coin read,

  “I got you a surprise! 

  Can you come on an 

   adventure tonight?”

  Reg felt his heart rate pick up. An adventure with James Potter could mean anything from earning a month of detention pulling a prank, to playing with a roomful of puppies, to getting wasted out of bounds. It wasn't hard to re-etch the coin unobtrusively, you just needed to form the full message clearly in your mind as you cast the spell silently. And hold your wand so it’s not obvious. And cough or otherwise make a little noise to cover the scratching for the moment it takes. Ok, it’s a little bit hard. He wouldn’t have trusted everyone with one but he’d made one for James and Pandora. Bats and Rosie would be hurt if they knew. He had them carefully marked to prevent sexting Panda by accident but he always triple checked if he sent anything scandalous. 

  “What kind of adventure?”

         “It’s a surprise!

managed to get something 

  it’s given me a great idea

            Trust me?”

It took nearly ten min for Reg to respond.

  “time/place?”

 

 “One eyed witch statue

      3rd floor, east wing

                10pm”

This was not a good idea.

10pm:

  “Psst,” hissed the stone witch

  “James?” Reg whispered, looking around. A grinning curly head ducked out from behind the statue and Regulus slipped in next to him quietly. “What are we doing here?” he hissed

  “Look what I managed to nick from Slughorn's office this morning,” James said conspiratorially, and he pulled out a small paper bag with a few strands of some kind of seaweed.

  “You nicked gillyweed. Why did you nick gillyweed?”

  “Thought it might be fun for a prank but now I have a much better idea,” James said confidently, keeping his voice down

  “What, are we going to go play with the giant squid?” Regulus whispered sarcastically.

James winked at him, “Almost. But let's get out of the open,” he said. He tapped the witch saying, “Dissendium,” and the back of the statue slid open revealing a narrow doorway and steep stone stairs. James made a dramatic and overly polite gesture for Reg to proceed him.

  “And where does that go?” Reg eyed James and the dark passageway, considering.

  “Find out?” and James is grinning

Reg hesitates but they are already out after hours. Fuck it. He climbs into the narrow entrance and goes down a few stairs before turning to James who slipped in behind him and was standing very close when the door slid closed. They were in total darkness for a moment before they both lit their wands

  “How far down does this go?”

  “40 feet? Maybe 50?”

  “And then?”

  “Adventure”

  “You’re impossible,” Reg grumped but he went down anyway. As they descended, the walls got damp and slimy. “Where are we going, Potter?” Reg asks darkly when they’re about halfway down

  “Well I know you like art galleries. Have you ever been to an aquarium?”

  “There’s one in the little muggle city near the Scotland manor. It’s alright. What does that have to do...with...gilly...weed?” Reg trails off, hoping this wasn’t going where he thinks it might be going.

  “Well I know of a really impressive one!” James is nearly bouncing, he's so excited. He takes Regulus’s hand as the passage levels out, playing with his fingers.

  “It’s 10pm Potter. Any aquarium is going to be closed on a Thursday”

  “I know”

  “And we aren’t allowed to go sightseeing in the muggle world during term”

  “We certainly are not”

  “And we can’t aparate out of Hogwarts”

  “No we can’t,” James says cheerfully. It was getting a bit annoying actually.

  “Where are we bloody going James?”

  “Hogsmeade!” James crows, as if that explains everything

  “You don’t actually have a plan at all do you?” Reg suggests flatly. Not that he minded just being here. In a smelly underground tunnel after hours. He probably should mind.

  “Of course I do! I put work into this!”

  “You came up with this idea 8 hours ago”

  “And I’ve put 8 hours of research and planning and supply acquisition into it since then!”

  “Hmmm,” Reg muttered noncommittally. 

  They walked in silence for a few min.

  Reg sighed. “What are we doing in Hogsmeade with gillyweed?”

  “Aparating to Rostock”

  “Rostock. In Germany,” Regulus said flatly.

  “In Germany,” James says happily

  “I should probably learn to just go with your harebrained schemes, shouldn’t I?”

  “Probably, yes”

  “I don’t know how to get to Rostock,” Regulus points out, a half-assed excuse.

  “And I will side-along you. You trust me, don’t you?”

  “To aparate me across the continent in the middle of the night when you won’t explain what we’re doing?” James just smiles and Reg softens, against his better judgement. “....I can’t believe I’m doing this,” but the corners of his mouth were twitching and his heart pounded at the idea of running away with James in the middle of the night. 

  “You know, Remus said that all the time in 1st year,” James tossed out as he turned to face Reg. They stopped at the bottom of another slimy narrow stairway. “Ready?” and he started to put his arms around the smaller boy, hesitating before actually touching him. Regulus took a deep breath, looking into James’ sparkling hazel eyes and nodded. James could have just taken his hand but he enveloped Regulus in his arms, wrapping him close and safe as he spun them into the suffocating darkness.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am actually going somewhere with this. not sure if i should have published this bit along with the next bit instead of on its own but anyone actually reading this feel free to tell me what you prefer.

James does indeed have a plan. it's adorable, if ill-advised. he gets to be a little shit in service of being the most romantic boyfriend ever

part 2 is now here and 3 times the length. i really should have split it up differently or published it all together but c'est la vie

[myakikijackson]

The Christmas Exchange

The guys are running late for Christmas party they organized themselves, along with a gift exchange with their friends and loved ones. This series follows seven different stories over the course of one night. It all begins with:

The Christmas Exchange

Reader/Riz

Readers 18+ only

You sit alone watching everything unfold. This Christmas exchange might not have been the best idea. Coco stormed outside after his old lady, their voices echoing faintly through the thin walls of the clubhouse. She’d thrown something, a recently unwrapped present, you think, just before she slammed the door behind her, leaving Coco swearing under his breath before chasing after her.

Bishop’s much younger girl sat near the edge of the couch earlier, arms crossed and lips in a deep pout. She was as bratty as she was gorgeous. She’d been whispering harshly to Bishop all night, clearly upset by something. Eventually, Bishop sighed, pulled on his jacket, and led her out the door, murmuring an apology to the group as they left.

Angel had snuck off with your friend somewhere more private to exchange some “special” gifts, leaving their laughter trailing behind them like the faint jingle of distant bells. You’d caught your friend’s grin as they slipped away, Angel’s arm slung casually but possessively over her shoulder.

On the other hand, Ez and his new friend looked like they were in their own little world. The two were slow dancing in the corner, oblivious to everything else, swaying to a song that wasn’t even playing anymore. The way they gazed at each other made you smile despite the awkwardness of the evening.

Gilly and his family, though, were the picture of holiday cheer. His son had been sad the entire day thinking his dad was going to miss this Christmas. The club had been on a run and had encountered some snags that resulted in an unfortunate delay. But they made in at the last minute and now he was clinging tightly to his dad, arms looped around his neck as Gilly spun him around the room with a cheery laugh. His wife snapped photos with her phone, her eyes shining with happiness as she watched them. Gilly’s loud joy made the room feel a little brighter, even as the tension from the others lingered in the air.

And then you saw him. The man you’d had your eye on for a while. Riz was leaning against the bar, his long hair catching the glow of the Christmas lights strung haphazardly across the ceiling. He reminded you of those ancient warriors from the cheesy historical romance novels you couldn’t help but devour, stoic, strong, and just a little mysterious.

Riz caught your gaze, then sauntered over, a cold beer in hand. He sat next to you with his usual unhurried ease.

“It’s been quite the eventful night, huh?” he said, handing you the bottle.

“Yeah, for real. I question if this was all even a good idea.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and low. “Nah, it’s fine. Bishop will lay the law down at home, and Coco will be alright. It’ll all work out. Everyone else will have a good time.”

“Will we? I mean, everyone else. I didn’t mean to imply you and me,” you added quickly, feeling your cheeks warm.

“We will.” He looked at you for a moment, his dark eyes steady. “I have a gift for you, but I left it in the car. I’m not sure I wanna go out there right now, it sounds like a battlefield.”

“You got me a gift?”

“Yeah.” His voice dipped slightly, quieter, like he was revealing something he wasn’t used to sharing. “Wasn’t sure if it’d be your thing, but it reminded me of you.”

You tilted your head, caught off guard. “Of me?”

“Yeah.” His lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. “I was gonna leave it anonymous, but... figured that’d be stupid, huh. So one of the other guys take the credit, nah?”

The thought of Riz—Riz, of all people, thinking about you enough to pick out a gift left you momentarily speechless. Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned back, his gaze flicking toward the front door where Coco and his old lady’s argument still raged faintly in the distance.

“Do I get a hint, or is this one of those ‘wait and see’ kind of deals?” you teased, trying to keep your voice steady.

He smirked. “A hint, huh?” He scratched the back of his neck, something you’d rarely seen him do, and it made him look younger, less untouchable. “Alright. It’s... something for those ‘cheesy historical romance novels’ you’re always reading.”

Your eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, nudging your shoulder lightly with his. “You’re not as secretive as you think. I’ve seen the covers peeking out of your bag, half-naked dudes with long hair fighting dragons or whatever. Didn’t think I noticed?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands, but you were laughing. “Oh my god, Riz.”

“Relax, I’m not judging,” he said, his grin widening. “Like I said, it reminded me of you.”

“Now I have to know what it is,” you said, your curiosity fully piqued.

He glanced at the door again, hesitating. “Alright, alright. You win. I’ll brave the battlefield,” he said, standing up and stretching lazily before grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Wait! You don’t have to go out there now,” you said, half-laughing, half-serious.

“Yeah, I do. I wanna see your reaction.” Riz turned back to you, his face softening as he added, “It’s important to me that you like it.”

His words made your heart skip a beat. Without waiting for a reply, he pulled the door open, letting in the sharp bite of the December air. You followed him out, the noise of the heated argument between Coco and his girlfriend immediately cutting through the night.

Coco was pacing near the edge of the parking area, his voice carrying as he threw his hands up in exasperation. “You know what? Fine! Go ahead and run off like you always do! You’re a fucking succubus, you know that? A goddamn succubus!”

His girlfriend shot him a glare over her shoulder as she stormed in the opposite direction. “Maybe if you weren’t such an immature jackass, I wouldn’t have to!” she snapped before getting into her car and slamming the door.

Coco stopped pacing, running his hands through his hair as he muttered a string of curses under his breath as she sped off. Finally, he let out a frustrated growl, shaking his head as he turned and walked toward his bike. He didn’t spare either of you a glance as he mounted it, revving the engine loudly before peeling out of the lot in the opposite direction of his girlfriend.

You and Riz exchanged a glance, both caught between amusement and secondhand embarrassment.

“Well, that was... something,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Typical Coco,” Riz muttered, shaking his head with a chuckle. “He’ll cool off. Probably be back to groveling by morning.”

“Do you think she’ll forgive him?”

Riz shrugged, pulling you gently toward his car parked near the far end of the lot. “Probably. She always does. Those two thrive on drama.”

He unlocked the car and rummaged around in the backseat for a moment before turning back to you, a garment bag draped over one arm and a small, wrapped box in the other hand.

“Here,” he said, handing you the garment bag first. “Open this first.”

You unzipped the bag and pulled out a stunning historical gown. The deep burgundy fabric shimmered in the faint glow of the parking lot lights, and the intricate lace and embroidery gave it the unmistakable flair of something out of your beloved romance novels.

Your brow furrowed as you stared at it, confused. “Riz... what is this? Why would you get me something like this?”

He grinned, clearly amused at your reaction. “Yeah, I thought you might need it for this,” he said, holding out the small box.

You opened it, revealing two tickets to a Renaissance fair tucked inside. Your eyes widened as realization hit you.

“A Renaissance fair?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah,” he said, a little sheepishly. “Figured it’d be your thing. Thought we could go together. You know, knights, castles, dragons or whatever those books of yours are always about.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest as you stared at the tickets, then back at him. “You really thought about all this?”

“Of course I did,” he said, his voice soft. “Wanted it to be special. You deserve that.”

For a moment, the cold night air and the lingering chaos of the evening faded away, leaving only the warmth of his gesture and the quiet sincerity in his eyes.

“Merry Christmas,” he added, his grin widening.

You couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “Merry Christmas, Riz.”

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

He should be having a mental breakdown behind the club

Sea Three going clubbing, as they deserve <3

It is dark and the air in the club vibrates with music, deep and wild. The sound echoes through Harry’s bones, but he manages not to focus on that, with Uma and Gil dancing right in front of him.

Uma– She’s wearing a shiny minidress tonight, as if she needed the extra bling to be jaw-droppingly beautiful – Harry almost scoffs at the thought. She is also dancing oh-so-close to him and singing the lyrics at the top of her lungs. The club is so loud that Harry can barely hear his Captain’s voice, but oh well, just more of the reason to go closer.

He grins at her and twirls her around, only laughing more when she bumps into him. He catches her into a hug and soon, Gil is there too: „Aww, group hug!“ he exclaims before he proceeds to pick them both up and spin around, causing a minor commotion on the packed dance floor.

These people should have known better than to get too close to them, anyway.

„Gil!“ Uma shrieks, laughing, „Put us down!“

He does, though he doesn’t let go entirely, and the music drops lower yet; it makes the hair at the back of Harry’s neck stand up. Unconsciously, he tightens his hold around Uma’s waist.

She glances up at him and moves her lips in a silent question: „You okay?“ (She has pretty lips.) He just smiles at her instead of an answer and inclines his head, knowing she’ll want more than just a smile.

„Okay,“ she says and then she presses a quick kiss to his jaw; „Love you.“ This leaves him so dazed he almost misses it when the music drops all-time low – when the DJ speaks and the crowd chants with him – when the lights flicker and die, only to come back wrong.

And there, of course, Uma is, amidst the nigh-black mass of the club, gleaming and alight, like the goddess she is; Harry wishes he could appreciate that properly, now.

Instead, he just blinks, processing the strange light and the music and pulses through him; he moves one of her braids over her shoulder.

„Uma!“ Gil exclaims, startling Harry from his thoughts, „You are glowing!“

Uma smiles – her lips glow, too – and winks at Harry before turning around and wrapping her arms around Gil. „If anyone asks, it’s just make-up, Gilly,“ she says, as if anyone who knows her – anyone from the <i>crew</i> would believe that.

But the club is too busy for Harry to argue, the too deep music and bodies all around them, uncomfortably close, and this is Auradon, he can’t just stab people for getting too handsy, break their bones–

„I’ll be right back, love,“ he says to her – hopefully she heard, or Gil, or – and walks into the crowd, pushing the shapeless mass out of his way. A sharp elbow, a hard push, who could blame him, really?

Soon, he is out of the stuffy dance floor, and looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Fuck. He didn‘t drink enough yet to be feeling so out of it. He grips the cold edge of the sink and closes his eyes, breathing in deeply.

When he opens his eyes again, staring back at him is the same manic expression as always. The eyeliner frames his eyes perfectly, but does little else to disguise the twirl in insanity inside. 

He blinks again and nothing changes, his eyes are still as wide as before and the air is still too heavy, and– Eh, might as well.

Harry exits the bathroom and walks directly to the bar. He pushes aside Ivy de Vil, who was flirting with the bartender and probably well on her way to get a free round for herself and whoever she wishes and orders.

She keeps speaking into his order gesturing to the bartender wildly, and he cannot distinguish her words; he shuts his eyes for just a moment, to block out at least something.

When he opens his eyes again, the three drinks he ordered for himself and his partners are in front of him, as well as two shots of clear liquid; Ivy grabs one of them.

„Vodka,“ she shouts, but he’s mostly reading her lips, „You look like you need it.“

He grabs his shot without thinking.

„Cheers.“

They drink together, and the shock of the alcohol does manage to block out the club for a moment. Harry shakes his head, ignores his hair falling into his eyes, and throws some money on the counter; it is probably enough.

He doesn’t really care that he just paid for Ivy’s drink, too.

He doesn’t spare her another glance as he walks into the thick crowd of people that make his skin crawl. He finds Uma and Gil easily enough – she’s still glowing like a star – and gives them the drinks; neither of them comment on his being half-empty already.

He watches them dance, Uma pulling in more and more people with her magnetic presence, but he doesn’t join, can’t bring himself to move. When Gil looks at him questioningly, he just shoots him a smile: Everything’s just fine, isn’t it?

He presses his nails into his palms.

The next thing he notices is Uma, taking the drink from him and speaking at him; he does his best to focus and listen, because it’s Uma.

„…Outside?“

He nods, mostly because saying „yes“ to his Captain’s suggestions is the most natural thing for him to do, and relaxes a little when she takes his hand, having given her own drink to Gil.

He focuses on the contact as he follows her through the club, the sea of people spreading apart to let her pass, she flashes her bracelet to the security by the entrance, and the cold air hits him in the face.

He exhales in relief, shutting his eyes and waits for the afterglow of the club lights to go away. Uma pulls him closer to her and he hides his face in her hair. 

„It’s okay,“ she mutters, „You should’ve told me sooner. It’s okay now.“

Maybe it really is, with her hugging him and Gil carefully putting his arms around both of them.

„Sorry,“ he says.

„Don’t say sorry, Harry,“ she says,„It was getting way too hot and crowded in there anyway.“

„Yeah, way too hot,“ agrees Gil quickly.

„So we’re just gonna stay here for a bit, okay, Harry? Let’s go sit.“ She gestures towards the wall. Let’s go sit, of course, he can do that – as long as she doesn’t let go.

And either way: „I love you,“ he says. It just seems like an important thing to say. „You know that, right? I love you.“

„I know,“ says Uma, smiling, tugging him down to sit.

„Love you too.“ Gil.

Harry sits in between them, just enjoying how close they are and that nothing else is trying to steal his attention, tearing it in a million directions. He lays his head on Uma’s shoulder.

„I don’t think I want to go back inside anytime soon.“

[suzukiblu]

more pocket-sized soulmates from @bucky-boychik-barnes's Pockets AU:

Tim's Pocket refuses to wear a mask, which is an issue. He doesn't want to wear the tiny wire-rimmed glasses either, or even change out of his weird straps-and-belts version of the Superman suit into . . . literally anything else, at this point. Tim would take anything else. They've given him options, but he's refused them all. He won't take off the costume. 

Also he won't stop flying around the cave like a bat out of hell, and it's seriously annoying. 

"Have you successfully selected a name for your Pocket, Master Tim?" Alfred inquires as he pours everyone tea at the table while Bruce is staring assessingly at Tim's Pocket, including four little Pocket-sized cups' worth–one for Bruce's Cat ("Kitty" to the tabloids), one each for Dick's Red and Star, and one for Tim's . . . whoever. 

Alfred doesn't have a Pocket of his own. Tim's always felt too awkward to ask about it. 

And Jason never got a Pocket at all. 

"No, not yet," Tim says, because the whole no-mask/yes-cape issue has been a lot more immediately concerning than naming him. He can't take a Pocket Superman home to his dad. Pocket Clark Kent is going to be bad enough. 

Assuming Tim's Pocket ever puts the stupid glasses on, anyway. 

"You should get on that," Dick advises as he picks up his teacup with an appreciative nod of thanks to Alfred and takes a sip. "Red got really mad at me when I didn't name her right away. I mean, like, naming Pockets is so . . . outsider, you know? And kinda gilly, too. But that's how Babs grew up, obviously, and I don't know how they did it on Krypton, but Uncle Clark was raised by gadje too, so . . ." 

Tim understood absolutely none of that, but just nods like he did and makes a note to go do some research later. 

"Sure," he says, just hoping he can convince his Pocket to ditch the damn cape sooner than later. Red wheels her tiny wheelchair over to the Pockets' nicely-set little tea table and ignores Star floating down to land in the seat across from her. They don't usually get along very well, which is a little weird to see in Pockets who didn't come from people who are, like, on the literal opposite ends of the ethical spectrum, especially ones that belong to the same person, but they both settle in all the same. Cat does an artful flip off of Bruce's caped shoulder down to the table and then strolls over to join them. Tim's Pocket looks curious, but stays hovering in the air just over his shoulder. 

Is his Pocket, like, antisocial or something? Is that a concern? Usually Pockets group up really easily, from what Tim knows. Not that he's ever had one before, and admittedly his parents' had always mostly ignored each other, but . . . normally they do, right? 

Cat chirps impatiently and makes a beckoning gesture at Tim's Pocket, but he, very weirdly, sort of floats backwards and almost . . . hides behind Tim's head. Just for a moment, but . . . 

Weird, Tim thinks. Weird, and not very Superman-like. Pockets are usually a bit more emotionally honest than the people they come from, but Superman's met Cat as many times as Bruce has met Laney, so why would a Pocket that came from him ever hesitate to go over to her? 

Star chirps too, holding out her arms and starting to glow with intensely bright solar radiation that would only be an encouraging gesture to a Kryptonian, Tim is sure. It does the job, though, and his Pocket pauses for just a moment longer, then goes to the visible effort to put on a bright grin and darts over to land beside her. She immediately starts chattering at him in Pocket-talk and he chatters back easily, and Tim then has to witness his own damn Pocket start undeniably flirting with one of Dick's Pockets. 

He has never been more mortified in his life, he thinks right up until his Pocket turns his head and starts flirting with Cat. 

Tim disassociates a little. Like. Just a bit. 

Or a lot. 

"Hm," Bruce says while Tim is busy dying of mortification, his eyes narrowing assessingly. Star is happily flirting back at Tim's Pocket, to Tim's absolute horror, but worse, Cat is actually humoring him. 

Tim has died and this is hell. There's no other explanation whatsoever for this.  

Cat reaches over and scritches his Pocket behind the ears. He looks startled, then visibly zones out for a moment, and then leans into the contact and purrs. Cat chirps approvingly, Star laughs, and Red snorts, but fondly. 

Tim is definitely, definitely in hell right now. Oh god. What is happening right now and why is it happening to him? 

"Well, he's got aspirations, I'll give him that," Dick says wryly as he leans back in his chair. "Though I don't think Lois Lane would appreciate them." 

"It's not Superman," Bruce states matter-of-factly. Tim and Dick both blink; Tim's Pocket immediately scowls.

[starboy-acer]

gillion tidestrider headcanons!

Gillion Tidestrider has more prominent shark features than most tritons. Tritons typically have some sort of shark features about them, but they all typically have different ones. Some have a dorsal fin on their back, some have multiple rows of sharp, serrated teeth, most have small fins on their forearms and/or calves. Gillion has the tail of a Great White, strong and large. He has slightly larger fins on his forearms AND calves. He also has one, maybe two, rows of serrated shark teeth. He has webbed feet, but his hands are just slightly webbed, like it wouldn't be noticeable unless he spread all his fingers out.

The main defining feature between Gillion and other triton is his changes when influenced heavily by emotion. I.E. his battle rage. As a paladin, he doesn't technically rage, but as the Chosen One, he does undergo changes. This doesn't happen when he's normally fighting. This is a state of pure battle rage. Think of it like adrenaline. His magic courses through his body, causing his eyes to glow and pure magic to radiate off of him. Sometimes, spines start to grow from his back. Basically, with the pairing of an enlarge spell, he looks like Godzilla.

Monster Gilli, you have my entire heart.

[writingwrongwjc]

Give Me Your Command

Jon Snow X (fem!) Reader

Disclaimers: I do not edit my writings on here, possible grammatical errors. I am new to the fandom, only seen the show (to season 5), and this IS TV Jon I know book Jon is different!

Warning: Smut!!, oral(fem receiving)

 For reasons unknown to the rest of the brother you had rode to castle black seeking refudge weeks prior. Since Gilly had already been staying there long before you, you were allowed to stay; given you’d help out with “the womens chores”. The cooking and cleaning they meant. It didn’t bother you much, although you were raised a proper Lady by a prominent family.

Before the world revealed itself so complicated you were even meant to marry the edlest Stark boy but truth be told you had eyes for his bastard brother.

On this day Jon was elected as new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He was proud of course but not exactly excited you could tell. Why would he be, you thought. It’s a thankless task and yet another reason the two of you couldn’t be together. You knew from the day he left for the Night’s Watch you’d have to get over your little crush on Jon Snow, but even still you heart longed for what you can’t have. Not in the light of day anyway. When the settled beneath the gleaming snow you snuck from you and Gilly’s shared quarters to his Jons keep across the way; expecting him to be curled up beneath the thick furs on his bed. When you approached the door you noticed the flickering light of candles behind the door. Standing there quietly you pressed your ear to the door to listen for voices. When only the soft crackle of the candles woven wicks could be heard, you opened the door with a quiet swiftness. Jon sat at his desk so entrenched in his work that he had not yet noticed you. You couldn't help but admire his frustrated features in the warm glow. The way his brows furrowed together without force, the way he pouted his lower lip while he thought, jaw clenched tight, and his thick mess of curls draped around his face. Twisting your thoughts deep into their darkness you imagine yourself tugging at his mess of hair, parchment scattered across the floor, ink spilling down the desk. Only for a second you thought about what it could be like to have him as yours and yours alone. 

“Seven hells Y/N… It’s late.” He said seconds after you walked in noticing your sudden presence. 

You let out a soft chuckle at his schock “Who knew the Lord Commander could be so afraid of a Lady.” 

“You only startled me! I expected you’d be sleeping my Lady”

“And I expected the same of you, Lord Commander Snow.” You say coyly.

“Well being Lord Commander is a lot of work, I haven’t got time to rest when I’ve got crows coming for the south, the southeast, the west. I’ve got to find more men, keep the ones I do have from killing eachother.” Jon spits out all at once. “Sorry you don’t wanna here all of that.”

“You’re under a ton of pressure I understand, but I don’t think anyone else is more fit for the job.”

He relaxes his gaze up at you the moment the reassurance leaves your lips, halfway searching for something else to say halfway letting himself enjoy the silence.

“There is one bad thing about it though, you really ought to take your vows seriously now? No more playing around with ‘wildling whores’.” You bring this up not so much to tease Jon about his alleged past relationship with a widling girl but to tease the other men for being so focused on it that they haven’t caught on in the slightest to you and Jon’s flirting 

He laughs at the thought, contemplating his next words carefully, not exactly sure if he should say what he's thinking. Then his face straightens itself out, his deep brown eyes filling with lust.

 “Technically, our vow is only to take no wife and bear no children.”

“What are you saying, my Lord?” you inch closer to the desk in anticipation.

“It’s Lord Commander, my Lady.” He says, standing from his chair walking around to the front side resting against the ledge and crossing his arms, looking down at you. 

“Then give your command, Lord Commander, and I shall do it.” You reach out to him resting your hands on the cool leather taught against his chest. Gliding your hands across his chest until his shoulder rest comfortably in one hand and chin in the other.

Steading his breath he looks you in your eyes, unable to utter a single word. Between your bold words and body pressed right up against his he could hardly think of a command to give. 

Instead, he crashed his lips into your own with a light grasp on the small of your back not yet working up the courage to pull your hips into his; although you could tell he desperately wanted to. With his “command” you took lead working your hands down his body as your tongues danced circles and pulling his hands onto your butt guiding him into a firm grasp. Allowing time to feel the comfort of eachothers bodies before moving further Jon took to kissing your jawline gently tilting your head upward by placing his hand loosely on the base of your neck. And then releasing you all together looking you in the eyes for reassurance and as reassurance you unlace your top sliding off your dressing gown, the thick wool and silk fabric bundling up at your feet. 

With finesse Jon slides his warm hand onto your breast taking your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging with little force. Continuing to kiss you steadily, this time more eager to take lead. Just before your lips meet again a quiet moan escapes your lips, swallowed up quickly when he locks his lips onto yours. 

“Make me yours Jon Snow.” you whisper, panting for air. He lifts you up with little effort lying you with care onto the desk, the edge just at the bend of your knees. Although, he doesn’t let your legs dangle free for long. He kisses a trail down your body lingering over your breast, sucking on your tender nipple while he grips your other breast in his hands. Continuing on down your abdomen just as quickly as his mouth arrived to your nipple, And in a haze the next thing you know his warm tongue is attached to your center. Your breath races to escape your lungs but your throat is not so eager to let it, resulting in a high pitched whine. As Jon dines on your pussy like he’s never eaten a day in his life you can’t help but to brush your fingers into his messy curls, begging for more with both your hands and your hips. You can feel it, the pressure rising. Grinding against his face with everything in you, and doing your best not to scream out. 

“Jon…just… like that.” you moan loudly, bucking your hips, gripping his hair tighter. Startled by your noise he slows down his movements for only a second. Not too long to take you back from the edge. You’re unable to hold back the noise anylonger panting, and moaning, whining out for more. 

  He come up from between your legs his lips and bead soaked in all of your juices. 

“Like honey.” he says with a soft smirk lifting you back up so youre sitting on the edge of the desk now. Bringing you in close kissing you, first on the forehead, then again on the lips and, cupping your head in his hands as he does so. Holding you close as your breathing steadies itself once again.

“I have work to do.”

“It can wait fifteen more minutes right?”

“No but I’m sure you can, that bed is quite soft. He said with with a toothy grin, nodding his head toward the bed that Ghost lay at the foot of. 

“Not a minute more, I’ll freeze to death. On your watch.”

Truthfully Jon Snow had finished his duties for the night long before you had even come in but he sat contemplating his future. So when he returned to his work he only sat at his desk worried one of his brothers may have heard your cries of pleasure. Debating on whether or not he should let himself have relese or just be satisfied in yours.

[bullet-prooflove]

TheWall! Series Part One: Poker Night - Bishop Losa x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond  @wakeama @fanfic-n-tabulous @dreamlandcreations @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @purrrrfect @adaydreamaway08 @stressed-chas @spookyboogyuniverse @librarian1002 @msjava1972 @thanossexual @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @nessamc @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @justreblogginfics @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u @irishavengersassemble @fanfic-n-tabulous

Companion Series to:

Complicated - Bishop already knows your secret.

The Wall - Bishop comes home to find you covered in blood.

It’s poker night at Vicki’s.

Bishop thinks it’s going to be quiet. A couple of drinks, a few rounds of cards while the rest of the guys blow off a little bit of steam. It’s more toned down than it used to be now that most of them have coupled up, but they’ve got a few guys up from Yuma who were looking for a specific form of entertainment and Vicki’s happy to oblige.

Bishop’s playing out the best hand of his life when they hear the gun shots. He knows the sound of a high calibre, long range weapon when he hears it. Despite your best efforts the Reed Coalition are still hunting down immigrants. He knows you’re not out there tonight. You’re meeting with the accountant to discuss the community centre’s finances. Still hearing those gun shots, it puts the shits up him. They were close, too close he thinks.

It's the flash of headlights that makes his heart sink, the sound of wheels spinning out on gravel. Creeper slides the curtain back and Bishop sees the colour drain out of his face before an expletive leaves his mouth. He’s on his feet as the door is thrown open.

It’s you that Riz is carrying, you who’s bleeding out in the other man’s arms. Drops of blood trail down your limp wrist, pattering onto the hard wood floor. Bishop knows that he’ll hear that sound in his fucking dreams.

Coco uses his arm to sweep the cards and poker chips from the table, the plastic disks scatter across the floor, rolling under chairs that are being shifted to make way for the causality. Riz is careful as he lays you down, Bishop takes in the sight of him as Gilly assists. Theres’s glass in his hair, miniscule shards glittering in the warm glow from the lights above. Streaks of crimson run down the left side of his face in rivets from slices across his forehead, cheek and neck. His shirt is soaked with blood, a mixture of both yours and his.

You’re awake, your hand is pressing Riz’s hoodie against the wound just under your clavicle. Coco covers your palm with his own, taking over the task. Bishop’s hand slips into yours, clasping it tightly, quiet reassurance that he’s there, that you aren’t alone. He feels that relief thundering through his system when you squeeze back. You hiss when Coco removes the hoodie, his features pinched as he tries to assess the wound.

“Stitches is on route, but she's an hour out.” Creeper informs them before Vicki shoves a First Aid kit into his hands and directs him to one of the bedrooms up the stairs. Her attention switches to Riz, guiding him onto one of the barstools as Hank flicks open the clasps of his own First Aid box.

“We need to take you upstairs.” Bishop tells you. “Get you some privacy so that Coco can get a better look at that wound. I’ll follow you up alright?”

You nod, a tear leaking down your cheek that he chases away the calloused pad of his thumb.

“I’m gonna be right here Mi Cielito.” He promises you. “Everything is gonna be ok.”

Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[harleyshahas]

If you're taking requests - Blackice for the touch prompts? 👀

33. Tasting their smile Or 45. Feeling their temperature

(Or 58. "Forever Mine" kisses from the kiss list, I'm indecisive and like giving options lol)

(Also I (platonically) love you too ♡)

33. Tasting their smile for @gilly-moon

Jack's smile was always so bright, so welcoming, so warm.

Maybe that didn't really make sense for a creature of ice and snow, but he was warm. His eyes sparkled like the rising sun with his fun and mischief, and his smile was just as blinding.

It pissed Pitch off.

It pissed him off because he had watched Jack from the shadows, had seen that smile waver and fall, had seen those eyes grow hazy with tears that never fell, had seen the cloudy storm of emotions play out, and it was all just as beautiful. Jack's moods could affect his winter if he wasn't careful, and more often than not, especially in the beginning, Jack would forget this. He would bring his fun and snow, the children would play, but the moment a child walked through him that fun would shift, darken. Clouds would roll in, and what had once been a soft flurry perfect for sledding would grow and grow until fat flakes nearly blinded all who were caught in the blizzard. Parents were left confused, children fearful, and Pitch loved nearly every second of it.

But that damn smile always came back.

Even before Pitch attacked the Guardians he wanted to see that smile wiped off that pale face, wanted Jack to let loose with his power, watch the world be covered in ice. But instead he had to watch Jack prance around with those damned Guardians, had to watch as they took his best chance at reclaiming his power, had to watch as Jack smiled and laughed with them.

It made him sick.

Even now, after three years of quiet exile, he watched as Jack played with the children in the little town they shared, smiling and laughing and throwing snowballs. The kids here actually saw him, they played with him, going so far as to tackle him to the ground and pile snow on his head. Jack laughed all the while.

Pitch watched. He watched every day that Jack was around, tasting his deeply buried fears ofThis won't last andThe next time they'll walk through me like the rest andWhen will they leave?

Jack's fear continued to sustain him even after all these years. Pitch wasn't sure how he felt about that.

It wasn't until one day close to Christmas after a rather exciting snowball fight that Jack finally noticed him. The sun was setting, casting an orange and fiery glow to the snow and Pitch marveled at the way it didn't melt. The children said their good-byes to Jack as their parents called them home, all of them giving the winter spirit a hug as Jack gave them a near teary smile. As the last one left, the boy who had stood against Pitch that fateful Easter weekend, Pitch had sneered, his low growl echoing in the following silence. Jack whirled around.

He saw Pitch at the base of a nearby oak tree, Pitch contemplating briefly if he should run, but he decided against it. This confrontation had to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner? With that in mind, he stepped out of the shadows, crossing his arms as he leant against the tree.

Jack's eyes were wide as he stared at him, mouth dropping open slightly.

Pitch smirked. "What's the matter, Jack? The rabbit got your tongue?"

The younger spirit shook his head, but his eyes remained wide. "You're alive..."

Pitch snorted. "Course I'm alive. It takes more than some Nightmares to kill me. Did you really think you'd seen the last of me?"

"No - I didn't..." Jack trailed off. His staff was held loose in his hands in his shock.

"Fear is a powerful thing, Jack," Pitch continued. "If left to itself, it grows and festers. It survives."

"Is that what you do?" Jack asked. His bright eyes cleared, his brow rose, but still he did not raise his staff. He took a step towards Pitch.

"It's what I've always done," Pitch stated quietly. He watched as Jack came to a stop barely three feet from him, watched as Jack watched him. "There will always be fear, therefore there will always be me. I didn't lie about that."

Jack's brow furrowed and his grip finally tightened on his staff. Pitch did not move. "Then what did you lie about?"

"What use did I have in lying?" Pitch said. He pushed off the tree, Jack tensed his grip, but the Boogieman only placed his hands behind his back, gripping one wrist with the other hand as he brushed past the small spirit. "I laid all my cards on the table that day and everything I said, everything I offered, was true. It's your choice to believe it."

"Choice..." Jack muttered. Pitch glanced over his shoulder. Jack stared down at the snow with a bitter twist to his lips. "You chose to attack the Guardians, the kids, even if you can never fade away?"

"What use is living if you can't share your life with someone?" Pitch watched as Jack's head jerked up, staring at him once more with wide eyes and mouth open. Pitch took a step to half turn to him.

"Family..." Jack whispered near brokenly and Pitch could only nod.

"I definitely didn't lie about that."

Silence fell over them. Jack watched him with that heartaching expression, his eyes hazy with tears that could not fall, and Pitch didn't comment on it. He stared down at Jack, gripping his wrist so tight his nails were starting to break through his skin.

Jack was... achingly beautiful, even in his melancholy. He had seen the rage, the bitter anger and resentment, the fearful turmoil, every time those bright eyes looked at him back then, and every time he was so, so beautiful. All the love and light and laughter was meant for everyone else, but this, Jack's most deeply buried feelings, all the ugly faces he wouldn't dare show the children, those were meant for him.

Pitch turned away. Something bitter and vile was clawing up his throat, his nails digging into his skin. Shadows roiled around him, the darkening night darkening further.

He didn't want those ugly feelings. But he did deserve them.

He took a step away, the nearest shadow wrapping around his foot as he prepared to return to his lair.

"Hey, wait a minute!"

Pitch stopped. Jack darted forward on the wind, stepping down just in front of him. He chewed his lower lip between his teeth, something shining in his eyes Pitch had never seen before, not to him.

"What?" he asked. Pitch wasn't sure if he sounded tired... or confused.

Jack chewed his lip some more. His grip tightened and loosened on his staff. "Do you wanna... I don't know, have some fun?"

More silence was swallowed up by the snow around them.

"What?" Pitch was definitely confused.

Jack snorted lightly, covering his mouth. Pitch blinked down at him. "Sorry! I mean, you just... seem like you could use some fun in your life, I guess." His eyes were sparkling in a way they never had before at Pitch.

Pitch loosened his grip on his wrist. "I think your idea and my idea of fun are two very different things, Jack Frost."

Jack was definitely grinning behind his hand. "Maybe, but I think there's a way we can meet in the middle. There's a Christmas horror movie playing at the local theater." His hand dropped and his grin was mischievous. He looked up at Pitch from under his lashes. "Wanna help me scare some humans?"

The smile that tugged at Pitch's lips was slow, menacing, and positively delighted. He bowed with a flourish, holding a hand out dramatically. "Lead the way."

Jack laughed and hopped in the air, Pitch followed from the shadows. He was led to a cinema, popping up from the shadows behind a small crowd of humans already in their seats and waiting for the show to start. Jack landed next to him. He gestured to the back row where no one was sitting, and Pitch followed him. From there, they had a decent view of the movie goers. The audience was silent with anticipation, the title card played, and the tension was palpable.

Jack leaned in close to him, as if anyone could hear him, and Pitch indulged him, leaning down to meet him. "Wait for my signal," was all he said. Pitch nodded, then sat back to enjoy the show.

The first five to ten minutes of the movie took place indoors, but any time a character stepped outside Jack would tap his staff to the floor. The temperature in the theater dropped, and the audience visibly shivered. Some looked around themselves, their nerves lighting up and Pitch breathed it all in. Pitch caught on quickly, his shadows roiling in the dark corners of the theater everytime a character entered a dark room. Tension rose as the humans muttered amongst themselves. One even pointed at his shadows.

As the movie went on, Jack worked a breeze through the room. Someone yelped. At another point, Pitch encouraged his shadows to dance at peoples feet. More than one person jumped. At the next jump scare, a shadow tugged on a woman's hair and she screamed. The rest of the audience jumped and the tension had reached the ceiling by the time the third act had started.

Jack was shaking in his seat. Pitch glanced over, worried for half a second that this wasn't actually what he'd had in mind, that he had messed this up somehow, that he was scaring Jack away.

To his absolute shock, Jack was laughing. He was laughing so hard he was shaking, near doubled over with a hand clamped over his mouth. Delighted tears clung to his lashes and his feet practically stamped the floor through his giggles. A smile twitched at Pitch's lips.

Jack had never laughed for him before.

He leaned down. "Ready for the big finish?" he whispered against a pale ear, his voice husky with the power he had fed on, and maybe with something else he didn't want to name just yet. Jack looked up at him with shining blue eyes, sparkling like the sun on a chilly winter morning, hand still clamped over his mouth as he nodded vigorously. Pitch smirked back. "Then watch the master at work," he preened.

He instructed the shadows to calm a little, relegating them back to the corners. The audience seemed to calm with them, the tension still high, but enough to make them relax and enjoy the final moments of the movie. As they watched, Pitch moved his shadows out of their sight, snaking them up through the aisles to wait at unsuspecting feet. Pitch lifted a finger, tapping Jack's staff and Jack got the hint, providing a final chilly breeze that immediately had the audience on edge. Anticipation was thick.

And then, as the music swelled and the killer was revealed, the hero screamed and the audience screamed with him as shadows brushed against revealed skin, pulling on hair and brushing against cheeks and hands, tugging feet and poking their backs sharply. Pitch cackled as someone broke down into sobs.

As the credits rolled, the humans cheered, clapping and laughing and crying in equal measure. Pitch shadow traveled to the front of the room, standing before the humans on a pedestal of shadows, and taking a low bow. When he looked up, not a one of them was looking at him, and he expected that, and he expected the hurt that inevitably came with it, but he did not feel it. Instead, he felt warmth as there in the back, perched upon the tip of his staff, was Jack Frost, clapping wildly along with the audience and smiling that blindingly bright smile right down at him.

Jack had never smiled at him like that.

But there he was, clapping and cheering and smiling just for him and Pitch felt warmth fill his insides, felt a lump lodge in his throat. He looked away as the audience left, followed them out quickly through the shadows. Jack joined him not too long after.

"That was amazing!" the younger man cheered excitedly. "That was so cool, I've never been able to get a reaction like that! I can usually get a few shivers and some laughs, but man! I've never gotten them to scream like that! You have to teach me how to do that! How do you know how to time it so well? I've seen that movie like five times now and I still can't get it right, but you - that... that was awesome!" Jack continued to ramble, arms waving wildly as he gestured back to the theater, to Pitch, to the humans who walked by still gushing about their experience. His smile was so bright, so welcoming, so warm, and Pitch couldn't stop himself from leaning down, from tasting that warm cold with the barest brush of lips against the corner of Jack's mouth.

Jack froze.

Pitch pulled away. He looked down at Jack with a softness he hadn't felt in eons, smiling gently down at the now wide eyes gazing back at him. "I had... fun, Jack," Pitch muttered. "I'd love to do this again sometime. If you'd like."

Jack swallowed, his throat visibly bobbing with the action and Pitch wanted to taste that too. "Um... okay... Yeah, we should - we should definitely do this again..." He smiled again, slowly, softer this time, his cheeks flushing a pale purple. "Thanks, Pitch..."

Pitch smiled back. "Anytime, Jack. See you around." And then he sunk into shadow.

From a darkened alley nearby, he watched as Jack stood there a moment longer. The boy reached up, pressing his fingers to his lips. Another smile tugged at them slowly, bright and happy, and he laughed in a way Pitch had never heard him laugh before. It was gentle. It was shy. There was a joy in it that didn't come from snowball fights and sledding with children or from spending time with the Guardians. Pitch smiled.

That was his laugh. That laugh was for Pitch and for Pitch alone.

And he couldn't wait to find out what it tasted like.

---

I've never done a prompt like this before so I hope I did it right!! Thank you for the ask, you're always so good to me so I hope you like it!!

I am accepting title ideas!

[lcpmon]

They're hereeeee and honestly v cute. Will have to learn to work with softer colours bc the brown jacket has just become black amalgamation RIP

[gilly-moon]

I'd been only looking at your amazing ROTG fan art for so long that when you posted the heart memes with what the characters actually look like from the movie I was unpleasantly surprised by their movie looks. So you definitely have a great trademark art style, especially for blackice!

Omggggg I'm really glad you like the gilly-glow-up version of them so much!!!

Tbh I also have to regularly pull up pictures of them to remind myself what they actually look like >.< Pitch is always the bigger shock to my system but I'm weak to every version of him lol

[interdimensionalburnout]

>> [2 more glowing feathers in a sealed bag appear in the mess, assuming that's still there, with a note: 'Given the emergency nature of this morning, seems like you should have some spares for the future.' On top of the bag, seemingly as an afterthought, lands an apple caramel cinnamon muffin.]

>>You get a ping from Gilly, right around the same time you get a ping from your prosthetic Eye's UI; time to go re-fill your O2 reserves. And also, you just realized, you've got no goddamn coffee in your system yet. Getting thrown out of bed threw your entire day out of whack, your routine's ruined, and a detour to the mess sounds fucking GREAT right now.

>>You smile warmly, and look down at the bag, reading the note. The lurch, the fried gravity, it knocked pretty much everything off your shelves, but you've been through that kind of thing once or three-thousand times before, and 90% of your belongings are bolted down, the cabinets locked tight. You tuck the bag of feathers down your shirt, where it vanishes into your inventory, and then fish a spare coffee pot from a bolted cabinet. The muffin, though. Ohhhh the muffin.

>>You keep sideeying the muffin, while you wait for your coffee to brew. The percolator, a cheap Mr. Coffee, is bolted tight to the counter with pieces of two-by-four, but the original glass pot has to be swept up while you're waiting. It's as good a distraction as you get, to keep you off your new breakfast until your coffee's done. "Those feathers," you hear Gilly say, once you've poured your fist mug of the day, "Those are what brought me back online, yeah?"

>>You nod, through a mouthful of a muffin that has NO business tasting like a coffee cake that is both breakfast, desert, and well beyond your paygrade (which is zero, like all self-employed pirates). You savor the flavor, silently this time, while Gilly seems to think silently to herself. After a time, the hum of her comms-link cuts out, the speakers quiet. You combine the next bite of muffin with coffee, and decide to try and reset your brain. The day can still be yours, this muffin gives you hope.

Mads this feels like if a coffee cake was a muffin!

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

My brain is being mean, so enjoy Sea Three going to a club. Only slightly questionable, I swear. (Needs to be finished, but.)

It is dark and the air in the club vibrates with music, deep and wild. The sound echoes through Harry’s bones, but he manages not to focus on that, with Uma and Gil dancing right in front of him.

Uma– She’s wearing a shiny minidress tonight, as if she needed the extra bling to be jaw-droppingly beautiful – Harry almost scoffs at the thought. She is also dancing oh-so-close to him and singing the lyrics at the top of her lungs. The club is so loud that Harry can barely hear his Captain’s voice, but oh well, just more of the reason to go closer.

He grins at her and twirls her around, only laughing more when she bumps into him. He catches her into a hug and soon, Gil is there too: „Aww, group hug!“ he exclaims before he proceeds to pick them both up and spin around, causing a minor commotion on the packed dance floor.

These people should have known better than to get too close to them, anyway.

„Gil!“ Uma shrieks, laughing, „Put us down!“

He does, tough he doesn’t let go entirely, and the music drops lower yet; it makes the hair at the back of Harry’s neck stand up. Unconsciously, he tightens his hold around Uma’s waist.

She glances up at him and moves her lips in a silent question: „You okay?“ (She has pretty lips.) He just smiles at her instead of an answer and inclines his head, knowing she’ll want more than just a smile.

„Okay,“ she says and then she presses a quick kiss to his jaw; „Love you.“ This leaves him so dazed he almost misses it when the music drops all-time low – when the DJ speaks and the crowd chants with him – when the lights flicker and die, only to come back wrong.

And there, of course, Uma is, amidst the nigh-black mass of the club, gleaming and alight, like the goddess she is; Harry wishes he could appreciate that properly, now.

Instead, he just blinks, processing the strange light and the music and pulses through him; he moves one of her braids over her shoulder.

„Uma!“ Gil exclaims, startling Harry from his thoughts, „You are glowing!“Uma smiles – her lips glow, too – and winks at Harry before turning around and wrapping her arms around Gil. „If anyone asks, it’s just make-up, Gilly,“ she says, as if anyone who knows her – anyone from the crew would believe that.