#he was a small lil lad
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my-mom-named-me-duck · 3 months ago
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i fucking love waddle doo
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hes such a handsome little fellow
he looks very polite
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arolesbianism · 3 months ago
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Take some Fydd's I just realized I never posted
#keese draws#oc art#oc#ocs#eternal gales#fydd is such a comfort character to me rn its not even funny I adore this lil lad#hes been helping keep me sane#Ive also been keeping sane by brainstoriming more abt how I wanna make eternal gales someday which is also helping#and lemme say its getting real ambitious folks this bad boy isnt getting made for a While lol#the more Ive been thinking abt eternal gales and how I want it to be formatted the more certain I become that while its not going to be a#game Im probably going to be making it within a game maker engine#like Ill still look into how feasible making it all into a website would be but I think for what I want to make this would work best#which is! very ambitious and is definitely not smth I can manage rn! but I have been wanting to re learn to code anyways so!#its mostly just a matter of like. doing some smaller projects first and getting my shit together#ideally I want to be able to be in a place to get started in about 5 years maybe? idk that feels reasonable to me#but Im fine if it takes longer as long as Ive gotten at least some actual real project started and worked on#Ive been playing around with the idea of maybe trying my hand at making a small game for fun#not right this second but maybe soon? idk depends on a bunch of shit#honestly eternal gales has dragged me through so much whenever I feel hopeless I just have to remember that I Need to make it some day and#imagine ppl asking me questions abt it and analyzing my writing and I go ok so I must persist no matter what I need ppl to read abt them
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maebea2 · 3 months ago
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Your honour, he’s fukim tiny.
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FRANCIS IS SO TINY COMPARED TO THE ANGELS
Which angel are you planning to get? Or all of them?
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queen-of-nightmare-16 · 2 months ago
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OUR LOVE | Alt Vander X Reader
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CONTENT WARNINGS - Fluff • Brief mention on near death • Season 2 Spoilers! •
PAIRING: Alt Universe Vander X Fem Reader
SUMMARY: ever since a certain day in your lives, life in Zaun has never been better. And although your adopted children might’ve grown and flown the nest, there’s still laughter at the bar
WORD COUNT: 1.2K
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Dawn had finally started to spill into Zaun, the sun glimmering off a soft morning dew of mist. Ever since Piltover and Zaun came together, life had become euphoric for all. Everyone united, the sons and daughters of Zaun no longer cut off from opportunities and fortune. Sure there was the odd spat between the two but nothing seemed to sever the bond between cities.
All seemingly possible because your kids stupidly nearly got themselves killed in Piltover. After receiving a tip from Ekko, your and Vander’s kids decided to sneak into a lavish Piltover apartment and attempt to burgle it for riches. Until for some unknown reason, an explosion nearly took the life of your oldest daughter Vi. It all but broke you and Vander to see her broken body. She had been so close to death that finally the Council decided their obliviousness to the Undercity’s problems had to come to an end.
And so it did. As Vi healed, so did Zaun. The air was cleaned. Health care provided. Chem-barons operations dismantled. Until finally the Zaun you grew up in became a thing of the past and the dream of a free Zaun became a reality.
Eventually the kids grew into adults, like baby birds leaving the nest and writing their own stories. Choosing their own fates. Powder and Ekko had been accepted into the academy furthering their brilliance for gadgets. Claggor turned his eye to further clearing the air in the fissures, using plants natural ability to produce oxygen. Mylo was still Mylo, happily jumping from one opportunity to the next but always there to help his brother with his projects. And Vi had followed in Vander’s footsteps, becoming a professional boxer. Along with starting a relationship with a councillors daughter. The bar that was once full of laughter became quiet. Though you and your husband were content. Just you and him. To do as you pleased.
At least for a year it was.
The two of you were sleeping together in bed; your bodies lying on your sides and intertwined with each other. Vander’s arms held you tightly to his body, one of his hands buried in your hair. Your own wrapped around his waist whilst you buried your face into his bare chest, feeling his soft snores tussle your hair at each exhale. Nothing could interrupt the peaceful bliss of sleep between you two. Until the door to your bedroom suddenly swung open.
“Dad! Come on, dad! You gotta get up!” A voice suddenly called, the two of you huffing out quietly when you felt the bed dip behind Vander. “Dad? Dad!”.
A slight snicker escaped your lips when you felt you husband shoulder being shoved by a tiny force, the child repeatedly calling for his fathers attention. “I think your son is awake,” you whispered into his chest. Vander’s arms tightened around your waist, burying his head further into the crown of your head.
“Before sunrise he’s your son,” he grumbled, voice still ripe with sleep.
“Dad! DAD!” The young lad yelped. Vander suddenly grunted out in shock and a small mixture of pain when your son hopped up and landed on his thigh, causing him to crack an eye open. “Come on, dad! You promised we’d decorate the bar!”. The boys brows furrowed in a very familia glare. One he had no doubted inherited from his father.
“Alright, alright. I’m up ya lil tike,” Vander groaned, yawning tiredly as the boy leaped off the bed and ran out the room in excitement. Of course, it was suddenly coming back to him. The academy that Ekko and Powder were studying at was hosting an inventions fair. Both teens excited beyond belief so you and Vander promised to host a party at the Last Drop. Win or lose, you were more than proud of the two teens. But at the same time, Vander also promised your now 7 year old son that he could help decorate the bar in the morning. Seems he took it a little too literally.
Your husband huffed out in exhaustion and rolled onto his back, running a hand down his face. “So much for sleeping in till 9”.
“Ha! Good luck with that,” you grinned, rolling with him to rest your chin on his chest. “He has the same amount of energy you had when you were that age”.
“Gods help us,” he huffed with a sleepy chuckle as his knuckles trailed down between your shoulder blades. “Why did I get you pregnant when all the kids had finally moved out?”.
“You were a little too excited that we finally had the house to ourselves … and because you couldn’t resist me in that dress,” you smirked cheekily, your finger drawing shapes over his peck; Vander going on to grunt out in annoyance at you reminder. “Now, come on! What was it you said that night? ‘Gods, love, you look gorgeous in that dress’ even though I was sweaty from running round like a headless chicken for Sevika’s birthday”.
He cocked a brow up at your impression, his hand gliding down to your waist to tug your closer. “Well, you did look gorgeous,” he replied.
“And we got a beautiful boy from it,” you sighed, eyes fluttering shut in content as you rested your cheek back on his chest. “Just think, 11 more years until he hits 18 and then maybe moves out and we’ll have the bar back to ourselves again”.
“Hoorah,” Vander sarcastically cheered, finally raising himself to a sitting position and letting you slide off of him. After attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes he glanced back over to you to see you had snuggled back down into your pillow. “You’re not getting up?” He asked.
“He only asked for you, Papa bear,” you playfully said, a honeyed smile gracing your lips as your eyes remained shut and tugged the quilt back over your shoulder. “I’m not working till later”.
Vander rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I love you,” he impishly teased, leaning over you.
Your eye creeped open, gazing at him lovingly. “You better,” you hushed. Vander smiled, placing a gentle kiss to your lips which you happily accepted, your hand creeping out from under the covers to caress his cheek.
“Dad! Come on!” You suddenly heard your son call from the front room, causing the two of your to pull away with a sigh.
Vander huffed to himself and climbed out of bed. “11 more years,” he prayed for jokingly, feeling his joints click as he walked over to the wardrobe.
“And counting,” you giggled back.
Vander swiftly dressed himself for the day and left you with a kiss on the head. You could feel the pull of sleep lulling you back as you heard your sons joyous laughter along with your husbands. Their footsteps fading away when they walked up the stairs into the bar.
Things were certainly different now. Your children had futures brighter than you could’ve hoped for. Your husband and Silco’s relationship healed. And now the two of your were raising a new life together all over again. Seemed like a dream. One you certainly wouldn’t change for the world.
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I wrote again. How bizarre. Eh, I can’t get this man out my head so I might as well do something productive with it. This was originally gonna be more angsty at the end but I’m not allergic to happiness unlike the Arcane writers so I decided to keep it fluffy instead. Hope y’all enjoyed.
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redhotarsenic · 2 years ago
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I broke I’m watching trigun now
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starsofang · 4 months ago
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CALL OF THE SEA / PART FIFTEEN
pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, hallucainations/hearing voices??, inaccurate depictions of medicine, idk how ppl made medicines in 1800s but idc its fiction masterlist a/n: thank u for the love from the hurricane i went thru!! i'm okay and back in business, i love u guys <3 things are gonna get a lil spicyyy
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
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“Dove,” a voice singsonged, a whisper in the wind that whisked away almost as soon as it appeared.
You halted in your steps, whipping your head around. Standing on the deck, you knew you were alone. You had just been on your way to collect your variety of herbs and powders to teach the Captain of medicine making, yet the sense of dread overtook you the moment you heard your name called out.
Looking out into the vast sea, there was nothing. A heavy mist clouded the air from the storm that was brewing mere lengths away, its arrival unknown. It clouded over the horizon, hiding away what lay beyond in the dull, gray atmosphere.
Yet, Graves had spoken yet again, as if he had sent his voice to travel miles upon miles just to get a rile out of you. It felt like a warning, letting you know he was still present, and very much still attached.
“The one who heals the ill and poor,” Graves echoed tauntingly, a dark chuckle rasping at the end of his words. “The one who has the 141 in knots. That’s you, isn’t it, dove?”
You couldn’t see him, and you weren’t sure whether that was ideal or not. You knew he wasn’t there physically, hell, you weren’t sure it was even really him talking. Your mind could be playing tricks on you.
The words of the prophecy were spoken with such mockery, the ones referring to your very role. The venom in his tone made you queasy. A cold chill dripped down your spine, causing the hairs on your neck to stand.
“Oh, this will be fun,” he cooed. “I’ll be seeing you.”
Stood frozen in place, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the horizon. It was gloomy, and you were beginning to mirror that feeling. You felt toyed with — like a puppet on a shelf, waiting to be used when Graves deemed you useful.
“What are ye doin’ down there, dove?” a voice called. “Looks like ye seen a ghost.”
The faint snickering had you tilting your head up in the direction it came from. Soap sat high up in the crow’s nest, peering down at you mischievously. His broad arms rested on the rim of the nest, leaning lazily.
“I am fine,” you scowled, quickly regaining your composure. Graves crept menacingly in the corners of your mind. “What are you doing up there?”
“She’s a crow’s nest for a reason. I’m watchin’ for the storm, seein’ if I can spot anythin’ out of the ordinary like I’m a bird, birdie” Soap explained with a grin, cocking his head. “What are ye doin’ down there?”
You frowned at him, unamused. “I plan on teaching the Captain how to make medicine,” you replied. “I’m just going to collect my things. It is wealthy to have knowledge in medicines, you know.”
Soap blew out a puff of air, waving his hand dismissively. “If I have any more knowledge up in this noggin’ of mine, it might explode.” He made a point of knocking his knuckles against his head.
“I do not believe there is much in there at all,” you sighed, unable to force a small smile away. Even in times of fear and uncertainty, you couldn’t deny the way Soap put you at ease.
“Ach, yer a bird that bites. What happened to bein’ a sweet bird?” he mumbled in feigned hurt, lips puckered into a pouted frown.
Your smile grew and you shook your head. “Where is Ghost?” you asked. Soap rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twirling into his messy mullet.
“That lad. Locked himself up again, he did. I think the weather’s makin’ him all moody. He helped me out for a bit before goin’ back, so I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he explained sympathetically. There was a hint of hurt at being shut out.
It made you recall the two of them. Embracing. Whispering amongst each other. Ghost, unmasked, leaning into his touch.
You tried your hardest to not let it shift your expression, even if it dug a little hole somewhere in your heart to be reminded of what you didn’t have.
“I see,” you hummed, playing off your tormenting thoughts and shoving them to the side with the rest. “I am… happy that he has someone like you.”
Soap’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He stared at you, confused, before smiling softly. “Ah, c’mon, dove. Ye got us, too.”
Not in the way your heart longed for. But that was a thought that attempted to fiddle with your mind and leave you stranded on an island of foreign feelings far, far away.
You weren’t sure what you desired, anyway.
“Right,” you agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll be going now. Please, do not fall while I’m gone — or do. I have not been able to aid anybody in quite a long time.”
Soap laughed, the sound rumbling you to the core. “Mean li’l bird,” he teased.
With a smile, you continued on to your quarters, shoving any strange ideas behind and focusing on the task at hand. Price was still waiting for you, after all.
Entering your shared space, you nearly cursed the world for putting Gaz in there. While you hadn’t quite avoided him like you wanted to, that was due to the others being around. Now, here alone, was different.
“Hello, Gaz,” you greeted stiffly, giving him a nod. You quickly retreated to your side of the room, which really was Soap’s clutter. You needed to organize it soon or you may lose your mind.
“Dove,” Gaz hummed from where he laid in bed, arms resting behind his head in a lazy position. His eyes followed you like a hawk as you rummaged through the bag taken from your village on your first night with the pirates.
The resources you’d been forced to bring so long ago were now going to be of use, which was something you wished to be excited for—yet, the elephant in the room was a downpour on your mood.
You felt ridiculous. It was not as if you were avoiding him in rejection—it was that it was not rejection that you were avoiding him.
Your heartstrings seemed to tighten and pull whenever he was near, and it made you feel crazy. It felt like you couldn’t catch a break, constantly toying with your own feelings.
What was this feeling of longing you so hopelessly seemed to feel differently with each of them? Was it still the craving for a sense of belonging?
“Is someone hurt?”
You glanced up from your bag, fingers pausing. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before realization took over and you shook your head. “No. I am teaching Price the ways of medicine.”
So much for avoiding him.
“Is that so?” he asked. You weren’t sure why his tone seemed so… off. As if there were a taste of bitterness to it.
You recalled the night you threw your food at him from the stuffiness of your cell below deck when he had done nothing but try and quench your hunger. He truly was not a fan of you, nor you him. While you were scared, he was protective of his kin.
Now, his tone was a grave reminder of how much time had passed, and how different things were.
You gave him another stiff nod, watching as he stood from the bed. Your heart pounded in your chest, banging against your rib cage with every step he took closer.
When he finally stopped, he was mere inches away, standing tall and proud over you. You focused your gaze on his chest, mapping the loosely tied strings that hung from the middle of his billowy shirt. You were overcome with spikes of awkward anxiety and unable to connect eyes with him.
Seeing this, he tilted his head down, cocked to the side in a mocking way. He forced your gaze to meet his from leaning down alone, and you held your breath at the sight of slight annoyance burrowed somewhere in his expression.
“Are you avoidin’ me?” he asked lowly.
You attempted to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grew clammy, and you couldn’t take them out of your bag to wipe them on your dress or else he’d know.
“No,” you stammered, frowning. “I am just— Price is waiting for me.”
Was he angry that you did not reciprocate a kiss? It was not your fault—you had never shared one.
“There is no playful banter. Nor even a gaze in the eye,” he commented.
“I am looking at you right now,” you defended weakly.
“What you’re doin’ is actin’ different,” he said slyly, mirroring your frown. “What, you hand me a gift, a beautiful one, and now that I have read the signs wrong, you wish to hide from me?”
“That—” You inhaled sharply. “That is not what is happening.”
“So, I have read them right, then.”
“I do not know what signs you are referring to.”
“Don’t be daft, dove.”
Your fingers tightened around a small jar in your bag, knuckles going white. You wanted to avoid the forced eye contact altogether, but now you could not look away. It was as if you were in a trance.
“It is improper to refer to a woman as daft,” you hissed in defense.
“You’re unlike any woman I’ve ever met,” Gaz mused, his head tilting once again.
This is what he wanted, and you were giving it to him. He wanted the banter, the jests, to see you grow irritated to tug a reaction from you, and unfortunately, it was working.
“You have never been kissed before?” he continued.
Your ears were beginning to ring. Your entire body felt hot to the touch, like a scorching fire burned through your veins and trickled its way up to your brain.
“That is inappropriate, Gaz,” you tried, though your defense was weak. He was right. He was always right, and you hated it. “I must return to Price. I—I cannot have this conversation.”
“You will have to avoid the whole sea if you believe I am the only one,” he stated calmly, growing soft now that his initial annoyance was wearing off. “Do not make me the one to suffer.”
You stared at him, mouth opened to speak but the words lost in translation. You felt like you were betraying yourself by choosing to avoid him out of mere uncertainty. You were only doing a disservice to yourself.
The words he spoke laid heavy on your mind, but you were unable to decipher the true meaning. Perhaps you were avoiding that, too.
The two of you said nothing, sitting in tense silence as you hurried to throw your bag over your shoulder. You didn’t want Price to slam open his door and search for you, believing you accidentally fell into the treacherous waters and sunk below the angry sea.
You shuffled to the door, hand hovering over the handle. You risked a weary glance over your shoulder, seeing Gaz standing and watching you with keen eyes, a glint of something unrecognizable in them.
You had nobody else to feel sorry for but yourself.
“I will not avoid you,” you muttered quietly. “I do not think I have the strength to do so, anyway. Not with you.”
You tugged open the door, excusing yourself.
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The chill in the air was refreshing against your warm skin, cooling off the heat that radiated off of you like a furnace. As you returned to Price’s quarters, your mind was scrambled, overloaded with millions of thoughts that plagued you.
The wind rustled and blew, and you could only pray there wasn’t a familiar whisper hiding in its trail. It seemed as if the universe had plenty of tricks up its sleeve today, and it was dealing them all to you one by one.
When you looked up at the crow’s nest as you walked by, Soap remained. He gave you a smile when you passed, and it made the worry in your stomach simmer to a low boil.
“You took quite some time,” Price noted as you stepped inside. “Did you walk the plank along your way?”
You chuckled, shaking your head and shooing the bag off your shoulder. It fell to the desk with a small thud. “I ran into Soap,” you explained.
“I see.” Price smiled in acknowledgment. “Alright, dove. Let’s begin, hm?”
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“You are not very good at this.”
You watched as Price attempted to grind a mix of herbs and powder in the bowl you lent him. Teaching him how to make a paste meant for burns proved fruitless, as he seemed to mess up the measurements when you weren’t looking.
“That’s why you’re the expert, dove,” he huffed in annoyance, laser focused on grinding the end of the wooden stick into the roundness of the bowl, mashing down the mixture. “I do not see how this will become a paste.”
“Did you mix in the drops of water like I told you?” you asked.
He glowered at the clear dropper you held up, which seemed just as full as when you first started. He snatched it up, squeezing a couple of drops into the failed paste for good measure, then continued mixing.
“Was I correct?” you teased, peering down into the bowl. You were pleased to see it mixing much more smoothly, almost like thick butter.
“Silence,” he grunted, shooting a weak glare your way. “I pray this medicine proves to be useful.”
“It is for burns to ease the flare up of the skin,” you explained, keeping an eye on the mixture. “I am sure it will come in handy.”
Price hummed, mashing the paste until he seemed satisfied. He shifted the bowl towards you, waiting for approval. The idea of it made you snort—a Captain, seeking approval from his ex-prisoner.
“It is not bad,” you praised, earning him a furrow of his eyebrows. “Much better after the water.”
He gave you a look, unamused, eyeing you as you shoveled the paste into an empty jar. You were happy to add it to the collection, though you wished you had the opportunity for a room for yourself to display them. Soap and Gaz’s room was feeling crowded.
“I am only teasing,” you said with a smile. “It’s almost as good as mine.”
Price snorted, smiling back. “Aye, I’m a Captain, not a medic. That’s your specialty,” he retorted.
“And will this medic ever get a room of her own? Or perhaps a place to work?”
He raised an eyebrow. You mirrored him. “Are the boys not fun to room with?”
Images of Gaz earlier flashed in your mind. You swallowed. “No, they are just fine. But I am a woman, after all. It is not… suitable.”
Price made a noise of acknowledgment, nodding slow. He seemed to be thinking, a hand brushing through his beard and stroking his bottom lip.
“That is… understandable. Forgive me, I have not had a woman on my ship until you. It slipped my mind that you roomin’ with those two may not be entirely appropriate,” he replied thoughtfully.
“You forced me to sleep with you on my first night out of the brig,” you reminded him.
Price paused his stroking, blinking at you. For a moment, you lost him, his mind running astray. You could only stare back patiently.
“Would you prefer to stay here, then?” he asked. “You may find much more peace in here than with them., or if you'd like, you may switch off between quarters.”
You felt your body tense up at the mere thought. You knew no matter who you stayed with, it would be a gamble. Each of them had your heart on lock in an unfamiliar way, and the thought of staying with Price again had your stomach twisting into knots.
Gaz popped up once again, and you wondered if that decision would solidify your act in avoiding him. A pang of guilt hit your chest.
“You would not mind?” you asked wearily.
Price shrugged. “I may prefer it, actually.”
Your expression morphed into confusion, eyebrows pulling together and lips curling into a frown. He’d prefer to spend nights with you, rather than allowing you to cram into a small bed with Soap in the late hours of the night?
You thought the Captain valued his privacy and solitude. Now that he was offering you to stay on his own rather than out of fear of you running off to islands unknown, it felt much more personal.
“You’d prefer it?”
“Yes,” he confirmed.
“Why?”
The Captain paused, narrowing his eyes at you. You were curious at to what he could be thinking about.
The door to his quarters opened, silencing your conversation rather quickly. The wind sounded much louder now without barriers between the inside and outside, and when you whipped your head to look at the doorway, Soap stood, drenched in water.
You were so focused on your time with Price and your craft, you hadn’t noticed the uneasy rockiness of the ship that seemed to grow with every second.
“The storm’s brewin’ real fast, Cap,” Soap breathed, lightly heaving. He must’ve climbed down the nest in a haste. “We need to get her steady. It’s comin’ down faster than we thought.”
The Captain stood quickly, giving him a nod. “Go collect Gaz and Ghost,” he ordered. Soap agreed, tossing the door closed and leaving you alone. “Dove, you’re stayin’ here.”
“I must be of help—”
“Here,” he repeated, tapping his finger on the desk. “That’s an order.”
You wanted to protest, but the look on his face was gloomy. You watched him leave his quarters and enter the battlefield of heavy rain that spilled over on to the deck.
Something in your heart tugged, but this time, not out of longing, or envy—it was worry. Sure, you faced many storms in your village, but never on a ship where one wrong move could send you right below the waves and have you never come back up again.
You felt helpless as you sat, thumbs twiddling mindlessly in your lap as you hoped and pray the ship would become steady enough for them to return to safety.
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“Dove.”
The crashing sound of cracking thunder had you jolting in your seat. You did as the Captain ordered and stayed put, but you were becoming restless. The longer you stayed, the more your feeling of cold dread grew.
You knew where it was coming from. It was the very thing living inside your head, and you wondered if Ghost could hear it, too.
You couldn’t sit anymore. You got to your feet, quickly throwing open the door to a monsoon.
The ship swayed with the heavy, angry waves that crashed harshly against the sides of the ship. It made you lose balance, and you grabbed on to the doorway to steady.
Gaz and Soap stood under the rainfall, water soaking into their skin and clothes as they heaved the sails closed, holding the ropes to guaranteed they stayed.
Ghost was lifting heavy baggage that had yet to be stored away, thrown over his shoulder as he hurried to transport them to a dry part of the ship.
The Captain stood at the helm, his hair flat against his forehead and dripping water all the way down to his beard. He was mastering the steering of the ship, barking orders at Soap and Gaz while the two attempted to keep the sails at bay.
“Isn’t this fun, dove?” Graves whispered. You wished you could claw out your own eardrums.
You knew he was near. Before, you couldn’t feel his presence—now, it felt stronger than ever.
You frantically looked around, hoping to spot him somewhere out at sea, but the rain was too heavy. The sky had been darkening, giving off an ominous hue covered by storm clouds. You wouldn’t be able to see him from below.
Your eyes landed on the crow’s nest, the net of rope leading up to it swaying in the crazy wind. Soap had been up there mere hours ago, watching the storm and charting its location.
Without a moment of hesitation, you sprinted in the cold rain, heading towards your destination.
“Dove?” Soap called out in confusion, before recognizing you. “Dove! What are ye doin’?”
You began your ascent, just as Gaz had joined in calling for you. With them unable to leave the ropes of the sails behind, they couldn’t chase after you, stopping you from your foolish moment of cleverness.
“What the hell is she doin’ out?” Price growled, his firm voice quieter in the winds chasing it away.
The rope creaked as you planted your feet in the gaps, climbing your way up to the nest. The higher up you got, the more the breeze increased its abuse, whipping along your face in a serious of angry smacks.
The pirate’s voices grew farther away as you approached the crow’s nest. Their tones were ones of concern, fear, and worry as you scrambled your way on to the rugged, old wood platform, hauling yourself up.
You needed to know if your thoughts were true—if Graves truly was here, or if it was another one of his tricks.
You stood on the crow’s nest, holding yourself steady with a firm grip of the sides. You looked out into the void, scanning for anything, any sign—and there it was.
A ship, not too far off in the distance, swaying with the waves with its front nose pointed in the direction of your ship. A large sail flapped in the wind, and it was so misty you nearly couldn’t see it until a familiar white outline of a skull appeared, waving as if saying hello.
Graves was setting sail right towards the ship, and he had every intention of riding out the storm until he reached you.
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angel5ofp0rn · 9 months ago
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Young!Price x f!younger!reader
where u and ExHusband!Price first meet 🤭
TW (?) age gap. legal (21&30-something), but still an age gap
got a lil lazy at the end; just a dash of secks
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“Jus’ one more.” You giggle to your friends, making your way through the crowd and over to the bar.
Another one more.
The bartender shakes his head when you approach.
For the fourth time.
“What’ll it be this time, kid?”
“Dunno,” You shrug animatedly. You giggle again, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. “How about…”
You turn to one of the men sitting at the bar.
“What’re you drinking?” You point a manicured finger at a tall, balaclava-wearing man with dark eyes.
He glances towards you for just a moment before looking straight ahead again, mumbling a “whiskey” under his breath.
“Eww.” You scrunch your nose. “No, not that.”
You lean over a bit, hands on the bar, looking past the scary masked man and to the man next to him.
The… gorgeous, blue eyed, clean shaven man next to him.
“What’re- whoa.” Your eyes widen for a moment. “You’re, like… whoa.”
The man exhales a small, slightly amused chortle.
“Would you, like, ‘scuse us?” You ask the scarier man.
He stares you down for a moment.
You blink, waiting for him to move.
“F’r fuck’s sake…” The big guy grumbles, standing up from the barstool and disappearing somewhere in the bar.
You happily hop onto the stool once he’s gone.
You extend your arm to the gorgeous man, your tipsiness making you more fearless than usual.
“Hi. It’s m’birthday.”
“Is it, now?” His smooth, English voice drawls out as he shakes your hand.
“Mhm!” You nod, your grin growing.
The man nods, seemingly amused with your young, drunk self.
“Are you, like, an army guy or something?” You ask, glancing up and down at him in his fatigues.
He snorts.
“I am an army guy or something.” He confirms. “John Price.”
“John Price…” You tilt your head to the side, your long hair falling over your exposed shoulder in that tiny going out top you decided to wear.
“Price is cute. Y/N Price sounds good, right?” You ask aloud, not really to anyone in particular.
“Already planning on taking my last name, are you?” He raises his eyebrows at you, entertained by all of this.
Women come up to him all the time. Can’t really go anywhere without a few flirting with him, batting their eyelashes, playing coy about how badly they want to fuck a man in uniform.
But they’re never this bold.
Usually not this young, either.
You’re a good ten years younger than him, at least; the hell do you want with him?
“Y’know,” You continue, ignoring his question. “You have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
He smirks.
“Y/N!” Your girl friend calls out, waving you over to her from across the room. “Let’s go dance!”
“Oh!” You grab John’s bicep. “I love dancing. Come dance with us!”
John shakes his head, dismissing the idea.
“Don’t dance.” He takes a swig of his beer. “But, eh… Kyle here-“ He pats the shoulder of another, younger, man on the right side of him. “-Kyle likes to dance. Don’t ya, Gaz?”
“I don’ wanna dance with him.” You shake your head with a frown.
“He’s a handsome young lad.” John continues talking up his buddy as if he’s a car salesman trying to sell you the Buick. “Why don’t you-“
You cut him off, rolling your eyes as if that was the dumbest suggestion you’ve ever heard.
“What’f I dance with Kyle and he r’lly likes me?” You slur a bit.
Kyle grins.
John snorts.
“Then he likes ya.”
“No!” You groan.
Drunken you really resembles a fussy toddler.
“I don’ want Kyle’s babies, I want your babies.”
John laughs.
Kyle chokes on his drink.
“You wanna have my babies, eh?”
“Uh-huh.” You nod confidently. “I wan’ a hundred blue-eyed babies tha’ look Just. Like. You.” You poke his chest in sync with the last three words.
John raises his eyebrow at that, taking another sip of his beer.
Your friends pull you to the dance floor by your arm.
You stumble off with them, looking back at John Price and what’s-his-name.
The men don't even glance back at you once you're gone.
They just laugh it off and continue chatting.
But you? You're not giving up that easily.
You let yourself be distracted for a while; dancing, shots, bathroom selfies, whatever.
But when you see John standing up from the bar, slapping some cash down for the bartender and heading towards the exit; you follow.
"John!" You grin, arms outstretched for a hug once you meet him in the parking lot.
"Christ, you're persistent, aren't ya?" John rubs his hand over his jaw.
Your arms hook around his neck, stumbling into him. He places his hands on your waist, steadying you so you don't completely fall.
“Can’t help it,” you sigh. “I go after what I want.”
You tilt your head back to see those crystal blues that made you talk to him in the first place.
John takes a step back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace. His expression is a mix of amusement and something else…
Perhaps a hint of concern.
That’s fair; you’ve just drunkenly followed a strange man outside at night.
"You're a bit too young for me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I think you should go back inside and enjoy the rest of your birthday with your friends."
"But I like you," you protest, your arms crossing over your chest.
He sighs, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but it's best if you forget about me. I'm not the right guy for ya."
Your lower lip juts out. A proper pout.
“Ah, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” John chortles, crossing his own arms over his chest now. “Look, this isn’t what you want. Tomorrow mornin’… you’re gonna wake up without a single thought of me in your pretty li’l head.”
“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, missing the point completely.
John looks as if he could laugh, but he doesn’t.
“I do.” John nods curtly. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful… but you’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Why don’t you let me get you an Uber, at least. Make sure ya get some safe ‘n sound.”
You reluctantly accept his offer, standing by his side as the two of you wait for your rides.
Ride.
Because you might as well share one, right?
And once you get to your place, he might as well walk you up.
You’d just be plain rude if you didn’t invite him in; he’d be a jerk if he didn’t accept the invitation.
Sure, he’ll help you remove your heels, but then he really should get going.
But then your hand touches his face when his head is near your knees.
He looks up. You rub your thumb over his jaw.
“Look-“
“‘m jus’ looking at you.”
He really, really should get going.
“Stay with me.” You beg.
“I can’t stay with you, love. I’ve gotta go now.”
He pulls the covers over you, brushes the hair away from your face, he has you text your friends to let them know you’re okay, and he’s gone…
…until the next morning, when he knocks on your door bright and early because, wouldn’t you know it, he accidentally took your phone home and he’s here to return it.
(He totally didn’t pocket it so he’d have an excuse to see you again.)
Since you’re both awake and have no plans, you might as well go to breakfast, right?
“I’m not going anywhere.” You groan, rubbing your puffy eyes.
“Go on. Get showered.” He sits on your sofa, hands folded behind his head. “I’ll wait.”
You didn’t even make it to breakfast.
Ended up having him pull over behind some trees along the way, straddling him in the driver’s seat, bouncing on his thick cock while he murmured praises about how well you’re taking him.
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tbaluver · 3 months ago
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hello ree <33 i love ur writing so much so i’m finally here to make a lads request !! can i please request an amusement park themed date with sylus x fem!reader ?? :O (it can be a oneshot, drabble, hcs, i’m okay with anything hehe !!) take ur time and thank u in advance, i hope you have an amazing day !! 🫶🏻 -@sanemistar
amusement park date- sylus
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pairing: sylus x fem! reader genre: fluff fluff wc: 1.1k a/n 𐙚: hihi bibi!! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ eeee thank you so much you're always so sweet luv! <3 i was so happy to see you in my inbox and i apologize for taking weeks writing this ! i hope this doesn't disappoint and if it does then this doesn't exist ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) this post is a lil special bc the format is inspired by you and a lot of my fav writers on here ! enjoy reading and i hope you have an amazing day ! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡
⋆。‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧。⋆
You pulled your sweater tighter around you as you stepped outside, the crisp breeze creeping to your cheeks. Sylus texted you yesterday that he had a surprise for you but with no context other than to wear comfortable warm clothes.
As you locked the door behind you, your boyfriend stood beside his motorcycle waiting for you.
“Hi sweetie,” A smile curls up on his lips as he wraps his arms around you. 
“So where do you plan on taking me this time?” You asked, tilting your head to study his expression. “Is there some kind of pop up auction? Fighting wanderers? Or....” Your voice trails off, hoping that maybe he’ll give you a hint.
He shook his head, a playful smile on his lips as he grabbed your helmet on the seat. “It’s a surprise,”
-
You hold on tightly to Sylus as he drives you through the city. You watch as the streets that you're well familiar with begin to fade. Glancing around, the night slowly became darker and the city lights became farther. With each turn you watch the streets get unfamiliar and the number of the cars dwindle. 
You stopped wondering when a burst of color pierced through the distance with displays of lights that danced around your vision. Your eyes widened as you spotted the silhouettes of the ferris wheel and the roller coasters that towered against the sky.
An amusement park?
Sylus pulled the motorcycle to a stop, the loud engine of it slowly faded into the background. He removed his helmet revealing his smile that curled on his lips.
“I rented the entire amusement park for the whole night,” He spoke, breaking through your thoughts as he helped you remove your helmet. The vibrant lights of the park reflected in your wide eyes as he continued. “You said you wanted to go weeks ago, but our schedules didn’t line up.”
He extends his hand to help you down, “Sy...” you breathed, your heart fluttering as a goofy grin spreads across your lips.
“Shall we?”
-
Sylus mentioned that all the rides are being controlled by Luke and Kieran. Although you appreciate that you both were going to be alone, you wondered if your safety was truly at risk with the hands of the twins controlling the rides. 
“Miss Hunter! Miss Hunter! Over here!” One of the twins shouted while waving enthusiastically at you. Beside him wobbled the park’s mascot, in which you assume was the other twin inside, its fluffy arms flailing in an attempt to wave at you. 
Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you grabbed Sylus’s hand, tugging him toward the pair to take a picture. “Hi Miss Hunter!” One of the twins whispered from inside the costume, his voice muffled. 
“Where do you want to start off first?”
After finishing taking pictures with the twins, you take in the sight in front of you. The park was completely empty. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy still lingered in the air and the park games and the music were a distant sound in the background.
You stood there momentarily overwhelmed, taking in the amount of choices that stretched out before you. Until your eyes lit up with an idea as you spotted a small gift shop. You grabbed Sylus hand, dragging him toward the shop, his low chuckle trailing behind you.
“Headbands?” A breathy chuckle escapes his lips as he examines the one you give him.
“It’s a necessity Sy,” You continue to browse through the various options you had, making sure you two would match.
“Pick whatever you want, it’s on me.”
-
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit in the front?” You ask, making sure he felt included in the thrill of the ride. 
He let out a chuckle and shook his head, “Sweetie, I’m being generous. You won’t see anything if I’m in the front.”
After finishing a few small rides and trying out a couple of the park games, Sylus suggested trying the scariest ride in the park. The one you had been deliberately avoiding and he knew.
He noticed the way you didn’t even bat an eye in the direction of this ride or even bother mentioning it. The outside of the ride loomed before you like a haunted mansion with sinister sounds echoed inside of it that made your heart race. 
“You’re going to be alright. I’m right beside you,” He assures, placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.  As the seats of the ride locked for the both of you, Luke and Kieran pull the lever to start the ride, waving goodbye as you both disappear into the ride.
Darkness enveloped your vision and without any warning, terrifying sounds erupted around you. Each turn of the ride had your heart racing as scary figures and sounds leaped into you.
You instinctively grabbed onto Sylus while Sylus remains unbothered. When the ride finally came to a full stop you stumbled out, wanting to kiss the floor for gratitude of solid ground.
-
Your feet were killing you. You both explored almost the entire park by now and the last one that was left was the ferris wheel. The one that Sylus suggested you do last. He offered to carry you on his back, effortlessly hoisting you up as he walked you over to the last ride for the night.
As you stepped into the ride, he made sure to lower the bar to safely secure you both in. You both ascended slowly up the ride lifting you both higher and higher, offering a better view of the entire park.
As you slowly reach to the very top of the ride, it comes to a gentle halt. You turned to Sylus, a flicker of confusion in your eyes and yet he remained unbothered.
“Did you have a great time today?” Sylus asked, he smiled softly as he looked at you with admiration.
“Of course I did, did you Sy?”
Suddenly, the night sky erupted with fireworks. Bursts of colors illuminated the canvas of the night sky, some with silly shapes and of course a shape of a crow and a dove.
You watched in awe as the fireworks sparked above you, the colors reflected in your eyes but Sylus was unfazed by the show. His gaze was locked onto you.
As the last firework fizzled into the night, he reached out, gently guiding your face toward his with the tip of his finger. Without any hesitation, he closes the gap between you both as he kisses you softly, his mouth soft on yours. 
“I always have a great time when I’m with you.”
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skyartworkzzz · 5 months ago
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What you think of Celeste?
Also, would you do a crossover of Cult of the Lamb with Undertale?
IVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT ONCE AND NOW I CAN ACTUALLY FORCE MYSELF TO IMAGINE IT
Lads, gents, in and out betweens, I present u my married tisms:
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GONNA RAMBLE ABOUT IT A LIL BELOW CUZ MY MIND WENT DOODOO THINKING OF THIS:
Narinder was executed after betraying his siblings so his spirit has been haunting the lands for a long time, until the people were forced to abandon it and create their New Home somewhere else. Narinder kept haunting the Ruins until a little lost Lamb fell to his tomb Now seeing themselves stuck in this world, they made a pact with Narinder in order to escape, having to fulfill his desires of revenge by killing his siblings
The Crowns work as Souls here, but only the strongest creatures are able to make them manifest physically as a snake or any other object I drew all of them as snakes here, but now that Im thiking about it, maybe each Bishop could have their own Crowns morphed into an animal companion of their preference, like Heket having a squirrel, Kallamar a fish, Leshy a bird and Shamura a small bat mayhaps 🤔
The Red Crown will work as Flowey here, since it belonged to Narinder, but after the pact was done with the Lamb, it has since then linked itself with Lambert's being in order to guide them through their journey + also serving as means for them to communicate with Narinder In the end, the Final Battle would be with Narinder, after he has absorbed his siblings' souls and others that the Lamb kills. Depending on the Lamb's choice, theyd be able to either fight Narinder out of sympathy for all the creatures that he'd murder in the lands as to complete his revenge, or leave and have Narinder set free to conquer the world maybe with Lamb by his side
Im still thinking of the endings more throughly BUT THATS THE GIST OF IT ALL FOR NOW tysm for asking!! <3
ALSO AS For ur other question, Im not sure which Celeste ure talkng about, is it like a game or character...? :o
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manikas-whims · 8 months ago
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Hi hi!💕 can i request headcanons of sth like "What if we, reader, find a kitten in the rain (& the lads men reactions)" if possible n tyyyy😊
omg this is such a cute idea 🥹 thanks for requesting this ♡ and i hope you like these!
LADS men react to you taking in a kitten
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ZAYNE
❄️ Zayne’s eyes are literally sparkling when he walks into your house and sees the kitten. From the way he balls his palms into fists, you can tell just how much he wants to approach it but the kitten hisses at him and hides behind the sofa.
❄️ As usual, the kitten is afraid of him. And it saddens you because his evol aside, Zayne is such a warm person, and deserves nothing but affection.
❄️ You bring out some snacks and feed the kitten. Then encourage Zayne to try it too.
❄️ He is hesitant but tries. Yet the kitten doesn't approach him like it does when you're feeding it.
❄️ Next he tries tossing it near him. The kitten is cautious, waiting for a while before running on its tiny, shaky feet towards the treat, and eating it. This isn't a big leap but it's better than nothing, and Zayne can't help but smile at this small victory.
❄️ Few more hours in, you pick up the kitten from your own lap and drop it into Zayne’s. He's fidgeting, unsure of where to put his hands. “I don't think this will work.” He says.
❄️ “Just stay calm.” You tell him. “Animals tend to read emotions. If you're scared, it'll be scared too.”
❄️ Its funny watching the usually calm and collected doctor struggling with something so small it can fit in his coat’s pocket.
❄️ Tentatively he runs a finger over the kitten’s lil head. It flinches initially, then relaxes. Stunned, Zayne stares at you.
❄️ You giggle at the disbelief on his face and encourage him to go on.
❄️ “Okay.” He nods like an obedient child and tries again. This time he scratches behind its ears, and to his immense surprise and exhilaration, the kitten mewls and purrs.
❄️ Zayne looks up at you as if you to say “look! i did it!”
❄️ You pat his back with pride and smile.
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XAVIER
⭐ Like usual, Xavier stops by your home one evening because he's run out of food, and you are generous enough to share your amazing cooking with him.
⭐ Only this time, he finds a little kitten wreaking havoc around your living room. Toppling things from the tables, sharpening its claws on the couch, biting your slippers..you name it!
⭐ You look at him with what you believe is your most convincing pleading expression. He chuckles in response and decides to help out.
⭐ Within minutes he has captured the feline outlaw and to your utter disbelief, the kitten is now seated peacefully in Xavier's lap, making biscuits in the fabric of his sweatpants.
⭐ He did say that little animals love to flock around him but seeing is believing. And no matter how many times you see it happen, you're still a little shocked at how easy it is for him. He's like a disney princess who can sing songs and summon animals into doing his bidding.
⭐ You are used to Xavier showing up at your door for food, so you already had extra prepared. You made sure to add in some meat dishes since Xavier loves those.
⭐ Now as Xavier eats his share, he occasionally offers the kitten small, mashed chunks of meat. And looking at the two side by side, you can't distinguish between them. It's as if you have two cats in your life, except one of them is bigger, stronger and loves fighting wanderers.
⭐ Xavier takes note of your smile and blinks at you. “What is it?”
⭐ “Nothing.” You simply giggle and teasingly rub his head.
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RAFAYEL
🌊 Rafayel is merely passing by the area and so he decides to check up on you. He has brought you food from the finest of places in Linkon. But the moment you let him in, he almost jumps at the sight of a kitten rolling on the floor.
🌊 “Why would you feed this little demon?” He is curling his lips in disgust, standing behind you to shield himself from the so-called “demon”.
🌊 His dislike and anxious behaviour spurs the kitten as well, and it hisses at him. Of course Rafayel hisses back.
🌊 It takes a lot of patience and breathing exercises for you to separate them and make them understand they aren't a threat to one another.
🌊 Surprisingly, the kitten is the first one to make peace. That, and it kinda likes Rafayel’s perfume. It meows and tries rubbing its tiny body against his white pants. And for a moment, Rafayel seems to be accepting the gesture. Then he realises his white pants might get dirty and steps away.
🌊 He won't admit it out loud but he's starting to warm his heart to the tiny feline. The kitten is basically his baby now.
🌊 “I got some toys for the demon!” He announces as he randomly shows up at your house with a variety of toys. If you point it out he'll tell you otherwise but he definitely has a happy grin when he sees the kitten playing with the toys. However, he’ll get equally annoyed if the kitten doesn’t play with them after all the money and time he spent on buying them.
🌊 “You’ve grown quite close.” You comment airily.
🌊 “You’re sorely mistaken.” He’s immediately scooting away from the small being but also waving a bell around it. “We are natural enemies.”
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SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.
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elexaria · 1 year ago
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price is a good influence on the boys, always keeping them in line. its almost like theyre his boys, he doesn’t pass up the opportunity to talk about them with a proud growl in his voice. they dont know this, but he even has a tattered photo of the four of them in his wallet. he’s never settled down, never had kids, so even if theyre only around a decade younger than him, they’re like his own.
well, he’s almost always a good influence on the boys.
the new bit around the military campus, she’s a sight for sore eyes. the capt can’t help but clear his throat, one arm around her shoulder so casually. he’s a charmer, that’s for sure. “don’t let ‘em paw at you, yeah? you tell ‘ol pricey if these dogs bark at you, love, and i’ll let ‘em know who holds the reigns here.” he purrs in her ear, the rough timbre of his voice is enough to make anyone’s blood run hot.
the boys know better than to try and cuckhold price, after all, he’s kind enough to let them watch him as he flirts with the lil honey on base. their eyes watch keenly as he squeezes her arse as she passes by, a smug grin on his lips as she turns around with a playful gasp. he’ll turn his head, nodding with a grunt at the boys. “y’see that, lads? like putty in my hands, she is.” he remarks, and the boys guffaw like a group of schoolboys at how cool he is.
it gets even better when, after a year of casual dating, his lil lady agrees to let the boys in behind closed doors. “just let ‘em watch, yeah? poor boys dont get much action, it’s for morale i ‘spose. keeps ‘em fit and fired up.” he murmurs lowly in her ear, quiet enough only for her to hear. their dance is as old as time, his large hands dancing around her soft skin. her moans are like a siren’s call to the boys, it gets the hairs at the nape of their necks standing. hell, that’s not the only thing that stands to attention when price parts the glistening folds of her cunt, chuckling as he steps back to nod his head at the boys. “stunning, ‘ent she?” he growls out, a smug grin on his face as he leans on his side, dipping two fingers inside of her slowly while his thumb toys with her clit.
my god, you can HEAR the boy’s heavy breathing as they watch price toy with his girl, and johnny’s the first one to break the awkwardness by rubbing his erection through his jeans discreetly. price notices, and raises his eyebrows. “lads, the missus doesn’t mind if you rub one out. do you, sweetheart?” he coos as he crooks his fingers up inside of her, jamming the pads of his fingers up into the spongy spot where she likes it. she gasps, nodding as she looks over at how quickly the lads begin to unbuckle their belts, their cocks quickly springing up out of their confines. a symphony of grunts that harmoniously blend together with her gasps and mewls, and all are at the mercy of price. he continues to toy with her, to prolong her pleasure until, and it doesn’t take long, until the boys cum right then and there— thick ropes of cum spurting into their fists.
with a chuckle, price rises to sit on the bed, his hand now gently rubbing against her folds in a teasing manner. “right, bugger off you bunch of reprobates. give us some privacy, yeah?” he chuckles, motioning towards the door as they’re all quick to tuck their spent cocks in the waistbands of their boxers, quickly scampering off at the call of their captain.
the next morning, they’ll all sit round a small table, making comments about how good price is, how lucky they are to have seen that performance. “he deffo would let us shag her if we asked, ye ken.” johnny says quietly, leaning in close to the lads in a conspiratorial manner.
“johnny, stop thinking with your dick.” simon gruffly replies, shaking his head as to dismiss the silly notion.
“yeah, no way would he let us.” gaz agrees, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as he leans back in his seat. “she was fit, though.” he chuckles, rubbing his face as they all begin to impishly laugh at the memory.
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lay-z · 2 months ago
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🌨 Day 2 ‒ Quaint
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Synopsis: You’re on guard duty on base with your Lieutenant and while the first snow begins to fall around you, the cold makes you oddly sentimental.
Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | Ghost & reader POV; military!Reader; humour; cussing; platonic relationship; mutual pining; eventual romance
Word count: 1.8k
↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️
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It’s a particularly cold night in the UK.
The base is eerily quiet; the barracks covered in a veil of fog as the harsh floodlights of the nearby watchtowers break through it, though where you’re standing on the lookout hill close to the shooting range, it’s the moonlight filtering through the blanket of clouds that illuminates the scenery.
It does look an awful lot like snow, with the clouds looking thick and fluffy, and ready to burst at the seams.
Tugging your black military issued loop scarf down to reveal the cold tip of your nose along with your chapped mouth, you put the butt of the unlit cigarette between your lips before you lean forward while Ghost flicks his gloved thumb over his cheap lighter, spawning a small flame.
It flickers nervously in the breeze, lighting up the space between you and your Lieutenant in a soft glow that catches his deep brown eyes – turning them a pretty, molten caramel that takes you by surprise and makes your own eyelashes flutter.
Your warm breath is enough to fog up the crispy air even before your Lieutenant lights the cigarette for you. Once the tip burns that ember glow, you take a long, greedy drag and feel that familiar burn taking the edge away while blue smoke fills your lungs.
“Fanks,” you mumble around the cigarette held between your lips while you squint your eyes when the smoke burns your eyes.
“This ain’t healthy for ya, y’know.” Ghost gruffs out while he tucks his balaclava up to stick a cigarette between his own lips, making you snort and roll your eyes at his dry humour.
You have lost count on how many times he’s made that remark oh so casually before, and at this point, you’ve come to the delusional belief that he might actually care about your health and survival outside of missions.
“Yes, sir.” You reply most agreeable, puffing out some smoke while your eyes crinkle at the edges, suppressing a smile.
As usual, your curious eyes flicker up to catch a sneaky view of the exposed lower half of his face; pale skin, cheeks covered in dirty blonde scruff, silvery scars littering his neck and cheeks and one particular one across his surprisingly kissable lips.
You can only make assumptions at the end of the day, but your Lieutenant is a handsome man underneath those crafted skull masks of his. Not that it matters. Jesus Christ, no.
It cannot matter.
So, you tell Soap to shut his trap whenever he flaunts his knowledge about how Ghost’s face looks like underneath his signature skull mask.
“Seen that mug with me own two eyes, lass! Bloke’s a proper bonny lad, that one! Sharp eyes, chiselled jaw, gleaming white teeth, a lil’ crooked perhaps, but all ‘o that. Bet he’s got a massive–”
That’s when you’d usually smack your good friend and teammate upside his head to shut him up for good. You don’t need anyone else planting ideas and pictures in your head about your superior officer; you’re already great at doing exactly that by yourself.
“What’s so funny, eh?”
Ghost’s deep, gravelly voice pulls you out of your thoughts and daydreams, replacing Soap’s Scottish drawl in your head with his own thick British one.
“Huh?”
You blink dumbly, taking another drag and plucking the cigarette away between index and middle finger to exhale as you crane your neck to look up at him to meet his whiskey-coloured eyes.
Ghost points at your face, then, holding his cigarette between gloved fingers while blowing smoke through his nostrils and – you have to shamefully admit – it’s one of the most attractive sights you’ve most probably ever seen.
“Ye’re smilin’ at nothin’ like some twonk.”
Ghost has caught that absentminded, dreamy look in your eyes again; the way your eyes crinkle and the corner of your mouth lifts up the tiniest bit.
He’s noticed it more often now and it’s different from the slightly dissociated look you sometimes get during downtime on deployments. No, you’re thinking about something good – and he wants to know and analyse what it is while simultaneously pushing down that gnawing feeling of jealousy – is it jealousy? – in his gut.
Are you thinking about a new lover? A past one? And why the fuck does he even care?
This odd twinkle in your eyes has made his heart stutter in his chest and made him pause and reflect these strange feelings more times than he’d ever admit already. And even if he could find the courage to acknowledge them to himself, Ghost wouldn’t know how to handle them – apart from the fact that it’s forbidden by rules and regulations, anyway.
His eyes flit about, scanning and surveying your every move as you avert your eyes from him with a soft scoff and shake of your head, and the way you shift in your combat boots, thick soles scrunching up the frozen ground to get some feeling back into your cold feet and wiggling toes.
“It’s just… It’s almost Christmas,” you reply with a shrug, the quick lie coming naturally to you, and you take another small drag, then hold your breath, “Was thinking about those magical holidays during my childhood, is all.”
Quirking an eyebrow under his mask, he easily detects your lie in the way you pause, trying your hardest to act casual. What is it you’re truly thinking about? Ghost hates that he wants to know, despises the way he has started to care about you in more than a strictly professional way. It’s causing problems that he really doesn’t feel like finding a solution to.
“Mhmm,” he hums in return, forcing himself not to pry and not to bark humourless laugh thinking about his own good childhood memories – or the lack thereof.
There’s a long moment of silence where cigarette butts are discarded, crushed in the gravel under the tips of boots, before Ghost breaks the quiet again, letting out a deep sigh as he caves in.
“Humour me, then, Sergeant,” he says, unable to hide the hint of teasing sarcasm in his voice, “What’s the best gift ya have ever received in tha’ precious childhood o’ yours?”
He pulls his mask back down once he realises how your eyes are following the movements of his mouth so blatantly, covering up the faintest of blush creeping up his neck under your curious scrutiny.
Ghost doesn’t remember the last time he blushed; perhaps at a time when his late mother had given him a well-deserved scolding as a boy.
Finding an answer to his question is easy; processing his sudden interest is not.
“My first dog,” you answer eventually, “I know you shouldn’t give away pets as present, especially not on Christmas, when most of them end up in the shelter after a couple of days or weeks, but – yeah, my first dog.”
Of course, you think about all the animals that are always dropped off at the shelters by irresponsible pricks. You have to be that compassionate, which makes Ghost wonder how the fuck you ended up in this profession.
“Hmm,” he hums again and shoves his gloved hands into the pockets of his fatigues, trying to keep the cold out.
“Had that little fucker for nearly 12 years. Basically grew up with him.”
And the way your eyes dull over while a sad smile spreads on your chapped lips, tells Ghost everything he needs to know. You loved that dog, treated it like a sibling probably, judging by your reaction.
“What was his name? What breed?” He asks curtly, though he’s mentally filing away each word you speak to remember.
“Max,” you answer, and then add with a chuckle, “Uh, Maximus. My father still loves the movie Gladiator,” you give a small shrug, smiling at the fond memories flooding your mind so suddenly.
“I don’t know what breed, some German shepherd mix, we always assumed. Big as a calf and protective as hell, too. As a little girl, I could take him on walks through the meanest neighbourhood at night and no one ever dared to touch me.”
For a moment, Ghost is too stunned to speak. The way you reminisce about Max, about your bond with him, has his chest feel tight with another strange feeling, and in this moment, he can’t help but picture himself by your side instead, taking a walk at night, perhaps even going as far as holding hands. Could he bring himself to take yours? To make a first move?
His trembling hand reaching out to curl around yours tentatively, fingers interlacing gently, soft skin brushing against his.
His heart skips a violent beat, dark eyes widening imperceptibly behind his balaclava, lost in his own forbidden fantasy for the briefest moment.
Ghost knows that no one would dare touch you while he is close by, either, when he'd be following you obediently like a shadow. He’d protect you just as well as any guard dog, he’s positive.
Your Lieutenant’s sudden rigidness catches your eye eventually, like a statue frozen in place with its unwavering stare, and when you look, you feel oddly exposed to him as if you’ve opened up way too intimately and crossed an invisible border with your small anecdote.
Feeling the urge to ask if he’s alright rising up in your chest, you clench your jaw instead and tug your scarf back up to nuzzle your freezing nose into the fabric; he wouldn’t tell you the truth, anyway.
Meanwhile, Ghost watches as the first snowflakes flutter down on you; tiny white speckles of snow getting caught in your hair and lashes as you blink them away.
Suddenly, that familiar spark returns to your pretty eyes once more as you notice the first snowfall with childlike awe while your head tilts up to look at the sky.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt nor have any repercussions if he was to share something in return, after all; to offer a piece of himself, a peek into his being and past, even though it’s not as nice or warm like your memories from the past.
He clears his throat, “Never had a dog,” he rumbles eventually, blinking away those rotten memories trying to come forward from a place buried deep within his mind, yet the words still tumble from his lips, uncharacteristically soft-spoken and muffled by his mask.
“But my father, he… owned snakes.”
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angelwishess · 2 months ago
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Jester !
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Pinterest Boards — Playlist(s) .
The big sis jester of Heartslabyul! The party never ends around Jester. Sing, dance, and party away! Everyday is a celebration, and Jester will ensure you have a good day!
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — BASIC INFO !
Nicknames:
Clownfish (Floyd)
Clown Freak (Leona)
Mademoiselle Le Bouffon (Rook)
Sweet Potato / Ari (Vil)
Nicknames for others:
Rara (Kyra)
Caycay (Cater)
Lim (Kalim)
Riri (Riddle)
Zu (Azul)
Silvy (Silver)
Vivi (Vil)
Gigi (Ruggie)
Ellie (Elena)
Lovelee (Leona)
Lils (Lillia)
Grade/Class: Class-E (Sophmore)
Birthday: 04/01
Age: 17
Height: 152.4 cm
Dominant Hand: Ambidexterous
Homeland: “Its a secret!~” (Land of Pyroxene / Shaftlands)
Club: Robotics Club
Best Subject: Alchemy/Transfiguration
Hobbies: Making weird, silly machinery. (Confetti canons, large machine guns that shoot out teddy bears, et cetera.)
Pet Peeves: (??? To be added)
Favourite Food: Strange food combinations that look like it's come out of hell and would make a victorian boy die of shock, especially ones with sweets.
… Also Creampuffs. She loves creampuffs.
Least Favourite Food: Not a food, but tea.
Talent: Acrobatics/Gymnastics (shes a contortionist!!)
Likes: Pranks, Parties, Gymnastics, Confetti, Strange looking trinkets, Glitter, Breaking rules for the fun of it, Making people laugh, Telling jokes, Making machinery, Accessories, Music, Playing instruments, Anything that doesn’t “make sense”.
Dislikes: Staying still, Studying, Silence, Classes, Dolls.
Gender & Sexuality: Unlabled, Pansexual
Voice Claim(s):
— to be added!
ੈ✩‧₊˚ — UNIQUE MAGIC !: My Law!
Jester's signature spell allows her to change anything considered a “rule” or a “law”. Whether it be as small as the rules written in a book, or as big as the laws of gravity, as long as its considered a law, she can change it!
But, before changing said rule, she must first know exactly how it works. Think of it as a safe lock. If she knows how the machinery of the inside works, or figures it out, she can change that rule of how it opens. But if she doesn't, then she can't do a thing.
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — APPEARANCE !
Her most notable feature is that her face is constantly hidden behind an enchanted mask that changes depending on her expression.
She has long blonde hair with beautiful, almost perfect curls. She wears lots of accessories in her hair, and there is often confetti that gets stuck in her hair.
She has a very slender bodytype! Shes very athletic and despite her body seeming rather skinny, her legs and arms are very strong, and her muscles are only obvious when she flexes! (Sleeper build gang😈)
Underneath the mask, she is incredibly beautiful. She has a doll-like beauty, and two notable beautymarks, one located under each eye. She has long, thick blonde lashes and pretty purple eyes. The rest of her body is littered with beautymarks, and her face also has some several other beautymarks but they are much lighter than the two under her eyes. But, no one other than Riddle and Vil has ever seen her face.
Her appearance is inspired by Decora fashion!
ੈ✩‧₊˚ — BODY LANGUAGE / SPEAKING HABITS !
Jester moves like a cartoon character. She often appears out of thin air, usually whenever someone calls her name or is talking about her. She appears whenever people need her, and its awfully convenient.
Shes extremely EXTREMELY animated! Despite wearing a mask, it changes according to her emotions so shes actually my most expressive oc! She has this funny thing where her hat jumps off of her head whenever shes surprised.
Very bouncy! She likes to jump around alot and only skips. Never walks. Just. Skips. Like a joyful little lad. She often uses her magic to emphasis the things she says. Think of Genie from Aladdin as an example of how he uses his magic with his dialog. Thats basically Jester!
Jester also talks very fast! Its hard to keep up what shes saying. She jumps from one topic to another, and the best example I can think of that isn’t Genie, is Pinkie pie!
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — PERSONALITY !
Feeling down? Don't worry! Cuz' your reliable big sis Jester is here to turn that frown upside down!
Her presence accompanied with the playful chimes of her bells, Jester makes it her job to keep everyone as happy as can be! The #1 party planner at NRC! (After Kalim, of course.)
That being said, even with as reliable as she is, theres no denying she has a wicked mischevious streak!
Simultaniously both Heartslabyul's best party planner, and Heartslabyul's worst troublemaker- Jester is undeniably Riddle's biggest headache, especially with that troublesome UM of hers...
With an obvious disregard for the rules, Jester goes left and right spreading her wings of chaos as she pleases And she finds herself in a constant Cat and Mouse chase with Riddle from these shennanigans.
Despite her rebellious nature, Jester is incredibly intelligent! Secretly a magical prodigy and a genius when it comes to academics, Jester’s dislike for sitting through classes stems from the fact she probably already knows whatever topic is being discussed.
Although she is RIDICULOUSLY smart, talented and full of potential— Jester… Doesn’t care about any of that. She likes to stay in the background of things, and gets through school by keeping her grades average in order to not stand out academically, so she can do whatever she wants instead. Many of the Heartslabyul students wonder why, as rhey are well aware of how intelligent she is as she hosts dorm study sessions to help them with whatever subjects theyre struggling with.
This also ties into the fact Jester also doesn’t like to get directly involved in anything troublesome. She’d rather not put in any effort into anything, and only does the things she likes. She’ll watch the chaos from afar, and run away from any punishments for her shennanigans.
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — BACKGROUND/LORE
— To be added!
Currently tweaking and editing some aspects of her lore. But the important things you need to know is shes actually a child superstar and her real name is Arlene Adalyn! Shes first cousins with Vil, and ran away from home the year he enrolled at NRC. She enrolled a year later, and it was only halway through the semester he found out it was her. He keeps her secret, and no one knows of their connection just yet.
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — NOTABLE RELATIONSHIPS !
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Jester ♡ Riddle — Enemies, But Not Really. || Despite everyone else thinking there must be bad blood between the two— thats actually not the case at all. While Riddle may scold Jester for her pranks and shennanigans, they’re actually pretty close friends! Behind closed doors, they’ve gotten a routine of hanging out whenever hes studying. While he wasn’t a big fan of this at first, he got used to it eventually. While Riddle has a lot of trouble with his developing feelings towards Jester— It was love at first sight for her! She speaks of him very highly and isnt shy about her admiration towards him, often saying hes the “Best housewarden she could ever ask for”.
Jester & Vil — Cousins! || The cousins ever!!! While no one else is aware of their relationship, they’re very close and act more like siblings than cousins! Jester likes to sneak into his room to chat, and Vil dotes on her a lot. They like to have self-care days together, and theyre totally the kind of cousins to have sleepovers and gossip the night away.
(… Also shes definetly the type to hide behind Vil whenever shes in trouble. Jester has mastered his sense of humor, and can get him kneeling over from laughter easily just for giggled HAHHAHA)
Jester & Deuce — “Lil’ Bro!” || Jester has a notable soft spot for Deuce! Ever since hes started coming to her for extra help on subjects hes struggling with, shes gotten rather attatched to him due to the time theyve spent together. That, and the pride that swells up in her chest when he comes running to her to show him how well he did on a test or quiz. She cant help but ruffle his hair and praise him!
Jester & The Octatrio — “H-H-HELL NAWH💥” || Although there was a time she was more indifferent towards the three— that immediately changed when Azul tried to rope her into a deal. You see, they somehow figured out what exactly her UM was, and Azul of course wanted it. She never ran out of somewhere so fast, she was dodging the twins like her life depended on it! Never again. Never…
Jester & Kalim — Besties!! || The best party planners EVER!!! When they come together, theres never a dull moment! They match eachother’s energy perfectly, and are two peas in a pod! As thick as thieves, and they’re always hanging out together! Jester also helps him up with academics whenever he needs it :3
Jester & Lillia — “Haha! Im adopting you.” “What.” || Lillia has always been amused by Jester, and likes to watch her and her shennanigans. As they’ve gotten closer, Jester always shows Lillia the new pieces of machinery shes made! Rambling about the blueprints and showing them off like a little kid proud of their crayon drawing. He finds it so cute, and has gotten rather attatched to her and her eccentric self. Hes honestly like one step away from just straight up adopting her. And honestly I dont think she’d mind—
They’re also gamer buddies!! She likes to introduce him to the various games she plays (most of them so obscure it makes you curious how she finds them) and gets so excited over them too! They’re pretty close, and I think its adorable HEHE
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ — FUNFACTS / TRIVIA !
Although she isn’t twisted from any specific Disney character, shes very inspired by Genie from Aladdin!
Not disney— but shes very inspired by Pikie Pie from MLP! (And Discord. Yeah two MLP characters I have no shame)
Jester has a very good memory, and has memorized all 810 of the Queen of Hearts' rules!
Shes a contortionist and likes to freak people out with it (will chase you while twisted in the most naseating pose ever)
Jester is a master of Illusion Magic!
The only people to ever see her face and know her true name is Riddle and Vil.
Jester makes up really insane and absurd crack “theories” of “what happened to Arlene Adalyn” just for shits and giggles. She thinks its the funniest thing ever actually
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astracora · 1 month ago
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Turning Point - Part 2
Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability.
Word Count: 4260
Written: 3rd January 2025
Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. You know I said 'sometime', turns out that was today. I have brainrot. Also, the birth of the group chat!
Now Playing: Hit the Ground, by if found
Masterlist AO3
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You absently stare into the bowl as Zayne sutures your wounds. His hands are steady now, that he has a task. You'd felt him trembling earlier, fingers colder than they normally were, against your skin. At odds with the almost fever you were running.
He's a familiar person to tend to you, you hadn't realised how uncomfortable you'd felt in a hospital without him. Other people putting your broken pieces back together again. Until you'd relaxed at his hands. You're not used to being seen fragile, you don't like it when Zayne sees you like that, but you dislike it even more when someone else sees it.
Though… you can see the others looking at you. Watching as you flinch, at each pass of the needle.
That need to run, to hide, lurks at your back. Trembling. You don't want to be weak for them. Xavier is your partner, he has to rely on you in a fight. You're Rafayel's bodyguard, who can he rely on if he's scared for you. Sylus is far too strong to look at your weakness, and see anything other than a pathetic little cat that's too much work. Zayne will eventually grow tired of helping you, of being there.
Seeing you like this, surely reminds them that you're too much work, that you're a waste of the effort they put into you. Reminds them how fragile the little fluttering organ is in your chest. Pushes you into an unappealing light. Spotlighting every ding and scratch and dent.
Rafayel had eased you through the motions to get clean, gently cleaning around your wounds. Ensuring Zayne could disinfect you, and tend to you. He had kept his face controlled. While you had barely wanted to look at his face, the lack of expression on him had made you peer into his eyes. Seeking out an explanation, information… anything. Desperate to understand what was going through your fish's mind.
Too scared to ask. In case he was disgusted, horrified… hated you. When he'd noticed you trying to catch his eyes, he'd turned towards you. Hand stiling, soap suds on his own skin, soaking through his white shirt. After a moment, his smile, small but familiar, had returned.
"Are you comfortable?"
It was a hard question to answer. You weren't sure you could ever be comfortable, not before, not now. Your body felt off, wrong. Twisted into shapes that didn't fit under your skin.
He ran the sponge gently down your arm, gentle circles against your skin. His other hand on your waist, carefully avoiding any injuries and bruises, thumb rubbing circles, putting pressure in a spot you could fixate on. The heat of his skin a familiar brand. Not unlike the brand that glowed on his neck.
You wanted to reach for his hand, but the limb that wasn't there couldn't move. It couldn't grasp him, and the choke in your throat startled him upright. Hand moving to your face, holding your cheek and grounding you. "It's ok cutie, it's ok." Pressing his forehead to yours and pressing a kiss to the side of your face, "I'm not going anywhere. You have this fishie for life, got it?"
The nod you offer back to him is weak and numb, but you find yourself nuzzling him, seeking him out, eyes closed so you don't have to worry about what you'll see in his eyes. Just what you feel in his hands. Hear in his words.
As Zayne finishes up his work, gently applying bandages to your now clean, freshly tended wounds, he exhales relief. Warm breath against your back, before helping you slip into an overly large button-up of Xavier's to keep warm.
You stare at the sleeve, empty and fallen against your side… you want to tear it off.
It's a violent, angry feeling. Vicious and snarling in your gut. Hissing.
Your hand reaches up, but you wince at the pull on your sutures, and it falls back down. Xavier reaches over, one hand soothing your fingers from where they've tensed into a claw, "Eat, Starlight." before he begins to roll the offending sleeve up. Rafayel hands him some of the bandage pins, and eventually it sits at your shoulder.
It's better. It's not perfect. It's better.
Even if it makes it harder to ignore.
You hesitantly reach for the spoon, lifting it, spilling some of the soup over onto the pillow you'd been clutching on your lap. You ignore it, hunger snapping, and focus on food. The food you haven't eaten since the hospital let you go. It doesn't take long before you're shoveling it into your mouth, hand shaking, and spilling down your chin, but finishing the bowl. Ravenous. You come close to licking the bowl clean, but it's taken away, and refilled before you can. So you resume feeding the beast in your stomach.
Finally, you are sated, and calmer. There is a mess on the pillow you can't even bear to think about cleaning, and you're licking at the mess that spilled down the spoon onto your hand. Before Sylus has a wet wipe in his own, wiping at your cheeks. Cleaning your chin. You blink up at him, his controlled expression. Nothing shining through his eyes, though he laughs a little, "Messy little kitten, aren't you?"
It should be embarrassing, you think it is. You know it should be. You aren't a child, you don't need tending to… but you're so tired, and already so full of emotions you can't name. Twisting around your heart. That this is the lowest concern for you.
If he was going to hate you for being messy, then it's just another thing he can find disappointing about you.
Rafayel laughs, and it sounds more like him, "I told you I make the best fish, cutie." You look over, seeing him watching you.
You feel naked under the adoration in beautiful eyes. Turning away, to look back at the others.
It's… odd seeing them all in your apartment, the little dumb part of your brain provides. It's definitely not big enough for five people. Zayne is next to you on the sofa, packing his tools away. Raffy is sat on the floor, legs crossed, he is playing with party fish in his lap. Squishing its cheeks. Xavier is leaning forwards against the table, arms crossed and chin resting on them, while he has his eyes focused on you. Sylus is leaning against the wall, he has opened the window, so Mephisto has settled on your lamp as a perch, and he flips a coin around his fingers.
You realise absently, that he's ready incase you need something, to move and grab it. Or to refill the bowl again.
When you finally manage to speak, it's a dumbfounded question, asked in a hoarse, sore voice, "When did you all meet?" It's not the most pressing issue, but you cannot seem to move forwards from the image of the four of them here.
Standing in front of you. Not… killing each other? Or at least, not trying to kill Sylus. Maybe they just didn't… know who he was. You'd only ever talked about him as Skye.
Zayne lets out a sigh, pushing his glasses up, and looks over at the others, "Today. Outside your door, except for Xavier, who I ran into when I was chasing up information about you at the Association."
"You have a lot of friends, cutie." Raffy pouts, resting his cheek on the top of party fish's body. "Here I was thinking I was your favourite fish."
It's not really a laugh that you respond with, but it's as close as you can get, "You're the only fish I know, Raffy, of course you're my favourite." His responding smile is soft, eyes wavering like flames, as he looks right at you. Happy to hear even a small bit of joy out of you.
"That needs explaining." Zayne looks over at Rafayel, an eyebrow raised, "Along with the Crown Prince, nonsense from earlier."
Xavier's shoulders jump and he pouts, "It's not important."
"What a terrible lie from a prince." Sylus purrs from where he stands, canines sharp and glinting.
"Says the crime lord."
"Excuse me?" Zayne's hand reaches out to pull you back and a little closer to him, eyes narrowing on both Xavier and Sylus now. "Skye is who?"
"Sylus, actually, dear doctor. Don't worry, I don't bite." His head tilts, looking at you with a smirk, "Unless I like you."
You jump, cheeks heating up a little, turning to look at Zayne who looks ever more like a headache is brewing, and his blood pressure is rising. "The leader of Onychinus… Didn't he try to kill you?"
"How cruel, I wasn't the one shooting the gun."
"What?"
You cover your face with one hand, rubbing at the space below your eyes, where strain is setting in. They notice the reaction, quietening down as you shrink back in on yourself. Tired, worn and aching.
"Take these." Zayne extends the medication you threw, as Sylus hands you a glass of water.
You want to throw them back. If you take them, it means you need them. It makes this reality.
You know that the fact they're seeing you, right now… like this, means its reality. It doesn't make it any easier.
Zayne takes your hand, firm, stable, and cool hand easing yours open, rubbing a circle into your palm with his thumb, before putting the tablets in it. Counted out properly. "Take them." It's as close to an order as you can get, and it's enough to make you ease them into your mouth, taking the glass from Sylus to wash the vile taste away. You almost sputter, but a warm hand gently eases the back of your neck. You see bright red eyes watching you, narrowing, as he helps you swallow.
You feel like you're staring into the abyss for a moment, before they melt into lava, and soften into concern. When he sees you're alright, he releases, but not before tracing your cheek with the backs of his fingers.
"You should sleep, starlight." Xavier frowns, he looks like a sad rabbit, ears drooping. You want to reach over to pat his head, but your arm is sore and tight where the stitches pull. For a moment you look at the prosthetic where it sits on the table.
You'd spent this whole time ignoring it, like if you ignore it, it won't turn into a monster and rip you apart. It sits there, silver metal and black leather. The urge to throw it doesn't come back, which surprises you.
It doesn't look like a beast. Like a monster.
It's just a piece of technology, sitting there, staring at you.
"Or can you tell us what happened? If you don't want to sleep." Xavier adds. Watching where your gaze settles. He reaches out, hesitates, then pulls his hand back. Like he's scared to touch something that hurts you this way. Normally so willing to jump into danger for you, but this… it's a different kind of pain, he can't fight for you.
The offer is said softly. Your partner wasn't there when you got hurt, the guilt in his eyes, for not being there when you needed him most. You have to alleviate it.
He isn't to blame.
You are.
So you put the pillow aside, reaching for one that doesn't need cleaning, and pull it to your chest, needing something to hold to process. They watch as you do, and then you slowly speak.
Explain to them it was just another mission.
Metafluctuations, weak but present, in an old apartment building that was due for demolition. It was a quick check, if anything happened, you were to contact Tara. Hunters in the area ready to step in if it was worse than expected.
There were some knaves in the building, weak and easy to deal with, but too close to populated areas to be left alone. Once they had been dealt with, you checked for any other fluctuations. Nothing had stuck out, your resonance hadn't returned anything to be concerned about.
Until the Myst appeared, another of Ever's twisted tools, swinging its horrific battleaxe around the area, destroying everything in its path. You'd been surprised but you were capable, you'd sent the message to Tara. You'd been ready to fight, before the building shook, its foundations cracking, the walls falling in.
The ceiling falling down.
Debris raining down on top of you, and the framework of the building smashing down around you.
The Myst had gone to attack you, but the pain, the bloodloss, the metal pinning your arm had made you useless. Unable to protect yourself or fight back. You'd pulled against the metal, struggling, but too slowly.
You remember gunshots. Other hunters yelling, but that was when you'd blacked out. Relieved someone had reached you, stopped this monster from hurting anyone else.
If you were going to die, at least you knew one of Ever's tools wouldn't be out destroying more lives. Yours was an easy trade to make for that.
You'd woken up in hospital, arm already gone, wounds sutured, body bandaged. Numb to the world thanks to the anesthesia. Drifting in and out of tormented sleep. Remembering flames, and metal pinning you, as you watched it burn. Watching bones turn to ash, and skin ripping against the strain of your struggle.
You'd been sent home to rest when they thought it safe to let you go, giving you instructions for a psych eval, and the information for your physical therapy. Tara had brought you home, you'd felt numb and empty… but aware enough that you didn't want anyone else to know. No one else to see.
She's suggested calling people, you'd begged her not to. Limbs so weak she had to struggle to help you around. She'd brought you to the apartment, helped you get into bed, and asked if she could stay.
You'd promised to be fine, you'd call her. You promised you'd call her.
You were a liar. Just like Caleb. Promising when you'd wake up, you'd see him everyday.
You'd tried to sleep, you had, but it ached, everything ached, and you kept reaching for your phone with an arm that wasn't there. You kept trying to roll over, but pulling stitches.
The fabric on your bed began to itch and hurt, and bother every part of you. So you'd pulled yourself, heaving, nauseous and dizzy out of your bed. Falling to the floor, where you'd stayed, unwilling to struggle anymore. Not wanting to look at the world around you anymore.
Then they'd found you, a few days later. Exhausted, hurting and just existing in a space where you could only crave a release from it.
Dragging you back into the land of the living.
Zayne looked even more exhausted than he normally did, leaning back a little into the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. Sylus was watching you with a look that indicated he had a lot to say, and was unsure where to start, arms folded across his chest. Rafayel had slinked forward, and had placed his cheek against your lap, hand reaching up to hold onto your leg. Keeping you there, with him. Xavier hadn't stopped staring at you, his starry eyes had dimmed, losing the bright light in them, as he watched you.
Disappointed in you.
You'd messed up, and he'd realised.
Pity.
You were pitiful.
"You're alive." Zayne exhales, voice breaking, as he leans back forward. "You're alive, and that's what matters."
It surprises you. You're not sure why. Zayne has told you many times… all he wants is for you to be alive. That no matter what else, that is what matters. For you to be there, no matter what form you hold. To keep moving, to keep breathing, to keep living.
To live.
You'd teased him for having a low bar for happiness, and he'd smiled, that small but warm smile, looked at you and told you that with you, the happiness came from you being there.
It is a low bar, you suppose, but you are hunted, and hated by people whose faces you cannot even know. You have a job where you fight everyday, to protect others. You exist in a world where your heart could fail you, any moment.
To be alive, means you have not been defeated yet.
It is a low bar… but you suppose it is a starting point.
"I'm alive." You affirm, even though you feel fragile and broken and worthless. Even though you feel like you did all the way through your teen years. Waiting for Caleb to turn his back on you, stop caring for you. Think you are too much work.
You are alive, against all odds, and against anyone's attempts to change it.
Despite fate biting at your heels, to hold you back with thorned chains.
It's enough… maybe. For now.
Xavier stands as your head begins to droop, the days of struggle catching up with you. He crouches in front of you, "Can I please, take you to bed? You need to sleep, starlight." Your nod is unbidden, because truly you can't focus on anything now. The medication is working, and it is moments before you pass out.
The blood loss, the pain, the fear. You are a puppet whose strings are cut. Left in the hands of artisans who have mended broken parts.
"We'll be here when you wake up, cutie. Promise."
"Good night, kitten."
Warm arms lift you like you are a feather, pressed against familiar heat and scent, carried gently. Gliding. You barely register the blankets, but your bed is remade. It no longer smells metallic. As you're tucked in carefully, your lone hand grasps at Xavier, keeping him from pulling away. Scared to face the inevitable alone.
Scared to be alone.
No one there to help when you're at your lowest.
No matter how independent, no matter how long you've fought and moved forwards alone, you don't want to be alone now. When everything is crashing down, and you feel worthless.
"I'll stay." He promises, brushing your forehead, pressing a kiss there. Cool and calm, and tranquil. A starry sky you've stared at every day.
It is enough to push you to the edge, and down into the quiet.
—---
When Xavier reenters the room, he's yawning. Made tired by watching you fall into sleep himself.
He closes the door behind him, hearing hushed conversation and approaches the living room. This time everyone is sitting, even Sylus. Who has settled somewhat since you had left the room, no longer on guard. No longer waiting to appease a desire. Any desire.
"Let me get this straight, you're a lemurian… as well as a famous artist-"
"I'm actually more insulted you don't know my art at all, doc." Rafayel pouts, tightening his grip on party fish. There's the small look in his eye like he wants to throw it at the other man's head, but reigns in the urge. Like a cat debating knocking a glass off the table, but getting caught.
Zayne sighs, and continues, "You're the crown prince of Philos, who… traveled back in time?" He turns to look at Xavier, who settles himself into some of the cushions you kept in the living room for gaming with him.
Xavier shrugs, unconcerned with the title, he hasn't held it after all for a very long time, "I'm just Xavier."
The doctor rubs his eyes again, hesitating on the edge of just walking out. If it weren't for the figure in the other room, sleeping through the pain. This time he looks at Sylus, who is leaning back in a chair like a king, arms crossed and head tilted back. "And you?"
"I'm just Sylus." The man teases, flashing canines that shouldn't be as sharp as they are. "I just happen to run the N109 Zone."
"Right. The natural enemy of the Hunter's Association, and the people who wanted the core in their heart."
"You can mistrust me if you like doctor, but kitten is in no danger from me."
"Hard to believe."
"Well, the best things often are." It sounds like a jest, but for a second the man's eyes soften. Looking for a second at the closed door before they sharpen into gems again, "But whether you believe it or not, I'm here for them."
The doctor looks at Xavier, who barely reacts, face downturned, buried in pillows, he can already tell what question is coming.
Don't you have anything to say?
Can he be trusted?
"Does it matter?" Xavier manages, his finger pointing at the little crow charm on the man's phone, "They trust him."
Zayne and Rafayel both look, then at their own phones. A tiny snowman and a little fish.
Xavier knows his own sports a little star.
Mishapen and messy, made with Tara on an outing you and her had gone on, eager to keep the other hunter company for things. Hungry for friendship.
Companionship.
Connection.
Rafayel groans, leaning back on his hands, legs stretching out, "Cutie makes all the worst friends."
Sylus scoffs, "Friends."
Agitation makes the fish glare, eyes narrowing, and this time the plushie flies at Sylus, who catches it in his EVOL with a laugh. Gently placing it down, so he doesn't damage something you value. "Stupid crow."
"Calm down fish, someone will think you're steamed and take a bite."
No one misses the small blush over the man's ears at Sylus' purr, which just makes the man laugh a little more.
"Well, if no one is leaving-" Xavier starts, yawns, and then forces himself to sit up a little to continue, "we should figure out what to do. Otherwise this will happen again."
Rafayel shrinks, "I've never seen cutie like that. They're always so…" his sigh carries the weight of years he can't share, and he shakes purple hair like he's trying to shed the memories, "strong."
"The strong can't always be strong." Sylus offers, turning a coin in his fingers again, staring off out the window.
Zayne hums his assent, "They need to go to physical therapy, pick themselves back up again. Adjust, as hard as it will be. I can attend their therapy sessions when available, moral support can make the difference between failure and success for some."
"I can help around the house, visit them. I'm just upstairs after all."
"They'll need to eat, and get out of the apartment. See people." Sylus adds, he pulls out his phone, typing a message to Luke and Kieran to prepare a replacement for the door. Sooner than possible.
"I suppose between us we can make sure this works."
"You want us to work together?"
Zayne sighs, "As much as the idea of asking a wanted man-"
Xavier laughs under his breath, but doesn't explain. He does think about the three wanted posters, however.
"for assistance, taking care of someone important to me, I would rather have all of our bases covered, and then to have a wider support system in place. Unless anyone has any objections?"
There's nothing, just a quiet accord between four people. Thinking about the room near them, full of something precious. Worth protecting.
"I suppose we've got a deal, doctor." Sylus nods, standing, "I'll be back in a little while to fix the door. Until then I'll move some things around so I'm more available."
Rafayel hops up, "I'll be right back, I'll grab my current project so I can work from here. Maybe some…" he looks about, "extra blankets."
While Xavier wants nothing more than to sleep, to sit at the door to guard it, to keep watch. The fridge is empty, the bandages have run low, and he wants to look around the area. Wary, on edge. Worrying that Ever have lurked too close.
So he pushes himself up, removing himself from pillows that smell of you, and heads to the door too, "Grocery shop." He offers, through another yawn.
As people filter out, Zayne leans back into the sofa, before rising and heading over to the bedroom. Quiet and careful, he checks on his favourite patient. Though he desperately wishes he didn't need to be your doctor. Didn't need to stitch up torn skin, bandage wounds. Watch you suffer. It tugs at his heart, watching you force yourself ahead.
Rafayel was right. You'd never shown anything other than strength to them. Fighting through injuries, being reckless if it meant protecting others. Taking on mission after mission. He thinks the only time you've relied on them, is when there's no fight to be had.
Relaxing in your personal time, as rare as it is. He's seen you injured, of course, and at your checkups for your heart. But you've always met those with jokes that belittle the seriousness of the situation. A readiness to make light of pain. He has never seen you crumble, hurting and wounded. In a way you don't just bounce back from, because you can still fight injured.
As he strokes your head, gentle and careful not to wake you, he is both aching and relieved. That you'd finally lowered part of your mask, but that it took such pain to do so.
They've at least owned a door for you to step through, easier if someone is waiting on the other side…
Even if the most wanted man on earth had broken it open…
That's going to take some getting used to.
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thegnomelord · 10 months ago
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ooohh I love the idea of alpha gaz actually. Especially with his dynamic with price because price is kind of like his role model sometimes and he's a much older and more experienced guy that's used to being in leadership positions. Gaz is younger and somewhat looks up to price and has never been in a position to tell other people what to do, so to have that flipped in the bedroom and have omega price and alpha gaz is not what most people would expect them to be. It makes their relationship more interesting. And gaz especially would be a good alpha because he's not a hothead and can keep control of himself more than most other alphas can. And I mean we've already had omega Gaz fics so it would be nice to switch it up this time (not if you don't want to. Just ideas)
Hm that's a good point and a cool dynamic idea too :Dd, as I'm not all that certain if I'm gonna even do abo so here's a quick experimental brain fart with Alpha Gaz/omega Price/alphaHound
CW:NSFW, this is more or less when Hound has mostly been rehabed and is more confident about intimacy. Not all too happy about it but it's a good enough example of how I'd incorporate the abo dynamic. Tell me what ya'll think lol
Price looks like he's run a marathon, huffing and puffing more than a racehorse as he settles in his nest. Of course his heat had to hit a whole 2 weeks earlier than it was supposed to, leading him to make a makeshift nest out of whatever he had in his closet and what the lads gave him. You'd think with him getting on in age his heats would slow down and lessen in intensity, but it seemed like his body was out to get him with his heats remaining the same as they had been when he first joined the military.
At least he's got two alphas able to help him through it.
Gaz doesn't have an overpowering scent like most alphas, but the smell of an omega in the first stages of heat will have any alpha's scent glands going into overdrive. The heady smell of nutmeg and beeswax spreads through the room, mixing with Price's own mint and blackberry scent that's been turned sweeter from his heat, as Kyle tentatively gets in the nest, fumbling with his belt like he's a teenager while he nuzzles his nose into Price's sweaty neck.
"Kyle I swear on the queen if you don't pick up the pace." Price hisses but the edge in his words are dulled by the soft purrs coming from his chest.
"Sorry sir," Kyle mumbles as he rubs his skin against Price's, somehow managing to end up between Price's spread legs, his fingers pushing into his slick hole. "I just- you smell so good."
"Eager whelp." You huff a small laugh as Price groans. Your own movements are slower, more measured, your scent muskier thanks to your age. You feel Kyle's hackles raise as you settle behind him, your body so, so much larger than his. But the low rumbling chuffs you make has him calming down just a bit, enough to not notice when your hand grips his wrist, two of your fingers sliding in along his and curling. "Move your hand like this, you'll get him wet in seconds."
Price moans as your curling fingers brush against the spongy spot inside him, his cock leaking a few drops of pre against his stomach. "As if you weren't the same." Price chuckles, holding Kyle by the scruff so he can pull him down into a sloppy kiss. "First time you helped Simon with his heat you barely lasted a minute before you shot your lil lads like a virgin."
Gaz doesn't know how either of you have enough sense in your heads left to think let alone talk when he feels like his brain is melting through his dick. Your scents curl in his nose and he whines, so hard it hurts him as he feels Price clench and relax around his fingers. He sobs his muffled 'thank you's into Price's neck when you deem Price prepped enough, a firm hand on his cock guiding him inside that tight heat.
Kyle's hips try to snap up to sheathe himself inside his omega on instinct, a low and pitiful grownly whine leaving him when you hold him steady with only his tip inside that tight heat.
"Go slow." You chastise him, one large hand on his hip to keep Gaz still while the other slides down to hold him by his knot. "Wouldn't want you to cum too soon, right?" When Kyle nods dumbly you slowly push on his hips until he's almost all the way inside Price, a small slap on his flank getting Kyle to rock his hips in a way you hope Price still likes.
"Lad- you-" Your name sounds like an angel's choir on Price's lips, his head falling back. Kyle takes that time to lay kisses and hickeys across his neck. "So good to me boys." Price slurs, eyes closing and enjoying the stretch of his walls around Kyle's cock, the pleasure and small hints of pain scratching that gnawing heat in his blood.
"Careful now Kyle," You hum and let go of his cock when he picks up the pace you want him to have, his ass grinding against your cock every time he pulls out to thrust back into Price. "I'll need to show you how to fuck properly if you lack the skills."
You can see why Price picked him to be the team's alpha. Most knotheaded whelps would have been up at arms for even the mere suggestion of taking a cock up the ass, yet by the sharpening of Kyle's scent you can he likes the idea.
"I wouldn't mind that." Kyle shoots back, and his surprising words get a pleased rumble out of you. "Yeah, you like that big man- fuck- hah-" the teasing list in his voice is lost as he moans, the smooth glide of his cock into Price and the lewd sound of omega slick squelching every time he moves making heat burn in his veins.
He shivers as your massive body presses further against his back, pinning him between you and Price and forcing his cock to go deeper with every thrust. "Good." You rumble against his neck, the cold metal plating your canines pressing against his skin as you gently nibble on his neck only working to further stoke the burning heat in his body. "Because I'm finding you lacking."
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corvussnakee · 8 months ago
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Decided to throw this quick sketch together of Rotten's Shattered Dream.
I decided to make the tree, guardian, emotion- ough twins- like- insect based n'such. So, what better way to represent an inky goopy tentacle beast?
A fuckin spider that's what.
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The outfit was inspired by Crona from Soul eater. I liked the long ass dress like outfit they wore and said 'Ight Bet'
I've also already started calling this version of Shattered, 'Dreamcatcher' for the sole reason that I think this silly lad would make dreamcatchers in his spare time.
There's also been some religious imagery sneaking in with like- His main room where he's set up his 'Office/Study' area is like the Sanctuary of a church. Dude built his like- castle/mansion type home usin a church as a base lol.
He may look like a sad lil dude but he would not hesitate to have one of his 'children' (Spiders) crawl all up in your business and take control of you.
Okay so, small blurb. Dreamcatcher!Shattered has the ability to produce spiders out of his body. These spiders he refers to as 'his children'. If these spiders manage to get into your body they will quickly overflood your system with toxic positivity. Making you extremely dazed and euphoric. Your soul will then float in front of your chest and there will be a spider symbol on the front. This shows others you're under the influence of Dreamcatcher!Shattered. He can command you to do sorta... Anything.
The only way to get free is to have one of Nighty's butterflies get into your system and chase out the toxic positivity, via flooding your system with negativity.
Both are painful processes but like... Ehh, you get to be free?...
Oh, and Dreamcatcher!Dream's sludge covers his mouth. He's got a Glamrock Chica/Red Guy situation goin on underneath it.
Some extra stand alones.
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So ya, silly sketch.
I think og Shattered!Dream belongs to @zu-is-here ? (please let me know if I'm wrong!!)
EDIT:
Shattered!Dream actually belongs to @.galacii / @.galacii-gallery [@.shattereddreamsau]
[Thank uuu Zu for telling me!!! (❁´◡`❁)]
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