#i feel like this allows for really fun possible dynamics with muses!

[royaletiquette]

King Hibiya struggles still at times with being a father and behaving as such, but he took a page out of his father's book of playing different roles at different times, and keeping them as separate as possible.

He'll go out to party and drink but doesn't go home until he feels sober enough or it's late enough that his kids are guaranteed to be asleep. He may fool around with someone, but it doesn't leave those four walls, and will pretend to forget their name in front of someone else.

This is to say, he's very private with his family life now because it feels necessary. There are hard set lines that some people are not allowed to cross, like someone he's slept with saying anything more than 'hello' to his children, or someone he works with seeing more of his home than necessary. Similarly, he would likely reject crossing what he believes is a line he shouldn't with another muse's personal life.

So it's rare for a muse to see his parental side, or his kids in general really, since they're still so young. He's very gentle with them, maybe not as patient as he should be, but gives them his full attention. This use of different hats isn't anything secret, and Michiko is certainly starting to learn by now that there are times when she doesn't bother her father unless it's an emergency.

[lifesver]

Im so in love with you and your friends’s interpretations of the victims, can I ask how you and your friends are able to develop such interesting lore for them?

hey anon! this is so, so kind, thank you sm for the message <3 ;; honestly like, i think the best answer is everything my writing partners/pals and i have written on these blogs has been a slow-cooked built over time kind of endeavor! stuff that has definitely changed and developed majorly over the months that we've been hanging around on this goofy website, haha.

i started with this blog back just before the public beta test happened for the game, and for a little bit it was just me and rae sitting here like 'well what if we just made blogs for super niche horror game characters'. which tbh, something rae and i have historically loved to do with our diff muses on diff blogs, just kind of grabbing characters that have limited lore but exist in a cool universe and have a cool 'starting point' to jump off from, sort of. it gives a lot of space to really get creative imo.

ALL THAT TO SAY rae and i were working with like... beta gameplay, character models/cosmetics/baseline lore snippets, and doing dumb stuff like combing through gameplay vids just to try and collect voicelines to see how these characters might interact w each other! and we had some months to wait before the game would actually release, so in that time we simply started crafting our own ideas and it kinda built organically! just sending prompts back and forth, trying to think about what some of the key story beats would be, as if we were retelling a movie or w/e. but i think the most fun part about tcsm is that the inherent gameplay, and how differently each match can go, lends itself well to creating all kinds of different trajectories of where the story Could go, some endings happier than others, some allowing us to explore more dark themes.

for me that's a big part of what keeps me writing on this blog-- the possibilities for exploring, esp within the slasher genre. esp within the texas chainsaw franchise, where imo, the protags are often sidelined/cut down, and where the antagonists can sometimes be more complex and even sympathetic at times. the game itself, despite what the creative team later said, implies that there's the possibility that the victims survive this horrifying event. and there's like, not a lot of exploration done in that area within slashers, i feel? when i do see it, i cheer furiously tbh like hell yeah halloween hell yeah friday the 13th 4-6 hell yeah anoes 1 + dream warriors hell yeah scream movies. i just think there's a lot to expand on in terms of the effects and healing process of trauma, the emotional connection between the characters, and complex dynamics in general that might tend to get overlooked in stories like this usually.

but anyway, through just being silly and passionate, we met our other friends who were equally silly and passionate about the game/genre/franchise/characters/etc, and started slowly connecting our ideas. like sometimes we'll just slam our general verse ideas on the dash, and someone else will start cooking with it and thinking about it, and then we have a whole connected au going. sometimes we'll be writing with each other, and naturally bring up other characters in those replies and it gives a little bit of worldbuilding too.

roleplaying is honestly such a rewarding hobby, bc i get to collaborate with really talented writers and help bring a cohesive narrative together. idk it's like instead of having to sit and write your story by yourself, you got a funny little writers room. except we're all throwing paper airplanes and also crying on the floor sometimes. but like, you naturally get to bounce ideas off each other and learn how your muse would handle certain situations just by interacting with another muse, you know? and i get to read my friends' stuff and go wow! that was a cool use of wording! or wow i really love how they visualized this scene/character thought process, and then i am able to implement certain things to improve how my own writing goes.

when you find writing partners that really Get You on that front and have the same style of worldbuilding as you, it's just really awesome and keeps the passion and muse flowing in a funny echo chamber almost. and it's like, even for people i've written with that haven't stuck around for whatever reasons, sometimes pieces of their portrayals of their own muses will stick with mine, like we all kind of help each other build our character interpretations out. and even if they end up very very canon-divergent as lore is slowly drip fed to us by the devs, we're confident in what we do have built and just kinda change and work things in as we go. it's just nice and no pressure around here, and it's rly just built off of and inspired by each others individual creative passion. ik that's how it is for me, anyway! i love seeing my friends just say w/e random hc about their muse bc then suddenly we might all be talking about a related hc for our individual muses, that kinda thing!

i'm sorry this was super long winded! i hope that kinda answered the question, i got a lil carried away LMAO but thank you again for idk, perceiving our stuff! it's not like fic writing on ao3 so it's always a pleasant surprise when ppl stumble upon our nonsense it's like oh hey man- welcome to our weird little corner!

[shrikehq]

∘ ₊✧────── anonymous asked ; i know this group's been around for a long time and has its subtleties, so i'm wondering if it'd be hard for someone totally new to the group to figure out the unwritten details of storyline and blend in?

i absolutely understand where you’re coming from with this question; sometimes groups - particularly those that are plot heavy - can be difficult to join as a new writer once it’s established. this is something that we’ve always kept in consideration, however, in an attempt to make sure that this can be a fun and welcoming experience for all, and so we do try our best to act accordingly to ensure that writers can join at any point and get just as much out of it as any other writer who has joined at any other point in time. i apologise in advance, as i know the full answer to this is going to be quite wordy ! 

the general feedback we get from our writers is that it’s not difficult to fit in and to catch up. we have our lore easily accessible, with summaries for plot drops, npcs, stores, relationships, etc. to help you understand the happenings without forcing you to read an overwhelming amount of text or without requiring you to have been in the group any earlier to completely understand what’s happened thus far. our discord also serves almost exclusively as a platform to enhance development and what’s written on the dash; we have a questions channel for writers to ask lore ( and group ) related questions, as well as a headcanons channel for writers to share headcanons or ask questions for the other writers to answer about their characters - reading through those channels as a new writer can be a great way to familiarise with all of those otherwise unwritten details ! 

we also have our sideblogs shrikesfm ( our ic radio show and where we host our npc information and relationships ) and shrikejournal ( our ooc musings blog ). these blogs are another way for writers to catch up without having to read overwhelming amounts of text or without having to have been there to understand characters, dynamics, and group quirks.

another factor that can help new writers blend in and catch up is how we really love member input. our group wouldn’t be what it is today without our members, both past and present. we really value hearing everyone’s ideas and contributions, and welcome this from new writers as much as we do our older ones. we’ve had feedback from writers before that being able to bring their own unique ideas into the group right away can help them to feel established, properly a part of the group and much less intimidated than they’ve felt in other groups where everything feels so detached from new writers / where no writer input is allowed. of course, not every idea can come into fruition as some can be conflicting with other already existing lore, but we are always open for discussions, be it privately or openly in the discord, and we’re always open for questions that can help you better understand everything shrike is about to help you better understand the details and better blend in. 

i think something great that could hopefully reassure you that it’s totally possible to blend in and feel connected here despite how long the group has been open is to know that all of our members have joined us at different points of the duration we’ve been open for. the group isn’t dominated by more established writers, in fact, most of our writers have joined at a time where the group was already established. we like to think that that’s a good testimony to the fact that new writers can join and thrive here ! 

i apologise once again for such a lengthy answer. ultimately, you’ll only know if the group is the right fit for you and if you’ll find ease and yourself thriving here like other writers if you join and try it out for yourself. not every group is suited for every writer, that’s something that we understand and support. no matter what, we’ll try to make this group a good experience for you, and we’ll try to foster a positive writing environment that you feel connected with and valued in. 

[hioku]

sol lucet omnibus ; the sun shines for all.

# HIOKU ﹕ a private, selective, and headcanon based rendition of  hinata shouyou from  haruichi furudate's HAIKYUU !! established in two thousand and fifteen (re-est. 2024) and penned with care by  rocket (she/her, 27). content warnings apply, no minors allowed.

AND SO I ASK MYSELF ﹕ ❝ where are your dreams ? ’ and i shake my head and mutter﹕ ❝ how the years go by ! ’ and i ask myself again﹕ ❝ WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH THOSE YEARS ? where have you buried your best moments ? have you really lived ? ’

i. basic role-playing etiquette is required.  any behaviours considered  homophobic, transphobic, racist, pedophilic, incestuous  or otherwise intolerable will not be indulged. additionally, this blog is  not  pro-ship or minor friendly.

please note that  interactions will be almost entirely plot-based or ask-meme driven  ('plot-based' is used loosely here, as i am super chill with being slapped with the semblance of an idea and winging the rest.)  starter calls may be posted on occasion, but rarely.

that said,  i am still entirely open (read: i love shipping) to exploring relationship dynamics  so long as they are spoken about extensively, or happen organically.

ii. i tend to lean toward  para responses  and will generally strive to supply you with at least a  small handful of paragraphs to work with  in your replies. of course, you're not required to match whatever length i come up with and i encourage you to just do what you can to have fun lmfao.

i typically format my posts with small text and occasionally icons!  you aren't required to match my formatting.  do what feels comfortable for you - if the way i format makes my replies less accessible to you,  please tell me.  i will adjust to suit your needs.

basic triggers and phobias will be tagged accordingly.  if there’s something i haven’t tagged, please tell me and i will be more than happy to fix it for you! tag format for triggers will be written as ‘x/’ and ‘tw x/’

example: trigger/ and tw trigger/

iii. i have never practiced  exclusive writing partners  when it comes to particular muses. everyone characterizes and writes differently, and i am a little bit loathe to cut myself off from any potential opportunities.  that being said, i am not against the idea and only wish that this be discussed heavily beforehand.  mains are a concept i am more familiar and welcoming of,  however, and will gladly prioritize these connections where i find them.

i am not one to dabble in drama, as roleplaying is a hobby and i'd rather keep my experience as peaceful and enjoyable as possible. however,  i understand some callouts are necessary and will do my part in ensuring light is shed on otherwise dangerous or harmful individuals.

if there comes a time that you wish to unfollow and we have maintained a mutualship,  please hardblock.  i won't ask questions. i just want to avoid the awkwardness in an accidental refollow should i have forgotten you softblocked!!

iv. hey!  thanks for reading so far. my name is rocket.  i'm twenty-seven, i live in canada, and i work a 40+ hours full time job. roleplaying is one amongst many other hobbies i am trying to maintain,  so please forgive any frequent or extended absences.  i will most likely (usually, sadly) always come back.

i tend to post a lot of ooc frequently and in rapid succession,  but these posts are all tagged and deleted just as quickly.  i take great care in the responses i craft for you, nor do i feel like rushing myself just in the name of in-character activity. if this is not the type of style you wish to see on the dashboard, that's okay!  no hard feelings.

i appreciate your time and care in understanding and respecting my rules of conduct going forward.

my discord is available to mutuals upon request and i am always happy to chat and make friends!  yay

[ponderosus]

layla thought she found love, once. one a relationship of hate, the bartender took the time to get to know the man, and let him in, only to have her heart broken the next morning. that was the last time she'd let someone close, in that regard. romantic encounters that followed were superficial, meaningless beyond the point of having a fun night and slipping out into the dead of night once she got what she needed. despite the list of more quantifiable relationships in the past the bartender never thought much about the long term, until she came to aurora bay she was never in one place for long, and among other vices it certainly wasn't the right time to make promises she couldn't keep. gabrielle and kaede were the ideal image of a perfect marriage, so much love between two people to only have it tragically pulled apart. layla can't help but wonder what she'd think about layla's feelings bubbling to the surface; was she bringing disrespect onto the woman that had trusted her to help hold the yamada's business together in a time of need? layla knew it was pointless to entertain the concept she could simply push her affection away, pretend it didn't exist. she hoped gabrielle's soul wouldn't hold that against her.

layla tilts her head to the side, listening intently to the confession from a man that kept a lot of his personal life relatively private unless he was at the end of his emotional rope. she'd seen what rock bottom looked like for him, it wasn't pretty to watch, but grief never is. "i know the feeling of going against parents wishes." she nods, voice trailing away for a moment, "however my reasons weren't out of something as noble as love." she motions with her palm out towards kaede, to referring his valorous choice of fighting for what he wanted in this life. "i'd do it all over again, not let go." continuing, evenly, the bartender matches his line of sight. she holds onto the silence for a moment, pondering over the assortment of words fighting at her tongue, that she ultimately decides to not entertain. "you're talking as if helping out was a burden." a gentle curve forms in the corner of her lips, whilst tilting her head to the side. "if i wasn't prepared to step up i wouldn't of done it." layla wasn't exactly known to put herself out when she really didn't want to. she never wanted him to carry any weight of guilt for her presence working overtime to help save the bar, when the decision came from her own free will.

layla steps were closer allowing the space between them to get very small, pulled in position where the proximity leaves her unsure of what to do. does she look at him? focus on the hand that had tentatively rested on kaede's shoulder, like the clumsy awkward dynamic of a young girls crush? layla was thirty six, dancing in an empty room with a man who was not a widower, but her employer. it wasn't as if the possible implications of maybe leaning in a little closer might threaten a good thing was lost on her. it wasn't wise to decide to rest her gaze on him, or enjoy the goosebumps dancing up the flesh of her spine, but as long as that ever present line wasn't crossed — what's the worst that could happen? "i've never had to worry around you." she muses, gently, "you're better company than the mop anyway."

@kaede-yamada

In a perfect world Kaede would’ve been better at expressing himself. A perfect world wouldn’t have put him in such a complicated situation. and his wife would’ve been here still. So he had to give up the idea of a perfect world. But he did know was that, regardless of any feelings that he had about Layla he believed she was perfect. She knew she had been struggling, but to him he couldn’t have asked for anyone else to help him in the last year. Maybe, considering all of the circumstances it was only a matter of time before he started to get a crush on her. Maybe it was always supposed to happen. After all, he named his daughter Layla, before he had ever even met his bartender. If he believed in feet, maybe he would’ve assumed more something about this connection.

He had to consider his daughter though, when it came to everything. Little Layla loved the other, but did she love her enough to allow someone else to come into their lives in a way that had only been reserved for her mother? Kaede wasn’t sure if he could put all of that at risk. Hearing her speak though it pulled at something within Kaede and he knew he always wanted to be able to help her if she needed him. “ I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned my own family. But they were not happy with me that I wanted to go down my own path and marry Gabrielle and move here. They cut me off. It was a tough lesson, but it taught me that to the people i care for most; you don’t let them go when they need someone to reach out and help. I would never let go when I came to you because you gave me the same courtesy.” He offered. He didn’t know if he brought up his family to her before but he wanted her to know that he also had come from somewhere. That wasn’t the best situation.

“ I mean we hired you to be a bartender, and here you are helping pick up the pieces situation you didn’t actually apply for. I really appreciate that.” He noted before letting out a sigh. Becoming a single dad hadn’t been what he’d expected in his life. He had an prepared for the possibility that he wasn’t going to have his wife around. He not only had to go through losing her, but taking over her business and raising their child who is also going through her own grieving process. He wouldn’t have been able to survive on his own. “ I did, but I could’ve done it on my own.”

Opening up to Layla hadn’t been a rare occurrence. She had seen him at his absolute worst when he was debating whether or not to just fall apart but the way he was talking to her now was different. There was a new vulnerability between them, and it was terrifying. He was a grown man. He was a father, and he was still dealing with the fallout from losing his wife. How could he sit there and not know how to deal with a crush that was forming? Any hesitation in him, though was gone when she took his hand, and he pulled her close so that they could dance slowly to the Van Morrison song as they were the only ones in the bar. “ you don’t have to worry about your dancing with me I’m not a professional either. You just don’t leave the songs to play when we got to make the most of it” @ponderosus

[nerves-nebula]

hi your "hunter escapes and has a fun little camping moment" au is living rent free in my brain rn, please Please share some more thoughts and rambles about it!

ANON PLEASE- (affectionate)

you gotta understand I was not lying when I said I have 5 pages of a google doc worth of comic ideas. Unfortunately it's still kind of a mess and I'm still sorting out some of the basic dynamics of this AU. I also like the idea of keeping most of my notes and making them into their own comics/posts so idk how I feel about just saying stuff in a list AND YET.

So here's some stuff I think I can say outside of a comic?? I’ll still probably make some of these into comics/doodles, but anyway I hope this is what you were looking for.

Hunter:

Hunter gets very into studying wild magic up close, something he wasn't allowed to do much before. But now he lives in the forest surrounded by wild magic. Because of this I plan for him to discover a few glyphs on his own, like Luz does, mainly the plant one. But you’ll see how that goes later ;)

He's also still trying to cure his uncles curse. He insists he's not going to go back to Belos, but if pressed on why he's searching for a cure for a man he plans to never see again, he'll get very defensive and angry. Sometimes it's not as easy as "I'm leaving and never coming back." sometimes you still wanna help the people who hurt you :P and THAT one is from personal experience

Hunter takes a while to really get into the whole “I’m on my own and can do whatever I want” thing, but I plan for him to mess around with his presentation once he gets more comfortable.

Rascal helps him change his eye bandages! I haven’t decided if his eye is damaged yet or just the area around it tho so stay tuned.

Hunter will often assign himself “missions” to go on because he doesn’t know what else to do with his free time. He knows he doesn’t technically have any deadlines or stuff like that anymore but he gets stressed not having a goal to strive towards so to cope he just.. gives himself arbitrary goals !

Funfact! This is not the first time Hunters pissed Belos off so bad that he’s fled the castle for a moment. But it IS the first time he stays away for this long. 

Home Hunter AU subscribes to the “Hunter is the grimwalker/a clone of Belos’ brother” theory just for extra angst. I kind of like the idea that he wasn’t even a big part of Belos’ plans though, just that Belos saw a chance to “Bring back” his brother and went for it fsdfsfsdf.

Hunter is terrified of relying on someone too much because no matter how much he trusts them, they could always kick him out. And he’d rather kick himself out before they get the chance. Boys still got issues, is what I’m saying. 

Because Hunter lives in the woods he starts to get a bit... Feral. People will not see him for a week only to realize he’s been not showering or changing his clothes. He was never the most normally-socialized kid but now he’s in the habit of hissing at people the way he does at wild animals that encroach on his tent.

Hunter is very possessive of his belongings (he has so few) and will tackle you if you try to take something from him without asking. He also hoards food and has trouble sharing it, but he feels a bit more embarrassed about this habit than others so he tries to hide it.

Luz:

Luz is basically the first person Hunter reaches out to after living in the woods for a few weeks, and she’s the only one he trusts, at first. 

She offers to let Hunter stay at the owl house a LOT, and sometimes he does :D ! But usually only if it’s raining or he has an injury he can’t heal himself, or if they’re just hanging out. 

Luz’s Super Secret Sad Boy plan is to try to trick Hunter into staying at the owl house for extended periods of time, so that he eventually doesn’t want to go back to the forest. She brings it up A LOT. This has yet to work though, because Hunter feels very uncomfortable about not understanding their family dynamic. That and it makes him feel a bit worse about his own. (kind of like when you go to your friends house and their parents are nice, so you cry afterwards. But to the extreme that he has trouble relaxing cause he’s viscerally aware of how much he doesn’t feel like he fits in.)

Luz tried to teach Hunter glyphs but he brushed it off. 1. because he’s still nervous about wild magic lmao but 2. because he didn’t think he needed to learn them since he has Rascal. He only starts looking into them when he personally finds them in nature on his own. After that point he starts eavesdropping on Lillith and Eda’s glyph lessons and hijinks ensue.

Lillith:

I’m actually super down for the idea that Lillith would bond with goldie in some way. They both know what Belos is like so they can bitch about him together!

I’m also a fan of the “Lillith regrets calling Hunter a brat” idea. Idk if she’s canonically seen his face or anything but I like to think that, at least NOW, she sees him for what he really is. A poor little meow meow. 

That being said don’t think that Mom!Eda is out for the count. They’re  ✨ co-parents  ✨ and I like to think they bring different things to the table when it comes to caring about Hunter. Raine might show up eventaully too :D. They still can’t get him to move out of the woods tho.

Belos:

Not much to say about him and his plans yet, but what usually happens when Hunter runs off after upsetting Belos is that he comes back a few hour/days later with something to win back Belos’ favor. So the emperor isn’t concerned at first, but then a week passes, and then another. 

In this AU Belos is very protective of Hunter but in a weird, possessive, fucked up way. Basically, he’s convinced himself that nothing is really a threat to him or Hunter (since he trained Hunter personally and believes in his nephews abilities). He was never afraid of Hunter being killed or leaving him cause he never considered those things as possibilities. So when Hunter doesn’t come back and is seen actively avoiding him, he goes a little apeshit? But like in a subtle way? Like, he’s losing it but quietly lmao. BASICALLY I do have plan for Belos to attempt to do a lot of stuff to catch/coerce Hunter, and maybe he succeeds! We’ll see.

That should be enough for now!

important to note that a lot of this could change on a whim since I’m still thinking about all of it but y e ah these are some things I’ve mused about.

also I hope this makes sense, I’m not really a writer so I just kinda type it how I talk it I guess.

[doomdays]

❔you know i must

HAYDEN -- harper; i already mentioned this but i just think<3 them forming a pack of their own in hayden's post-bh verse. also i constantly compare their arcs and it'd be very big brained of us to write them together. but also theo b.urns post bite, i know they're not the same kind of supernatural being but i think hayden could at least relate to his circumstances in some way and could help him. also outside of a supernatural world - shauna. hayden as a freshman on the soccer team who didn't go on the trip, or did, the possibilities.

MABEL -- fei. i don't know how to explain why it works, it just does. i think, vaguely, they have a similar energy that could work well with one another. but also spencer & callie!

IRIS -- thea. i think we already talked about this maybe, but she reminds me of iris in some very specific ways but not completely. iris would understand her drive and she's someone who has found a way to open up to people / other hobbies / etc. and allow room for all of it beyond that one thing she held closest to her all her life, so let them be friends!! also my heart tells me maybe some of your va muses could be fun with iris. i know nothing about them but maybe that will give you an idea! also i want to say faran for some reason.

LEO -- jemma. i think he would love her, i'm sorry that's just my truth. he's also a biochemist and a genius, they'd be powerful.

TAISSA -- lydia. all i have to say is these are 2 people who should kiss, hope that helps. also faran and thea feel like good dynamics too. also something tells me adult taissa and amelia would be fun.

SLOANE -- any of your gifted muses. i don't know them but based off the descriptions i feel like really any t/ua muse could be fun with them. also julian, i think she'd be so intrigued by a movie producer, she probably hasn't watched many but is so fascinated by them and fascinated by the imagination of people who work in them. or frankly julian trying to make a movie about the sparrows. there are a lot of very different scenarios here.

VIKTOR -- logan. just based off some of your notes on her powers, i think they would be fun. i think viktor could see a lot of himself in her based on her powers + getting overwhelmed with them the way he has.

MAGGIE -- shauna. oh let them be brunch moms. both of them have the kind of trauma no one else would ever understand, neither would the other but there would be some kind of resonation there. realistically would work anytime between teen - adult.

[teeth-farie]

Strained Eyes In The Candlelight

Julian/Named Apprentice(GN)

Notes: nonbinary apprentice, named apprentice, pre-plague setting, face sitting, oral, dirty talk, handjobs, 3.8k wordcount

Taglist:

@bluhhhdee (if you don’t want to be tagged in this one anymore let me know!)

The sound of scratching quills and murmured hums are the only white noise in the stuffy chamber, something at least to keep the ringing of silence out of Salem’s ears. They flick through the large, tattered book silently, eyebrows furrowing as they read. Salem remembers reading constantly as a child, yet now it seems like a chore to do. Perhaps it’s the looming threat of death hanging over everyone’s shoulders. Possibilities, possibilities. Dr. Devorak is hunched over his desk, back rounded as he writes quickly, occasionally pinching the bridge of his nose and smearing faded ink from his fingertips onto his skin, unbeknownst to him. Salem closes the book with a sigh and pushes their glasses back up their nose. They’ve gathered all the information they can tonight. They want to start trying magic alongside medical treatments, though they know that Dr. Devorak would be opposed to the idea. “Doctor, our shifts ended.” Salem announces, gesturing to the small clock ticking away.

“Hm? Oh, right.” He hums, though he still stays where he is, never looking up from his work.

“Doctor, did you hear me?”

“Certainly, do what you need to do.”

Salem huffs, taking the few strides the room allows and waving their hand in front of his face. Dr. Devorak jumps up then, a scowl on his lips. “Salem-!”

“You need a break.” Salem cuts him off, hands planted on their hips. Dr. Devorak stares, unwavering, then gives a firm shake of his head. “There’s much to do, I can’t stop now.” He refuses, going to dip his quill back into the jar of ink. “If you’re too tired you’ll mess up. Do you really wish to repeat your work?” Salem quips, gently laying a hand on his wrist, halting his movements.

“I’m not tired—besides, the plague won’t cure itself.”

Time for another approach. Salem rounds back behind him, hands gripping tight on the back of his chair. “What are you—ack!”

Salem pulls and tugs Dr. Devorak from his spot at the desk, scooting him back while still seated in the chair. If one thing’s for sure, Salem is a lot stronger then they let on. “If I have to, I will make you.”

That certainly gets his attention, sitting stiff as a rod in the seat he was just pulled from his desk in, now acutely aware of the situation. Perhaps he was a little too aware—a heat rising to his face. Was it that easy to tug him around? “And how will you make me?” He ponders, looking over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of Salem.

They can see the bright flush on his face, the lazy grin stretching his lips and they start to think that their actions have given them a different response than what they were expecting. Though, it’s not unwelcome, especially with how much Dr. Devorak had flirted with them on their breaks—they could work with this.

“I had a few ideas, though it seems you may have others.” Salem presses their fingertips to the top of his skull, turning his head back straight, no longer in his line of vision. They lean forward, breath ghosting his ear and Salem can feel the shiver he makes. “I assumed we’d go out for a few drinks, but..” they grip his hair tight now, a stifled groan rumbling from his throat. “If you’re going to be so stubborn, I could just tie you to the bed, how does that sound?”

“Oh, that sounds lovely.” He downright purrs, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “Though..” Salem trails off, pulling their hands away from him entirely. Julian makes a noise of disappointment. “You’d just ramble then too, wouldn’t you?” They muse, thoroughly enjoying the newfound power dynamic.

“Not if you gave me something to keep my mouth busy.” Julian counters with a slightly slurred tone, low and provocative.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Very much so, yes.”

Salem inches their small hand to Julian’s long neck, a contrast of warm golden bronze and cool peach white. He shivers, feeling the fingertips press against his pulse point, firm and assertive. Salem tends to have an air of something domineering around them, wiser than their years in a way that makes Julian feel safe in a way. Perhaps he’ll discover a new side of that tonight. They don’t squeeze as hard as he’d like, just a firm reminder that he should listen to them. Not that he wouldn’t want to.

“You work yourself down to the bone, doctor.” Salem releases his throat, turning to meet him face to face and swinging a leg over his, taking their place on his lap. They’re still shorter than him and Julian hunches down to appear lower. “Let me take care of you.” Salem guides his head down, lower to their face with a gentleness that he could pull away if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

Julian bridges the gap and kisses them with a hunger not fitting his exhaustion, eager hands gripping their waist, long fingers prodding into the plush of their skin. Salem indulges him, keeping a grip on his fiery hair, curls caught tight between their fingers. He tastes of bitter coffee and his breath is a hot flush against Salem’s face. They catch his bottom lip between their teeth when he starts to get too eager, tugging hard enough to draw a petulant whine from the older man. They lick their lips, tugging him back by his hair. “Don’t forget who’s in control.” Salem taunts.

“I don’t want to be in control.” Julian musters after swallowing his complaints of a kiss ended too soon. “I won’t make you. Like I said, I’m taking care of you.” Salem wipes away the small trace of saliva at the corner of Julian’s mouth with their thumb, tender in a way that has him weak.

“I know you don’t like taking charge—you just want to be babied, don’t you?” Salem’s voice has a sweet lilt to it, like they were talking to a puppy rather than a grown man. Julian doesn’t think he’d quite mind being their puppy. He stiffly nods his head. “Don’t worry, when you’re with me, you don’t need to have a thought in that pretty little head of yours, does that sound good?”

Julian feels utterly bewitched, falling into Salem’s grasp willingly and eagerly. It sounds very good, to not be required to think, something that had Julian constantly fretting over. When was the last time his mind had been blissfully empty? No second guessing himself or fearing over things he can’t change—not since before the shipwreck he was sure. “It sounds good, I-I want that,” Julian’s voice comes out breathless, his heart lodged in his throat and excitement buzzing from his stomach to his fingertips.

“You can have it.”

Salem lifts themselves from his lap, unbuttoning the first few buttons of their blouse and loosening the collar. Julian stands, hands at his side as he waits for an order—guidance. The mage gestures to the far side of the room, telling in itself. “Go lay on the bed.”

The bed itself is a lackluster comparison to what it really is, rather stiff and cheap, but that isn’t an issue here.

Julian doesn’t hesitate, nearly stumbling over himself in the process. Salem’s already unlacing their boots, setting them aside by the time Julian’s made himself comfortable, taking off his own. “Have you thought of this before?” They ask, taking Julian’s hand in their own and working off the gloves. His breath catches in his throat. How is he getting so worked up already? “With you? A, uh, a few times.” How eloquent, Julian mentally kicks himself. Then again, he doesn’t have to be.

Salem smiles, setting the leather glove aside and pressing a kiss to the back of his hand before moving to the other. “Tell me about it.”

Oh. Oh. Julian feels like he’s going to melt.

“You, you were a little meaner,” he rasps, watching Salem place aside the second glove. “Is this not sufficient for you?” They ponder, tracing the pad of their thumb over his knuckles. “I like this!” Julian immediately blurts, backtracking just a little. “You make me feel...safe.” Loved. He sighs, shoulders slumping forward. Salem holds no distaste in his confession, an expression of understanding. Had any of his other ‘flings’ been this easy to talk to?

“Next time, I’ll fulfill your fantasies. Just for you.” Salem makes work unbuttoning the rest of Julian’s blouse, admittedly easier with how low it usually hung. Next time, it repeats in Julian’s mind.

Julian suppresses a groan, warm hands skirting across his chest as Salem pushes his shirt off his body. “There’s one part,” Julian begins, eyes caught flickering to Salem’s chest as they begin to unbutton the rest of their shirt. “Oh?” They tilt their head just a touch, interest peaked at his half confession.

He nods. “In my, in my fantasy, you had me on my knees,” Salem sheds their shirt, baring their naked chest. Julian stares longer than he thinks is appropriate.

“And I had my mouth on you,” their hands find the laces of his trousers, untying the knot and tugging the band of it down his hips. Julian lifts his hips, assisting Salem’s endeavors of undressing him. “And you—you made fun of me while I did it.”

Salem sets his trousers aside, listening intently in what he had to say. “Is that what you want? For me to tease you?” They unbuckle their belt, sliding it from the loops of their trousers. “Yes.” Julian answers immediately, swallowing at the sight of more tanned flesh becoming exposed. They slide their pants down their hips and thighs, kicking them off next to where Julian’s lay. Now, both lay in their underwear. “Do you want me to take advantage of you? Do you want your only job to be to lay there and take it?” Salem pushes Julian’s knees aside, his gangly legs falling apart and his soul nearly leaves his body when the heel of their palm presses between his legs.

“Yes! Yes I want that—I want all of that,” Salem offers a smile full of teeth and mischief. “You really want it?” They muse, giving his throbbing length and squeeze through his underwear. Julian groans, head lolling to the side, his cheek presses to his shoulder. Salem inches their fingers further down, pressing their fingertips against his clothed taint. A sharp gasp tears from his throat and a pleased smile stretches over Salem’s lips. “Beg for me.”

Julian swallows, finding his voice in between the pitiful noises. “Please, please, I want you to touch me, use me, a-anything—fuck!” A firm squeeze hitches his voice higher in octave, his lower lip catching between his teeth.

“Lay down. I’m going to sit on your face and you’re going to put that mouth to work, just like you wanted.” Salem sits back, giving the doctor room to stretch out when he lays back, his head against the pillows where he eagerly waits. His heartbeat thumps in his temples, breath catching in his throat in pure anticipation.

Salem hooks their thumb under the band of their underwear, tugging it down and tossing it aside. Julian’s eyes flick from their face, down their chest, to their navel where a happy trail of dark hair begins, leading down the soft expanse of their stomach and to what lays between their legs. They straddle his chest, a taste of what’s to come as they stare down at him. “Are you ready, Julian?”

He nods quickly, as much as his position allows. “I want you to smother me.” Julian groans, his hands finding purchase on Salem’s thick thighs. They snicker, inching up higher, knees pressing into the pillows on either side of his head. “Dirty little doctor,” they tsk and Julian’s core tightens in impatience. “You’ll get exactly what you want.” Salem sinks down and Julian is all too eager to get started, kissing over their vulva before dragging his hot tongue over it.

Salem grips his hair with one hand, the other bracing against the headboard of the bed frame. They rock their hips against his face, a flutter of heat filling their body. “That’s it,” Salem coos, the feeling of Julian’s tongue pressing against their clit downright addicting. His hands dig into their thighs, pulling them down firmer against his face, eager as he wraps his lips around them and sucks. They reward him with a harsh buck of their hips and a tug on his hair, one that has him groaning into their sex. Julian buries his nose in the thick patch of curly hair, unable to force down the noises of delight that reverberate from his throat. It only adds a bumbling vibration on Salem’s end.

They’ve never been loud in bed, only deep sighs and little noises their partners have had to work for. Conversation, though, is another story.

“Good boy..” Salem’s praise comes out as a purr, their thighs tightening around Julian’s skull like a vice. Even with his ears muffled, the doctor can still hear every little thing they say.

“You must have dreamt about this, huh? Mmm..about being pinned under me, a helpless little thing,” Julian gives his eager agreement in the form of a harsher suck, his tongue lathing over their clit until Salem’s hand starts tugging at his hair almost violently. Shallow breaths puff from his nose and Salem glides their hips down, off Julian’s mouth. He gasps sharply, lips and chin shining with spit and slick.

“Don’t stop,” he croons, eyebrows furrowed and his eyes barely staying open. The glimmer of the dimming candles around the study illuminate from behind Salem, their body casting a shadow over him and outlining their form in a flickering orange halo. Julian’s breath catches in his throat. “Did you want to choke, little man?”

Julian makes a noise of something akin to a dying animal, too caught up in the moment to be properly flustered by the sound. Salem glides their thumb over his wet lip, a flutter of arousal shooting between their legs when he desperately pulls their thumb into his mouth. A low noise escapes Salem, one from deep in their chest at the pure debauchery of the man below their thighs.

“I won’t hold back then,” they swallow thickly as they pull their thumb from his mouth, scraping his teeth as Julian reluctantly releases.

“I never said I wanted you to.” Julian counters, his voice heavy in his throat as the words pass his lips.

Salem doesn’t quite have a playful retort to that, so they grip his hair tight and slide back to his mouth. Julian, far more eager and needy, dives his tongue back in, gliding the hot wet muscle against their sex. He teases the tip of his tongue to their hole and receives a firm tap to his temple in return. His eyes flick up. “Uh-uh, off limits, I’m not into anything going in.” Salem corrects his attempt and Julian focuses elsewhere without complaint.

His tongue glides through their folds, massaging the sensitive flesh in circular strokes before wrapping his lips back around their throbbing clit, the blushing tip resting deliciously on his tongue.

The dull sting of Julian’s nails digging into their thighs is what adds fuel to the fire, his fingers adding reddened indents along the dimples of Salem’s skin. Salem tightens their thighs around his head, the sweaty flesh sticking to the sides of his cheeks and jaw, holding him in tight until there’s no room to budge—Julian’s nose is buried in the thick curls of Salem’s mound, his face damp with their arousal, and the beating of his heart in his ears. He’s getting lightheaded, blocked by soft skin and muscle that form a prison wall around his head; though that implies he’d want to escape.

Julian rubs his svelte thighs together, seeking friction and relief, though he doesn’t dare touch himself—he wants to be a good boy after all. His hips buck slightly, uselessly thrusting into the air as another gush of arousal coats his tongue.

“Mhmm, I’m close. Oh, Julian, this is what you wanted, right? For me to, ah, use you? To cum on that pretty face of yours?” Salem rests their palm on his stomach behind them, leaning back as they give lazy thrusts against his face, watching the way his eyes nearly roll back into his skull. And oh, he whimpers, thick eyebrows furrowed and eyelashes damp with budding tears. A humming, “mhm!” is all he can muster without ripping his mouth away from them.

Salem catches their bottom lip between their teeth, pupils blown wide enough only a slim ring of deep hickory visible. Julian’s mind has long turned to syrupy mush, turning to a one track focus of pleasuring the mage above him.

Salem’s hips start to stall and Julian feels excitement bite through his chest. Their eyes clench shut, lips parted in heavy breaths, the knot deep in their gut finally snapping. Julian sucks them through it, relishing the bitter tang of cum that splatters onto his tongue. His hands finally loosen from their thighs, knobby fingers leaving shaped bruises in their wake.

It takes a moment for Salem to collect themself, finally rising off his face and settling back on the bed by his side. Julian gasps in a breath, chest heaving, coated in a bright ruby blush. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, eyes focusing in and out. Salem guides him up to sit, cooing over the mess they’ve made of him. “Good boy, do you want your turn now, hm?” Their small hand traces down his chest, going with the groan of chestnut hair and down his navel, a shuddering sigh echoing from Julian’s throat in response. “I'm afraid I won’t last,” he warns, sucking in a breath as Salem tugs off his underwear, damp with precum.

Julian’s cock bobs free, smacking against his stomach. “Who said we would stop after you came?” Salem smirks, running a pointed finger up his shaft. A blubbering noise spits from his mouth, hips bucking uselessly. “Oh my,” is the only comprehensible phrase he can muster, leaning his head back against the wall behind him with a thunk. His legs spread, pulling up towards his sides for plenty of room as Salem makes themselves comfortable between his thighs. “Hm, do you have lube?”

“Huh? Oh, by the, by the desk,” Julian gestures weakly to the desk a few strides away, taking the moment to catch his breath. Salem sits up from the bed and finds a small tub of lube by the foot of the desk. ‘Medical Lubricant’ is printed on the front, and they doubt that’s what he had been using it for. They unscrew the top on their way back, scooping out a generous amount and rubbing their hands together. “Medical lubricant, huh?” Salem teases with a grin, wrapping their fingers around Julian’s cock, slowly stroking under the head.

Julian sucks in a breath, fighting the urge to bite down on his raw lip. “It’s, ah, it’s b-body safe,” he defends, gripping under his knees as he holds his skinny legs up. “One of these days I’ll have to give you a thorough examination. I’ll be the doctor for a change, how about that?” Salem circles the flat of their palm over his head and Julian’s stomach tenses, a low keening sound reverberating from his throat. “Ohohh, yes, anything- anything you want,” he babbles and Salem doubles down on their efforts, noting the way his jaw goes slack and stomach crunches with each glide of their palm over his weeping head. Julian leans his head back, neck stretched long as he stares at the ceiling.

“Look at me,” Salem commands.

“I-I’ll cum too quick if I do,” Julian pleads, that knot in his stomach growing tight, heat pooling into his gut and spreading out to every limb.

“Julian, look at me. Now.” Salem forces a strict tone and Julian whimpers, lifting his head up to see the concentrated gaze of the mage. “Good boy,” they coo, their left hand finding his sac, giving a gentle tug while their right digs its thumb under the head.

A full body shudder runs through him, every joint tightening and his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as he comes—long ropes of cum splattering onto his stomach and chest, barely reaching his chin. Julian finds himself reaching forward, gripping onto the back of Salem’s neck and pulling them close, lips crashing together in a frantic embrace. Salem’s eyes widen in surprise, before closing as Julian rides out the aftershocks, muffled sobs against their lips. They push their tongue into mouth, gliding against his and licking over the blunt edge of his teeth. Julian sinks his fingers into the curls of their hair, disturbing the already loose bun they had it in.

“Mm, ha-ahh, Salem,” he pulls back with a heavy gasp, thighs trembling. “T-too much, too much,” he begs and Salem only then realizes they’ve still been stroking him. They pull their hand away and Julian breathes a sigh of relief, leaning his head back against the wall. “Oh, oh my,” his chest heaves, body slick with sweat and his own spend. Salem fumbles around the pile of clothes for their handkerchief, wiping off their hands, and starting to wipe down Julian’s chest and stomach. “That was, uh,” he stumbles over his words.

“Good, I hope?” Salem looks up from their lashes at him, giving his thigh a pat of finality as they finish cleaning him.

“Unprofessional,” Julian manages to get out between his stammering. “Not that it wasn’t good! In fact it was really good, but you’re my apprentice, and- and I don’t want to take advantage of you—“

Salem sighs and the action alone takes Julian off guard. “You didn’t take advantage of me, I wanted this. Besides, you weren’t the one in charge, were you?”

Julian slowly shakes his head, bashful.

“We’re both adults, Julian. Technically, this was off the clock.” Salem snickers at the last part, the whole reason they’re here because the doctor wouldn’t take a break. Julian sighs through his nose and chuckles lightly. “I suppose that’s right. But I’d say we did this in the wrong order.”

“What do you mean?” They cock their head to the side.

“I thought I was supposed to take you on a date first.”

Salem snorts and rolls their eyes. “It’s not too late for that,” a devilish smile spreads on their lips. “If you’re still able to walk, that is.”

Julian’s face blooms a bright scarlet, floundering for a moment before a smirk breaks on his face. “Ohoho, you’ll just have to make good on that promise.”

They think for a moment. Was this truly ok? In the middle of the plague, to be seeking comfort in another person, their boss of all people? Salem halts that train of thought before it goes off the rails. They’re being safe, they’re both healthy; what’s the harm in a little fun?

“I just might have to, won’t I?”

[jewish-space-laser]

Could Be Lethal - Epilogue

“I'm scared to death that she might be it, That the love is real, that the shoe might fit, She might just be my everything and beyond...”

-Beyond, Leon Bridges

Hello friends! I’m honestly a little choked up posting this. CBL has meant so much to me over this past year, and all I can think about right now is how appreciative for every single person who has supported me, whether you sent me messages, reblogged with nice tags, or gave it any kind of love. None of it went unnoticed, I promise. Special shout out to @for-fucks-sake-h @oh-honey-styles @andwhenshesays @real-work-of-art @haute-romance-quotidienne for hyping me up and proofreading and just being all-around incredible. Okay, this got kind of long, so I’ll end it here, but as always please tell me what you think. I love chatting with you all <3 xoxox Tile (3.3k, she’s a short one!)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

or

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

Catch up here!

You were so, so late. 

It was half an hour past the time your friends were set to meet at Slim’s, and you hadn’t even left your flat yet. Meredith had texted you twice asking where you were, but you ignored her. 

You and Harry had decided to keep your relationship on the down-low, just for a little while. It wasn’t that you wanted to keep secrets from your friends, you just wanted a little bit of time to adjust to your new normal before having questions fired at you left and right. They were a curious bunch, after all. 

 “Shit,” you heard Harry mutter from your bedroom. You lowered your mascara wand to peek through the doorway, seeing him frowning at his phone. His jeans were unbuttoned, shirt nowhere to be found, and he only had one sock on. “Nick is calling me.”

 “Well, don’t answer!” You laughed. Leaning back towards the bathroom mirror, you continued trying to rush through your makeup. 

 You absolutely hated rushing, but you hadn’t been able to deny Harry’s suggestion that he should join you in the shower. It had been less than a week since you made things official, but you already knew you were in a world of trouble. You’d never be able to say no to him. 

 “I think I have to answer,” he sighed, “this is the third time he’s called me, I’m pretty sure he’s getting worried.”

 “Okay,” you snorted, “but don’t tell him you’re here.”

 “I’ll make something up,” he assured you. 

 Giggles bubbled up in your throat as you listened to him tell Nick that he’d accidentally taken an extra long nap, and that he’d be on his way shortly. He didn’t sound all that convincing, but it would have to do. 

 You hadn’t heard him get off the phone, so you jumped a bit when you felt his arms wrap around your waist from behind. You set down the makeup brush you had been using, catching his eye in the mirror. He smiled softly, pressing a little kiss to your shoulder. 

 “You look really nice,” he told you. At first, it seemed innocent, but then he pressed another kiss to your shoulder, and another to your neck. “Like, really nice.”

 You couldn’t help the sigh that blew out of your lips as your head lolled to the side. He was entirely too charming, but you were already late. 

 “We need to finish getting ready,” you managed to breathe. It was always harder to string sentences together when his lips were on you. “You’re not even dressed.”

 He only hummed, closing his eyes as he moved his lips up to your jaw. His hands had moved lower, sliding over your hips and down to the tops of your thighs. You felt like you were on fire. 

 “Harry, please, we need to....” you gulped when his left hand slide just under the hem of your skirt, “we need to go.”

 “Do we?” He teased. “I was thinking maybe we could just… stay here….”

 Temptation crept up your spine, but you pushed it down. The two of you had been stuck together like magnets for the past five days, you should be able to get through one night without being all over each other. 

 “You already, um,” you gulped, feeling Harry’s lips turn up against your skin, “you told Nick you were on your way.”

 He pulled back with a sigh, letting the hand under your skirt fall to his side. You watched in the mirror as he rolled his eyes, resting his chin on your shoulder as you finished up with your makeup. 

 “I don’t know why you’re so stressed about this,” Harry mused, following you as you broke away from him to throw the tube of lipstick into your purse, “it’s just our friends. We see them all the time.”

 He was right, of course, but part of you really needed this night to go well, without a single hiccup. Because of you and your inability to express emotions, your entire friend group had suffered. Things were weird when you and Harry had stopped talking, and it was undoubtedly felt by the lot of them. You just wanted the dynamic to feel easy again.

 “I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, “I just hate lying to them. I’m so bad at it.”

 “You are,” he snickered, pulling you into his chest, “it was your idea, though. I personally don’t care if they know.”

 You groaned, twisting out of his arms once again to slip your shoes on. Harry followed suit, kneeling down to lace up his vans. The way he was gazing up at you made you squirm a bit, the concern and admiration he felt for you more apparent than usual. 

 “Babe…” he sighed out, rising to his feet, “you make things so hard for yourself, I swear. You’re always thinking about things that could go wrong. What about the things that have already gone right?”

 You sucked your lips into your mouth, not entirely sure how to respond. Maybe you were a pessimist, maybe it was your anxiety, or maybe it was just the way your brain was wired, but you’d always had a tendency to think of the worst possible scenario. Harry had a point though; there was a fine line between self preservation and self sabotage. Perhaps the world wouldn’t end if you gave your anxious brain a breather and allowed yourself to relax. 

 Getting together with Harry had been hell, but all of the obstacles you’d created were just in your head. Pulling excuses out of thin air was truly your specialty, anything to keep yourself from taking risks, but eventually it had been exhausting holding yourself back from the things you wanted. You didn’t want your anxiety to ruin your happiness anymore. 

 So you took a deep breath, and then you shifted your focus. Sure, it was going to be uncomfortable fielding questions from your rowdy group of friends, but Harry would be sitting right next to you. And he would stay next to you. And he was in front of you, right now, just inches away, loving you. Suddenly, your concerns regarding your friends weren’t worth dwelling on. 

 “That’s true,” you rolled your shoulders, letting go of some tension, “lots of things are going right.”

 “Like what?” He smirked, swiping his car keys off the little table in your foyer.

 “Let’s see,” you said playfully, pretending to be deep in thought as you locked up your flat, “I’ve got a decent job.”

 “That you do,” he agreed, “and?”

 “I quite like my neighborhood,” you remarked, tilting your head, “my flat is small but I’m proud of it.”

 “Okay,” his grin widened, “anything else?”

 He was fishing for compliments, but you refused to give in. He faked offense when you just rolled your eyes, and bumped his hip into yours before tangling his fingers with yours. You walked in hand-in-hand until you reached his car.

 “I’m lucky to have you,” you said quietly as he buckled his seatbelt. He paused, lips pulled up into a sweet smile.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah,” you nodded, meeting him halfway as you shared a short kiss, “having you in my life is very, very right.”

 He kissed you quickly once more before settling into his seat, fiddling with the rearview mirror until he was satisfied. He’d let you borrow his car the other day, and made a huge fuss about the way you readjusted his seat. You loved him anyway.

 In fact, you loved him so much, you weren’t sure you were going to be able to hide it. Maybe Harry was right… you were just creating barriers for yourself. How nice would it be if you could slide into the regular booth at Slim’s, next to Harry, and hold his hand? When you were trying to be secretive about your sleepovers, you’d barely even interacted in front of other people, too paranoid that you’d give yourselves away immediately.

 It was a scary thing to be thinking about, especially as you were on your on way there already, so you twisted a knob on Harry’s dash to change the radio station. After a few moments of searching for a song to distract you, you gave up and turned the entire thing off. 

 “Maybe we should just tell them,” you blurted, biting your lip nervously.

 Harry’s eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at you for just a moment before returning his focus to the road. “We can do whatever you want, babe.”

 “What do you want?” You asked.

 He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Well, I mean… I get wanting to keep this to ourselves because it’s so… new, you know?” He looked over at you once he was stopped at a red light, a sheepish smile painted over his cheeks. “But at the same time… I’m excited. Like, really excited, and I want to tell my friends. They’ll be excited for us, I know it.”

 Them being excited was what you were afraid of, in a way. You knew your friends well, so you knew that Meredith would ask too many questions, Thomas would say something inappropriate, Grimmy would accidentally talk about it on air, and Jessie would probably just silently sit in the corner. The image you’d created in your head was chaotic and overwhelming. 

 But maybe it wouldn’t be like that. Maybe it was worth finding out. 

 “You’re overthinking, I can tell,” Harry frowned, “listen, like I said, we’ll do whatever you want. Tonight is meant to be fun.”

 “No,” you shook your head, “let’s tell them.”

 “Really? That’s what you want?”

 “Yes.” 

 And you meant it. As terrifying as it would be, keeping more secrets from your friends wasn’t the answer. Plus, they would likely ask a bunch of intrusive questions, anyway. Meredith was nosy long before you ever spent a single night in Harry’s bed. 

Not to mention that Harry was excited, about you. It warmed your heart in a way you’d never felt before, like you were floating and sinking at the same time. He was proud to be able to call you his, and you understood because you felt the same way. If giving them the news about your relationship would make him happy, then it was a no-brainer. His happiness would always win over your fear.

 Your own happiness, too.

Harry ended up being right, of course. The moment the two of you walked through the door together, hands interlocked, the group was ecstatic. 

 “Holy shit!” Nick had shouted, loud enough that people at other tables were looking over. “Fucking finally!”

 Meredith had let out the most grating, nails-on-a-chalkboard squeal, but you’d barely had time to grimace before she was throwing her arms around you. Just like you’d predicted, it was loud, over the top, and even a bit embarrassing… but it was also a celebration. Even though they made a scene, it wasn’t awkward, or overwhelming. They just wanted to support you. 

 And being the center of attention wasn’t as difficult when you had a partner. Harry was more than willing to take the lead on answering questions, allowing you to sit back and just process everything. 

 “Next round is on me,” Jessie announced. Harry had just finished explaining to Thomas that the cuddling had been going on for months. Nick and Meredith hadn’t looked shocked, and Jessie had just looked amused.

 “Cheers, friend,” you smiled, “need help carrying?”

 They nodded at you, so you slid out of your seat, giving Harry’s arm a soft squeeze before making your way to the bar. Jessie caught the attention of the bartender right away, listing off the drink orders that everyone had become familiar with. 

 “How are you doing?” You asked them, leaning your back against the wooden bar. 

 “Me?” They scoffed, mirroring your position. “I should be asking how you are. Last time I saw you, you were a total mess. Well, figuratively. Your apartment was ridiculous, I can literally still smell Clorox.”

 You laughed, shaking your head. “Sorry you had to witness my panic induced cleaning. That talk we had ended up being really helpful.”

 “Good. It sounds like things are going well, then,” they said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I’m really happy for you.”

 “Thanks,” you rested your head on their shoulder, “I am sorry though, for making things weird for everyone.”

 “Whatever,” Jessie waved a hand through the air, “it’s over now. We just didn’t like seeing the both of you in so much pain, especially when it wasn’t really our place to do anything about it.”

 Just then, the bartender tapped your shoulders, pointing to the six drinks lined up on the counter. You grabbed four while Jessie grabbed two, and together you headed back to the table.

 “Oh good, you’re back,” Meredith said, plucking her drink from your hand, “Harry was just telling us about the time he got blackout drunk at some pub in Hackney, weren’t you Harry?”

 “No,” he said drily, “I wasn’t.”

 You passed him his water, which he promptly took a large gulp of. The woes of being a designated driver.

 This went on for a while longer, and eventually your friends stopped grilling you, satisfied with the information they’d pried out of you. Now, it just felt like a normal night, where everybody chatted and gossipped and caught up. So familiar, that you weren’t even phased when a text from Harry popped up on your lock screen. 

 From: Harry Styles 9:56PM

Are we sleeping at mine tonight?

 “Yeah,” you giggled, locking your phone and glancing up at Harry. He was already looking at you with bright eyes and a gentle smile. 

 He leaned down and quickly pressed his lips to your forehead. “Perfect.”

 Just weeks ago, you were secretly texting under the table and making up excuses to leave at the same time, a stark contrast to tonight, where you both hugged your friends goodbye and left together, hand-in-hand and drama free. It was refreshing to be able to fully relax together, no longer tethered to the weight that comes with keeping a secret. Harry seemed especially carefree tonight, running his hands up and down your sides as he walked behind you, only letting go once you reached his car.

 “I had fun tonight,” he remarked, twisting to look over his shoulder as he reversed from the parking spot. His arm was stretched out behind your headrest, and you had to resist the urge to lean into him.

 “Me too,” you hummed, crossing your legs, “it was nice being able to sit next to you for a change.”

 “I agree,” he nodded, looking straight ahead out the windshield, “although that skirt has been driving me crazy all evening. In this case it might have been easier having you all the way across the table from me.”

 You only giggled, rolling down the car window. You needed some cool air on your skin, which was suddenly feeling flushed all over at the thought of Harry checking you out.

 “I’m not kidding,” his lips were in a straight line, but you knew him well enough to recognize the twinkle in his eye, “that thing is coming off the moment we get home.”

 You soon found out that he was quite serious, pinning you against the door the moment it closed behind you. He pressed the front of his body fully against yours, not a single inch of space between your chests as he dipped down to slot your lips together. 

 You gasped for air when he pulled back, throwing your head back against the door as he slowly dragged his palms down your body, stopping to squeeze the flesh of your hips and finally resting on the curve of your ass.

 “How do you do it?” Harry wondered out loud, bunching the fabric of your skirt in his fists as he pulled it upwards. “It’s like you don’t even try.”

 “Do what?” You breathed, lifting up a leg and looping it around his hip.

 He let out an appreciative grunt, grinding his hips into the flimsy lace of your underwear.

 “Like… you just make me want you so much,” he wheezed, arching back slightly as you fiddled with the fly on his jeans, “you’re not even trying to be sexy, like tonight, just fucking sitting and chatting shit with our mates, I wanted to- oh, fuck me!”

 He let out a shaky breath when you reached inside his boxers, rubbing along his length until you could grasp your fingers around him and tug him free from his boxers. After just a few slow pumps, he was swatting your hands away, pulling the crotch of your panties to the side and pushing into you with a slow buck of his hips. He pushed slowly, in and out, until he was as deep as he could be, and you revelled in the feeling of his hipbones pressed against your pelvis.

 “Good?” He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

 “Mhm,” you managed, sliding a hand up his back under his shirt.

 It wasn’t long before he rendered you a moaning mess, one hand gripping your leg under the knee and the other looped behind the small of your back. He was hitting the deepest, most perfect spots inside of you, and even though the doorknob was digging into your ass, and you still hadn’t taken off your heels, you wouldn’t change a thing.

 He was so good at finding creative ways to fuck you, whether it was a spontanious quickie over the desk in his office, or the slow, sultry sex you’d had in his home studio. It was fun, and exciting, and unique, and you couldn’t get enough.

 His thrusts became faster and harder the moment you reached your hand down to play with your clit. He was watching your fingers like a hawk, not blinking as he watched you pleasure yourself while he fucked into you. Soon enough, your thighs were shaking, cries escaping your mouth as your orgasm thundered through your veins, sending tingles to the tips of your toes and  a warmth throughout your belly.

 Harry followed suit soon after, driving his cock into you once more before spilling inside of you. Neither of you moved, simply standing against the door.

 “You didn’t even take my skirt off,” you eventually broke the silence, dropping your leg. Your hip was definitely going to be sore in the morning. 

 “Would you like me to remove it?” He snickered, digging his fingers into your sides. “I’d be happy to rid you of it, right here, right now.”

 As you and your boyfriend chased each other around the house, teasingly undressing each other as you went, you didn’t spare a single thought on your worries, anxieties, or fears. No, they weren’t even on the radar. 

 Instead, all you could focus on was how unbelievably happy you were right now. 

 You felt high, but this time you weren’t afraid of falling because Harry would be there to catch you. There could be pits of lava, fields of thorns, pointy rocks, rivers full of piranhas… and you’d still take the blind leap if it meant being in his arms. In a way, you’d already been through hell to get here, plagued by your own mind, the most torturous kind of self sabotage. 

 It didn’t matter what the future held. Hypotheticals were no longer important; what mattered was what you had right now, right in front of you. 

 And that was enough.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I’m so sad that their story has come to an end, but it’s not over! We’ll definitely be seeing more of them. I love you all xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxox Tile

[happyandticklish]

New Beginnings

Notes: For the request by @yellowbakyura. I’m not super familiar with this ship, hence why this took so goddamn long, but I like the result! It was super interesting to write their dynamic! Thanks for sending in the request and I hope you enjoy! ^^

Summary: Masaomi tries to clear his mind and ends up running into an old friend. 

Walking the city at night was a habit Masaomi had fallen into semi-accidentally. At first, it had been to meet up with Erika and Walker, who were always up to something, regardless the time of day. After a while, he continued going out even if it was without them, enjoying the way the world quieted once the sun fell. Though Ikebukuro was never truly silent, people bustling about the city with tasks of business and pleasure at all hours of the day, there was a kind of unity that the night brought.

It was nice to know that no matter how much time had passed, Ikebukuro was Ikebukuro. A city full of people making connections and gaining heartbreaks, where each moment could be an adventure if you let it. He had always loved that chaotic atmosphere, even now, years later. It was difficult to believe he had graduated just last year. Soon, he would be off to university, an exciting new life ahead of him.

Mikado had already left for home, and Anri was off abroad, her grades landing her a soaring success of scholarships. Eventually, only Masaomi was left. He still hadn’t decided where he was going, and the clock only seemed to tick faster as he struggled to decide. So he had decided to fall back onto an old tradition to help clear his mind.

That night, he strolled around Central Park, his hands interlocked behind his head. He took a seat by the fountain, kicking his legs up and curling them under himself. Around him were a variety of couples conversing under the cover of darkness, as well as several rambunctious teenagers joking and shoving each other perilously close to the water.

Masaomi sighed, leaning back on the cold foundation, a grateful relief from the heat of summer. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to relax.

“You know, it’s not safe to leave yourself so vulnerable in such a dangerous city. Who knows what kind of creeps you could run into?”

Masaomi’s eyes snapped open, his heart slamming against his chest at the familiar voice. Izaya Orihara stood on the ledge of the fountain behind him, peering down into his face with that serene, cat-like smile of his. It managed to somehow be both pleasant and menacing at the same time.

“The only creep I have to worry about is you,” Masaomi responded dryly, pretending like the other’s presence hadn’t just sent him into cardiac arrest.

“You wound me.” Izaya’s hands were shoved into his pockets, and Masaomi briefly wondered how he could be wearing something like that with the current weather. “I thought you considered me a friend.”

“I have friends. They don’t insist on treating my life like it’s some amusing game.”

“But isn’t that all life is? A game without rules, where winning can sometimes be the same thing as losing. It’s all about perspective, my dear Ma-sa-o-mi!”

“Don’t say my name like that—it’s weird.”

Masaomi sighed. Of all the people to run into, why did it have to be him? Right now he needed clarity, and for as long as he’d known him, Izaya had always provided the opposite of that. He had never met a single more confusing or frustrating individual as the man peering curiously down at him now. He could feel the age-old excitement buzzing in his limbs despite this. Izaya meant danger and risks, dancing through life on a dagger’s edge. It was addicting and terrifying all at once, a contradiction Masaomi had never been able to sort out inside himself.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” Izaya asked, taking a seat besides the other. His legs were tucked tightly underneath himself, far away from risk of falling in the fountain. Masaomi smirked, just slightly. “Shouldn’t you be spending your time with you friends, during these last days of freedom?”

“And what about you?” Masaomi shot back defensively. “You’re alone too, you know.”

“I’m never alone,” Izaya corrected, tossing an affectionate glance at the citizens enjoying the park, unaware of the shark amongst their midst. “I have all of humanity to entertain me. I find they make much better company than friends. After all, it’s impossible to know who others truly are when you constantly endeavor to see the best in them.”

Masaomi narrowed his eyes. Typical cryptic bastard. Still, tonight he found he didn’t mind it. It was a comfort to hear his nonsensical poetry; it helped to drown out the current thoughts plaguing his mind. “That’s something someone with no friends would say.”

“How cruel,” Izaya intoned, smirking lightly. “I forgot about that attitude of yours. You should work on that, if you want people to like you. Lighten up, you know?”

“People do like me—ah, hey!” He jerked back as Izaya poked him suddenly, a playful, harmless jab. The latter’s eyes widened as he registered the extreme reaction. “What was that for?”

“Interesting,” Izaya mused, poking him again. Masaomi drew his knees up protectively, leaning away from the other. “I never knew you were ticklish.”

“I’m not,” Masaomi said immediately. He didn’t like the way Izaya was looking at him, like a predator that had just found its prey. It made his insides squirm, not unpleasantly. Still, he knew this game. Give Izaya an inch and he’d take a full three miles before he gave up. He forget how it was to have those eyes, slanted and inquisitive, targeted at him. “And who just goes around poking people?”

“Lying will get you nowhere.” Izaya was undeterred by the other’s protective position, merely grabbing his leg instead. “Your denials only make me more sure of my assumption.”

“Wha—hey!” Masaomi flailed, just narrowly catching himself and avoiding falling in the fountain. He glared at the other, attempting to jerk his leg back, but found the other’s hold stronger than he originally thought. It was easy to forget how strong Izaya could be when he was so often in comparison to Shizuo. “What are you doing?!”

“Proving a point,” Izaya replied simply, sliding off his shoe like it was nothing and dropping it besides them on the ground. “This will provide ample payback for your earlier comment, don’t you agree? Now, where to start?”

Masaomi clamped his mouth shut when Izaya dragged a lone finger up his sole, his toes curling instinctively. He cursed himself for the reaction, giving himself away before they’d hardly started. It was strange how little defense his socks gave him as Izaya gently scratched the area with a precision that was altogether unfair.

“H-Hnrgh,” Masaomi grunted, attempting to hold back the giggles building in his throat. “I-Izaya!”

“I never realized you were so sensitive!” Izaya marveled, adding more fingers into the mix that crawled up his soles teasingly. Masaomi yelped, jerking hard on his trapped leg. Goosebumps prickled down his arms, as though his foot had a direct link to the rest of the nerve endings in his body. “You should’ve told me earlier—I’ve been missing out on all the fun.”

“T-This ihis exactly w-why, I—ah—heh, d-dihidn’t tell you!” Masaomi covered his face, hoping to hide the blush spreading rapidly across his features. “Izaya!” he squawked suddenly when fingernails skittered teasingly under his toes. “Thahat tihihickles!”

“Well, I should hope so,” Izaya said, amusement dancing in his eyes as he glanced back at the other. “I am tickling you after all.”

Masaomi grinned, his heart fluttering strangely in his chest. “S-Shuhuhut uhuhup!”

“And why should I do that when you give such wonderful reactions whenever I do the opposite?”

This was ridiculous. Masaomi was being ridiculous. After all these years, and still, Izaya knew all the best ways to get under his skin. Old memories were cropping up of hands clapping down firmly on his shoulder, a teasing grin, and those eyes that shot right through you until you couldn’t think anymore.

Masaomi cursed himself internally. He was older now. Smarter. A different person. He was supposed to be preparing for the next stage in his life, choosing who he wanted to represent as a living creature in the vast cosmos, and yet, all he could think about was some stupid high school crush.

People were staring, but not that much. It wasn’t unusual to see strange things in Ikebukuro. He could hear the name Izaya Orihara floating around with notes of surprise, but no one intervened. Masaomi was almost glad for it. It would have been far too embarrassing to have a stranger approach him like this, giggling and squirming like a fool over tickling, of all things.

“What’s wrong? Nothing to say?” He was loving this. The goddamn bastard was soaking this up and Masaomi was going to kill him right after he stopped getting the urge to tackle him to the ground and kiss him until Izaya was just as breathless as him. “You’re usually so talkative. Could it be that you’re too ticklish to withstand something as simple as this? I mean, it’s almost funny—I’m hardly touching you.”

Masaomi squeaked, falling backwards against the marble. “Nahahaha, y-yohohou—fuhuhuhuck!”

“Maybe you like it,” Izaya guessed cheerfully. Masaomi’s toes appeared to be a particularly bad spot, and so he concentrated his efforts there, prying them back with one hand to get better access. Masaomi’s laughter went up several octaves at the new technique, his squirming growing more desperate. “That must be it. Little Masaomi likes to be tickled and he can’t admit it, so he resorts to saying nothing instead, is that it?”

“Nahahahat lihihihittle!” Masaomi protested, his face growing redder if that was even possible. Whether it was because of Izaya’s teasing words or the truth behind them, he couldn’t say. Possibly both.

“Oh? That’s not a denial, you know. Well, if you really do like this, I suppose my only option is to keep going. But these socks are really getting in the way, don’t you think?” Izaya frowned, clucking his tongue in disappointment. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

Masaomi’s breath hitched when he felt Izaya’s fingers slipping under his sock, nails grazing the skin teasingly as he pulled it off. He let out a frankly embarrassing squeak, and before he could help himself instinct took over. His free foot connected with Izaya’s back, startling him into letting go. However, Masaomi had underestimated the strength he had put into the kick, and they both watched in surprise as Izaya went tumbling into the fountain with a strangled yelp.

Masaomi took a deep breath, still giggling slightly as he sat up. He rubbed his foot against the fountain’s edge, trying to relieve himself of the phantom tickles running through his nervous system. Once he had collected himself slightly, he glanced over at the other only to almost lose it all over again at the sight.

Izaya sat blinking in surprise, his pants soaked through and his jacket floating besides him. His hair fell into his eyes, pasted there by the water. Any semblance of dignity he had held before was gone now. He noticed Masaomi’s face and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare laugh.”

“I thought you wanted me to laugh?” Masaomi shot back, unable to help his delighted grin. To see the great Izaya Orihara in such a manner, drenched and shell-shocked after falling on his ass, was something he had never thought he would witness, though he was immensely glad he had.

Izaya glared at him, his cheeks dusted a faint shade of pink. “You are an insufferable brat.”

“Pot calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?”

“You think you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious.”

Izaya stared as a hand was outstretched towards him, Masaomi’s friendly features on the other side. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you out, obviously,” Masaomi replied, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, just take it. I don’t bite.”

Izaya watched him suspiciously for a moment, before reluctantly accepting his hand. Masaomi pulled him out, the other’s pants sloshing comically as he stood up. Izaya sat down, shedding his jacket in disgust as he stared at the dripping mess. “It’s ruined.”

“It’s just water.”

“You weren’t the one that fell in the fountain.”

“It was an accident! Besides, you were the one tickling me!”

“It’s not my fault you’re that ticklish.”

Masaomi flushed. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Fine.”

Masaomi did not remember consciously deciding to lean over and kiss the other, only that once he had it was everything he had imagined it to be. Izaya’s lips were soft, and they parted under Masaomi’s in surprise. For a moment, everything was wonderful.

And then Masaomi opened his eyes and noticed Izaya’s shocked expression.

Shit.

Masaomi jerked back, flailing awkwardly in his attempt to slide off the fountain. “I’m sorry! That was weird! I’m weird. Fuck. I don’t know why I did that. I’m just gonna… go… now… yeah.” He nodded furiously, snatching up his shoe and whirling around, not even bothering to put it on before he ran off.

His heart felt like it was gonna explode outside of his chest, and he couldn’t decide between imploding with joy or panic. Going to the park was supposed to help clear his mind, and it was anything but clear now. Why did he decide to do that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Several yards away, Izaya sat staring after him, his fingers pressed delicately against the spot where Masaomi’s lips had been a moment before.

He smiled softly.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Fourth Coming

Fandom: The Wilds Rating: T Word Count: 2157

Summary: And on the twenty-third day, Nora ate goat and thought about love.

Nora sees the experiment through two lenses, like the red and blue acetate in those cheap 3D glasses. One lens is the scientific, the other is the brutal. When she puts these metaphorical glasses on, she’s just there, in the middle of it, but when she’s feeling particularly tired (understandably often) or just relaxed (inexplicably often—a fact to be concealed from the others), she shifts between the two views. Each is sharper alone than they are combined.

Scientific: counting the days; subtly taking her own inventory of the rations; monitoring Fatin’s dehydration, the commensurate level of distrust the rest of the group have for her.

Brutal: cold fingers in wet, black sand, disinterring Jeanette’s grave; Dot’s tumbling, shivering recount of spearing and battering a snake; ralphing, ralphing, ralphing bad mussels.

It isn’t until the goat that these contrary perspectives finally attain a kind of beautiful balance in Nora’s brain. And it isn’t her thoughts, or rereading one of her journal entries, that has her mental clouds clearing. Actually, it’s what Leah says. About barbecues and normalcy and the Fourth of July. Leah’s remark—possibly offhand, certainly poisonous, even if Nora can’t see how yet—gracelessly and unselfconsciously reveals the barbarism of order. A social gathering on the same day each year, centered around fire (fireworks, sure, but Nora is amazed by how dazzled people are by something not so very far advanced from what had the cavepeople oohing and awwing) and the cooking of meat. Ritual is the summit at which the scientific and the brutal join hands.

The day doesn’t matter. (Every day could have been June 29th and what difference would that have made for them on this island?) The conditions of their environment haven’t changed. (No major shift in the seasons or significant weather patterns, just the single freakish high tide.) The slaughter of the goat and the subsequent cookout should be put down to chance, Nora knows. Toni, Martha, and Shelby decided to look for food. Martha happened to find the goat. She happened to lay her hands on a tool that could do the job. She happened to be successful. And now, miraculous barbecue in honour of… what?

Nora’s sure that most of the girls would say the feast is in honour of themselves, their power, their survival. All of that would really put a spit-shine on Gretchen’s mission statement, but Nora’s not just an agent, a plant, a spy, a wolf in castaway’s clothing. She seeks to understand as much as she always has. She wonders if Shelby thanks god for the goat, or eats it as a form of praise. Nora constantly spots her toying with the cross on her necklace, frequently in a way that holds it far from her throat, almost like she’s thinking about ripping the necklace off and hurling it into the ocean. That would be going a bit far, but then, so is hacking your hair off because a brush got stuck.

Their ritual could be the sacrifice of another creature in the hopes of sparing themselves—a kind of desperate, gasping celebration. Privately, Nora decides they’re celebrating love. Leah’s persistent aura of tragic romance is part of the inspiration for that, but she isn’t part of either of the two developing relationships Nora’s been observing.

Martha’s picking at her goat meat glumly, so Nora rises and goes over to her. Her gait is unsteady on this sand and on these legs, weakened over the past two days of starvation, but it’s enough to carry her until she can slump down next to Martha. Sweet and strong, vulnerable and clearly capable (judging by the sizzle of fat dripping from the roasting goat leg and hitting the fire), Martha smiles when Nora joins her. Nora smiles back and that’s enough between them for a few minutes.

Nora watches the browned meat, nearly allowing herself to be hypnotized by the texture that urges her to sink her teeth in, the crispy spots she knows would taste incredible. But she can’t gorge herself; her stomach needs to be cool about what she’s already eaten or the chewed up goat goes the way of the slurped mussels Rachel found.

Carefully, Nora turns her head to study Martha. She decides that what this girl needs is the same thing Leah needed on Day 12 when she was sitting alone on the beach: some kind of dirty joke. Since she’s fresh out of filthy material of the Christmas variety, Nora tells Martha, “One second,” and heaves herself up again. She comes back dragging Marcus. He’ll be her muse, but it’s also a reunion of lovers.

“You two could get married,” Nora tells Martha. “Shelby said she was an ordained youth minister, remember?”

They laugh and it’s softer than the crackle of the fire. Nora likes that. The steady, rolling sound of their laughs together. How they taper off, unlike the ceaseless noise of breaking waves that drives Nora insane whenever she surfaces from her numbness to the sound. Like becoming conscious of your breathing and working like hell to stop noticing it, because having to purposefully regulate every breath is exhausting and terrifying.

Martha frowns a little in consideration, then half-smiles.

“Nah. I don’t know if I’m ready to commit like that. I think this could just be a fling. All those abs and he didn’t come help me haul that goat.”

“That’s true.” When Martha gazes at the mannequin, Nora assesses Marcus as well. “And it’s not like you’d want to keep him around because he gives great head.”

“He might’ve once,” Martha defends, brushing hair out of her face when a breeze kicks up, “but he gave so much head that there’s none left for me.”

They catch each other staring at the clean line where Marcus’s neck ends and nothing rests above it and trip into laughter again. Though Nora feels like she accomplished her dirty joke, Martha made it even better. People have underestimated her. Nora’s noted it from the start. It’s probably because Martha was injured. Group dynamics were established quickly and have formed and reformed in the days and weeks since, but Day 1 showed them the rawest version of who they are together and, before they knew about Jeanette, Martha was the weak one. Have the others seen her role evolve like Nora has? Are Nora’s observations anything special, really?

“This is totally not a judgement thing or anything,” Nora says, meaning it. “I was just wondering if you were maybe going to wash your clothes. Or change them.”

“Oh.”

Martha looks down at herself and now Nora’s glad she said something; it doesn’t seem like Martha was really aware that she’s been sitting here crusted in drying blood. Nora weighs the acceptability of a period joke and decides against it.

“You don’t have to,” she assures Martha, raising a gentle hand. “It just seemed like maybe the, uh, the slaughtering process? Was kind of a mindfuck?”

“Yeah.” Martha stares straight ahead and lets out a short laugh that Nora doesn’t join her in. “I’m glad Marcus wasn’t there to see. He might not’ve come back the same.”

Nora peers at her a moment, then resolves to just say what she’s thinking.

“Did you?”

Turning her head, Martha looks at Nora and her smile’s the same, but her eyes are different. No, Nora would write in the journal. The answer is plain. Maybe she’ll record it on paper later and maybe she won’t. Looking into Martha’s eyes, Nora knows she won’t need help remembering this.

“I’m just living my best life,” Martha tells her, batting the ends of her hair with her hand.

It sounds like something Fatin would say in this moment, or at least have printed on a t-shirt or something—it’s flip and glib—and for the very reason that it reminds Nora of Fatin, she’s certain that Martha not only means the silly words sincerely but that she feels the kind of truth in the trope, the mindfulness in the meme, that Fatin fights so hard to experience herself. Fatin is deeper than that ocean over there and Martha is a girl scooping out the sand in front of her mannequin boyfriend, digging him a sturdy trench to rest in so she can lean back against his factory-sculpted physique, painted in the blood of her first kill.

For whatever reason, Marcus is the man Martha wants. Nora can’t imagine him becoming anyone else’s property after all this is over.

“Do you want a lychee instead?” she offers. Martha’s flat-out ignoring her leaf-plate of meat now.

“Maybe in a minute.”

She turns her dreamy eyes away from where she’s rubbing a streak of dirt off Marcus’s bicep. Nora follows her gaze to Shelby, who seems to be counting out and partitioning the lychee haul, looking to Dot from time to time. Dot isn’t interfering, just giving encouraging nods when Shelby seeks them out. And of course Toni’s watching too.

“You think they’re telling the truth?” Nora inquires bluntly. “That whole ‘wrong turn in the woods’ story?”

Martha shrugs and says, “Yeah,” but Fatin scootches towards them, evidently drawn by the hum of gossip in the air.

“Are you talking about Toni and Shelby?” she asks, but it’s more of a demand. Her eyes are bright and excited, her mouth grinning, and Nora knows that a lot of that effect is thanks to their first meal in days, but it astounds her how socializing lights Fatin up as much as it used to shut Nora down.

“No,” Martha says quickly, but no faster than Nora’s flat, “Yes.”

“Dope. Yeah, those two are a hundred percent lying.”

“Are you sure?” Nora asks.

She’s not, but the cameras will be. Seeing the footage afterwards isn’t something she negotiated on when Gretchen made her part of the team. Speculation, though less scientific, is much more fun.

Fatin rolls her eyes like Nora’s questioning the laws of gravity. (She blinks and sees the poster of Newton. Sees Newton seeing the apple. Her throat closes up until she softly coughs it clear.)

“Definitely,” Fatin says. “Even if they were just out there all day picking fruit, it’s still the most sapphic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s, like, biblically sapphic.”

Martha laughs.

“Uhhh, sorry, which version of the Bible did you read?”

Nora smiles broadly and looks from Martha’s expression of brimming joy to Fatin’s concentrated delight. Like she’s on to something and whether or not she’s right is beside the point. That kind of approach makes Nora pleasantly dizzy. She remembers being little, standing at a department store perfume counter she couldn’t see over while her mom spritzed scents on her wrists that floated down to Nora’s nose. Fruit and flowers and anything and everything that could make the air beautiful when a woman walked into a room.

“None, but come on, there’s the garden, right? I know some shit. The marketing for this retreat was super Christian-centric anyway. We’re out here representing the fucking Dawn of Eve!” Fatin gestures triumphantly around at their dismal (except for the goat) camp. “If those two bitches weren’t getting their freak on under a fruit tree last night, I’ll eat my gold watch.”

Nora scrutinizes the girls in question.

“Shelby does look especially glowy today.”

“Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s chronic sun damage,” Martha singsongs.

“Maybe it’s what Toni did to those mussels with her tongue,” Fatin acknowledges frankly, “because Shelby sure as hell didn’t borrow my hundred-dollar highlighter. That shit got swept out to sea.”

Fatin trains her eyes on Shelby while Martha watches Toni, and Nora watches both of them watch the others. When they switch subjects in a moment of unvoiced agreement, Toni jerks her head up and spots Fatin staring at her. The tender gazes she’s been throwing Shelby’s way over the low mound of red fruit tighten into suspicion.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Toni barks, and a laugh sputters from Fatin as she raises her hands to show she means no harm.

“Ok,” Martha says to Fatin and Nora, giggling. “I see it now. Something happened between Shelby and Toni yesterday. Some kind of hunter-gatherer romance.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve taken the ‘hunter’ title away from Shelby,” Nora points out.

“Well, whatever. Gatherer-gatherer then.”

“With an island colony of all women, it was only a matter of time,” is Fatin’s pragmatic take. “Another couple weeks without an orgasm and I would’ve fucked Toni myself.”

“It wasn’t just time,” Martha scoffs, tipping her head to the side. “It’s love.”

“It’s both,” Nora says. She could prove it to them, flourish the statistics she’s been tracking in her journal. How those bald numbers lie there next to the drawings that spill to the edge of the page. She’s made bedfellows of data and emotions. She just sits there and grins at them. “It’s the aphrodisiacal influence of the Fourth of July.”

[aueua]

🖊+any of ur Among Us OCs

alright so

I have sixteen (16) where twelve of them are the main cast of colors and are quite tight-knit, but then I wound up making two more as sole-impostors and another two more as a result of scribbl.io-esque shenanigans (and even two more after that based off of pets which’d make that eighteen because I was a teensy bit off the rails)

content warnings: blood, illness, (???) it’s among us so I’ll just say take caution when going through *** For the doodles at the very bottom of this post: Body Horror.

the one that the randomizer chose was one of the said impostor ones [TB] and I’ll just. share some documents I made (that were primarily for roleplay, therefore their very... uh... hm... bland nature). where if you feel like reading those for whatever reason, here’s the only few good ones: Purple (Eys), and #FFFFFF (TB).

-

(Crossposting directly off of a discarded ask blog I once attempted to run.)

Foremost. With my verse, the crewmates are all simulated codes of data (with… feelings). They are not in a “real” scenario of having all individual, proper backstories where an impostor comes aboard their crew one way or another. They are all well aware of the fact they are not real as they happen to be “player avatars” at times.

They do not know how many games they have been through, but treat them as having gone through more than enough situations that they no longer care for any actual murder and are in a happy intermission after things are said and done. (Such situations can include custom rulings  and whatnot. Think of “hide and seek” and “one word per meeting” type of things.)

This being mostly to... well... allow me to develop the muses in various ways because I enjoy all sorts of interpretations and whatnots (and MAYBE just MAYBE I’m incomparably lazy when having to think up legitimate Real Life Coherent backstories for characters). Also I am a clown and like to dance with the very many cool possibilities for alien shenanigans.

-

That said! All of the main expeditors I hold thus have had the opportunity to get into the groove of the simulations (aka “when you first play” versus “how you are now after 200+ hours”). By all means, none of them were required to stay with any of those they’ve met, and they’ve all had met different crews beforehand (where some were in more drastic/toxic environments than others but what’s new to that huh).

I won’t get into all of them and will be focusing more on the dynamic of my Hol (Black, Medic) and their mentor TB (the Impostor Doc in question) ‘cause I think that one’s fun.

Compensation TB and “in-training” Hol doodles as reference in case you didn’t want to look at the document (which honestly, same).

・ While Hol now is more reserved and less socially inept (mostly just Dog-Tired), at first they were simply... awkward. Very awkward. Starting off, all they were aware of was they needed to assist and step in when any mishaps occur, but not to any extreme extent just yet since they needed a bit more experience with interacting and harmonizing among crews.

・TB happened to be on the crew that Hol met first, and while its interest was a “Ah, a fellow professional.” at best, it had shifted accordingly when Hol managed to get over their nerves enough to at least say hello. Converse with them. (Which it found odd-funny, since normally it’s the one that initiates interactions even for those in the same field as it.)

・ It was kind of nice, you know. Getting to indulge those questions that they don’t normally get to answer to a length where someone would understand. And a part of it was at least aware that the other needed more hands-on experience because. TB may have taken possession of the body they have now, but they kept a lot of the sentiments (and memories, unfortunately) of the former host that was also... incredibly socially inept, but endearing in any sincere attempt to talk to others.

・ I won’t get entirely into it but it’s essentially a mentor/friend relationship. That’s it. That’s the whole thing. Except it’s like a slowburn fic where I’ve omitted more than half of the information.

・ But TB also has watched over this younger impostor that came aboard some time ago (horrifically named DH for... yes... Demon Horns... and together... TBDH is To Be Darn Honest...) that has one of the most annoying and frustrating personalities to work with where it has to insist in brief and intimidating ways not to get in the way of its own goals (which is learning more about humans, whether that mean alive or dead but mostly alive because that’s when they’re most interesting).

・ Short story: DH kinda disregarded that and kinda put Hol in harms way and kinda then resulted in an impromptu “Let’s learn more about the anatomy of at least one Impostor, shall we?”

・ Other tidbits: TB has 100% outed itself as an impostor/alien to Hol at some point in the long verse of intermission, but then proceeded to go, “Ask any questions! It’ll be fun!” (And it’s also taken care of Hol in the instances where they had taken on impostor attributes as well...)

・ TB’s essentially the whole reason Hol’s more nonchalant about impostors and in the way they’d compromise the safety of the crew at times in their interest of learning more about them.

・ tl;dr doctor meet medic and they platonically hold hands and learn things together and about each other! zomg!

now for a bonus short thing I wrote mid-December:

“Tea? Hnm… it isn’t for everyone…” Their eyes had drifted for a moment as they considered something, looked up. It didn’t need to see under that mask and visor to know that there was a faint smile in the way they had asked,  “Did you want to give it a try?”

And it wasn’t always fond of tea, no. The thought of consuming anything for luxury other than the deceased was wholly appealing. What could smell nicer than a properly inspected cadaver? But, it could not turn down their little offer. It couldn’t deny it if it wanted to fit the disguise as crew. As far as its recollection goes however, it had always been bland—more boring than water—and was ultimately overly-glorified regardless of how impeccably-proclaimed it was brewed. But again. Would it ever deny spending more time with their beloved medic? No. So be it; they’d use tea as an excuse, every different little thing tied with a memory.

The one that was weirdly spicy-cold to its many tongues had reminded it of the earnest-warm concern, the way they had looked up at it with fretting hands and murmured apologies accompanied by questions it couldn’t help but humor.

The minty zest of something auburn that reminded it of the unchanging season where they bantered—a ringing airy sound—a light taste of what it would consider mirthful in how their shoulders shook. (Not in fear, not in anger; that, it had duly noted.)

The bitter boiling nothing remembered where they had soon fallen silent, asleep, but for longer than usual even with it watching over them in their little spot like they always had. Tasteless, without the fond familiar company it always looked forward to.

The water, it made, when they were no longer among its crew in the instances. When it could no longer remember the process of how to make Hol’s favorite tea, or so it lied and led itself to believe, the strange aftertaste of a hollow spacious quiet remained.

It never liked those memories.

and now here’s your compensation doodles for going through all of that nonsense! like. a handful of the ones I never posted.

(that’s not DH that’s Blue a different impostor entirely)

(that’s DH.)

CONTENT WARNING:

Blood Body Horror.

(no, really)

(I’m adding more bullet points in case it makes it any easier to look away)

(that’s DH. get  clowned on, DH.)

(I like gore and horror even if I’m not the greatest at it so Y’know...)

[isolctions]

THE MUSES + love.

this may or may not be me respectfully requesting some romance.

ASPEN MEADOWS is more of a reserved kind of lover, meaning that public displays of affection (such as kissing, hugging, and eventually sex) are things that she’s not always going to be willing to do, especially in the beginning. but this doesn’t mean that she isn’t a fulfilling lover! when she does have feelings / eventually fall in love with someone else, she’s very attentive to them and affectionate towards them in her own way. she enjoys companionship — so reading in (more or less, depending on how good the book is!) complete silence, window shopping together, watching television and movies together (psst, babe has never been to a movie theater before...), coloring together, and if she gives you her favorite kind of stuffed animal or comfort object because she ‘happened to buy extra’? she’s buying it for you. so when she can, gift giving is largely a love language she embodies and practices whenever she can. once in a committed and fulfilled relationship, there may still be times where kissing or touching can overwhelm her, and sex will probably not be a heavy constant throughout the duration of the relationship, but that’s okay! as long as she’s with you, aspen is a very happy camper.

ILYSSA is a very volatile lover. she gives me red. she’s over-protective, can be aggressive, and largely possessive over what she believes is hers — not in a toxic, no-one-else-can-have-or-talk-to-you way, but genuinely because she acknowledges that anything can happen. it’s rare that she falls in love with pure mortals (meaning, no enhanced abilities or supernatural blood ties whatsoever. just a straight up, plain as day, regular degular human.) because majority of her lifespans saw them as either food sources or play things, but if she does? that over-protectiveness grows tenfold because she knows that humans are fragile beings that don’t live very long. so she’s going to want to spend as much time with you as earthly possible, wants to understand you, wants to immerse herself in the things that you do, while revealing the extent of her true self to you so that you can understand her as well. she’s also very sexual, very affectionate, and absolutely will kill anyone and anything that appears as a threat in a heartbeat. so, y’know...don’t tell her that you have issues with someone unless you 100% want them eviscerated. ilyssa’s love also appears with a lot of hunger attached to it. she has a desire to be whole and does not have an identity, so to have a lover can often make her view the lover as something to be devoured. it’s something that she cannot get enough of, something that she can nearly obsessively crave (again, not in a toxic way i promise. but this is a supernatural creature with no actual identity for herself anymore, so she can sometimes take love to an extreme measure simply because of how fulfilling love can be for her, and how much she wants to obtain it at a constant.) and something that she believes to be the closest thing to making her whole. as much as she will have a desire to ‘devour’ you, she wants to be devoured just as much as well and she wants a love that’s just as intense and passionate as hers could be.

ZEPHYR BRIGHAM is very much a playful yet devoted lover, even if that means making fun of you along the way. literally. she doesn’t like to admit that she wants affection and reassurance, and heavily pretends to gag at displays of public affection and confessions of love, but that’s mainly due to past relationships that were toxic in nature and thus, she doesn’t like to outwardly wear her heart on her sleeve. (she also very much dislikes sudden professions of love — why? her first instinct is “what the fuck did you CHEAT on me?” she was truly in the trenches in her youth.) but when in love, even if she isn’t saying it or she’s calling you a loser 95% of the time, she’s still subconsciously affectionate towards her lovers. always wanting kisses, wanting to be under them, always wanting to speak to them and be there with them. she loves spending time with you even if she acts like she’s being held hostage. gift receiving is a large love language with her because she likes being shown that she’s valued and important to the person she’s interested in. she’s also big on physical touch — kiss her cheeks! rub her booty! caress her cheeks! have sex with her, dammit! and if neither of you can laugh at each other throughout the relationship, it’s a no go for her. she likes the excitement, the never-ending talking stage, just feeling so comfortable with each other that she doesn’t mind having her wig off and no make up around you.

RUE CASTILLO is also more of a reserved lover. she is extremely hard to warm up to, very guarded, and most of the time, she can be hard to please / hold herself and you to what feels like impossible standards. this is due to the very unfortunate fact that throughout her career, she’s been placed in falsified relationships and situations with others with mutual career boosts in mind, rather than relationships where the person actually desired to be with her. and even during the rare cases where she is in a genuine relationship, it’s difficult for rue to gauge whether the person is interested in who she really is, or who her persona is / how she is presented to the public. she will not make it easy for you. she will not open up to you immediately. she is not outwardly affectionate towards you, especially not in the early ‘getting-to-know-you’ stages of the relationship. as complex as she is, rue does show her affection in ways that aren’t always immediate — she will check on your well-being often! she will make sure to spend a necessary amount of time with you that her schedule is allowed! she will perform moments of spontaneous affection, such as giving you a gift or taking you on a secluded trip! rue is a very traditional gal at the end of the day, nevermind the sexual symbol that she’s viewed as in the public eye, so she views sex as a very delicate thing that definitely makes her feel very out of place. (she also has an unhealthy view of sexual intimacy in general, but we can blame her early career managers for that.) overall it can be very difficult with her due to circumstances throughout her life, and she’s honestly not even sure how to navigate a healthy and honest relationship most of the time because her expectations are always set to “they want something from me”. but! if it’s genuine and true, a relationship with rue is something that requires a lot of patience with. once you’re over the hurdle, she’s with you all the way. she’s going to want to show you off from time to time obviously, but she is a very private person and wants to spend all of the important moments with you outside of public perception.

JAIRA BLACK is a traditional, yet reserved lover. listen, she has lived many a life, with many a people coming into her life as well as leaving them, so love is something that she unfortunately tends to feel a disconnect towards simply because she’s lived for so long and doesn’t really want to open herself up to potential partners again only to lose them if mortal. if she does happen to be enamored by someone, however, keep in mind that she was raised in the 1910′s and 20′s and can occasionally reflect that in the way that she prefers a courting process. she wants to take things slow and test the waters, and sometimes that involves jaira intentionally not putting a label on things. (meaning, yeah she’s thinking about you. yeah, she wants to spend time with you. no, this is not a date, i just wanted to see how you were doing damn!) she also typically avoids relationships with pure mortals, because the death of one of her mortal wives in around 1980 did hit her kind of hard and she absolutely does not want to go through the process of outliving a partner again — nor does she want to turn them into a vampire due to the lifelong connection that involves. jaira is complex in the way that she avoids, yet desires intimacy and affection. sex has become more of a casual thing for her, yet even with that detachment, she may not voice any feelings that she has for you simply because she won’t want to come face to face with what it means and how the dynamic of that intimacy will change. so if you’re interested in jaira, a rebuff of advances will occur only because she has a fear of opening herself up to something that could be fleeting — but when she does, she becomes a very devoted and attentive lover. she will try to be more consistent in communication and displays of affection (again, public displays are only unnerving to her because she is not used to that, what are you doing) and she will try to spend as much time with you as possible. she can often be a playful lover after her fear of intimacy has been established and worked on, and she will always want something to remind her of you in the long run. jaira can be a very intense lover and romantic as well, not necessary in a aggressive or volatile way but simply because she wears her heart readily on her sleeve once her feelings for you are recognized. (i also feel like sometimes...love for her reads as more of a tragedy than anything. she gives me lots of cool colors like blue and grey — but she’s still a good lover! just old and tired.)

IZIDORA BANKS is also a more volatile lover, with some aspects of reservations here and there. she’s very aggressive, extremely guarded, and doesn’t pursue relationships often so she’s frequently unimpressed with any suitor that actually shows interest in her. (it’s the trauma, babe!) trying to pursue izidora does often come with a number of rejections and rebuffal of advances, so if you’re genuinely interested in her, don’t expect her to say yes to your date offer without her questioning your every intention — why? when? what time? to do what? for what? what if i say no? it’s an unintentional mind game with her, but only because izidora has already experienced things that no one should ever have to as far as intimacy goes, so she’s a pendulum when it comes to those topics. when she eventually begins to let her guard down with a person genuinely aiming to be with her, that’s where the volatility comes in — she will be protective over hers, she will often try to protect you and knowingly (or even unknowingly) use magical intervention to keep you safe. she absolutely, without a doubt, will kill a bitch for you, and she gets very aggressive behind that! one thing to keep in mind is that sexual intimacy is an extremely traumatic subject for her, so it’s really unlikely that sex ever comes into the relationship until she decides for herself that she wants to open herself up in that way. to make up for that, she’ll show affection to you in other ways — despite her aggressive exterior, she does like cuddling. she likes date nights and public displays of affection, she likes pet names, she likes being taken care of just as much as she will love to take care of you. she might go over the edge a little bit with her aggression, but once mutual understanding of her behavior & discussions of her past come into play, she’ll actively try to keep and have a fulfilling relationship. she also doesn’t mind being a playful & goofy lover, bc this bitch really does desire having someone to spend the rest of her elongated life with!

APPLE MARKOS is a very warm lover. she gives me pinks, yellows, oranges, a little bit of reds. she’s extremely doting and energetic, and loves to be affectionate any time and any place. she probably would embody just about all of the love languages the most, just because she wants to keep you happy as much as possible and will literally do anything for the person that she’s focused on. due to lore, she will probably have more than one person in her life that she shows favoritism towards before she has a true “lover” — soulmates and pairs are a very one and done thing to her, and it’s very unlikely that she’ll decide that until much later in life or go back on who she chooses. but when she is with someone she’s interested in for the time being, expect lots of gifts! she will absolutely gift you with little plants, or hand you things that remind her of you (more than likely a flower or a mushroom, occasionally a jewel that she comes across.), she will buy your favorite routine things if she knows you like them (lattes, smoothies, snack items, etc.), and occasionally will use magical intervention to either improve your life, or to just impress you because she finally perfected something and wants to show it to you. she’s so affectionate too, y’all. hugs, kisses, cuddles, hand holding, nuzzles, caresses, name it and you’ve got it. she will even size herself down to fit into the palm of you hand if you want her too. she’ll want to spend as much time with you as possible, even if it’s not always practical and rather impulsive — and she will especially do this with pure mortals because again, their life tends to be much shorter than hers, and she wants all of the time to be squeezed in now rather than later. once she acknowledges what it is and becomes more used to it, omg the sex? a desire to please you? loving to make you feel good? mwah. apple is very much a lover, and she is heavily a romantic. it’s also worth mentioning that she can occasionally be possessive of her favorites and may even get a lil’ aggressive depending on the circumstance bc hello, she is still a fae. but overall, i feel like apple’s love is the kind that fills you up to brim and never leaves you second guessing, and it’s a feeling to be amplified upon having a one true love to fixate on. (and truth be told? apple is one of the muses that i really want to write romance for, simply because she can be so fcking INTENSE with it! like, some real poetic shit!)

[itashiro-hitsuchiha]

Ship bias for Saber Artoria, Saber Mordred and Erza Scarlet

Send ‘Ship Bias’ and I will share up to 5 Ships I have a bias for for my muse!

@lemusegallery

Alright this may be a long post but I'll gladly do it. For you see simply listing the ships I have for them is too easy and boring. So instead I'll be giving reasons behind the ships and why I typically have a bias towards them. Also the ships I list may not all be romantic ships. I will list the type of ship I am referring to with each muse. Mostly because with these muses in particular I do not have that many romantic ships with them. Also putting a read more into this cuz of how long it may be and I don't want to clog up the whole dash.

Alright I'll just start with Mordred since she has the weirdest line up imo.

Mordred x Fran (BrOTP) - I just fucking love Mordred and Fran being in unison when it comes to kicking ass. That gif of them fist bumping just makes me excited every time. So naturally when writing Mordred if I can get my Fran up in the thread those two will act as pretty decent friends after awhile depending on the thread of course.

Mordred x Artoria (Notice me Senpai) - From all that I gather from playing FGO Mordred has a strange relationship with Artoria. Although if the two were in their normal minds and they are summoned together then things can get interesting as while Mordred may be somewhat hostile at first, they can actually talk and get some closure as after the events of Apocrypha Mordred has come to understand Artoria's position a little better so she won't be as bitter towards her. If anything it was fun in the first summer event to watch Mordred essentially try to get Artoria to notice her and get her praise only to get one-uped each time. They can have a nice wholesome, yet disfunctional dynamic at times and I'd like to see if I can explore that a bit more.

Mordred x Shirou Emiya (???)- I am not sure how to describe this ship. It wouldn't be romantic per say, but I do feel like these two could have an interesting relationship develop. Mordred can appreciate Shirou's determination and stubborness as it mirrors her own, but also with his relationship with Saber it could form a good bridge between them. Idk. I just like to see how this sort of ship could go.

I don't really have any more than that for Mordred as I don't see her as a romantic type. Being a homunculus she doesn't live a very long life regardless so her time is usually short unless summoned as a servant and then she could theoretically live as long as her master, like in Chaldea. Though some crossover potential does exist that I love, but I won't discuss that here. To add to that she has shown no real interest in romance that I can derive from what I've seen of her, so therefore my Mordred can be classified as mostly aromantic and possibly asexual. She knows of sex, but she doesn't have an interest in it as that sort of thing was not taken into account in her creation process and with how she was raised she REALLY had no room to consider it or even want it. It's not impossible to get her to do it, but it is very challenging and will require a LOT of effort.

Now for Artoria.

Artoria x Shirou (OTP)- needless to say I watched the first Stay Night as my introduction to the series. Even into UBW I thoroughly love this ship the most with her. The two just click on so many levels and their dynamic is amazing. Plus Shirou loves to cook and Saber loves to eat (as she kinda needs to eat a lot). Idk if there's anything else I can say about this ship that hasn't already been said, but yeah its my favorite one.

Artoria x Rin (BrOTP)- Seeing how Rin originally wanted a Saber class servant and how she was a friend of Shirou these two can be pretty fun together as well. Rin helps the two get out of their shells and explore the more fun side of life and what it has to offer. I think they're cute as a Bro sort of duo.

Artoria x Mordred- See ship above

Artoria x Lancelot (???)- I mostly like to see how things can go if they can have closure after the events of Zero and actually sit down and talk. (Saber needs to do that with a lot of people).

Much like Mordred Artoria never really had much time to consider romance, but interacting with Shirou definitely helps her grow out of her shell so she can at least consider it. When trying to ship romance with her, if you're not Shirou then you may have a tough time, but really you just need to earn her respect to spend more time with her and perhaps she'll grow on you and give you a chance. Much easier than how Mordred is.

Lastly Erza, Who is admittedly easier to ship with than the other two swordswomen.

Erza x Natsu (BrOTP, or possible OTP)- Erza and Natsu have this fun relationship dynamic. She almost acts like an older sister to him (as well as most of team Natsu) and she definitely has no problem telling him off when he really needs to get punched. Though I can also see them growing romantically (Fight me!) and I would like to see how that would actually go. (Plus the hentai of the two is top notch)

Erza x Jellal (Duh!)- I like the history that those two have together and seeing how they make each other flustered just by talking and feeling awkward its just great. While yes he has hurt her in the past (very badly I might add) Jellal doesn't try to pursue a romance with her because of that fact and he doesn't want to hurt her again, which I believe she is aware of it and fully understands and doesn't want to force him to try anyways. If he feels like he can safely pursue something with her she will be there waiting for him and happily accept him.

Erza x Mira (BrOTP)- Oh my god! these two are just great when they get the chance to sit and talk with each other. Their history allows Mira to talk to Erza about things that no one else could get out of the great Titania. Not to mention all the teasing Mira can do to her and get away with it unlike if Natsu or Gray tried it. Anytime these two get together for girl talk its just great.

Erza x Kaza (OTP)- I know its kind of cheating to list my muse with another of my muses, but hear me out. You see Kaza was someone I once had as a character several years ago, but then dropped for a long time and focused on Vorona for years of development that Kaza did not get. He was my first OC and I wanted to bring him back. Originally he was made for the Naruto universe, but when bringing him back I figured I'd change him up a bit. So I tinkered and decided to make him a Fairy Tail magic swordsman from Edolas who stayed in Earthland. So after making that I realized he may be best suited to be shipped with Erza or Kagura as they are the main swordswomen in the Fairy Tail universe. Her bluntness and occasional lewd minded thought process (really if you look at some of the things she says its pretty funny how thirsty this girl can be, also seduction armor....need I say more?) could pair well with Kaza's shyness towards the subject. I just think these two can be pretty funny and cute together as well.

While it may take me time to get used to it. Shipping with Erza can be pretty easy so long as you keep in mind that she does have a tendency to react violently if the wrong things are said. Easiest way to start shipping with her, be a member of Fairy Tail and/or be a swordsman of some sort. From there it's just a matter of how well the chemistry can be.

Alright. Hope this is sufficient with the meme and that you enjoyed reading this. :)

[yeleltaan]

Plot: Helena and Cayin legit not suffering in their current set of circumstances that we have set up.

But uh for real though, I think I would like to see an encounter between him and Rogue Doctor Helena. I feel like there would be so much more to hide from and the fact that she wouldn't just let him see her face, the potential tension especially if he gets persistent and how he'd have to be alot more sneaky with her (depending on circumstances of course) in some of these matters just seems like it would be fun to tinker with.

Also maybe him meeting a very young OV before she was is what she is in her orginal verse. (Brain juice Los but I hope u like these)

On Anon or not, send “Plot:” + describe something you really want to RP with my muse or something you want to see my muse do (if it’s to/with another RPer, list their username) and I’ll rate it:

///YES! To all of these! I really love how their dynamic has seamlessly transitioned into a friendship full of both soft moments and hilarious nonsense. Any little conversations, the almost childish games and jokes breaking away from the grim circumstances of the world surrounding them, the lighthearted fights and teasing, it's all such fun and actually further strengthens all their other interactions (everything hits harder when it's got those tangible, actually-written memories to think back to). It's also helped me develop Cayin's personality and figure out the extent of his ability to... experience all these things and how he develops bonds. And I think I can continue developing these things.

Rogue Doctor interactions sound very fun because it's all these things I've enjoyed writing and plotting, but with different flavours allowing some of those ideas to manifest differently, as well as adding new possibilities. With beasthood being "in the background" (though still a persistent issue looming in the horizon) as opposed to the imminent problem it is in their prior stuff, it lets other aspects of their dynamic shine. I don't know to what extent the "him offering to show her eldritch secrets" aspect would stay the same, but this could be a chance to further focus on very personal themes of trust in a town that seems to be joined against her (granted, there's some of that too in their interactions already, but it might be intensified here). With her being even more secretive, their usual game of guessing and carefully prying a bit deeper in every conversation would be slower paced still, even more of a tease really, but you know I'm a sucker for subtle gestures and suggestions. I think exploring those small milestones in getting to see more of her, know more of her, being accepted into her comfort zone could be really rewarding- just like her figuring out more about who Cayin is and what he is like too, of course. I also just like the "secret lair, hiding, find your way despite the obstacles" vibes here.

The last one could be so cool too, and it sounds like a feel-heavy one as well. So changed, a new creature- but with such "little" (I'm guessing young can mean many things for OV Helena) experience Helena's old self could be more prominent than usual. Oh what a bittersweet reunion that could be- your friend, acquiring greatness, that deserves some respect and appreciation right? And yet, does that mean he's failed in some capacity? Torn as he was between preserving her humanity and bringing her to become something grand in Yig's cult and family, that fulfilling human life will never be, and though becoming an immense cosmic creature is not very different from what was planned for her, she has become that entirely outside Yig's domain. Cayin isn't one to commonly feel "regret", but... maybe this would be one of the few things that would make him think back to how he's approached things, and making him view his shortcomings in a negative light for once. Would also be interesting if she was now something so much bigger, more powerful and with vastly better potential than Cayin, yet the latter remains the more experienced of the two, and sort of helps her ease into her new role though she's probably able to do it on her own. His personal feelings intertwining with the convenience of maintaining good relations between Yig's cult and Helena's new self. Lots of possibilities, could be very fun.

[artsoupsoupart]

Madney Week 2021:  Nice To Meet You Again

Day One: “May I have this dance?” + fluff

Read on Ao3

She doesn’t necessarily want to throw a ball. She doesn’t necessarily want to become ruler of their kingdom because it feels like it’s too soon. She’s not even twenty-one yet, just two years shy of it actually, but Maddie definitely knows she could run the country by herself, with very carefully selected advisors and just as tedious planning. But a future queen definitely deserves a future king (or queen), so it just makes sense to start her search now, when King Philip and Queen Margaret are almost at the end of their reign, though they’ve been at the end of their line as parents for years since Prince Daniel had been killed at war and well, they never really were parents to her and Evan if she’s being honest with herself.

At the thought of her older brother, she sighs. He had been everything a prince should be. Charming. Responsible. Brave. And gone all too soon. If only he hadn’t joined the army, he would probably still be here. He’d be taking over as king and he’d be the one compromising love for power and stability. The thought gives her pause, as she dresses for the morning. He’s been gone for three years. Just as soon as he had joined the military he had been taken away and his death had shaken the lives of their royal family and the country.

Maddie shakes her head, hoping to throw the thoughts of him out of her mind for the time being. She still misses him and probably always will, but she knows he’d want her to focus on being the best queen she could be. She dresses with the help of her maids, their chattering excitement a constant comfort. She had spent weeks picking out the perfect dresses and suits to make a good impression. The burgundy dress sweeps against her ankles and she feels confident in a way that she hadn’t since decided to begin her search. Her clothes will be at least a little comforting for the next week, a shield to show the perfectly prepared façade she hopes she pulls off.

There’s a knock at her door and in saunters her best friend, head-to-toe in his own royal regalia.

“Well, Your Majesty, don’t you look nice.”

She smiles, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not queen yet, Josh.” Maddie checks herself in the tall, ornate mirror one last time before taking off towards the door of her bedroom. “But thanks anyway. I may as well look nice for the teeth-pulling ahead.”

“It won’t be that bad, Maddie.” Josh huffs as they speed-walk side by side.

“Ew, it definitely will.” And she’s rushing through the corridors of the palace, not because she’s late (guests won’t begin arriving for another two hours at the earliest and a queen is never late, everyone is simply early), but because she wants to make sure everything is in order before the first guest arrives, mental lists being checked off with every step as she double and triple checks off item after item. “I am allowing all of the eligible princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, barons and baronesses, and well-respected socialites into my home in the hopes that one of them will be able to help me run a country without their ego getting in the way.”

It’s not that she’s necessarily needs the help. But it’s hard to be princess and harder to be queen, which, for Maddie, will occur in approximately two years. She’s been planning this moment since she was a young teen, even before Daniel’s untimely death, and she’s ready to take on the responsibility. She’s ready for the bureaucratic meetings and the late nights, but she just doesn’t want to do it alone. Maddie had figured it was about time she opened herself up to more possibilities. Sure, throughout high school and now during university there have been a few dalliances between some of the same royals she’s welcoming into her home for the next week. They were never serious, though. There was never that wonderful spark that she thinks she saw in her parents growing up.

“Don’t think about it like that.” Josh says, his hands coming to her shoulders to stop her in her tracks. “Think of it like all the other balls you’ve thrown. A time to get to know people and maybe, just maybe, you’ll have fun and find the love of your life.”

“You’ve always been the optimistic one.”

His smile grows wide. “And I always will be. Now go. You’ve got royals to meet.”

Josh is gone from her side almost as quickly as he came and he’s right. She should try to not put so much pressure on this even though it’s the most important decision she’s made thus far. She’ll try to have fun and keep an open mind.

Maddie stands outside at the top of the grand staircase up to the palace, waiting for the arrival of her guests who she’ll greet before one of the butlers shows them off to their rooms. It’s something she’s done many, many times, but this time is different. She’s on the search for something that probably won’t be love, but maybe understanding and companionship. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?

“Prince Douglas of House Kendall” the footman announces. Doug steps from the limo, his suit perfectly tailored and his hair coiffed, not a strand out of place. He’s smug, as always, flirting with her though it makes her skin crawl. Well, he makes her skin crawl now. He hadn’t a few years ago when he had been someone she thought could have been the one. He’s too arrogant in private, too strict, expects the world to fall at his feet and for it to be perfect. Still, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors and she’d be lucky to have him as her king. At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

Evan, or Buck as he’s taken to being called since his own adventures have started to flourish in his life, is by her side in an instant and she knows exactly why when the telltale flags of the stretch limo come into her line of vision.

“Duchess Taylor of House Kelly”, the footman introduces in his booming voice that Maddie is sure will give her a headache by the end of the day. She would be an apt contender, Maddie silently muses, but she’s her brother’s best friend and has been for the past five years and somehow that just feels wrong. Maddie knows that her younger brother spends a lot of time with the duchess, sparring and shooting at flying plates whenever they get the chance (a surprise to Maddie considering how rough and tumble they can be). She also has an inkling that her little brother might have a bit of a crush, and she has a tinier inkling that Taylor feels the same.  

She greets her as Taylor bounds up the stairs, a bright smile on her face. They’re practically family at this point so she really would fit perfectly, but no, she’s already crossed her name from her mental list. Besides, Taylor’s excitement isn’t for her but instead for her best friend who is already talking her ear off. Maddie tells them to go ahead, have their fun while she stays and greets the rest of the guests and the dynamic duo is already talking a mile a minute about what their plans are for the rest of the week.

Maddie is there for another hour, doing princess duties and greeting each potential suitor and nosy guest who’s only attending for good gossip. Her feet are tender and her face stiff from the plastered on smile as one final limo pulls into the circular driveway, those familiar flags stopping her heart and slowing down time. Out steps one Howard Han, sleek in his country’s royal colors of bright reds and vibrant golds. She hasn’t seen him since she was sixteen, a few months before Daniel had died. It had been two weeks after his eighteenth birthday and his father had forced him to return to their country or abdicate the throne. He had loved being a prince and his mother had always said he would be a great king, but his father had rushed him into the more serious side of his princely duties earlier than he would have liked.

No time has passed at all before he’s standing in front of her with that same boyish grin that still feels so friendly yet now with an underlying hint of something she can’t quite put her finger on. He’s a bit taller than that last time she’d laid eyes on him, more muscular too.

“Princess, it’s good to see you again.” He must see the shock on her face because he’s scratching at the back of his neck. “I hope I didn’t ruin your guest list. I was a late RSVP.”

For a moment she just stares at him before shaking her head with an almost shy smile. “It’s good to see you too. And it is absolutely no problem, there’s a room waiting for you.”

“Good, I guess I’ll see you later at the welcome ball.”

She nods her head, blush still coloring her cheeks as he follows the last butler to his room.

…

The orchestra plays as she enters the ballroom at the top of yet another grand set of stairs. She notices her parents have deigned to show their faces, knowing they’re only there for the press.  All eyes on her and somehow in the crowd she finds Howie’s. As much as she wants to talk to him, Princess Maddie kicks in and her smile is bright and cordial while she greets her guests. She makes a short speech and then the ball begins, and she’s swept away to mingle and dance and scope out her future spouse.  

As she dances with yet another forgettable suitor, she catches Howie’s gaze as he leans against a high table, and he pulls a face that makes her snort and hide in the shoulder of her dance partner. She shouldn’t be so focused on him, it’s not what a good hostess would do. But Maddie can’t help it. In the three years since they’ve seen each other, he’s changed. His jaw is sharper, his hair messier. He’s clean shaven and she wonders if that’s new or if he sometimes has stubble that would feel rough against her cheek… She stops herself, shaking her head and abruptly but politely excusing herself.

She stands on the side of the dancefloor, shaded by the cover of a gigantic pilar as she stops to take a deep breath. Maddie doesn’t think she expected to find the love of her life here. Love at first sight doesn’t exist, not to her at least. But if she really thinks about it, that’s not what this is either. She didn’t just see Howie for the first time and fall in love. She definitely didn’t romantically love him when they were children. But he’s so familiar, and his smile warms the pit of her stomach and that must mean something.

“May I have this dance?” Her eyes settle on the glove-covered hand, following up the sculpted arm and curved shoulder. They settle on the brightest eyes of Howard Han of Manicague and yeah, this means something. Maddie nods and her hand slips into his and they’re off to twirl around the dance floor.

He sweeps her across the room, their focus completely on each other as though they’re the only two in existence, everyone else fading to the background.

“What have you been up to, Prince Howard?”

“You know, some people call me Chimney now,” he smiles, standing a bit straighter.

Intrigued by the change of posture, she tilts her head and flashes him a dazzling smile that definitely affects him if the sparkle in his eyes mean anything. “And why is that?”

“That’s a conversation that shouldn’t be had on a ballroom dance floor.” It’s innocent but there’s something in the way the timbre of his voice drops that shoots right to the butterflies that flutter inside of her. Her foot just catches his toe enough for him to feel it. Howie winces, but chuckles through it, “Still stumbling after all this time, my Princess?”

Maddie’s steps falter yet again, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she scoffs. Because she’s been Princess Maddie and Her Royal Highness Madeline her entire life, but since she was five years old, she was his princess. Back then, she was his princess in purely innocent, best friend ways. And maybe they could be best friends again and maybe she could be his princess. His Queen.

“From what I remember I never missed my marks unless you tripped me.”

“Me? Trip a princess? Never”

She laughs again. “Please, I remember at least twice when you purposefully tripped me.”

“I was nine!”

“It was still purposeful!”

He holds her closer, the room and music from the ochestra fading away even more than it already had as warmth fills her entire being. “Well, maybe you’ll fall differently this time and I’ll be right there to catch you like before.”

Maddie’s chest rises and falls deeply as she stares into his warm, kind eyes. She nods, lip between her teeth. “Maybe.”

She has to remind herself to tell Josh that it probably won’t be that bad after all.