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thewritingmagician2022 · 6 months

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Midnights - Taylor Swift - Brothers and Dateables

Lucifer: Maroon

The mark they saw on my collarbone

The rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home

So scarlet, it was maroon

This sound is very Lucifer and, despite the navy color the game assigns to him, I will always associate red with Lucifer - especially a deep, dark red. This song is about a relationship ending and it makes me think of MC returning back to the human world and while they keep in touch with everyone at first, the contact between them and Lucifer fades quickly as they both return to v their normal lives. Especially now with the lyric video released and we know it says “it’s a real fucking legacy, to leave”. MC leaving is what really lingers and Lucifer is the one who is stuck with that.

Mammon: Sweet Nothing

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I’m just too soft for all of it

They said the end is comin'

Everyone's up to somethin'

I find myself runnin' home to your sweet nothings

Mammon, my sweet man, who wants everything that the worlds have to offer but he can never find anything better than MC. There is nothing sweeter to him than the praise they give him or their declarations of love. Mammon deals with a lot of criticism and pressure, not just from his brothers but from the Devildom in general. He’s a very high ranking demon and that comes with certain expectations; if he’s being honest, Mammon thinks he may be a little too soft for all of it but the only person he’s willing to be so honest and vulnerable around is MC - the one person who doesn’t expect anything from him but his love.

Levi: Glitch

We were supposed to be just friends

I think there’s been a glitch

Five seconds later, I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch

And I'm not even sorry, nights are so starry

This song is so Levi. He goes into this thing with MC thinking he’s just found a new friend and he’s sure this little crush of his will just pass by. The more time he spends with them, the faster he’ll realize that there’s nothing special about them, right? Wrong. The more time they spend together, the more attached Levi grows and the more he wants to see them. Something has shifted in their dynamic and Levi is forced to realize how much he cares about them and in exactly what way.

Satan: Snow on the Beach

Flying in a dream

Stars by the pocketful

You wanting me tonight, feels impossible

But it's comin' down, no sound, it's all around

Like snow on the beach

Snow on the Beach is very ethereal sounding and I always associate that with Satan. I’m the very beginning of the game Satan is described as looking like a regular Prince Charming and we quickly learn that’s not quite true. Satan is pretty reticent, especially in the beginning, and MC doesn’t seem very interested in him. But, over time, they get closer and closer and MC is shocked to realize that Satan cares about them. Satan is just as surprised that MC feels the same way. Together they navigate a romance that’s very fairytale-esque and unexpected but wonderful.

Asmo: Question

'Cause I don't remember who I was

Before you painted all my nights

A color I've searched for since

Does it feel like everything's just like

Second best after that meteor strike?

I think this is the way everyone would feel after a break up with Asmo. How are you supposed to find another lover, another partner, after they’ve been with the Avatar of Lust? The crown jewel of the three realms? You don’t. Nothing else will ever compare to that kind of love. But what MC doesn’t realize is that Asmo feels the same way. He’s been with so many people he could never try to keep track but he’s never had anyone quite like you again and, as he’s realizing, he can’t find anyone else who colored his world quite like MC did. So they’re both left wondering ‘does the other person feel the same way? Do they regret this like I do?’.

Belphie: Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

And if you never saved me from boredom

I could've gone on as I was

But, lord, you made me feel important

And then you tried to erase us

Oh, you're a crisis of my faith

Would've, could've, should've

If I'd only played it safe

I was so tempted to use The Great War instead because things end up okay with Belphie but I just can’t because MC wasn’t imagining wrongdoings that never happened. Belphie literally killed them after spending weeks befriending/seducing them, making them feel so important because of the role they were going to play in freeing him and bringing the family back together even though they knew Belphie was supposedly a risk. Everything was going well and MC was on the “right” path until they met Belphie, the Devil in disguise, and that meeting changed everything.

Beel: Paris

Privacy sign on the door

And on my page and on the whole world

Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours

I think Beel would be very private in a relationship and it’s not because he doesn’t love MC or is ashamed of them but because he’s so fiercely protective. All he wants is to keep MC safe and keep them to himself seems like the best way to do that. And that’s just fine with MC because in a realm where they are constantly being scrutinized it’s so nice to have something that’s just theirs. No one can touch that love with their judgment or opinions or jealousy. It’s a perfect little bubble around them and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Diavolo: Lavendar Haze

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

I feel the lavender haze creeping up on me

Surreal

I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say

Diavolo is 100% Taylor in this song. He is always in the spotlight of the Devildom, obviously, and that means everyone there has an opinion on everything he does. That applies to his relationships; in fact, it’s even worse for romantic connections. It drives him crazy sometimes, especially when it affects MC. But MC is always there to comfort him and reminds him that people can say whatever they want - the only thing that matters is how they feel about each other. It because Diavolo’s mantra whenever he gets frustrated and he knows that he can deal with whatever people have to say as long as he has MC.

Barbatos: Mastermind

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

And the first night that you saw me

Nothing was gonna stop me

I laid the groundwork, and then

Just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

The demon who can see through time and all of its possibilities using his powers to gather information on MC? It’s more likely than you think. Barbatos is efficient, thorough, and dedicated. There is no chance that he would stumble along blindly while trying to win MC over. He knows the exact role he needs to play, knows how to interest them and make them like him, make them trust him. To anyone looking at their relationship from the outside, it would seem like a cute little love story where the MC just happens to fall for the butler that’s always there behind the scenes and that’s how Barbatos likes it. Little does he know that MC is not nearly as oblivious as he thinks he is and, luckily, they find it endearing.

Simeon: Hits Different

Dreams of your hair and your

Stare and sense of belief

In the good in the world, you once

Believed in me

And I felt you and I held you

For a while

Taylor, can you please release this as a single? I am so tired of finding bootleg versions to listen to. Back to the point, I absolutely hate the idea of MC and Simeon being separated but I fully believe that MC would be an absolute wreck without their angel around to love them and encourage them to make good choices. So MC is back home in the human realm and they’re heartbroken and their friends don’t understand the name they’re slurring at the bar and crying over. All MC wants is to be back with Simeon - the one person (angel) who loved them so fully. The one person who always believed in them and encouraged them and made them feel like they could truly be as good as he thinks they are. MC has known heartbreak before but nothing could ever compare to the pain of losing someone so perfect; it just hits different.

Solomon: Labyrinth

Uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love

Oh no, I'm fallin' in love again

Oh, I'm fallin' in love

I thought the plane was goin' down

How'd you turn it right around?

If you don’t think that this song is Solomon’s, you’re absolutely wrong. We don’t know much about this shady sorcerers past but we do know that he’s been married before and we can assume that he’s been in love multiple times over the thousands of years. Based on his typically guarded or nonchalant behavior, I have to assume that his heart has been broken enough times to make him very wary of love. Then along comes MC and slowly, so slowly he almost doesn’t realize it’s happening, Solomon falls in love. It’s terrifying at first and he’s angry with himself for letting it happen but MC makes him so happy and once they admit their feelings, Solomon can’t help but give into his own and he finds he doesn’t mind quite as much as he thought he did.

#obey me #obey me imagines #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me satan

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edelfan · 1 year

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Trigger warning: suicide attempt

I'm sorry for this. I'm going through a rough time myself and this just wanted to be written.

It was way past midnight and the hallways of the Naval hospital were deserted except for the night nurse who kept making her turns. One room though was filled with people, all gathered around the pale figure lying in the bed and being kept alive by the countless machines he was connected to.

I'm sorry that it has come to this, but then it's not like you guys are gonna miss me anyway.

Admiral Kazansky had used the power of his rank as COMPACFLT to make sure that they could stay with him 24/7 - especially after learning that there was no family or other next of kin to be called.

My father was right. I'm not good for anything, not even when I brought home straight As, not even when I get those meaningless medals.

The room was small. The only two chairs available were occupied by Phoenix and Rooster. The rest of the Daggers were lined up along the walls, Bob having a supporting hand on Phoenix's shoulder. Maverick was standing at the foot of the bed, leaning on the rails as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.

I know I've been an asshole most of the time. It's the only way I managed to survive for this long. Don't show weakness, don't let them come close because you'll only be hurt in the end.

"Anybody, but him... I mean if I'd only known how he really felt," Phoenix mumbled, clumsily wiping at the tears that kept coming. Without saying a word, Bob wrapped her in a hug from behind.

Maverick was right in not choosing me. Rooster was right when he said that I lead people to an early grave. Funny that in the end it seems to be my own.

"The doctors said that the next 72 hours are critical. He needs to start breathing on his own or else..." Maverick sighed, laying his hand on the blanket over Jake's legs in hopes that the young man could feel that he wasn't alone. "Damn it, kid. Not like this, you hear me, son?"

I really thought that I had proofed myself by saving Maverick and Rooster. I had really hoped that I found a squadron, in which I am not the one on the sidelines. I had hoped that maybe we could be friends...

For a long time there was silence in the room - except for the hissing ventilator and the beeping heart monitor.

But I keep fucking up. I keep running my mouth and I keep making the same mistakes over and over again.

"I shouldn't have said those things to him the other day. Hell, I know how it is up there... Fuck, Jake, I'm sorry." Fritz's voice was hoarse as he let himself slip down the wall, ending up in a heap on the floor.

Tell Javy that I am sorry. I'm just too tired.

Javy was standing by the window, looking out into the darkness. Ever since he had helped Rooster and the medics getting Jake into the ambulance, he hadn't said a word.

Tell Rooster Bradley that I am sorry. I am sorry for what I did the first time we met at Top Gun. I shouldn't have pressured you so much into... well, you know what I'm talking about. If only... who knows, we could have been quite the power couple, right? No matter what I said back then, I still love you... so much.

Bradley was a mess. He hadn't left Jake's side since breaking open the younger man's door and finding him on the floor. Sitting next to the bed, he held Jake's hand while also caressing his hair. Too many people had left him behind already, he wouldn't let Jake go, he couldn't let him go. "You damn idiot... Why didn't you say anything? I still fucking love you, too. You can't leave me, baby, please..."

See you on the other side.

#hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick #the dagger squad #top gun angst #top gun drabble #my writing

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willtheweaver · 4 months

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OC questionnaire tag

Shoutout for the tag @kaylinalexanderbooks

My questions are:

1. What is your favorite thing about rain? What is your least favorite thing about it?

2. What is something you don’t mind waiting a long time for?

3. Have you ever been punished for anything you didn’t do?

These questions sound perfect for the birds of A Feather in the Forest! Let’s hear it from Reed, Dirge, and Sora

1. What is your favorite thing about rain? What is your least favorite thing about it?

Reed: There’s just something about rain I find soothing. Cleaning everything, washing away the old, and nourishing things…what I don’t like is when it stops on a hot summer day. The humidity afterwards is a killer.

Dirge: I like rain in general, more than most other birds. Some may say it is ingrained into the blood of all geese. Don’t know about that, but I love a gentle rain shower. What I don’t like is a thunderstorm; the kind that goes on for days with pounding rain, screaming winds, and lightning that keeps everyone awake and praying for their lives.

Sora: The tap tap of rain always puts me at ease. It’s also ideal to hide secret conversations. What I like the least is when the rain ends during the summer months. The humidity is the WORST.

2. What is something you don’t mind waiting a long time for?

Reed: Spring. I just love the melting of the snow, and new life coming forth.

Dirge: That perfect sunset. You know what I mean; a clear, cloudless sky, the colors shifting from red, to the blue of night.

Sora: Seeing a rainbow after the rains.

3. Have you ever been punished for something you didn’t do?

Reed: This is less of a question than the story of my life. Being low on the social ladder means that everyone above you drops their guano on you…and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Dirge: Do you really want to know? Some of those of the upper ranks just love blaming us for their mistakes. And having higher standing in the hierarchy means they get away with their crimes (it makes my blood boil).

Sora: (sigh) the list I’ve got is a long one. Coming from the bottom meant that those higher up can get away with quite a bit. Things aren’t much better now that I’m a member of the talí (the warrior ranks in bird society). Those born to the rank always like to remind me that they could end my career and my life if they choose to.

Tagging @thewritingautisticat @late-to-the-fandom @splashinkling @drchenquill @tabswrites @words-after-midnight @winterandwords @diabolical-blue @thepeculiarbird @spitefulbull and open tag

Your questions are:

1. If your best friend/spouse/family member admitted to have committed murder, would you turn them in?

2. What is your fondest memory?

3. What is the best piece of advice you can give someone else?

#tag game #open tag #writing #creative writing #writer #writers #writers and poets #writing community #writer on tumblr #writeblr #current wip #the crow and foxfolk series

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seizethedre · 2 months

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(In the Land of Gods and Monsters)

Chapter Eight: Like a Groupie Incognito

The natural progression of information is questions yield answers. in the case of Lucifer finally getting to the bottom of Alastor's antics, all he gets are even more questions.

Much has been said about the devil throughout his time as supreme ruler of Hell. In the beginning, he was fearsome and cruel beyond compare; a demon of pitch black, inky darkness and terror incarnate. Then, there were those who called him treacherous and cunning, a snake lying in the tall, tall grass waiting to strike against the unsuspecting. Many considered him to be a tragic figure, a cautionary tale. The predecessor of one Icarus, fallen beloved son of the great inventor Daedalus, brought down by his own hubris. The blueprint from which all evil and temptation gave rise and poisoned humanity. A snuffer of light despite himself being once known as The Lightbringer.

These days, the devil was very much a mystery to all save a select few. Still powerful, still fearsome, but strangely absent.

To be honest, Lucifer felt no pressure to create a spectacle to remind all of Hell just who he was, not when there were much more productive things he could be doing with his time. Besides, although he was always aware of how his subjects considered him, he had given up caring about his image a long time ago. What was there to prove? Who was there to prove himself to? Heaven had made it clear a long time ago what they thought about him. So had Lilith, to be quite frank. And although some wounds still festered, he lived, generally, unbothered by the opinions of others.

The only opinion he did care for was Charlie’s, and despite the time he’d lost and the mistakes he’d made with her, he knew that deep down there was next to nothing that would ever get her to cast him away from her good graces. She was too kind, too forgiving to give up on him.

Which was exactly why he needed to keep her safe, regardless of where the threats were coming from. And right now, the most immediate threat to her well-being seemed to be coming from in-house, and Lucifer was determined to put an end to it before it escalated into really dangerous territory.

Dinner had ended a few hours ago, and as the clock ticked its way on over towards midnight, Lucifer knew that now would probably be the best time to make a move if he was really wanting to get some answers tonight.

A plan had been brewing in the angel’s mind all night, ever since he had made up his mind to confront Alastor about the things he’d felt that day outside of the bakery. Holy power was hard to come by in a place like Hell, especially in as concentrated a dose as the one that the demon’s staff had.

There were some demons, like Carmilla Carmine, who had access to angelic weapons, which could do some serious damage in the right hands, but even an Exorcist’s blade was child’s play when compared to the power of someone much higher up in the Heavenly ranks. Take him, for example: angelic steel would be harmless against him, even in the odd chance that someone could manage to get a good hit in. Seraphim’s were as close to indestructible as a being could get.

But that energy that Lucifer had felt from Alastor definitely came from something much stronger than your average Exorcist, and that thought alone was enough to set the angel’s nerves on edge. Rightfully so, too, especially when something capable of so much destruction was placed in the hands of someone as unreliable as the Radio Demon, who’d been acting more suspicious than usual as of late.

Lucifer’s attempts to retreat to his rooms right after plates had been stacked and the crew had started to file out were thwarted when he was all but cornered by his daughter the second the others were out of ear shot. Once she got started, he could only hope that there would someday be an end to Charlie’s infinite stream of questions about how his first art therapy session had gone, as well as her promises to pop in and participate someday soon. He always had time for Charlie, nothing but endless love and patience for that dazzling girl of his, but today he felt that patience wearing just a bit thin as anticipation gnawed on his better judgment. He was anxious to get things sorted, to rid himself of the nagging feeling in the back of his mind, to unravel the tension that had begun to knot itself in the pit of his stomach.

When he finally did manage to satiate the barrage of whos, whats, wheres, whens, and hows, Lucifer only waited long enough for her to round the corner with Vaggie before snapping open a portal upstairs. If he was going to deal with this tonight, he had to do it soon and do it carefully.

Usually, the act of dealing with demons was pretty cut and dry: flash his scary red eyes, bust out the big wings if the occasion called for it, and maybe spit a bit of fire to really set the intimidation factor to max. But this was Alastor and whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was not your average demon.

Hell, Lucifer was almost certain that he hadn’t been your average man when he was alive either.

He was smart. That much was obvious, scarily so, even. There was so much going on beneath his exterior and it was unnerving for the King of Hell to get such a difficult read on someone. His status as seraphim had endowed him with a certain affinity for reading souls, and it was about as close as one could get to literally and metaphysically reading another person as possible.

In Heaven, this power had been used by the First Orders to delegate tasks according to the strengths and weaknesses of each individual angel in their charge. Down here in Hell, it meant that Lucifer always knew who and what he was dealing with.

Most souls were harmless enough, just giant stains on white carpets. However, there was the occasional soul every few millennia that left him stumped. Instead of stains on carpets they were these massive voids or tangles of thorns. It was as though their very essence had a built-in security system, an arsenal, and in order for Lucifer to catch a real glimpse of what was on the other side, he had to take more invasive measures, which essentially meant he had to get his hands on them and literally pull the tethers of their being apart, slowly unwinding until he could see the whole picture.

It was a messy practice, and unsavory at best. Lucifer tended to avoid doing it at all costs if only for the simple reason that it felt wrong and dirty . Souls were such delicate little things, especially mortal ones. To become uncoiled completely was dangerous and it always resulted in some things becoming irreparably damaged. Nothing ever quite settled back in the way it used to be, the way it was supposed to be. The best alternative to performing a spiritual lobotomy was to keep a close eye on them and hope their more nefarious tendencies didn’t rear their ugly heads.

Yeah, he didn’t come across them very often, but they gave him the heebie-jeebies every single time.

Alastor was no exception.

The layers to the man were astounding, and clearly put up with the intention of keeping others out. To try and venture into the workings of Alastor’s mind was like signing your life away to the most demented corn maze in the entire history of the universe, and even the angel could admit that he wasn’t keen on trying to wander through and decipher the signs without so much as a map and some rope.

To attempt to understand the inner workings of the demon’s mind would be like Lucifer trying to regain his post in Heaven: impossible and maybe a little insane to even consider. However, he did know the guy well enough to understand when something was off.

The demon had been oddly quiet during their meal, and while it was true that he couldn’t be considered a particularly chatty fellow to begin with, he was always quick with a witty remark or a well-aimed insult when the occasion called for it, and equipped himself well with a silver tongue that could give the Father of Temptation a run for his money.

The fact of the matter was that Alastor had hardly even acknowledged a single soul the entire meal, red flags waving high and alarm bells definitely ringing when he didn’t so much as twitch an ear the entirety of Niffty’s impromptu roach puppet parade at dessert. This could only mean that the guy was clearly and uncharacteristically distracted. That conclusion, of course, did nothing to settle neither Lucifer’s nerves nor his suspicions.

Determined and spurred completely into action now, Lucifer slipped from his rooms without so much as a whisper of noise.

Alstor’s quarters were clear across the hotel from Lucifer’s, separated by a long length of hallway. Under normal circumstances, the king was grateful for the distance as it meant the odds of running into the demon before he was good and ready were slim, or he could even avoid him entirely if he wanted to, but tonight the walk towards his gloomy doorway was long and every step filled him with more apprehension.

Logically, he knew his nerves were unjustified; Alastor was just a mortal soul underneath the static and the theatrics. And yet, he couldn't stop the prickling sensation that crept its way from the base of his skull and down his arms, nor could he even begin to explain the tightening in his chest as he neared the dark alcove that signaled he was getting closer and closer to the belly of the beast. This little slice of the hotel was dark, the lights of the hallway seeming to have burnt out save for a few odd flickers. It must have been a purposeful design choice seeing as all of the lights in the building ran on sorcery, so the demon was clearly going for something a bit more dramatic and morose.

He paused in front of the doorway, oddly unsure of what to do next. Knocking seemed like the most logical answer, but too civil for Lucifer’s intentions. He supposed he had every right to just barge right in and demand answers, proverbial guns blazing and all that, but he also didn’t want to interrupt the demon’s nighttime routine. Did he even have a nighttime routine? Had he truly never considered Alastor outside the contexts of gloating rivalry and radio static? Oh father, what if he was already sleeping and Lucifer just looked like a creep who liked to spy on poor, innocent Radio Demons for fun?

Nope, definitely not sleeping. Think with your head, Lucifer .

A quick look downwards revealed a soft yellow glow of light flickering under the door. Broadening his hearing, he could make out the sound of music that always seemed to accompany the demon in his quieter moments. If he strained just a little bit more, he could make out the barely audible footfalls of someone walking around on the other side of the door.

Alright then, so he is awake, there’s that debate settled. Which leads him back to square one: how to get in without making this monumentally worse for himself than it inevitably will be. Quick and to the point seemed like the most ideal option here, as well as the least likely to result in property damage, so he steeled his nerves, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath. He brought a hand up to hover a few inches from the door with the full intention of giving it a few sturdy knocks when it swung open all on its own.

Huh, he was pretty sure that he hadn’t been the cause of that.

Nonetheless, he was immediately greeted with a wall of warmth and light. Giving the room a good visual sweep, he didn’t immediately see a seething monster twelve feet tall and glowing green, so he could only hope he was being welcomed in. He stepped in tentatively, wings ready to unfurl and carry him away from harm at a moment’s notice.

He had never been in Alastor’s room, never even cared to imagine what it would look like, but if he had to guess, it definitely wouldn’t be this .

The walls were red, a few shades deeper than the walls of the hotel, and decorated with a wide array of animal skeletons. Okay, morbid, but not surprising, I suppose. To the left of the door was a single hook from which a familiar coat hung, long, pin-striped and seemingly freshly pressed. On the floor beneath them were a pair of shoes, laces untied and tucked up neatly against the wall. The sight of Alastor’s clothes separated from his being made the angel nervous, his heartbeat quickening in his chest as he braced himself for something unfamiliar.

He ventured further into the room, but there was still no sign of the deer. He noticed, however, that the source of the light and warmth was a crackling fire burning in a small fireplace. The walls on either side were made up of two large bookcases, one filled with books of all shapes and sizes, even a few different languages, while the other boasted an impressive collection of vinyl records. He realized with mild surprise that the music he was hearing came from a small turntable that sat on a low table in front of the fireplace and in between two large and admittedly comfy looking armchairs.

He glanced around the room again, wary at the sensation of being watched himself as he stepped away from the safety of the wall and the light.

In another corner of the room, he could make out a looming wrought-iron staircase that spiraled up into another room. Lucifer assumed it was the sinner’s radio tower. He was going to take another step in that direction to prove his theory when a light suddenly turned on, revealing a new hallway. The feathers at his back bristled. He followed it.

About halfway across, the light blinked out, but in its place rose a softer, paler light. No, not a light, a glow. The further he walked, the stronger it got and the more his confusion grew. The air around him grew humid, damp almost, and it smelled like earth if not something a little muggier. Perhaps this is where Niffty’s bug problem had been originating from, too, because he could hear a lot of them chirping away like a tiny chorus.

The light stopped at the end of the hall in a solid-ish glowing wall. Like a doorway, almost, except when Lucifer put a hand to it to push it aside, he fell right through, nearly tumbling past the threshold in surprise. When he looked up, he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Laid out before him was a massive recreation of one of earth’s swamplands. A pocket dimension no doubt, he concluded. The blue glow he had seen was a result of the imitation moonlight that cast the entire room in a silvery sheen. Large trees reached up to the sky, their branches and leaves intertwining, heavy drapes of moss strung across them like tattered old curtains. The bugs sang louder now, the noise bordering on a soothing humming noise as lightning bugs blipped in and out of existence. Although he couldn’t see it, Lucifer could hear running water somewhere nearby, and curiously he wondered just how deep the pocket dimension went.

The king was no stranger to pocket dimensions. Where do you think he stashed his wings when he wasn’t using them, after all. But to create one was tricky and required a lot of concentration and power. To stray from one’s desired outcome puts the very fabric of space at risk, endangering dimensions and the stability of their current universe. To create one so large and seemingly so stable was, admittedly, impressive. Yeah, Lucifer was impressed and he wasn’t too proud to say so either.

Who the fuck was this guy?

Or, more importantly at the moment: where the fuck was this guy? Yeah, Lucifer had more than a few questions for him now.

He sucked in a breath, fully intending to use it to call out for Alastor when a blur of movement in his peripheral caught his attention. He pivoted, coming face to face with the Radio Demon

“Uh, hi,” came his intelligent response.

Alastor regarded him coldly, probably colder than Lucifer had ever seen him before. Usually when they interacted there was life to it. Anger, irritation, heat . The look he was giving the angel now brought the temperature of the entire room down. In their little swamp, the crickets cut themselves off and the lightning bugs extinguished themselves. Even the blue glow of faux moonlight seemed to shrink away, as though a cloud had passed over it.

Lucifer gulped, suddenly getting the sense that he had seen too much, had crossed a line that he shouldn’t have.

“Alastor?” He tried. The sinner’s eyes narrowed dangerously in his direction.

“Your Majesty.”

“You know why I’m here.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and the moment the words left his mouth, Lucifer knew that Alastor knew it to be true, too.

“Hm, not exactly,” he mused, finally setting his gaze elsewhere. Lucifer visibly relaxed, relieved. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. “But I do have an idea. You are quite–- persistent- –after all. The word ‘no’ means nothing to you, does it?”

And Lucifer realized just how right he had been. He wasn’t just stuck in the middle of the damn woods, he was being fucking hunted for sport. But the King of Hell was far from helpless, and definitely not one to be chased down like cowering prey. Lucifer got angry.

“I’ll accept your refusals when, and only when, I know they won’t bring any harm to my daughter or this hotel.” The angel glared up at the taller demon, looking him squarely in the eye as he continued. “Let’s get one thing clear here, Alastor. You can taunt me and shit-talk me all you want, but I draw the line at Charlie’s safety and well-being. The only reason why you’re still here is because she wants you to be, but if you ever get so much as the thought of wreaking any kind of havoc, if you move so much as one hair on her head–- you’re dead . And I’ll make sure you stay dead this time, got it?”

Smoke curled between the two men as they faced-off, stony faced and seething. Defeat was not a term either one of them was familiar with, considering that pride is what defined them both at their core. The heat between them intensified, literally, as Lucifer’s frame shook with fury and static rolled over the two in waves. Their staring contest could have lasted an eternity, and Lucifer would have been just fine with that because at least it would mean that the cocky bastard in front of him would be accounted for at all times, but he didn’t come here tonight to make threats. He allowed it to go on a few moments longer before Lucifer took a deep breath, blinking hard as he forced his appearance back into its typical fashion.

“Where is it then?” he asked curtly.

Alastor was slow to relent, wise enough to understand where his cards fell and not at all happy about it, but conjured up his microphone in a wisp of green fire. He passed it to the angel with no further exchange, just the flat and steady sound of static.

Holding it in both hands, Lucifer shivered as energy jolted from his palms all the way to the crown of his head and down to the hooves of his feet. He shuddered as his own grace combated the foreign power, wincing at the stinging sensation that pulsed from where he made contact with the staff.

He frowned, closing his eyes and concentrating on feeling past the physical effects of the energy, reaching out with his own to meet it, identify it. The deeper he pushed, the more the energy seemed to push back, as though warding him off, wanting to repel him. Which was odd, considering that most angelic power, even those of higher ranking angels, should be able to fend off a seraphim, fallen or otherwise.

The mental tug of war he was playing was finally giving way to a breakthrough, and if he pushed just a little further he should be able to catch a glimpse of the essence…

Lucifer dropped the microphone with a gasp.

He stared after it as it rolled away a few feet. It glowed white-hot and steamed in the aftermath of Lucifer’s assault.

“Your Majesty?”

Something akin to dread, but so much heavier began to settle over him. It bittered his tongue and curdled his stomach.

“Your Majesty!”

The world was far away and all he could feel was the burning in his palms, in his chest, in his eyes

“Lucifer!” Somehow the word rang through the padded haze he was losing himself in. The devil looked up, eyes blank, gaze glazed over and far away, searching for something that wasn’t there.

Alastor had his hands on his shoulders. They felt cold against the burning under his skin and he wanted to squirm away. Instead, he spoke the only words that kept ringing around his head.

“Where did you get it?”

The frown line between Alastor’s eyes deepened as he looked over the little king with concern and uncertainty, looking back and forth between his eyes for any sign of his usual character.

“It’s not mine,” he said, finally. He let go of the angel’s shoulders, slowly, arms held up cautiously, as though ready to catch him if he so much as swayed. Lucifer remained upright and the demon took a small step backwards. He cleared his throat. “It’s not mine.”

“I know,” Lucifer whispered.

“You know?” Alastor asked, skeptical, quizzical, relieved.

“It’s not you. It couldn’t be. It doesn’t feel like you . Where did you get it? ”

“Extermination Day. Before you arrived, I was fighting with Adam. It was going well. I was doing well, but he got the better of me. He blasted me with something, nearly split me in half. He probably would have finished me off, too, if not for my staff. It took the brunt of the impact and broke in the process. I managed to escape a few minutes before you arrived.”

“Adam hurt you,” Lucifer murmured, tasting the words on his lips, digesting them, blinking up at him with more clarity. “Adam hurt you?” There was something frantic creeping into his tone now. “Adam, he–you said he nearly split you in half? He hit you with something, he broke your staff, he–he–” Halfway to hysteria, he sank to his knees, mind reeling from the information being processed, the revelations and the implications of it all.

Alastor stood in front of him, shifting uneasily, unsure of what to do. His instincts kicked in and the soothing sound of piano keys melted away at the tension in the atmosphere.

“I am relatively unharmed, if that makes any difference,” he offered into the silence. The king sniffed from where he sat with his head between his knees.

“Of course it matters.” He looked up, eyes glistening as they burned into Alastor. “You have no idea what you’ve done, Alastor, do you?”

“I let the hotel fall to holy arms. I’m aware of my failure, Your Majesty. I don’t need it spelled out for me.”

“You saved the hotel. You saved Husk and Angel, you saved Charlie , you saved me .”

“I’m afraid I’m not following.” Alastor wasn’t one to lack confidence. Hell, even after losing to Adam he had managed one last quick snark before phasing out. But this, now, in front of the King of Hell, hearing him praises , Alastor felt small, felt mocked despite the sincerity on the angel’s face. His ears flattened against his head, his smile twisting into something sour. Lucifer stood back up, wiping his cheeks before gesturing to the forgotten microphone.

“Whatever Adam hit you with, it wasn’t his power. Not exactly anyway. And I don’t think you were its intended target. Angels, we–we have this ability to identify one another by our power, our grace. It’s like a signature almost, or an aura. It’s hard to explain, but no two are alike.” Lucifer took a shuddering breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“When I felt it the first time, that day we went to the bakery, I knew it couldn't have been you. I would’ve felt it before then. And just now, when I reached out to it with my grace, it fought back, I don’t know, it shouldn’t have been able to do that, not with me, not unless it came from someone much more powerful than Adam.” Alastor didn’t speak, waiting for the angel to continue.

“It wouldn’t let me see it. Not all of it at least.” He sighed, looking down at the singed and festering skin of his palms. “I don’t know who it came from, I just know that whoever gave it to Adam didn’t do so with good intentions.”

The two stayed in the silence for a few minutes, both too preoccupied with their own thoughts and the implications of this grand revelation to quip at the other. Lucifer felt the events of the day catch up to him. Between the anxiety of waiting for his first art therapy session, to worrying about Alastor and the shady shit he was tangled up in, all the fighting, the questions yet to be answered. And now this, a message from Heaven, loud and clear: something has shifted.

Lucifer dug his claws into the damp earth beneath him, feeling its coolness sooth his tender skin. They were safe, for now at least. It was clear that this wasn’t going to be resolved tonight, he just needed to remain extra vigilant, take every precaution to ensure his loved ones remained safe.

His gaze flickered to Alastor. The demon was still standing in front of him, shoeless and coatless, his red hair blowing from the light wind. His smile was small, smaller than Lucifer had ever seen it and it was clear that the sinner was sitting in the gravity of their shared situation. His ears weren’t in their usual perky state, though not flattened either, seemingly in a wilted state, the only indication of his own exhaustion. His arms were crossed over his chest, hands clenched into a tight fist. He didn’t look in Lucifer’s direction.

The angel blinked, looking from the deer’s hands to his own. And then it clicked.

“Alastor, have you been living with the residual energy this entire time?”

“Obviously,” he replied sharply, shifting away from the angel as his eyes narrowed and ears flattened in suspicion.

“That’s why you only use it in public,” he mumbled to himself. Then, louder, “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” The deer shifted in place, ears still firmly hugged to his skull.

“Let me see,” the king demanded, already reaching out to touch him. Alastor pulled back, quick as a snake and bared his teeth.

“Don’t touch me!” He snarled, curling away from the angel, the shadows at his feet intensifying as though ready to whisk him away. “I said I’m fine, didn’t I?” He snapped.

“Alastor,” Lucifer tried, speaking lowly and slowly, palms up and on display. “I’m not going to hurt you. You see this,” he gestured at his own hands, raw and blistered where they should have been healed up by now. “This is what happens when you’re exposed to high levels of angelic power, especially of that caliber. Alastor, your body wasn’t made to handle it. Hell, it’s a miracle you’re still alive. That’s why you haven’t been using your microphone here at the hotel, isn’t it? Because it hurts?” The demon didn’t respond, but his smile dropped a fraction.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he hissed. He stood up straighter after that, sending clear signals that he was done with the conversation as he turned back towards the glowing doorway that led out of the pocket dimension and back to the hallway. Lucifer let out an exasperated breath. He scrambled up after him.

Oh this guy…

“Let me help you, Alastor, please.” Lucifer wracked his brain, trying to think of a way to get the sinner into accepting his help without sacrificing his dignity.

“Listen, you helped Charlie, right? You defended the hotel just long enough for heaven to break their end of the treaty. That means I owe you, right?” Hello, that got his attention, didn’t it. The sinner paused just shy of the doorway, without uttering a word he was letting Lucifer know he was listening to what he had to say.

“Let me take a look at it at least, let me see how bad it is. You’re smart enough to know that if it hasn’t healed on its own by now, then it’s not ever going to heal.” There, a logical argument, one that the demon would surely appreciate. Lucifer stared at the retreating figure as he stood stiff as marble.

Alastor remained infuriatingly silent, of course he chose now to have nothing to say. But he was considering it, that much Lucifer was certain of. Although he couldn’t see the expression on his face, he could see the flexing tension of his shoulders, the twitching of his ears, and how he seemed to be looking down at his own hands. The man was thinking, long and hard.

When he finally did turn back around, his face was clear of any emotion, eyes wary as he cradled his fists close to his chest.

“You will look and only look,” he warned. Lucifer nodded obediently to the man’s terms. “With your eyes only , Lucifer.”

“Mhm, yeah, got it, scout’s honor. Eyes only. No touching, guaranteed.” Alastor still didn’t seem too convinced, but stepped closer to the angel nonetheless.

“Very well,” he spoke, reaching out a tentative hand. “You may proceed.”

“Mind if we do it somewhere else?” Lucifer asked, smiling up absently at the taller demon.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, can we do this in front of the fireplace?” He winced as feedback split the air. Alastor’s eyes darkened briefly as his smile tightened.

“I mean, not that I don’t love what you’ve got going on in here with the trees and the bugs and all, but I think we’d both be a little comfier if we didn’t do this here, you know?” Lucifer didn’t think he was being unreasonable in saying this. Sure it was a pretty little pocket dimension swampy thing, but it was kinda dark and if Lucifer was going to try and help, he had to know exactly what he was working with.

“So, what d’ya say, Al?”

“My name is Alastor ,” he ground out through gritted teeth.

“I thought your friends got to call you Al though?” Heavens, was the King of Hell truly pouting like an infant just now? “Charlie calls you Al all the time.”

“ Charlie can’t be convinced otherwise. Believe me, I’ve tried. Please, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe that one civil conversation with another man hardly constitutes grounds for friendship.”

“But we bonded? Shared trauma and made important discoveries together. Surely there are friendships that have been founded on less.”

“You threatened to kill me less than an hour ago.” And yeah, okay, that look he was giving him was definitely not amused, but it was a little funny wasn’t it and why couldn’t Alastor just let the past remain in the past?

“In my defense, I threatened to kill you while I was under the impression that you were harboring the angelic equivalent of a nuclear bomb inside the walls of my daughter's hotel. You can hardly blame me for taking drastic measures.” Alastor hummed, unimpressed.

“Well then, are we going to get this over with? Some of us do have important things to do in the morning.” Alastor turned away from him again, walking towards the doorway. Lucifer’s eyes gleamed with the promise of mischief. He twirled his fingers and in an instant they were both in the front room, the one with the fireplace and cozy-looking chairs. The music had stopped playing a while ago and the record was spinning aimlessly on the turntable. Beside him, Alastor stumbled, a hand pressing to his stomach.

“Could you refrain from doing that without warning me first next time?”

“Who said anything about there being a next time,” Lucifer snorted before he caught a glimpse of the sinner’s pale, kinda green looking face. Oops. “My bad.”

“Indeed,” Alastor grunted. He slowly lowered himself into one of the armchairs, hoofy feet scraping against the carpet. Taking a deep breath, he held out one of his closed fists towards the angel. Lucifer dropped all pretenses of amusement and moved to kneel in front of him.

Slowly, Alastor uncurled his fingers, revealing the red, angry skin of his hand. Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise at the state of them. They looked far worse than his own, all blistered and chapped as if someone had been branding his palms with a hot iron on a daily basis. Despite how much he wanted to reach out and touch, he kept true to his word and looked at the demon’s hands only.

“They’ve been like this since the fight? Your other hand too?” He inquired, quietly, softly.

“Yes.”

“Can I try something? I promise I won’t touch it.”

“Very well.”

Lucifer rested his own hand in the space above Alastor’s, not touching, but close enough to feel its heat. He concentrated, closing his eyes as he channeled his grace, using it to reach out towards the wounds on the sinner’s palm. It took some effort, sifting through the pieces of Alastor bit by bit until he could pick up the offending traces of holy energy, but once he caught it, he followed the threads, pulling and separating them from the demon as carefully as he could. He couldn’t be sure how long it had taken him, but by the time he had finished healing the other hand, his own were trembling with fatigue.

“There,” he sighed out, sagging back against the frame of the chair. “There’s one problem dealt with.” Lucifer leaned his head back against the soft fabric, basking in the warmth of the fire. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from where it started to cling to his damp forehead. Above him, Alastor stared at his open palms, unmarred and whole.

“What exactly did you do?” He asked, a trace of something reverent in his tone.

“Pulled the angel stuff out of you,” Lucifer replied, opening a lazy eye to look up at him. “Once that was out of your system, your body was able to patch itself up just fine.”

“Yes, but how did you pull it out?”

“Remember what I told you about grace being able to recognize other grace? I used my own as a sort of magnet. Once I found what was left inside of you, I simply absorbed it into myself.” The angel shrugged, unbothered, but Alastor was shaking his head.

“But you were hurt by it too, won’t absorbing foreign grace affect you?” Lucifer waved him off.

“Eh, maybe a little bit. My body is definitely resistant to someone else’s grace, kind of like loading up a body with an incompatible blood type, but it’s resilient enough to know how to flush it out of my system. God really made sure to think out all the little kinks in his soldiers before creating us. Look, see?” He thrust his hands up towards the demon, waving them in front of his face. They were perfectly healed. “All better,” he murmured, promptly dropping them back down into his lap.

Alastor marveled at the feat. Lucifer truly was a powerful entity, formidable and practically untouchable. Still, he was not without weakness. He had seen it on his face earlier in the bayou, how fear had crossed his features, clouded the brightness of his eyes and stolen the smile from his lips. Down here he was supreme, but there were forces out there in the celestial realm that were just as powerful, just as capable of destroying him, as they had narrowly avoided proving during the last Exorcism.

And Alastor was privy to the information.

How fascinating .

He looked down at the King of Hell who seemed as though a breath away from never waking up again. Alastor supposed this would be about the time that he returned the favor. Summoning his tendrils, he lifted the king into the adjacent armchair before calling on another to drape a blanket over him. For a moment he considered removing the other’s shoes-–Alastor detested walking around his rooms with his shoes on–-but thought better of it. He’d done his due diligence and to provide more would only fuel the angel’s silly little notion that the pair of them were chummy now. How preposterous.

Still, he replaced the needle on the record, quiet music filling the room as he disappeared up into the familiar space of his radio tower.

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#radioapple fic #radioapple #appleradio fic #appleradio #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #alastor #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel #aos #ao3 fanfic #inthelandofgodsandmonstersfic #itlogam

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writerpey · 6 months

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Cg!Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven & Regressor!John ‘Bucky’ Egan Headcanons

masters of the air was so good I had to write something for this pair. happy series finale, everyone! sad it’s over but so happy with the show, it totally blew my expectations out of the water. pls enjoy & request more of them if u want! & please be careful reading this if you’re sensitive to the topics of the show. take care of yourselves, everyone <3

John keeps his regression tucked away from the others at Thorpe Abbotts as a secret little part of himself that, before Gale found out about it, he wished he could drop straight out of a B-17. He tried to deal with things the way all his comrades did. He drank, slept around, got into fights with the British soldiers at the bar and placed bets on the Yankees against the Cubs. It just wasn’t enough. It felt close to enough when Gale would wrap a hand around the back of his neck and drag him away from a stupid midnight decision, or when he’d be drunk enough for Gale to walk him to his bunk and help him tug off his boots with a familiar sigh.

Gale could tell when John was close to a breaking point, when his best friend was itching at his own skin and antsy to get in a plane and out of one at the same time. He knew something was different about John, especially when it would get late and John’s eyes would glaze over and he would refuse to leave Gale’s side. Gale had an inkling that sometimes John acted out just to get his attention. And when Meatball would run over John would gasp happily, the joy of a little boy emanating from his excitement.

Gale climbed out of bed one night after seeing John’s was empty, throwing on his jacket and stepping outside. Sitting on the ground with his back against the wall, John was sniffling, hands rubbing at his eyes and shoulders shaking.

“Bucky? What’s goin’ on?” Gale questioned gently, concerned for his friend and ready to take any step necessary to comfort John.

John was terribly embarrassed that night. Sniffled and cried and blubbered unintelligibly to Gale about a fog in his brain that wouldn’t go away until he felt like a kid again. That Gale made it worse, but better, and he was so fucked in the head for being like this and—

Gale stopped John’s negativity in an instant. “Bucky. It’s okay. I’m here for you. You know that, I know that. That’s all that matters.”

The pair fell into step with one another with the ease expected for two soulmates. It took a lot of coaxing from Gale to get John to not only tell him when he was feeling small, but to encourage him to regress more often to avoid all the bad decisions that came with John not dealing with war trauma properly.

John had come back to his bunk one night with a bleeding nose from an escapade in town, and the lecture he got from Gale was enough to make him regress instantly. He looked up at Gale with big, apologetic eyes while Gale’s steady hands wiped away the blood under his nose with a damp rag. “Sorry, Buck. Shouldn’t have been bad.”

As a caregiver, Gale is very accustomed to John’s needs and loves to dote on him, though he’s never afraid to pull rank on the other. His stern tone carries an air of disappointment to John when it’s necessary, which serves to make John regress fairly easily.

John has a lot of energy when he’s small, well-rested, and knows his group isn’t going to be called on mission for a couple of days. He’ll tear around base on his bike and steal extra eggs from Lemmons at breakfast, play fight with Gale and beg Curt, Rosie and Croz to play a game of baseball together. He’s at his happiest when he can be as carefree as he wants while everyone except Gale has no idea he feels small.

Gale has to work hard to reign in John on those kinds of days. “Bucky, no. You can’t take without asking. I don’t wanna hear that you’re hungry. You ate a dozen eggs.”

John is a super touchy person in general, and when he’s small he’ll literally hang off whatever part of Gale he can get a hand on. Throwing himself over Gale’s shoulders at mealtimes. Clutching the back of Gale’s jacket while running away from Curt. Trying to stick his finger up Gale’s nose for no apparent reason. He likes to annoy Gale, a little shit-disturber at heart.

On harder days for John, fresh off a mission, he gets far more needy. Gale’s heart always breaks in his chest when he wakes up to John making small noises of distress in the night. He often wakes him up with soft shushing and his hand stroking through John’s dark curls. “Just a dream, Bucky. I got you.” Gale whispers, even while knowing that truly, they lived out their nightmares. But the deep timbre of Gale’s voice and his steadying presence always soothes John, who often stretches his arms out to be pulled into Gale’s lap.

Gale really likes when John is especially small. He flushed red the first time he asked John if “maybe, you would let me read you a story?” Gale loves the quiet, intimate moments they get to have together, tucked up in a B-17 with The Hobbit in hand and the sun setting, whisked away to another world even just for a few moments. He feels untouchable with John’s head under his chin and the sound of Lemmons tapping away under the hull of the plane.

When it comes to nicknames, Gale isn’t the most creative person in the world. And quite frankly, if he even dared to call John something too sappy, John would explode from embarrassment. So Gale sticks to Bucky most of the time, but Johnny also made its way into his vocabulary. John’s ears go red and he grins very, very widely when Gale taps him under the chin with a gentle utterance of “Good Johnny.”

John calls Gale a plethora of names. They range from Buck to old man to a very shy Papa, only when John is super small and feeling especially brave. It makes Gale cover his face in kisses.

All in all, Gale is an attentive, kind, thoughtful caregiver who is stern when he needs go be with the little rascal that John is. And John is a fireball when regressed, but in desperate need of the care that Gale is always, always willing to give him.

#mota #mota fic #mota agere #masters of the air #gale cleven #john egan #gale x john #sfw agere #sfw agere fic #mota headcanons #age regression #little space #austin butler #callum turner

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mermaidsirennikita · 9 months

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Have you read the Maiden Lane series? I know is a long one so I was wondering if you could rank them? I have only read up to book 5

Omg YES. I love Maiden Lane. It's so good. An all time favorite series of mine. I will say: I haven't read Wicked Temptations a) because I hear it's kinda different from the others, not surprising because it's a first book and b) it took me forever to find in paperback (I mean to be fair I could've totally gotten it on eBay lol, but I forgot and I finally found it at a used bookstore) it's never in any of my library systems in paperback or E, and I didn't want to get it on my kindle if I could possibly find it on E. c) Now I'm down to two full length Hoyt historicals and she's a top author for me, so I'm kinda saving it.

But yes, of the ones I've read:

Thief of Shadows--I find this to be an incredible book, it has my favorite virgin hero of all time, I love the emotionality, the lack of a magic baby, an incredible hero/heroine dynamic. I will never not love this book.

Scandalous Desires--another one I just adore, it has one of my favorite "rakish her/moral heroine" dynamic. I love that she is very pure but she's not a virgin. I love the baby in this book, rare for me. I love the pirate ship setting. The way she says "I love you" during sex and he climaxes IMMEDIATELY lol.

Duke of Midnight--this is apparently a controversial but brave opinion, because Maximus is a SUPER alpha, kinda major asshole hero. I just love the quiet but firm way that Artemis responds to him, and his totally deluded dirty talk (he calls her Diana, he tells her while he's literally inside her about how he's gonna keep her in a hunting lodge and shit lol), the sex scenes are FIRE. The line "take my come for it's all I can give you" is WILD and I adore it. Also, HE IS THE NIGHT!!! AND HE HAS A GEORGIAN HOME GYM.

Sweetest Scoundrel--I really love a hero who seems like a rogue but actually has a deeply good and gentle heart once he realizes that the heroine isn't as tough as she seems, and Asa Makepeace IS that. I love that he's so respectful of Eve's boundaries while also really admiring her emotional strength and willingness to try new things with him. Also--that carriage scene? GIRL. GIRL. ICONIC.

Duke of Sin--I just really admire the absolutely insanity of this book. I also enjoy a villain hero who really doesn't reform at the end. He's just in love. He still does villainy, but he's found love and he prioritizes his love. Also, Bridget, similarly to Artemis, watches his carnage and goes "Well" which is a thing I have a weakness for. Just a heroine shaking her head and being like "I don't know what I expected.

Dearest Rogue--this one is really sweet, especially by the bananas standards of Maiden Lane. I love a bodyguard romance, and I also appreciated the fact that the heroine was blind and a good bit younger than the heroine but not infantilized. Plus, it's a good roadtrip romance.

Lord of Darkness--a "put a baby in me" romance, which I ALWAYS love. I love that this one has a mild-mannered professor type hero who like, wears spectacles and a "Night Before Christmas" sleeping cap lol. But he puts it DOWN. After an initially awkward encounter. I also love an initially awkward encounter.

Duke of Pleasure--the Return of the Ghost of St. Giles, one of the truly wildest "fakeout makeout" (except it isn't fake and is waaaay more than a makeout lol) scenes, and a cross-dressing heroine initiated into the sensual world~ by an older man. So fun.

Notorious Pleasures--controversial for cheating reasons (and Maximus is introduced and... really doesn't come off well lol) but I find it so fun. Very illicitaffairs.mp3, kinda low stakes compared to a lot of the other books, a solid romp.

Duke of Desire--this one is VERY dark and very intense, and while I think it's a beautifully written recovery book, I found it a lot heavier than Sweetest Scoundrel. Which isn't a wrong move, but it is a very sad, very emotional book you really need to be in the right emotional place for.

Darling Beast--I really need to reread this one, because I don't know if I was in right mood for it. And I do appreciate the interplay between the hero and heroine, the fact that the heroine has a job (and is an actress) and the fact that they can't speak to each other for a good while? Like I said, really need to reread.

But overall, even a mid Maiden Lane book is better than a lot of other historicals. Elizabeth Hoyt just has IT. I love the fact that these books are often about more working class or middle class characters, not just the nobility. I love the big, ambitious, wacky plots. I love the heat factor (she writes a great sex scene). It's just great.

#romance novel blogging #book recs #winter makepeace i love your work

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littlesentences · 3 months

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It was a dark night in the bowels of New York City. The lights and noise of the city muffled by the dark and quiet alley they had found. What they were doing appeared to anyone as innocent. After all, it wasn’t exactly illegal to just stand in an alley with friends, doing absolutely nothing – but there was a bag. The bag itself wasn’t exactly illegal, but its contents were.

He didn’t know what was in it exactly—tossing up between stolen money and drugs with each shift of his feet. His watch told him it was half-past midnight. Whoever they were meeting would show up at any second, and he had to get rid of his fear. If it was a tangible thing, he would stuff it deep in the dumpster he was leaning next to.

As he heard a car pull up at the other end of the alley, he pushed his fear as far down into himself as he could, hiding it under all the other emotions he shouldn’t have had. It would be harder to find that way. At least, that was what he told himself as the doors to the car doors slammed shut and footsteps made their way closer to them.

It would be impossible to see the newcomers faces until they were right in front of him, not that they dared get that close. He supposed they couldn’t see anyone else’s face either, and he found he preferred it that way. It occurred to him that was probably why they were meeting there—he had a sudden surge of respect for the person he called a friend.

“Where is it?” said the person he had to believe was the leader.

Everyone around him looked at each other, wondering if any of them had known they would be doing business with women. He didn’t find it particularly alarming, just unusual. Not a lot of women were in their line of business. His leader spoke up, “We want the money first.”

He could hear the smile in the newcomers leader’s voice when she said, “How about we do the exchange at the same time?”

“Look, lady, no offence but I only do that with people I trust.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that you won’t run off with the money and the drugs once I give you the money?”

“Yeah.”

The bag was filled with drugs, then.

There was silence and he knew his leader was only going to need another little push to do things her way, no matter how much he didn’t like it. He would do just about anything to keep his customers in a city with so much competition.

The woman sighed. “We either do this my way or I leave.”

There was another tense silence as his leader fought with himself, already hating himself for what he was about to do.

“Fine.”

He watched as his leader picked up the bag of drugs at his feet and the woman picked up a bag of what must have been the money. They grabbed onto each other’s bags at the same time, staring at each other, daring the other to let go first before letting go of their own bags at the same time.

The woman immediately turned, and he heard all her people retreating back to the car they had used. The doors slammed shut, the engine started up, and the car peeled away just as everyone turned to look at him.

“I could have used your help then, Greg.”

He shrugged, the fear he had put in a hole resurfacing. “It seemed like you had it all under control.”

“Were we part of the same situation, Greg?” his leader asked.

Greg looked around to find the bodies of the people he had once considered friends circling around him. Once their leader gave the word, they would bash his head in, and his body would be found sometime in the morning rush. He had hoped there would be a bit more loyalty among the ranks for someone who had gotten them all out of more than a few tough situations.

But what had he expected—they were mindless husks of people ready to do whatever their boss wanted; and right now their boss wanted Greg dead. For all of his words, Greg could only swallow as the fear he had buried broke free.

“I don’t like taking orders from girls, Greg.” His leader was walking closer to him. “I thought you knew that.”

“She got the drugs and you got the money. It looked like a successful transaction.”

His leader was in his face. He could smell alcohol on his breath. “It’s about my reputation, Greg. If the rest of my customers hear about this, they’ll think I can be fucked over, Greg. Do I need to tell you how bad it would be if I got fucked over, Greg?”

Greg shook his head.

“Good.” His leader turned around. “I hope you don’t have any regrets, Greg.”

The semi-circle around him closed. Greg did have regrets—many, in fact. One of them being that he wished his last meal had been from that pizza place his mother used to take him to instead of the almost stale pizza his leader had given them a few hours before this transaction.

Death watched on in amusement. Greg didn’t make a sound to alert anyone nearby that he was being pummelled to death. Before too long, his soul joined Death, and he spent one second watching his friends beating him into obscurity before asking, “Who are you?”

Death replied, “I think you already know.”

Death watched as Greg slowly put two and two together, understanding where he was, who he was with, and what he was watching as his friends continued beating his lifeless body. Shock tended to make even the brightest minds work slowly—well, shock and denial. The two tended to coincide a lot in Death’s experience.

As Greg’s old workmates started to stop beating the shit out of Greg’s body, a door formed. It was an ordinary door—wooden, doorknob and a doorframe, touched the floor—if you ignored the fact that it didn’t have anything else attached to it. And it had an aura about it that even Death couldn’t deny marked it as otherworldly. Death nodded to it and it swung open. Greg couldn’t see what it opened to, and Death thought it may have been better that way.

“Walk through that and you will be where you are meant to be.”

Greg nodded. His face was grim, as if only just remembering all the bad he had done in his life.

Death knew from countless years of watching that this was always the hardest choice for people. They didn’t know where they were going when they walked through the door, only knowing it was where they deserved to be. The way Greg was looking at the door made Death think he could see what was inside. When he shook his head, Death couldn’t exactly say it was surprised—it had known what he would choose the moment his colleagues had started beating him to a pulp.

“No. I don’t want to go in there.”

Death cocked an eyebrow. It didn’t always have eyebrows anymore, and it rather missed cocking them. “Are you sure?”

Greg paused for a moment, thinking over the choice that would determine the rest of his existence, and nodded rather enthusiastically.

Death sighed, proffering a piece of paper. “Okay, but here’s a list of what you can and can’t do while still here. And keep in mind there are worse people than you still wondering the streets of your city.”

Death left Greg to contemplate his choice for the rest of eternity.

Prev.

Next.

#how to be human #mine #writing #original #death

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frankenjoly · 1 year

Text

Midnight conversations

@suegikuweekjuly2023 // day 6: staying up all night

“Can’t sleep either?”

The question took Tetchô by surprise, to the point his jaw opened a bit when hearing his companion’s voice.

“And you can tell by my breathing or so, right.” Despite his almost monotone-sounding response, there was actually not a smidge of sarcasm in such an answer. You could indeed tell if someone was asleep or awake by their breathing rhythm, and Jôno definitely noticed that sort of stuff. Besides, ever since they finally reunited, none of them had made actual efforts to leave each other’s side for more time than necessary. Which had also inevitably led to noticing more stuff, and so on and so on.

“Did not being able to rely on me for a while make you smarter or did your blondie kid help you?”

Jôno wasn’t being really serious, he knew that much; that was why his answer was throwing his pillow towards his direction, as if they were two kids on a sleepover and not a pair of supersoldiers still recovering (physically and emotionally) from what had been dangerously close to be the end of the world and not meeting again. And his partner, instead of bothering to try and dodge, let it fall over his chest, grabbing it with intent.

“You’d actually like Kenji-kun, by the way.” More tentatively, Tetchô ended up moving, leaving his own bed to approach Jôno’s with the intention of taking back the pillow.

“Oh, I’ve talked to him.” The room might be a bit too dark to properly see his expression, but there was no need either. His tone was sprinkled with smugness all over. “And he had a lot of interesting things to say. Like telling me about your whole little speech about putting me above justice and all.”

“Huh. Guess there was no issue since I never told him to keep it a secret.” Glad there was no way Jôno could see his face starting to flush with pink, he took a hold of the pillow and pulled, meeting of course resistance. “I said ‘for five minutes’, though.”

“Oh, my, my.” After a few seconds of back and forth, Jôno finally released the pillow, but instead of going back to bed, Tetchô opted for sitting right on the bedside. Once again, they knew each other very well, and it didn’t take a genius to know some other remark was coming. “So tell me, Tetchô-san,” And even if he actually wanted to leave, Jôno’s hand latching onto his bare arm was more than a compelling reason to stay. “since I’m back at being below justice, can you at least tell me what’s my position in your ranking?”

Yes, it definitely was a blessing he couldn’t see his face at all, and how his voice never evidenced anything…

… even if his heartbeat could still throw him under the metaphorical bus.

(Also on ao3.)

#suegiku #saihiro #suegiku week #suegiku week july 2023 #bsd #bungou stray dogs #my stuff #clau stuff #ficlet #i love them your honor #post-canon fluff/wishful thinking let's goo

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sulky-valkyrie · 2 years

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happy friday / dadwc sulky! i just noticed your. pasta header. anyway, for a prompt, something serious for Anders/Justice or Anders/Nathaniel Howe: "things you said that I wish you hadn’t"?

Thanks! Here it is for those who don't use tumblr on the desktop and want to know wtf Syrup speaks of:

And now, without further ado, for @dadrunkwriting 1200 serious words of Nate & Anders & Justice

☆☆☆

Just a quick trip to Amaranthine to give Aura the rest of Ser Pounce-a-Lot’s supplies, Anders had said. And bringing Justice because she's fond of him in her own way. Be back by sundown at the latest.

It was midnight now, with no sign of him. Nathaniel had checked the entire keep twice, once mid-afternoon, and again after dinner before leaving instructions that the sentries let him know the moment Anders returned and then had gone off to pace the library. The fortress felt downright oppressive now that the Aedan had been summoned to Weisshaupt and Warden Constable Kader had been assigned to Ferelden in the interim.

Nothing against him personally, of course. No, that was a lie. Getting rid of Anders' cat had been the start of a series of 'Change for Change's Sake' decisions to bring home the point that Aedan wasn't in charge anymore. Allowing Rolan to Join had been a mistake, and they'd all argued against it, and perhaps if they hadn't been so vocal in their protests, he wouldn't have grumbled about backwater Fereldans who don't trust their own order and too-soft predecessors who let everyone run roughshod over him.

Nathaniel supposed that, to his mind, the Wardens needed all the bodies they could get to clear out the Thaw, and after King Alistair’s success at using smites against emissaries, he wanted more Templars in the ranks. Former Templars, Kader had admonished Anders for his vehemence. They're leaving the Chantry for this and you will work with them like any other brother or sister in arms.

Anders has been so pissed off that Nate had needed to cover his mouth and drag him from Kader's office. He had every right to be furious, given the Chantry's attitude toward apostates in general and Anders in particular, but summoning a lightning storm in the acting Commander's office wouldn't help his argument. Nate had tried to explain to him that night that he needed to pick his battles, that Kader's decision had been made and fighting with him now wouldn't help, but it only made his anger worse.

It's not a battle I have a choice in! Anders had snarled right before stomping out of their shared quarters. Rolan wants me dead, and you want me to just, just, wait for him to try? What sweet fucking vindication we'll have when there's a sword in my chest!

They hadn't shared a bed since. In fact, they'd barely spoken in the last two weeks, except to discuss the duty roster. Nathaniel missed him. Not just the sex, but everything else. The fact that Anders had gone out of his way that morning to tell him he was leaving had given him hope that this rift between them was mending, but now, hours after his expected return, it only made him worry. He'd wanted someone to know where he was. To look for him if he disappeared. Nathaniel checked Anders' corner room again, then the clinic, then the barracks. No Anders.

Also, more concerningly, no Rolan.

When had he last seen him? Was it before or after Anders left? Didn't matter.

He didn't remember making the decision to leave, or saddling up a horse, or riding out, just suddenly found himself already on the road, looking desperately for any sign of Anders or Rolan. He was about to give up when the faint smell of burning hair caught his attention. He followed it carefully, guiding the horse off the highway and through the trees until it refused to go any further, then tied its reins to a tree and kept going on foot. The moonlight was enough that he could see a clearing up ahead. As he picked his way closer through the underbrush, the reek of fire and smoke gave way to the stench of battle; blood, offal, and the lingering electrical smell of too much magic.

Nathaniel steeled his nerves and took a slow deep breath. Anders and Justice were probably dead, and probably surrounded by Templar and Warden corpses. They'd fight tooth and nail rather than surrender, and, realistically, Rolan would never have given them the option. It was going to be awful to see, but someone had to. And he owed Anders that much.

He pushed through the last few trees and bushes and stopped, aghast: he'd been prepared for a battlefield, but a massacre. Charred body parts were strewn about like macabre Satinalia decorations: littering the ground, hanging from branches, and, in at least two instances, bones had gone through tree trunks. Blood and shit were splattered on everything, and what little grass remained had been scorched and trampled.

The only figure not obviously missing a limb was Anders himself. He was on his hands and knees, and retching. There was an enormous wound in his back closing up before Nate's eyes as he neared. When his boot crunched something (please let it be a twig and not a body part), Anders' head jerked up, revealing a mouth full of blood.

“What have you done?” Nate winced as soon as the words left his mouth. That wasn't the question he meant to ask, but those bloodstained teeth and haunted eyes had been too much of a shock.

Anders wiped his mouth with a filthy soot-covered sleeve and stood up unsteadily. “They started it.”

Nate spun in a slow circle, trying to examine the carnage clinically. "And you finished it. Where's Justice?"

He laughed harshly, an ugly rasping cackle that sent shivers down Nate's spine. "Why do you think they attacked me?"

It took several seconds for the implications of Anders' words to make sense. "He's . . . you're . . . he's inside you?"

"We are one." Cracks of blue light spread across Anders' skin as Justice’s voice boomed out from his mouth.

Nate felt sick. This wasn't right. None of it was. From Templars joining the order, to then trying to kill Anders, to Anders and Justice's spirited self-defense, pun horribly intended, to this? His lover (though perhaps former lover was more accurate) willingly becoming possessed?

"You have to go." It was the wrong thing to say, but it was the only thing he could say. "Kader isn't going to - if Aedan was here, this would never have happened."

Justice frowned. "He is a man of honor, and we simply defended ourselves."

"No," Nate said, shaking his head and stepping close enough that the energy crackling off of the abomination made the hair on his arms stand up. "You literally tore them apart, and their blood is on your lips. This is unnatural and inhuman, and he'll execute you for it." He cupped his cheek with one hand, and the contact made his skin tingle. "There's no safety in the Grey Wardens for you, not anymore, maybe there never was." He glanced around the clearing again. "I'll cover this up, say I couldn't find you, suggest Rolan probably killed you then deserted, but you have to go. Now."

The blue light faded away as Anders' knees buckled and he sagged against Nate’s chest. "They started it," he said again, plaintive and angry. He spat blood on the ground then stepped out of Nate’s arms. "I'd ask for a kiss goodbye, but . . ." he trailed off. "For whatever it's worth, I didn't want to be right. Tell them I'm sorry."

He felt hollow inside. "I can't, you're dead."

"I suppose I am." Anders pulled his tattered robes tighter as he turned to walk out of the clearing.

"Where are you - Anders, what are you going to do?"

Anders paused but didn't look back. "You can't have it both ways, Nate. Go home, let me die in peace."

#da drunk writing circle #dragon age #anders #fanfic writing #nathaniel howe x anders #nathaniel howe #justice anders #justice #pre dragon age 2 #post dragon age awakening #the merge #cw blood #cw gore #cannibalism implied #prompt fills

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ruvviks · 11 months

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hate, pain, and midnight for matvey. i do want to know about the old man

oc asks!

HATE: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

this one is very interesting because matvey hates unfairness first and foremost. from his perspective, arasaka fired him and his wife nadya because of something related to vitali, their son, that they had NOTHING to do with and it angered him immensely which honestly on its own is understandable. problem however is that nadya automatically put the blame on vitali- and with matvey's undying loyalty to his wife he ended up plotting revenge as she asked of him against vitali, despite the fact all of it was entirely out of vitali's control

matvey's hypocrisy is part of why the whole dobrynin family is so fucking dysfunctional. nadya has been causing most of the issues by being insane about everything and everyone but matvey always sided with her, viewing things from her perspective as if to keep up appearances like what they used to have to do to their own parents to be allowed to be together. except those parents are no longer there so he's performing for no one and with that being incredibly unfair toward everyone around him while that's the EXACT thing he himself hates which is what's making him side with nadya (because nadya is always yelling about how life is so unfair to her, and what's matvey to do other than believe her?)

some other more regular human things that he hates would be 1) being filmed in public, 2) ketchup and 3) the smell of gasoline

PAIN: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?

despite being the broker and all that, matvey hasn't actually seen a lot of actual combat like vitali has for example. he is a boxer however and has done plenty of matches in the past, so the worst he's ever had would be a couple of broken bones. he's never been stabbed or shot before (which is quite the accomplishment in night city especially as a banker and later a high-ranked executive in arasaka)

he has a pretty decent pain tolerance because of his boxing history but also it's been a while. he's nearing his 60s. so viktor punching him right on the fucking nose in the broker fic would've definitely caused some tears to well up in the eyes that's for sure LMAO

MIDNIGHT: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?

matvey has pretty bad insomnia and could easily stay awake for the whole night if he wants. anything could keep him up and plenty of things have kept him up in his days- whether it's stress at work, at home, worries about meetings or deals he has to make or whatever. after he got fired it was mostly the "what now?" that kept him up at night; not necessarily worrying about money since they still had plenty, but nadya was expecting him to get revenge and how was he gonna do that? he figured it out eventually. bunch of highly unnecessary theatrics. but that took a lot of planning and a lot of sleepless nights

nowadays he would have a lot of nightmares. it takes a while for him to actually understand the gravity of his crimes and how badly he spiraled and all that but the visual of vitali bleeding out in his arms is something he will never get out of his head and it continues to haunt him in his nightmares, even though vitali is still very much alive

#asks #secondsundering #ask:matvey #oc asks #THANK YOU. I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS GUY HE'S SO INSANE #i didn't proofread any of this so i hope it makes sense but basically. if matvey and nadya had just gotten divorced #then none of the broker fic would've happened. amen #they do get a divorce by the way. because of like. the everything. and also because of nadya cheating on him with ravager #so now it's time for old man yaoi with matvey and viktor and you can thank me later for that xx

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purrincess-chat · 2 years

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I’ve seen that you’re a Swiftie and I was wondering, which album do you think each of the MLB characters are? Like if you had to assign an album to one character, out of the most relevant characters in the show I guess 👀

Okay, I had to think about it, but I think I got it. So, I couldn't think of other important characters that fit into some of the eras, so I ranked Marinette, Adrien, Ladybug, and Chat Noir separately, so here we go.

Marinette: Speak Now

She just gives lost in her head fairytale vibes, dreaming of romance and sparks flying and perfect scenarios. I also think she would absolutely stand up at Adrien and Kagami's arranged wedding and sweep him off his feet. And he would be here for it.

Adrien: Lover

Baby boy just wants love so bad. He is absolutely the type to swoon and sigh over his lover and write sappy poetry about how he wants to marry his beloved and live a very normal, mundane life together.

Alya: folklore

So, this one was tricky because aesthetically, I was thinking Red, but Alya has been in a committed relationship for 4 and a half seasons now, so I couldn't see her singing Taylor's quintessential break-up album. folklore, on the other hand, is a bunch of made up stories, and given that Alya is a journalist and a writer, I think she thrives off telling other people's stories. It just seemed like a perfect fit. Plus invisible string for her and Nino? Adorable!

Nino: 1989

I knew this one almost immediately. Just absolute party vibes. He's here for a good time. Nothing but bops.

Kagami: evermore

I also knew this one pretty quickly. Sad girl vibes. Baby just wants to live her life. Also gold rush? willow? "Wait for the signal, and I'll meet you after dark?" Feligami? Hello? Plus, right where you left me for the first portion of s5 where she's still torn up about her feelings for Adrien, but he's moved on with someone else? She wrote this album.

Felix: Reputation

Rep is my favorite album, and I think it fits Felix quite well. On the surface, he's very rough and aggressive and villainous, but underneath when you get to know him, he's actually very sweet and romantic and well-meaning. He's just been hurt by people in the past, so he had to do some shady shit to overcome all of that and carve his own happy ending. Plus, homie literally does not have the greatest reputation right now in canon.

Zoe: Fearless

Zoe was one I hesitated to include bc she's newer to the show, but they did kind of elevate her character in Kwami's Choice, and I felt like Fearless would be a good fit for her. Just someone who has been hurt before, but who's finding herself and learning to be more carefree and open.

Ladybug: Midnights

I went back and forth with Marinette/Ladybug on several albums because I feel like she is the most developed of all the characters, so she could relate to really any album, but I picked Midnights for her because Midnights as a concept is about the things that keep you up at night. Your past, your mistakes, your insecurities, your intrusive thoughts, the weight of the world. And I felt like Ladybug embodied that, especially after this season. Plus, she is the literal Mastermind, and Sweet Nothing is absolutely for her and Chat Noir post Strike Back coming into this season. "And the voices that implore, you should be doing more, to you I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it." Hello? Also, I've always kind of had Would've, Could've, Should've in my head for her, not from a romantic standpoint, but from the standpoint of someone who has had their childhood ripped away from them because of a grown ass man.

Chat Noir: Red

This one I rolled around on, but hear me out. I feel like Chat embodies this album in a somewhat ironic sense. Red is a break-up album, but it's also kind of fun and tongue-in-cheek. I can see him singing We Are Never Getting Back Together to LB who is like but we never even dated bro wtf? Red is dramatic AF at times, and I feel like Chat would have a good time with it.

Chloe: Debut

Chloe was another one I hesitated to include, but I couldn't think of anyone that truly embodied Debut more than her. There are some truly shady and angry songs on Debut, plus the whole concept of directly writing people's names into songs where you trash talk them seems like a very Chloe thing to do. And Picture to Burn (homophobic version)? "There's no time for tears, I'm just sitting here planning my revenge." "My daddy's gonna show you how sorry you'll be"??? Absolutely Chloe.

#cat replies #asks #cats taylor swift agenda #ml spoilers

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cosmically-powered-starscream · 2 years

Text

Midnight Visit

Notes: This thing was kind of a precursor to the Chasing Stars series that ended up going in a different direction after writing Front and Center. Tempest was basically a beta version of Stormchaser - a little what could've been scenario if things worked out differently for them and Starscream during the war. Nevertheless, I think connecting it to the series would've been confusing, so I'm throwing it out here as a small stand-alone, as I still find it enjoyable on its own.

Enjoy and happy holidays! ✨

Pairing: IDW Starscream x OC (gn, sfw but a lil’ spicy)

Word count: 1.2K

[AO3 link]

* * *

“Your place’s a mess.”

In the last couple of weeks, Tempest expected a lot of things to happen. After the war ended, Cybertron was going through many changes - every day seemed to bring another turn, another major event that undoubtedly altered the course of history for the planet and its newly returned inhabitants. However, finding Starscream comfortably lounging on a couch in their habsuite in complete darkness, that certainly wasn’t one of those things.

“I don’t remember giving you the key code.”

“You didn’t,” the Seeker smiled, nonchalantly throwing one leg over the other. Primus knows how long he’s been in here, waiting. There may as well be an indent under him from the hours of sitting but then again, he always had a flare of dramatics around him. Nevertheless, Tempest found the idea amusing.

“Are you here to seduce me with that shiny new paintjob of yours or is there another reason for your visit at this hour?”

A tiniest change in his expression revealed everything they needed to know. “I have a proposition.”

There it was. “Oh, really.”

“The same proposition I made some time before. When the things were… different.”

“When you asked me to be your second in command, despite me being on the verge of joining the Autobots and you not being the leader of the Decepticons?” His ambitions were high almost to a fault. As the war dragged on, Megatron’s leadership made Tempest weary and Starscream was confident he’d bring to the table what Megatron never could. The only thing he needed to make his grand plan come to fruition was support of his loyal Seekers. However, the threshold of what Tempest - and many other faction members - were willing to endure was long overstepped.

“That’s in the past. The factions are no more. And besides, this time…” his expression turned smug, “I’m actually the leader.”

“But your attitude is all the same.” He never learned.

“I only want the best for our planet. That’s why I’m asking you to be by my side,” he stood up from the couch, aligning his wings to appear broader in his new leaner frame. Tempest scoffed internally - as if he had to make himself look imposing in front of them.

“Or because I’m one of the last few Seekers alive.” Most of the former squadron was gone. There was a handful of them left and many of those openly showed disdain for their former air commander. Tempest couldn’t blame them.

“That you are. But what I said before still stands. I saw the potential in you when you first joined the ranks, long time before the war,” he shifted his stance, gleam of light catching the glass of his cockpit, ”And over the years it only ensured me I’d made the right decision having you as one of my trusted lieutenants.”

So that’s what we’re calling it now, they thought. And just as if called by the sheer passing thought, Starscream approached slowly. His optics but a dim glow in the darkness of the habsuite, weak light bleeding through the windows from night streets. A few more steps and he was fully in their personal space.

“So? What do you say? Will you become the right hand of Lord Starscream the First?” he practically purred, close enough to their audial to keep his voice low.

“I’ll think about it,” Tempest whispered, fingertips on Starscream’s servos that in the meantime found a place on their waist. Starscream smiled and seemingly satisfied with the answer, he closed the distance between them with a kiss. Just a soft brush of the lips at first but soon, the former commander put his glossa to work, asking for further access. Feeling the gush of hot air from his vents, Tempest obliged - their palms found Starscream’s faceplate, resting gently on both his cheeks. The passion rose, Starscream still slowly advancing until Tempest’s back hit the wall, the other Seeker blocking their way.

“Is this your persuasion method of choice?” they smiled smugly at Starscream but their optics were lidded and the field slowly building up with charge.

“Maybe,” Starscream smirked, staying close, “I’m still familiarizing myself with this new frame.”

“That’s something I can help with,” Tempest’s servo ran across his new chest, smiling as they felt Starscream’s engines picking up. They weren’t going to lie, he looked stunning. “Under one condition.”

“Oh?” Starscream’s fingers slowly traveled upwards, teasing just behind the armor seams with pointed fingertips. He knew precisely where the sensitive spots were.

“You’ll stay the whole night,” the former lieutenant looked him directly into optics, “No disappearing, no empty berth in the morning.”

“Can’t promise that,” Starscream’s lips found Tempest’s neck cables, his voice reverberating against the soft metal, “You know I’m quite busy these days...”

“You want me by your side?” Tempest pushed him off their neck, giving him a determined look, “Make the right steps.”

“Ah, so this is how it is,” amusement rose up in his demeanor, as his fingers were still teasing the wiring in plating gaps, “A little tit for tat.”

“No. I’m just saying you shouldn’t neglect relationships with your… most valued assets,” they made sure they sounded as smug as they felt in that moment, making demands with the biggest schemer in the history of Cybertron, “Your words, not mine.”

“Hmm…” he took a step back but his servos were still planted at Tempest’s waist, “Manipulation’s usually my thing, don’t you think?”

“Is it manipulation if I’m just stating the facts?” Tempest had a cheeky smile on their face but when they closed the distance between the two and tangled their fingers behind Starscream’s helm, their expression softened. He stepped into their habsuite in the middle of the night, just like old times? Just like old times it shall be then.

“Come on, Star. It’s for one night.”

“Until you ask for it to be every other night… and then every night…” Starscream’s lips found the other’s jaw again, slowly making his way down, “And what will I do then?”

“My berth is big enough for both of us,” their servos traced his silhouette in the dark, caressing the edges of his wings, fingers tugging gently inbetween the blades of his vents. His body might’ve been upgraded but judging by the rising hum of his engines, they still knew all the soft spots just as well as he did.

“Well then…” he exvented deeply, hot air tickling the sensitive metal, “Shall we continue there?”

“So… is that a yes?” a single finger continued drawing small circles on the base of his wings, “Will you stay till morning?”

Tempest’s engines hitched suddenly when Starscream’s sharp teeth met the soft mesh of their main energon line. The rising temperature and faint throbbing in their lower half were slowly overtaking their processor, field cracking with static. Did they miss this? They’d lie to themselves if they said no.

“I’ll stay,” Starscream detached himself from under the jawline only to press their lips together once again. They were needy and warm to the touch against theirs. “For tonight.”

“Good decision,” Tempest whispered, mischief coming back into their expression as they ran their fingers along the seams of Starscream’s armor. Did they believe him? Probably not.

But they had a whole night to clip his wings with nothing but full attention for the new leader of Cybertronian society.

“Now, let’s have a look at that shiny new frame of yours, shall we?”

#transformers #starscream #idw starscream #idw transformers #starscream x oc #transformers x oc #tf oc #transformers oc #maccadam #my writing

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