#i know it is quite obscure a fandom

[romances-not-tragedies]

Heads Up Seven Up

Thank you @winterandwords for the tag!

Time to switch gears from the usual, yes? Here is from my WIP (definitely still in progress) Jo Gar fanfic (I decided to add the last line because it is relevant):

Once out of the building and onto Escolta, Jo took a calesa that would take him inside of Binondo. While in the vehicle, he began formulating questions he would ask, search for streets to walk to ponder and investigate. Miguel Chua was being searched both by his boss and his family and it would have been difficult to find out who to tell any discovery first if he did accept both. But the choice was not difficult to make, for Adalberto Chua had the decency to show him how his brother looked like unlike his most recent boss. Jo Gar closed his eyes as the calesa wheels rattled to Calle Salazar, to the diner where the missing mestizo and his friend used to eat dinners, but he was not sleeping. His mind was awake. And he knew one thing: The game is on.

Tagging @avoidingcertaindoom, @laplumedemaureen, @radiowrites, and @kaylinalexanderbooks but this is also an open tag for those who want to participate.

Happy writing!

[nostalgia-tblr]

started reading about the shakespeare authorship thing and the first argument from a literary person to say Willy S couldn't have written them is "he didn't go to university," at which point i went "oh wow i didn't realise THIS was the level of 'evidence' people meant"

[rebelliousstories]

Can I request suggestive headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and poly Logan & Wade reacting to his shy gn s/o immediately covering their eyes while apologising profusely because they accidentally saw him half-naked because he was changing clothes please?

Walking in on Their S/O Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,043

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Okay, so keep in mind that this man has been alive for more than 200 years. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. There is not much else that can surprise him in terms of learning new things

* However… You can still surprise him

* I completely see him as a man that would just casually steamroll past the fact that you were only in your undergarments. He’s not phased, nor does he care.

* Logan will definitely take the time to ogle if he gets the chance, but he’s aware there is a time and place for that.

* “Hey, we were out of beer so I took the truck to go get some… oh shit.” And with that, he was speechless. Logan’s eyes would trail up and down your figure, even though part of it was obscured by the tshirt that was pressed against your body

* Silently, he would stalk closer and closer to you, never once taking his eyes off of you. His hands would gently pull the shirt away so he could get a better look. Feather light touches would cascade themselves down your arms, and chest; all the while his eyes would drink it up

* Picking you up, he walked over to the bed while holding you and pressing his nose into the crook of your neck

* “What about the beer?”

* “Forget the beer.”

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* Oh, the beloved merc with the mouth. How do I say this gently? He will both make you love and hate him walking on you. It all started because he had gotten you a new suit that he wanted you to wear.

* Wade had begged and begged you to wear it, but there was no appropriate timing to do so. It had gotten to the point that he had accepted that you weren’t going to wear it. But when you finally had been worn down enough, he got super giddy at the prospect of you wearing it. But you had taken too long in his mind which prompted him to take matters into his own hands.

* “What’s taking you so long, angel cakes? Oh, hello.”

* “Wade! Get out!”

* Throwing things does not deter this man, oh no, my friend. For when he gets a glimpse of you, half undressed with the suit on the bed, he’s gonna need his special sock. Wade is frozen in a state of bliss and was unable to move himself. Not until you forcibly pushed him out, and shut the door on him. When you had finally put the suit on and came out to show him, he was still unable to form complete sentences or even words at you.

* Safe to say, you had finally silenced “the mouth”

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Ah, Le Diable Blanc. See, I know, you want me to come on here and talk about how big of a flirt Remy is. But no! That boy is a southerner, and southern men are raised to be gentlemen. I truly, in my heart of hearts believe, that if Remy caught you changing, he would blush and book it out of there.

* Hear me out! Just, imagine it, okay…

* It’s late and Remy hasn’t come home from his night out playing cards. The hour was nearing one in the morning, when you finally decide to call it a night, but you’re unable to fall asleep quite yet. Fearing that you’ll have to spend another night watching horrible late night reruns in the motel, you began changing into one of his tshirts to sleep in when you heard the door open. Struggling to get the shirt over your head to have some sort of coverage, you weren’t quite fast enough.

* “Ooh, I tell you cher, it was a goo- oh lord have mercy.”

* And like that, the door was shut again. Maybe you let out a squeak, maybe a gasp. But either way, your ragin’ Cajun was outside the room, breathing heavily and holding it shut. After a few minutes, he pressed his ear to the door to hear inside.

* “Cher, you dressed yet?”

* “Yeah. You can come in.”

* When he does, you’re already under the covers with the remote to the tv next to you, looking at the door. Gambit just grabbed his change of clothes that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and went to change in the bathroom. When he came out, he assumed his place with you in bed. On his back with you tucked into his side.

* Although, the only mention he ever gave, was a whisper of, “You look real pretty under all that, cher. Like an angel sent straight to save ol’ Gambit.”

Poly! Wolverine and Deadpool

* Prepare for trouble and make it double! Two lovers with a regenerative healing factor that makes snarky comments? Sign me up!

* This is definitely happening after a morning food run. You’re living with them, and Mary Puppins, and Blind Al, and Wade decided that today was the day for donuts and good coffee. Logan was thoughtful enough to leave a note on his side of the bed stating where they were going and that they would be back.

* This left you and the dog to get ready for the day by yourselves. After a lengthy shower that you didn’t have to share, you had made your way into the room to get some fashion advice from the sweet little pupper.

* “Okay girl. Do we go with the yellow dress, or the red dress today?”

* There was a noise, and two men bumbled into the room.

* “Avert your eyes, sweet summer child. But you should just forgo the dress. And the under garments while you’re at it.”

* “Can you go five minutes without something becoming sexual?”

* Wade gave an mhm while shaking his head, and turned back to his partner. Logan had to do a double take at your state, but there was appreciation in his eyes.

* “Can you two give us girls some privacy?”

* Logan had to drag his counter part out of there even though he managed to break free from the mutant’s hold on a number of occasions. As he left, the Wolverine sent an affirmative grunt and nod towards the red dress in your hands.

[olderthannetfic]

hi, as someone who is tragically gen Z and only ever read AO3, can I ask: what was so great about LiveJournal? Like, I know that there were fics posted there (and I've even read about the "purge", so I get why it isn't used anymore) and that it was sort of a forum-type thing. But what I don't understand, wouldn't Tumblr fill in the latter function? How was that site any different? I see a lot of people reminiscing about it and I'm confused

--

A big factor in LJ's greatness is timing and nostalgia.

It was genuinely great, but it wasn't quite as great as all of the Lo, shall the Golden Age ne'er come again? posts suggest.

LJ arrived at a pivotal time in the development of the internet both in terms of technical stuff and how many people had access. Many fans who are now in their thirties to fifties first discovered fandom through LJ and many were at a time in their lives when they were feeling energetic and up to making lots of new friends—and to figuring out how to make a site work for them.

I got on LJ in 2002 when it required invites. Fandom arrived in droves in 2003, first via coordinated campaigns to get invites to key people and then when LJ opened up free account creation to everyone. Back then, LJ's features sucked. It was impossible to search properly, among other things. At its height (2005-7, let's say), there was a reasonable site search, and fans had developed all sorts of community resources for finding each other.

People often remember this phase but not the early days of suckitude.

This development parallels how Tumblr used to not have that private chat feature and how a lot of fuckyeah[whatever] type tumblrs have helped curate the site and make it much more usable for fans. Fandom draining away from LJ after strikethrough also parallels people draining away from Tumblr after the purge.

There are people who talk about Tumblr the way my cohort talks about LJ...

And to the shock of no one, they are people who came of age on Tumblr, who found fandom via Tumblr, who were on Tumblr during pivotal times in their lives and ones when they had energy to make friends and figure out how a site worked.

Those same Tumblrites are now making all the same geriatric-sounding posts we LJers do about how other sites lack the required features to be good for fandom while missing that 90% of tumblr's "features" at its height (2012-2016, let's say) were actually fan-created and were basically the same as any fandom newsletter or links page or all the versions of this kind of personal curation stretching back to long before the internet existed.

What life phase you hit a site at matters.

--

With all of that said, no, LJ was not a forum. It was a blogging site with threaded comments.

The key point to understand is that conversation was always happening in a specific person's space. Unlike on a true forum, people were in the comments on a particular post in a journal owned by another fan. (On a forum, there's the first post in a thread, but it's still more of a communal space with less of a hierarchy.)

Overall, the LJ format can have a feeling a bit like you're over at someone's house for tea. There's more of a sense of intimacy and also behaving yourself in front of community members.

Tumblr being obscure and impossible to find anything in does give it some of the same vibe relative to Twitter, but it's still part of modern social media that tries to shove every rando into the face of every other rando.

But it wasn't just vibes: LJ also had robust privacy features where you could lock a post to this or that group of friends. You could moderate your comments section properly. Tumblr has far fewer controls to force people to behave or leave on a technical level.

--

The biggest thing many people miss about LJ is the threaded comments. At least by late LJ and on Dreamwidth, you can expand and collapse threads, making it far easier to deal with a massive comments section. But more than that, things are properly threaded with multiple levels of hierarchy that are all easily visible in the same place.

On Tumblr, it used to be extremely difficult to find all of the actual commentary on a post. Nowadays, it's far easier, but you still have to scroll chronologically, and multiple versions of a post with a long chain of commentary may be much more divorced from each other than what would happen in a LJ comments section.

--

But could we use Tumblr pretty much how we used LJ?

We could.

I do.

--

The key things that people tend to miss about LJ, aside from the younger and more excited version of themselves or the friends they've lost since then, are:

Heavily text-based

It may sound odd on the modern internet, but there are a lot of people whose brains don't like or handle an image-heavy site well. They were everywhere in SF book fandom. They were everywhere on the early internet. Today, they're hanging out on Dreamwidth and still going to their SF cons. They're usually not on Tumblr.

You could follow the discussion

Threaded comments help, but a lot of it is about having some place you can check for updates. It wasn't actually that easy to follow big LJ discussions unless you were subscribed to comments and reading along as things were happening instead of coming along after the entire mass of comments had been left.

The tone of the discussion is intellectual and one's enemies are "idiots", not "problematic"

All this requires is a penchant for longwindedness and an itchy blocking finger to remove anyone slinging ad hominems from the comments section.

On tumblr, it's as simple as conversations happening in the replies on a popular account and that person not tolerating suibaiting and threats.

(And make no mistake, a lot of LJ discussion was in the comments on popular accounts, not spread equally between everyone's.)

It does require that multiple people like that tone and want to engage in that way, but lots of people do want to.

--

These days, I interact with tumblr by checking my askbox and reading my activity page. The vast, vast majority of my posts are ones where I'm the OP, so if I block someone, they're booted from the discussion entirely.

For me... yeah, Tumblr functions almost exactly like LJ.

Also like LJ, while I'm hosting the conversation, if you hang around, you'll see the same people again and again in the comments. They may or may not also host that kind of conversation in their space, and there's a larger pool of lurkers who have some notion of which people count as regulars. Other people are watching from the shadows, enjoying or deriding the takes of the usual crowd.

People presumably do like reading my lengthy commentary or they wouldn't be here, but my tumblr wouldn't be popular like this without a healthy pool of other people who chime in regularly. It's not just that there are more people: it's that you see the same people over time. There's a bit more sense of place and community than on some parts of the internet.

--

So, in my opinion, the failure to just recreate LJ fandom on Tumblr was a skill issue.

Threaded comments were great, but LJ culture came from mailing lists, and mailing lists had the same issue as tumblr with the diverging threads.

We solved that back then by clipping out only the parts we wanted to respond to (you'd write "snip" around the quotation to show it was incomplete). We solved the smaller LJ issue by linking to other posts we were referencing and doing discussion link roundups. We solve it on tumblr by, again, linking to what we're talking about and even quoting multiple reblog chains in our own reblog of just one chain.

--

Tumblr's technical features and even general crap-ness aren't really the problem. 90s and early 00s sites regularly went down for periods of time unthinkable today.

The missing piece is people.

When one is in an active fandom with others who curate or with friends who let one know what's up, a site with imperfect features is easy to figure out and retrofit for fandom's needs. When one already feels out of touch and is between fannish passions—or at least fannish passions anyone else cares about—seeing the potential in a new site is hard.

--

Threaded comments are different and better.

LJ's built-in way to see everyone's blog in your own style was better. The automatic timestamps and the ease of seeing a paginated archive of an entire blog was better than tumblr's endless scroll and lack of clear date labeling. But some of that can be fixed with xkit or knowing your way around tumblr well.

A lot of it is nostalgia for the lj era and a refusal to take the time to figure out how to use tumblr in an oldschool internet way.

--

So by all means, people, weigh in about what made LJ great or how the culture felt at the time...

But if I see one more god damn response going "You can't have a conversation on tumblr!" in reply to my tumblr, which contains nothing but conversation, I am coming for you.

[canmom]

Hello! I absolutely love your blog, everything from your festival recounts to animation analysis and programming (one of tumblr's recommended posts was the one where you made your own rasteriser, and I liked your attitude in what I've read so much that I'm gonna attempt to conquer my 3-year-long grudge against using opengl during college and do something similar now that I'm a bit older and have no deadlines :D).

But anyway, I have 2 questions (sorry if there's easily accessible answers, tumblr search is not helping): 1. During your animation nights, does the screen stay black while everyone watches their own video while you provide commentary? I haven't caught any yet but maybe someday! And 2. do you have any youtube channels or just one-off video essays that you like that also cover animation/directors? Or, even programming lol.

Sorry for the long ask have a nice day!

hiii! i'm very touched that you like my dorky eclectic blog <3

For the Animation Nights, I just stream the video over Twitch from local sources on my computer, typically by playing the video in mpv and recording it in OBS. This is obviously not ideal from a video quality perspective, but it's the easiest way to watch video in sync without making everyone download files in advance. Then we all chat in the Twitch chat box (in large part to crack stupid jokes, it's not that highbrow lmao). I've gotten away with it so far!

As for youtube channels, I can recommend...

anime production/history (i.e. sakuga fandom)

SteveM is likely the most sakuga-fan affiliated anituber. He makes long, well-researched and in-depth videos on anime history, usually themed around a particular director or studio.

Pyramid Inu might be my fave anituber - very thoughtful analysis of Gundam, obscure mecha anime and oldschool BL and similar topics. tremendously soothing voice too.

The Canipa Effect does excellent deep dives into the production of specific shows, both western and anime. I appreciate the respect he gives to the Korean animators of shows like AtlA in particular!

Sean Bires's 2013 presentation on sakuga is pretty foundational to this whole subcultural niche, and a great place to get an introduction to the major animator names to know and significant points in the history of anime. unfortunately a couple of the segments got slapped down by copyright but the rest holds up!

animation theory (for animators and aspirants)

I'm going to focus here on resources that are relevant to animation in general, and 2D animation. if I was going to list every Blender channel we'd be here all week :p

New Frame Plus is one of the best channels out there for game animation, describing in tightly edited videos how animation principles work in a game context and analysing the animation of various games. highly recommend

Videogame Animation Study is similar, examining the animation of specific games in detail

the 'twelve principles of animation' (defined by Disney's Ollie Johnston and Frank Thomas) remain the standard approach to animation pedagogy; there are various videos on them, but Alan Becker (of Animator vs Animation) has quite a popular series. I haven't actually watched these but many people swear by them! Dermot O'Connor expands the list to 21. Note that some of the terminology can be a little inconsistent between different animators - c.f. 'secondary motion'...

Dong Chang is an animator at Studio NUT, who produces a lot of fantastic, succinct videos on standard techniques in the anime industry, timesheet notations, etc. etc. Studio Bulldog, a small anime studio, are a good complement; they focus more on douga than genga and are generally a bit more traditional.

programming

big topic here, I'm going to focus on game dev and tech art since that's my field. but also some general compsci stuff that's neat

SimonDev - graphics programmer with a bunch of AAA experience, fantastic explanations of advanced optimisations and some of the more counterintuitive aspects of rendering

Acerola - graphics programmer who makes very detailed guides to a variety of effects with a very rapid and funny 'guy that has seen monogatari' editing style. When he's good, he's really good. His video on water is probably the best one I've seen (though I can recommend a couple of others).

TodePond - the most charming, musical videos about recursion and cellular automata you've ever seen. less programming tutorial and more art in themselves.

Ben Eater - known for his breadboard computer series, a fantastic demonstration of how to go from logic gates up to the 6502 with actual hardware. worth watching just for how clean he puts the wires on his breadboards like goddamn man

Sebastian Lague, Useless Game Dev - both do 'coding adventure' style videos where they spend a few weeks on some project and then document it on Youtube, resulting in a huge library of videos about all sorts of fascinating techniques. great to dive into

Freya Holmér - creator of the 'shapes' library, makes videos on mathematical programming, with gorgeously animated vector graphics. Her video on splines is a particular treat.

There are definitely many more channels I can recommend on these subjects, but I'll need to dig into my history a bit - unfortunately I need to rush out right now, but hopefully that should be good to be getting going with!

[bynineb]

What pieces of media are your biggest creature design inspirations?

ooh how fun! let's see...

Pokemon Crystal (Ken Sugimori)

(src: Bulbapedia)

I had a Pokemon Crystal strategy guide with all 251 Pokemon in it that I studied religiously when it came to making monsters of my own. I love Ken Sugimori's illustrations so much - the dappled paint makes it so soft, gives everything the feeling of being struck by light dancing down from foliage above. The subtle implied detailing with line strokes and shadow allows the imagination to run wild. They, truly, feel like creatures to have adventures with. And of course, Pokemon is a juggernaut of an RPG, facilitating those childhood fantasies, and then there's a TV show showing them playing and shouting their name and fighting... No wonder so many people got hooked on it!

Dragon Warrior Monsters 2 (Akira Toriyama)

(src: Dragon's Den)

Since they're designed as enemies foremost, Dragon Quest's monsters can get a lot kookier & scarier than Pokemon can. And Toriyama gives his monster designs so much charm and personality! You feel like he always has fun coming up with them, and it makes every Dragon Quest game more delightful for having them be your foes (and sometimes friends). Also, all the English names are puns and portmanteaus and other fun word things!

After Armageddon Gaiden (artist unknown - dev is PandoraBox)

(src: Bogleech, who also wrote a wonderful article on these critters: https://bogleech.com/halloween/hall18-aagolem)

Uniquely grotesque beasts from a deeply obscure Japanese RPG named After Armageddon Gaiden, the second in a duology about player-controlled demons fighting alien invaders. Some of the designs get quite gory or disturbing, fair warning. But in a cool way!! The sheer strangeness of these designs are something to behold!... And they have the best names ever, like "Barabumblebo"...

YU-GI-OH early card art (Kazuki Takahashi)

(src: Yugioh fandom page)

Yu-Gi-Oh's early monster designs are something I think about a lot. I don't know what that says about me, but I do know they're unbelievably cool, a blend of genuinely scary Egyptian-flavored horror and wacky, tropey, cartoony fantasy. The fact that these ridiculous designs are frequently art for a card that's completely worthless in terms of winning duels, combined with their randomly specific descriptions about how unbelievably powerful they are, gives them a certain mystique. It's as if the creature you see depicted truly exists as a part of some greater fantasy world...

Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time

(src: me, many moons ago)

Seeing properly scary monsters inside a strange virtual world in Ocarina of Time was quite the experience for my young self. For example, I had nightmares about the Stalchildren who used to burst, endlessly, from the ground of the strangely empty Hyrule Field. But that also made it feel like such an adventure! The thrill added to the experience. And even many of the game's races are quite monsterlike; Gorons, Zora, Deku, and so forth. This had me imagine turning a "bad" creature into a friend, a concept I cherish to this day... hence Love-Love here.

Well that's that! Thanks for asking, this was fun to write : )

[syn4k]

hi

i have some ideas about halos.

so heres the idea: someone with a strong connection to their god (or demon or whatever it is that theyre worshiping) gets a halo from their affinity with said god. these are granted specifically by the god themself so not everyone has them. depending on their specific relationship with their god, the halo will appear in different places!

here's my expanded ideas for a few, as introduced in the drawing above:

classic halo

its your standard everyday floating above the head halo, nothing special about it

normally granted to priests

collar halo

hovers around neck

for followers who are Really, Really dedicated to their god. i mean really dedicated. "i will do anything even if i don't know what 'anything' actually is" level dedicated. you know how dogs are, right?

some wear it casually, some wear it like a noose, some wear it like a necklace.

basically works like a normal collar but can only be manipulated at the god in question's behest

armband halo

hovers around bicep, which arm it is depends on the follower's dominant (or preferred if they're ambidextrous) hand.

amputee followers are rare but in the case that someone doesn't have an arm the halo hovers at an angle above their shoulder instead

generally reserved for generals and other military leaders within the god's army if they have one

the hand

appears around the follower's dominant wrist

only seen on those who carry out the plans and will of their god down on earth. gods tend to not get involved in messy stuff so they find someone to do the dirty work for them down on the mortal plane. is also a play on the phrase "right hand man"

voice

appears around tongue

i feel like this one speaks for itself, really (HA).

not for proselytizers- only for those who speak directly for their god

the follower in question may be selectively or forcibly mute the rest of the time. it varies depending on the person and the god.

eyes

also quite self-evident. appears as a glowing band around the followers' irises (or iris). if they don't have eyes then the halo settles around the level of their eye sockets instead.

whatever they see, their god can also. this isn't a 24/7 thing unless said god chooses it to be. still, they tend to not get a lot of privacy

there have been a couple of blind followers designated their god's Eyes on Earth, which is pretty damn cool if you ask me (and also more than a little bit fucked up)

ears

halo manifests vertically around an ear

works the same way as the eye halo does but for hearing instead

the exalt

rarest

only seen with gods and possessed followers

appears as a filled-in circle of light behind the god or follower's head- if you're familiar with catholic iconography you'll understand what i mean. if not, just look up the wikipedia page for halos (religious iconography) and scroll the examples of christian art including halos

followers are rarely possessed by their gods because commonly gods have enough power to manifest a form on their own and need no vessel. a god in physical form may hide or obscure their halo at will. however, in the case that the god is too weak to assume a form of their own, they will sometimes take over a follower's body to intervene directly in a situation. the follower's body will assume the halo in this case and it cannot be hidden

shoutout to christianity for giving me the idea for this one. i got my problems with the jesus fandom but their character designs fuckin slap

some notes:

followers of one god can only have one halo at a time. polytheists can have several at once, one for each god, although this is extremely rare

followers with halos can naturally see each other's halos. those without have to look harder and nonbelievers (of any god) often cannot see them at all

i didn't intend the collar halo idea to be interpreted as a sex thing but if you want to do that then you can ig. im not a cop

yes the halos are customized depending on the god! some of them put time and effort into it. most don't though

[ckret2]

i’m admittedly obsessed with music/have music as a special interest so this question has been on my mind for quite some time now - if Bill (from your goldilocks fanfic) were to listen to any music, or have any particular music taste, what would it be? Any particular songs in mind that he likes? ( <—totally not looking for more/new songs to listen to hahahahaha…sweats)

half of me thinks he’d like 40s/50’s/60’s music (thanks to the vera lynn reference in the fic, but also bc he sings it in-show), but the other half of me wants him to like musicals (heathers, in particular) - i can’t explain why lol

alternatively, if you’ve answered smth like this already, i’d love to know what songs you enjoy/listen to!

Have a post about his tastes and a hideous-sounding playlist! And it even held up in the face of TBOB.

The only difference in my headcanons is that I said the peak of his his tastes centers on the 60s and I subsequently found an interview where Alex confirms Bill's tastes do indeed range from about 40s~60s; but I just got out of another fandom where everyone headcanoned a character is into 40s music ranging into the 50s and I'm pretty burnt out on The Most Popular 40s Jazz That Everybody And Their Grandma Knows so I still personally prefer to focus on the 50s for him lmao.

In fic he makes a reference to a band called Mysterious Mo's Average Joes; I imagine them as an in universe equivalent to Question Mark & the Mysterians, except more obscure.

Specific to my headcanoned music tastes of Bill from my fic rather than just Bill in general: coming in his tastes are all the same, but hanging around Mabel has given him an expanded palate for boy band music and kids music, although on the boy band front he prefers dance-y songs over ballad-y songs and on the kids music front he has to steer through a minefield of cheaply-produced 80s cartoons that use synthesized music to save cost on an orchestra.

So far, nothing else has happened to change his tastes.

Although eventually Robbie's introducing him to emo.

I listen to too much music for the question "what songs do you listen to," it's like asking "what words do you use" lmao, lemme look at my recent activity. Lately I've been getting into She Hates Emotion and the new albums by Zeal & Ardor and Fleshgod Apocalypse; I've been slacking in my metal education on learning the difference between black metal and death metal (I usually focus on symphonic metal & neighboring genres) so I'm looping back to the basics to learn more there; big fan of Saltatio Mortis's new album; I've been listening to the deeper cuts & newer material of mainstream early 00s alt rock & nu metal bands (Shinedown, Stone Sour, Staind) to see what I've been missing out on beyond their radio hits; and in general the past few months I've been trawling through playlists of classic 80s goth, dark wave, synth pop, & aggrotech to expand my library there. Very excited for the new Linkin Park lineup, love their new vocalist so far and it's heartening to see them releasing new material. Not so excited by the new Nightwish album, it has the nightwish sound but not the spark. This isn't even an accurate representation of my full musical tastes, I've just been really into metal recently. Current favorite bands of the last few years are Alt-J and Ghost. I listed some of my favorite albums on this post. It's too bad you can't just link your Spotify liked songs without sticking them all in a separate playlist—oh hold on I have a songs I can sing playlist, it's perpetually incomplete on top of being 3-4 years out of date but it's a starting point.

[prince-toffee]

L I F E I S A H I G H W A Y !

Written by Prince-Toffee (me)

Art by the absolutely supreme @themazziah @cosmiccanineart

Created as part of The @spopbang 2024

Before we begin, I just want to say thank you to @themazziah for creating this absolutely gorgeous piece of art that you're looking at right now. It was so good in fact that I was inspired to rewrite the story to incorporate it into the narrative. When writers and artists were being paired up, I was sure I'd be left without a partner, but after you said that I was your first choice I was honestly so moved and touched. Thank you for picking me. Nothing I write could ever express how lovely it feels to read a kind comment like that. And that's why I'll try to get back into writing Entrapdak fics, it's been a while, and I'd love to do more, the world can never have enough Entrapta and Hordak in it. (and Glimmadora, my first time writing them, hope I did okay) Thanks, Mazz, I hope this story gives you a good few chuckles.

Second of all, thank you to all the organisers of @spopbang I may not know many people there well, but right from the start people were nothing but kind and helpful, and this event is a beautiful gift to the fandom. You guys are absolutely amazing!

Finally, on a more personal note, this is a three parter, I could only manage to finish Act One before the deadlines as I was working on my final university assignments at the same time, and now I'm finished and free! And I can't think of a better way to celebrate! I'll try to get the rest of the story out as soon as possible. I hope you enjoy this little space road trip.

Life Is A Highway

Act One (of Three)

~One Year After The Defeat of Horde Prime

CloneTown, or as the inhabitants of the settlement chose to dub it, Doormat, was a small shanty town at the foot of Mount Dryl on top of which Castle Dryl stood. The doormat of Dryl, of Etheria, of the universe, Adora assumed that was the intended joke. The warrior of light examined the sign closely, a hastily put together sign stood before her, it read: ‘Welcome To’ with CloneTown crossed out. A separate board, made of wood not matching the rest of the sign, was nailed underneath, on it carved crudely was ‘Doormat’. Adora never knew clones had a sense of humour, then again, it wasn't like she spent much time among them. Or at all. As She-Ra, the Protector of Etheria, she visited many villages on the continent, observed as many cultures of as many people as she could, opened her heart and reached out a helping hand to all... all except the newest refugees of Etheria. Every time she had ventured to a clone settlement, she felt unease - most villages across Etheria worshipped her (so to speak, and that invited its own unique forms of exhaustion), but when she set foot on clone grounds, she felt unwanted, which of course, she was. Perhaps the unease emerged from the fact that all the staring eyes that silently watched her stroll into town as she did so now, all belonged to the same face, the face of her old master. One she worshipped in her youth, but no longer. But that didn't matter now, now she was walking down the muddy roads of Doormat, and attracting quite a few puzzled, angered glares. Adora approached in her normal form, strolling up as a 9-foot-tall glowing, radiant, goddess might have been a bit too much. Not that it mattered too much as she still stuck out like a sore thumb, she was the only non-clone in the village, nothing she could do about that. The warrior was cloaked in torn and tattered robes, a hood obscuring her face, so at least they didn't know who she was.

Soon enough the Warrior of Grayskull happened upon her destination, Bar Nefcy, a local, clone-ran establishment. She got a bit lost, but Entrapta’s directions were correct. There was a hanging sign spelling out the bar’s name in uncharacteristically bright pink paint. Almost acting as a centrepiece of the town. From what she heard about it, the establishment acted as a sort of neutral ground for clones: regs, defects, and whatever came between. And as she entered the establishment, she wondered whether that mentality and ideology would extend to her. And almost immediately she got her answer as the chatter throughout the room stopped, all the various patrons turned to look at her, a sea of red and green eyes staring into her. She wasn't exactly scared, if anything came down to violence, she had plenty to keep herself safe, including the enormous broadsword channelling cosmic energy that would transform her into the most powerful woman in the universe. Adora made her way over to the barline and sat herself down, each of her footsteps making the wooden floor creak, which could be heard over the silence.

She attempted to stay invisible and stay silent until her contact would show up, however that turned out to be unlikely as she caught a glimpse of her bartender, a small “Oh!” escaped her and she immediately regretted it, and felt awful about it. Adora’s bartender did not look like a regular clone, he was downright bizarre, he was overgrown with vines, flowers, and moss, all intertwined and weaved into the clone’s being. Where his eyes would be, now two thick vines ran outward spreading into a patch of moss and grass atop his head. Effectively rendering the man, blind. Admittedly, she stared for a bit too long, but she didn't think he'd know.

“Well?!”

“?”

“I may be as blind as a bat, but my hearing is as good as ever. I heard you walk in and sit down, the floorboards are on purpose. So? What’ya want?”

Adora gulped, and put on her best diplomatic voice, “No drink for me, sir. I only ask permission to stay in your bar for- I don't know, uh, a few more minutes. I'm meeting a... friend, shall we call him. A clone. I'm a friend! An ally!” Whoof. She never had to pull that card out before. The bartender didn't seem to look convinced. The diplomatic voice slipped halfway through all that. “Please.” She finished with an awkward smile on her pinched face.

“Uh huh, look this is a clone-establishment, not for… natives. You're unsettling my clientele, so if you'd be so kind and find the exit as I can't, ya know on the account of a magic flower growing out of my face. Good day, Princess.” Wait he knew? How? Was her voice that recognisable?

Just then another voice rose from the back of the bar, from a far corner booth, “Ah, come on Manny! I thought this was a ‘neutral ground’ and whatnot. You gonna denie the guy their poison? They're just trying to get through today like the rest of us.” The bartender, who Adora now knew was named Manny, groaned in annoyance, if he could roll his eyes, he would have. Adora turned around to see where the voice was coming from. There, far in the back, in the corner booth, set an elderly patron a clone no doubt, he spoke with the same voice. But he too looked downright bizarre, unlike all the other clones. This clone was thin, like a skeleton, he looked sickly. (A defect, they were called, she believed, though not entirely sure). The lower half of his face looked normal enough, well for a clone that was. But the top half of his head was a glass-like red dome with some strange displays flashing inside like a radar monitor. And not only that, protruding out of his face was a long witch-like nose, sharp as a knife. Almost as sharp as the red teeth that formed a, what was meant to be a friendly, smile.

The clone wore a mechanical suit (of armour?) that framed his skeletal features. His feet were kicked up on top of the table. His feet resembled… clamps? Like mechanical vulture talons. There was another clone at the corner booth with them, but they had their back turned to Adora, they were clearly uninterested in this interaction. The vulture-like clone stood up and wobblingly made his way over to Adora. It was clear he was drunk. But from Manny’s reaction she gauged that this was his default state. The bird-like man spoke up again, “Leave the freak alone. ‘Serve all, not one’, right?” The woman noticed that the clone acted as if he had a cup or glass in his hand... But he didn't, there was no drink in his curved hand.

“V,” Manny spoke, so that was his name, “Should have known this freak was with you, something always happens when you're around here. Trouble seems to follow you wherever you go, and you always bring it here. So why don't you take your royal friend, and go lead trouble away from here.”

“I won't cause any trouble, I promise.” Adora proclaimed, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, she placed the page onto the table and slid it over to Manny. “I'm actually here on behalf of the Queen, to hand you this Establishment License to let you run your business officially... it was illegal before, just so you know. As a show of gratitude and togetherness.” Adora gave her best smile. Manny just looked at the piece of paper and groaned, he turned around and walked off with the paper in hand, grumpy. Adora swivelled around back to V, she awkwardly thanked them, “Hey, thanks, uh, V was it? For taking my side. And I'm sorry I caused a commotion here.”

“Eh,” He waved dismissively, “Don't take it too personally kid, Manny over there's still a little peeved that you turned him and a bunch of others into walking compost heaps back when you turned The Velvet Glove into a giant tree, heh.”

“I- I did that to him?”

“Oh, not just him, every clone hibernating in a pod and whatnot. Thousands.”

“Oh, gods, what have I done.” She murmured to herself, she combed through her hair, a thousand yard stare on her face. “I'm so sorry... I didn't know I was unwelcome.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, “Don't take that too personally either, neither is he.” V pointed behind him with his thumb towards the doorway. Adora followed the thumb to the silhouette in the door frame. Hordak. Her drinking partner had arrived.

The Ex-Lord of the Horde entered the establishment and silence befell the bar once more, the collective of eyes glared at him and followed him as he slowly made his way over to the warrior Princess. Not too different of a reaction that they greeted Adora with. V just then realised there wasn't a drink in his hand and so he moved out of the way to give Hordak room to sit down next to Adora. He did so. The villain maintained silence, Adora thought it was to seem intimidating, but in reality he simply had no idea how to talk to people, and was too awkward to be the one to begin the conversation.

Hordak was cloaked in a black cape and hood. His blue, curly, fringe poking out from under the hood. Another thing she just now noticed about Hordak was that his eyes were different, usually fully blood red with black makeup around, just now realising that those must have been contact lenses of some sort, because now she witnessed his real eyes. Soft and organic rather than the glass shields which is what their texture usually looked like. Now his corneas were fully pitch black with black pupils and bright blood red irises, the way they shifted about it somehow made him far more emotive. He was clad in matte black and gun metal grey plated armour with neon red highlights running throughout. No Horde symbol on his chest plate however, The Wings of The Vampire where nowhere to be seen. What Adora didn't see was the First One's crystal embedded within his armour powering his entire suit. He wore the same double slit dress he always wore, thighs on full display. That was certainly a choice.

Adora spoke up first, “Sooo, ahem, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked to meet with you.”

“Yes.” He spoke with his deep, smooth voice, “Entrapta, my dearest, did not disclose why you wished to meet. And why here of all places. I am usually summoned to BrightMoon by the Queen.”

“Weeeell, I thought meeting here might make you feel more comfortable. Heard this place serves drinks to anyone, guess... guess not.”

“Hmm, indeed. I do not drink here. I am unwelcome. I do not blame anyone for that belief. My shunning is just.”

“I thought you'd be a hero to your people, especially after killing Prime and all.”

“You killed Prime. I'm surprised many of my brothers haven't turned to worship you She-Ra Adora.”

“It's just Adora. And more people ‘worshipping’ me is the last thing I want.”

“And as to why many of my brothers hate me? Well, everyone has their own reasons. For many I will always be that authority figure, a High-General, sending them off to their deaths. For others, like Manny here, good man that Manny, they believe my... ‘campaign’ here has led to your people hating them. I destroyed any chance of a peaceful coexistence. I am keen to agree with him.”

Adora didn't disagree, but there was more to it. She did not want to unpack all of it just yet so she chose to instead change the topic of conversation, “Hordak. The reason I wanted to meet with you... I have a job for you.”

“I imagined as much. However, it is usually the Queen who imparts assignments upon me and my brothers. Why this- breaking of routine?”

“Because this concerns the Queen. This ‘job’ isn't her idea, it's mine, in fact, it took a lot of convincing to get her onboard.”

“And the mission is?”

“A road trip, so to speak.”

Hordak quirked his brow. “Ooooh-kay.”

“There is an Intergalactic Conference in the Summit solar system, few galaxies away. Glimmer needs to attend in the next few days. It's quite possibly the most important event in Etheria’s history.”

“And what does the conference pertain to? If I may ask?”

“Securing Etheria’s status in the universe. Glimmy wants to appeal to The Council of The Known Universe and have Etheria recognised as a developed-enough world to join The Council. Ever since Etheria had been freed from Despandos it has been at the mercy of the rest of the universe. As a magical mediaeval world, Etheria’s has been seen by the rest of the universe as ‘underdeveloped’ and ‘primitive’ and as ‘defenceless’. Becoming a part of The Council will grant us safety. Their technology advancements. Limitless food and medicine - access to planets they’ve constructed dedicated solely to agriculture and harvesting. Respect among other worlds. Protection from other tyrants across the cosmos like Prime. Make sure it never happens again. The Council of The Known Universe, turns out, was established to create a barricade against tyrant empires like Prime and The Galactic Horde. Etheria needs protection like that, but there's a problem.”

Hordak placed a hand against his chin as he pondered on the matter, “The Primusians.”

“Yes. You've heard?”

“I have, through the ‘grapevine’ as you would call it; clones talk, or think (telepathically), especially here. V doesn't keep anything to himself. Primus pirates have been assaulting crafts around the system, many of them clones seeking home off-world. They've been quite active since our ‘stunt’ with the Minister of Armament and Defence. You're afraid they have their sights set on the Queen. Making transporting her a major risk.”

“Yeah, you got it. I knew you'd catch on.” Hordak shot her an inquisitive look as well as a bombastic side eye, “Anyway, the plan is to send a new unmanned decoy ship on the route to the conference. Pirates explode it, and hopefully they'll think the bodies got incinerated.”

“That's that then.” Hordak remarked satisfied.

“Yeah, except Glim still needs to make it to Summit. And that's where you, and your... team comes in. I hear you have a ship, don't know how, but you do. You'll escort Glim on the longer way around the Black Donut system and deliver her to the conference on time.”

“That will take days.”

“One week exactly. One way each. That's why I’m here now, the Queen’s orders.”

“It does not sound like the Queen would be thrilled about this idea. My brothers can be... a lot.”

“She isn't. But she knows it's the right thing to do.”

Hordak sighed. “Adora why would I-“

“Because you owe me.” She suddenly became incredibly serious, her glare at Hordak hardened, and Hordak fell silent. He really did. Freeing him from Prime’s influence. Dropping in a good word for him at his trial. He most likely wouldn't have been with Entrapta at all without her. He simply nodded in agreement. “And... because I love her.”

“And you would trust me to keep her safe?”

“The same way I'll keep Entrapta safe while you're gone... So? Deal?”

-        - -

Day One (of Seven)

“No. No deal.” Glimmer remarked defeated. “This is a bad- ugh- I don't like this plan, just stating that for the record.” The Queen of BrightMoon spoke to the holo-pad, arguing with the screen. On the other side of the screen was a smiling but slightly scared Adora. Glimmer marched through the corridors of Castle Dryl, the never-ending labyrinth, that Glimmer was 80% sure was constantly shifting, trying to confuse her. It didn't help that she was constantly going down, deeper into the mountain. Entrapta was the master of traps after all. But Glimmer continued on her path anyhow. She had a map display hovering over the holo-pad that clearly outlined where to go. And surely this wasn't a trap, a planned scheme to assassinate her, right?

“I know what you're thinking; It's not a trap.”

“I- wasn't thinking... that.” She squinted at the map overhead, “I swear the corridors are moving, how is that even possible. It also doesn’t fill me with confidence that Entrapta called this, ‘The Basement’.” The monarch wore her traditional purple outfit, glittering cape, golden accents around the belt, shoulder pauldron, and of course her royal tiara. Her stern look faded away and a sadness took its place. “Why couldn't you’ve come with me?”

“~Oh, StarLight, I'm sorry. I want to always be at your side, and I would be if I could. But the strange signals emanating from the Crystal Castle, it could mean LightHope’s back. And if LightHope is back, which her is she? And why would she be transmitting off-world?”

“So you'll be on the other side of the universe.”

“As soon as I'm done I'll B-line it to you. Just- just wait for me. You're in good hands until then.”

“...I wish I could hold you, I miss you already.” Glimmer's words brought a warm smile to the She-Ra’s face. Adora turned away, avoiding eye contact, a blush rising across her face.

“I miss you too. But please, trust me, it'll be okay.” Adora turned to look at something out of the holo-pad’s view, she sighed, “I have to go. I love you. See you in a week.”

And the transmission terminated.

Glimmer sighed. Already missing Adora’s voice. She believed she was approaching her destination, a large mechanical door stood before her. The GPS on her holo-pad indicated that she had reached ‘The Hangar’. “Okay.” She accepted the journey ahead with one word. Glimmer swiped the touchscreen on her whole pad, the bypass code got transmitted to the control panel at the doors ahead. The green light indicated the door unlocking. And the metal doors slid upward with a hiss. A light spilled into the corridor, so much so Glimmer had to shield her eyes with her hand. She took a step inside and almost tripped over immediately. She looked back to see what it was, and noticed that the floor was littered with a variety of… strange and seemingly unrelated things; Pipes, cables, and various other pieces of machinery, she guessed. There were also art supplies; Paint buckets, brushes, canvases, and spray cans. As she turned around to face forward once again she ducked immediately as she was almost closelined by a low hanging clothing line, various photographs hung up along it. Various landscapes from the brief glimpse that Glimmer caught of it.

“Look out.” A familiar voice called out, but it came from an unfamiliar character. Glimmer followed the voice to match it to the clone face. The man wasn’t even looking at her, which meant she must have yelped quite loudly at some point. She re-composed herself and made her way to the clone, the closer she got, the more details revealed themselves to her. The man was, in fact, a clone, he had the same voice and Hordak’s face, but that was almost where the similarities ended. The tuft of hair on top of his head was dyed in a patchwork of every colour, it was quite strange seeing all that colour on a clone. But the most defining characteristic was the fact that he was wheelchair bound due to his two missing legs, amputated just above the knees. The defect was sat in front of a sizable canvas, a paintbrush in hand and in the middle of creating a new painting. The painting was, no doubt about it, gorgeous. It depicted Doormat, at the foot of Mount Dryl. The light that had blinded Glimmer earlier when she entered had come from the massive open hangar bay doors letting the daylight in. She assumed that was where he got the photos and references from.

“It's beautiful.” She remarked.

“What? This? Thank you, but no, it's just a warm up, and it's hideous. I think I might be having an off day. See that tree?” The clone pointed to a perfectly fine tree on the painting.

“Right.” She should have probably introduced herself, “I'm-“

“Cargo.” He finished.

“Not how I'd like to put it. But yeah, I- uh- I’m Glimmer.”

“I know. You’re the Queen. You send me and my brothers on suicide missions.”

“Yeah... uhmm, yes, soooorry about that, and you are?”

“Moe.”

“Moe. I'll- I'll remember that. Is Hordak here?”

“He's with Entrapta, doing… whatever mad-scientists do. Making time travelling microwaves that send your meal forward in time to when it's already done?”

“Heh, it's Entrapta, it wouldn't surprise me. She can do anything she sets her mind to.”

The joke seemed to resonate with the artist, he smiled, “We're taking off soon, Dak’ll be down in a bit, feel free to get set up on the ship, try getting used to it, the trip’ll be a few days long.”

“Thanks.”

Glimmer turned to the ship in question, The Annihilation it was called. It was a Horde troop carrier dropship repurposed as a mobile home to The Defects as they recently began calling themselves. Looks like they were really owning it. The dropship had a new paint job, no doubt thanks to Moe, an angry face painted over the cockpit, angry eyes and a row of sharp teeth. And a mural on the side of the hull, abstract, but unfinished, she presumed. The ship had Christmas lights hung up all along it, a TV satellite dish on top, and a footpath leading to the lowered ramp into the loading bay. The Annihilation was surrounded by a white picket fence, turf of fake grass, a small cheap fountain (kinda ugly, with a gnome spitting out water at the centre). And a mailbox at the front, not that anyone ever sent in any mail, it was all very cute however.

The Queen of Light made her way into the loading bay, up the ramp, and quickly realised it was... A living room? A TV, a couch, and a carpet. All bolted down so it wouldn't fly out presumably. She was surprised at the mundanity of it all, she was expecting something far more alien or militaristic. While her head was in the clouds she tripped yet again. She growled at her own clumsiness, “What? Do I have two left feet today? What now?” She looked down at what had tripped her up and she almost jumped out of her skin. It was a man, slumped over, on the ground, leaning against a wall, a cable lodged into the back of his head. He was silent, he wasn't moving. Glimmer’s thoughts raced madly; He's dead. They killed someone and stuffed him into their ship. She was looking at a corpse right now!

Then a voice came from above, “Heh, you know that happened to me once.” She looked up to see a skinny man hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat, he smiled with his bright red fangs, “Mortar shell. Blew me into pieces. Turns out I grabbed someone else’s leg! HA!”

“...Wh- What?”

“Two left feet! We all match so the joints just pop in! Customizable action figures, batteries sold separately.” V cackled to himself as he descended from the ceiling and landed before the monarch. Glimmer wasn't sure how to respond, or what she was looking at, some sort of birdman? She was at a loss for words, since her mind was still on the potential corpse at her feet. “V.” He indicated himself with his hand.

“Is this a dead body?!” She pointed to the clone on the floor in panic and anguish. V craned his neck to look past the Queen. V waved it off matter of factly.

“Eh, don't worry about Drag. Kid’s just taking a nap.”

“So I shouldn't be worried?”

“Oh, well, no, you definitely should. ‘Nap’ so to speak. The truth is far more horrifying. You see little Drag is in a state of constant rapid brain degradation the curjigger he's hooked up to continuously recreates his brain through... woff nanobots? I don't know, Dak’s the one who does machines. The boy fainted not long ago, so he'll be out for a good while.”

“How long is he usually out for?” She still asked panicked.

“Uh, I don't know, varies, sometimes hours, sometimes days, whatever the story needs really. I'm sure he'll be back by the third act.”

“... What are you talking about?”

“I don't know. Anyways, make yourself at home, but not too much, the chaotic mess is on purpose.”

“The ‘I know where everything is’ type of organisation system?”

“What? No, I don't know where anything is, it's just to annoy Hordak. Sometimes I dump buckets of mud and dust inside just to see how furrowed his brows can get. Ha! He gets so angry.”

Glimmer just now noticed that V had patted the couch as he made his ‘make yourself at home’ statement. “Wait, I'm… sleeping on the couch?” She remarked in disbelief.

“Weeell, yeah, what did you expect?”

“A room?!”

“Ahhh... No. Heh. No.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Hey, it's not that bad, this is the best spot on Anni! You got a perfect view of the TV (which has channels from the next three galaxies). A few itchy blankets and who knows what wonders hide between the couch cushions; Just today I found Drag’s goldfish’s food... Oh shoot, I knew I forgot something.” He tapped his chin.

“I'm in Hel. I died, and now I'm in Hel.”

“HA! Not yet. But The End is coming. Soon!” V waltzed away saluting her away as he ventured off to check up on his younger brother’s fish.

“Wait! Can't I have Drag’s room? Or is his room the corridor?” She asked sarcastically.

“Sorry, Candy Floss, he ain't interchangeable. You’ll just have to deal with it.” The doors to Drag’s bedroom closed and he was out of earshot.

“...Great. Perfect. Great idea, Adora. Thanks, hun.”

-        - -

“I wish you could stay.” Entrapta sadly remarked.

Hordak took a moment to reply, he looked away and down, “... As do I, Beloved.”

It was another day, another mission and once again the universe had decided to tear them apart as it often did. It was especially bittersweet and tragic as the couple had plans for today, family picnic, so to speak. Entrapta sighed as she soldered the motherboard in front of her, their mask down and covering her face, “I was really looking forward to working on the power couplings for the hyper light telescope. I bet we can see the Lynks system from here! I heard rumours that they've managed to construct an entire artificial star! It powers their two nearest colonies!... I- I can wait for you... And we could do it together when you get back, how long can the escort be? Two?- Three days?” She tried to keep up a genuine smile.

“We estimate a week to the Summit system, and one week to return.” Hordak hid most of himself under his cape like a weighted blanket, “I know how much you love star gazing, you shouldn't have to wait for me. You should enjoy yourself without me.” He reached out for Entrapta’s hand. Entrapta let go of the soldering iron, and accepted the taloned hand of her partner. The Ex-Lord of the Horde softly massaged her hand, his thumb moving in circles.

She gently squeezed Hordak’s hand in return, “But I'd love for you to be with me. Us, together, you know?” She snuggled into Hordak’s chest, leaning her head against him. Dak held her hand and placing his other hand against Entrapta’s back, a gentle touch, “That's the life I wanted for us.” She murmured lowly, almost a purr.

“I know.” Hordak spoke solemnly.

“...It feels like we're apart every day now. I thought things would get better… and here you go again.”

“I know. But this request- it came from-“

“Adora, I know.” Entrapta lifted her mask, revealing a small smile, “That's the only thing I like about this.” That made Hordak raise one of his brows, “You, opening up to her, it's cute. She's a good girl. I'm glad you're making new friends.” She patted Hordak’s chest.

“Well, I wouldn't go that far-“

“Hordak.”

“Ah!” Hordak jumped, scared by the voice inside his head. The clone turned around to find Lee, another one of his brothers, just standing there – Menacingly. “Lee! How did you- ? Where? Why?!”

“We have a problem.”

*Italics indicate telepathy – Toffee*

“What?”

“The Queen is currently in our home.”

“Yes, she is the cargo.”

“…Why was I not informed of this?”

“Because you wouldn't have liked it.”

“We are transporting (possibly) the most powerful woman in the universe - that is going to turn heads, and paint a target on our backs. Are we not meant to be secret task force?”

“That is why we and the She-Ra are the only individuals aware of this mission. And, were you not the one who urged me to establish a more trusting relationship with the rulers of this world? Do you not think that a favour such as this would aid in improving relations between clones and natives?” Lee pondered on it, he nodded. He would have grunted if he could, unfortunately for Lee, his entire lower jaw was missing. By far his most noticeable and unique feature.

“...Sooo? Are we-? Is this-? Are we done? I'm just getting half of the conversation here, just so you know.” Entrapta poked in.

Suddenly V also appeared out of nowhere behind Hordak, “Hey we have a problem.”

“Gahhh! Where did you?! How- What?! Ugh. Yes, we know; the Queen.” Hordak face palmed.

“What? No. It's Drag’s goldfish, it's dead.”

“What? I thought you were feeding it.”

“I thought Lee was feeding it.”

“Well, I thought Moe was feeding it.”

Hordak sighed, face in his hands, “Fine, we'll figure it out on the road, just go, get out of here.”

Lee just looked at him, and turned away, “I'll be on the ship. I'm assuming all the relevant mission information is on board?” Hordak nodded. “Then I will be there, studying.” And the clone disappeared as soon as he appeared. V followed.

“He's scary good at that.” Entrapta remarked.

“Hmm.”

“I don't think he likes me.”

“They’ll come around...”

Both of them stood there for a moment, in silence. “So... you should probably get going.” Entrapta remarked sadly, not ready to let go again so quickly.

“Mmm.” Hordak looked around the lab, “Where is Imp? I wished to say goodbye to him before departing.”

“Probably hiding, lil rascal hates to see you go. He misses you you know.”

“I know…” A sadness washed over his face. 

“Look, I know you're at work, the last thing you need up there is me. But-”

“I would spend my entire life at your side! I love your voice. I adore your beautiful mind. And worship your heart for all the love you have offered me. You are not a hindrance!”

“Okay, okay, haha.” She looked down at the ground with a warm blush on her cheeks, “I know, I get it.”

“You think so little of yourself, I know how you are. And I do not appreciate it.” He landed a soft kiss on his partner's cheek. Which drew a chuckle from her.

“OK, OK, enough! You know I can't take compliments!” She exclaimed joyously as she smooshed his cheeks with her soft gloved hands.

“It is my duty as your lab partner to remind you of your worth, your beauty and your wonder, and that is just a scientific fact. Now, what- uh- what were you going to say before I rudely interrupted?”

From a large pouch on her utility belt Entrapta fished out a small Rubik’s cube-like object, which shifted in her palm and unfolded into a large two-handed holo-pad, and handed it over to Dak, “You know how I've been working on the intergalactic communications array?! So, I've been working on downsizing it and managed to incorporate it into a screened device - this holo-pad will allow us to stay in touch, even worlds apart. It’s only a prototype, of course, but it should work perfectly.”

What a loving gift. Entrapta always bestowed such wonderful presents, Perfuma proclaimed that it was her love-language. Hordak did not understand what that meant exactly, but his mind wondered, how could he further ‘communicate’ in this ‘language’? “Beloved, I- This is a most thoughtful gift, but... it is standard protocol to not take any contraband that could possibly link us to and could be traced back to Etheria in case the ship is breached... but, I suppose with the literal Queen of Etheria on board, that rule does not apply.” He smiled. Entrapta matched the smile.

“I will call you, when you're on your way, later today.” She raised on her tippy-toes and kissed her tall partner on the cheek, “Keep you company.”

“I would appreciate it.”

         Hordak and Entrapta lost themselves in each other's eyes as they often did, they wordlessly embraced in a warm hug. Their foreheads found each other, eyes closed, they allowed themselves to smile just a little.

         “I love you.”

         “I love you, more.”

         “Scientifically impossible, I love you far more.”

         “No, I love you more!” They giggled softly to each other.

-        - -

Glimmer had unpacked, to the best of her abilities, that is to say she was pecking at one of her packed lunch sandwiches and marked the couch as her territory by placing her luggage all over it. The Queen was now just sitting on the couch, slouched. This was going to be a long trip, she could tell. So she tried to distract herself by glueing herself to the TV. Unfortunately, the channel she was watching was broadcasting from an alien system with a language she did not understand. She could infer from the tone of the voice and the acting what was going on. It was some sort of telenovela, ooorr a reality TV show? No, Glimmer had no idea where the remote was. So that was it, her life for the next week. Hopefully Adora and the rest of the Princesses would take her on the way back after the conference.

         “Oh, nice, that's a good episode.”

         “What?” She turned back to see V standing behind her like a dad at a BBQ over a grill, a coffee mug in hand.

         “Sapphire Lakes. Great show. A handful of wealthy women who pretend to be friends are locked up in a small lake house for a week where they scream, lie and backstab each other for a cash prize. It's truly peak television. Tiffany's just confronting Jade about cheating with Keith.” He pointed gleefully at the screen.

         “How do you know all this? It's not even in Etherian?”

         V taped the side of his head, presumably where his ears would be, wait, did he even have ears? “Air-Vibration Translators. Convert any nearby language to clone speak.”

         “Huh.”

         “Your majesty.” Glimmer’s eyes followed the voice to the clone entering the drop ship, it was Hordak. Long black cape covering his body and draping behind him on the floor. His battle armour underneath, no longer bearing the symbol of the Horde, but rather the symbol of Dryl, purple gear with a star at its centre. Proud property of his wife. 

         “Hordak, finally. I wanted to speak with you.” Glimmer spoke up.

         “Lee here?” Dak turned to V.

         “Yeah, he’s in.” V replied, still glued to the TV screen.

         “What? I didn't see anyone enter.” Glim remarked confused.

         “Yeah, that's Lee. If he wants to, you won't see him all week.” V shrugged.

         “One can only hope.” She murmured.

         “I see you've already gotten acquainted with the crew. Uh- Make yourself at home, I suppose. We depart soon.”

         “Uh- Thanks...”

         “...”

         “...”

         “...Soooo, How- uh- how are you?...”

         “Yeah, I'm- I'm good- I'm alright... How... Are you?”

         “Good. Good...

         “... Yeah.”

         “... Alright, let's go.” He awkwardly turned around and departed to the ship's cockpit.

         V stopped on the way, “Hey, Daky, beloved brother of mine, my favourite person in the whole wide cosmos.”

         “What do you want?” Hordak sounded tired already.

         “Can I drive?”

         “No.”

         “I'm a pilot! I was a pilot back in the day! I'm good at flying. I'm a pilot... Can I-?”

         “You are not touching my ship.”

         “But you let Entrapta work on the ship!?”

         “That, dear brother, is because she's competent.”

         Glimmer huffed as she leaned against the couch cushions, “This is going to be a long week.” She returned to her slouching.

         Hordak marched up the small steps that led to the cockpit which was a narrow space; and sat one on the front seat, the pilot seat from which one would steer the ship via the steering wheel and the numerous unlabelled buttons covering the control panels on either side of the wheel, some blinking, some not. (How Hordak knew to press what, was beyond this trans-fourth-dimensional narrator.) V attempted to flick a switch, but his hand was slapped away by Dak, who didn't even take his eyes off the panel. V frowned like a toddler that was denied cookies from their mom, and he fell down onto the back seat of the cockpit, the navigator seat. The navigator would advise routes throughout space and monitor the status of the ship.

         A finger taped Glimmer on the shoulder, she turned to see Moe, now on board, “Can I take some of these?” He asked, pointing to the pillows on the couch.

         “Uh, yeah, sure.” She handed the clone the pillows, and watched him make his way to Drag. Moe climbed down from his wheelchair and gently moved his brother to lean forward, still unconscious, and placed a pillow behind his head. He wanted to lift his younger brother and place another pillow under him, but Moe, being a defect, was unable to lift his weight. So, he was surprised when Drag did lift up. He looked up surprised to see that Glimmer had lifted the comatose clone up by the underarms. Moe was pleasantly shocked for a moment, but continued and placed a pillow for Drag to sit on and one to lean against. Glimmer lowered him, and helped Moe up onto his wheelchair. And pushed his wheelchair to the couch.

         “Thanks- Bay doors.” He pointed to a big red button with a lock image on it. Glimmer pressed it, and the ship’s ramp receded in and the heavy shutter doors sealed them in, and would seal the void of space out. “Thanks.”

         “No problem.” They returned to the couch.

         “He's always sore when he wakes up.” He remarked worryingly. The gesture was cute, that little act of kindness surprised Glimmer.

         V’s voice echoed through the ship, “Non-clones and gentle-clones please take your seats as we're about to rocket ourselves into the void of space through a wall of fire surrounding the planet, so we're all probably going to die, so say your prayers to whatever deity you believe in, won't matter though because we live in a nightmare world where there truly is no god.” He announced cheerfully. A loud smack could be heard and an “Ouch.” from V.

         Hordak’s voice came through, “Ignore him.”

         “You’ll get used to that,” Moe spoke up, “That's like Dak’s catch phrase.”

         “Is your brother, the bird one, always like that?”

         “No, he's usually worse. He's on good behaviour since we have a guest over.”

         “Are we- going to experience some turbulence? No offence to your brother but anything he makes is usually held together by duct tape. Are we about to turn into a giant fireball? He loves big fiery explosions.” Glimmer asked concerned, recollecting about the Fright Zone.

         “HehHa! Yeah that sounds like Hordak, alright.” He wheeled himself over to a front corner of the ship which had a standing canvas, some small cabinets at the side supposedly housing some art supplies. There was also a small circular window at the corner framing the view of the outside. “The Annihilation has been through a lot, but you won't find a more reliable (and lucky) ship in The Holy Armada! You won't even feel the take off.”

         “How do you know?” Glimmer asked unconvinced.

         “Come take a look.” He just pointed to the window. Glimmer, confused, waltzed over to the window, her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. A blue surface, rippling and kicking up as the ship zoomed past; a river, then fields of trees, zipping by. They had already launched. Mount Dryl shrinking into the distance.

         They had launched from the side of the mountain, out of the hangar bay doors, cloaked by Entrapta’s holographic disguise field. Soon they surpassed the clouds, and pierced into the atmosphere. For a moment the window became coated in fire and flame. And then it passed, and now the Queen of Light stared out into an endless black void reaching out into infinity. Across the blackness were white speckles; stars, distant suns, sustaining worlds and civilizations all of their own, Etheria a distant speck to them all.

         Before they could leave Etheria behind there was one obstacle left; a barrier of warships guarding the planet from the upper atmosphere. An impenetrable wall of hull and fire power. The most powerful warships that side of the galaxy. After the Fall of Prime over a year ago the clones were freed from his control, left to aimlessly wander Etheria - for the first time in their lives without purpose. The clone population was stranded on Glimmer’s magical world, the Princess Alliance weren't about to just let their invaders take back their war machines and leave to who knows where, or worse, turn the weapons back against Etheria. So, at first the warships over Etheria were disabled. But over the following months, as Entrapta established communications with various systems, and rumours began to spill out. A sizeable number of them coming from the clone grapevine. The refugee clones slowly began to form pockets of community around Etheria. The Princess Alliance never stood against it, and even helped establish those pockets, BrightMoon was always involved in combating homelessness, a programme started by Glimmer’s mother, often allowing homeless citizens take shelter and live within the walls of BrightMoon castle.

         Within the clone settlements many managed to establish contact with the outside, smuggling becoming a major enterprise. Clones being the main item smuggled off world. Through Hordak various rumours reached her; Word of various larger neighbouring systems eyeing Etheria with watering mouths. Smaller less developed planets often fell prey to larger powers, Glimmer wasn't about to let that happen. And the answer was right under her nose. The clones knew how to operate the worships, of course they'd be supervised by BrightMoon knights, but to her pleasant surprise the clones dedicated themselves to their posts rather quickly and without much convincing or argument. They were desperate for a mission, for a purpose. And so, Glimmer gave them one; Protecting their new home.

Glimmer sighed, “I'm going to be honest I would’ve felt much better about this if the starships could escort us... No offence, uh…”

“Moe.”

“Moe.”

“Short for Mosquitor.”

“Oh.”

“I'm guessing the point of all of this is to stay unseen, and not to attract much unwanted attention.”

“It is. Heh, not to mention the reason why we're going to The Council of the Known Universe is to make allies, it’d be hard to do that if we just pulled up with a starship overhead. Don't want to prove the threats and fear mongering rumours correct.”

“Didn't you just reason your way out of the predicament?”

“I suppose I did.”

“Also, those aren't starships, heh, you haven't seen a Starship yet. Warships of The Holy Armada are impressive, no doubt about it. But starships are unfathomably enormous. Giant rings, large enough to surround an entire sun, draw power from it, often acting as a shipyard constructing warships for the Prime’s endless conquest. They’re pretty, in a horrifying kind of way.”

Glimmer couldn't even imagine something of that scale. Things like that often made Glimmer put things into perspective of how small and secluded Etheria was. How little she was in the vastness of the cosmos. It frightened her, but she chose not to think about it. But unbeknownst to the Queen that phobia had led her actions subconsciously. Many people are guided by fear, even kings and Queens, whether they know it or not. Glimmer, whether right or wrong, was stepping along the path of fear.

Glimmer’s eyes scoured the dark space and managed to spot a small brush of green among the canvas of black, the only spot of colour in space. “Huh.”

Moe took note of the response, “What? The Velvet Glove? Huh, looks different than when I last saw it, greener!”

“Yeah, that might have been my and my friends’ doing. My… friend, Adora, kinda,” Glimmer scratched the back of her head, “Turned the ship into a giant tree.”

“With many of our brothers still within.”

“Yeah, sorry about thaaAAHHH!” The Queen of Light embarrassingly shrieked as she noticed a third figure standing behind them silently. A man missing his lower jaw. He narrowed his blood red eyes, their wrinkles around his eyes more visible. Glimmer covered her mouth like an old Victorian maiden. “Sorry. My bad. Sorry. Hehe.” Lee seemed unamused. The old clone’s pupils lit up and he turned to Moe. Moe turned back to face him, his pupils lit up too. The two stared at each other without a single word spoken for a moment or two. Glimmer’s eyes shifted between the two. Are they buffering? What's going on?

Moe returned his gaze to the Queen, “He– ugh, welcomes you on board and wishes you a pleasant stay. And is honoured to be in the presence of royalty, especially one of whom allows us to stay on your world.”

Lee signed with his hands, clearly some sort of sign language, Glimmer managed to make out some of it, but not enough to further the conversation, “I'm sorry I don't know sign language, I- I should but I don't.” She remarked sadly.

Moe translated for his brother, “He just wants to discuss with you- uh- some matters.” He sounded a little awkward and nervous. Lee gave him an angry look for not translating fully. Moe just shrugged.

Outside across the depthless night a streak of light zipped across their view, Hordak spotted it, and moved to tail the craft. It was the decoy ship. As a mediaeval planet-locked civilization BrightMoon had no spaceships with which to cross galaxies. Which was why Adora got Entrapta to step in, and she was all too overjoyed about it. Being the genius she was, Entrapta fished out a crashed Horde ship fixed it up and customised it, now sporting the colour scheme of BrightMoon; purple, pink, and gold, even a painted mural of Glimmer on the hull. You couldn't get more overt than that, if this bait wouldn't work, Entrapta didn't know what would.

That was a lovely day, Entrapta and Hordak made a whole day of it, a date, that was what normal couples did so they thought they'd try it out too. And it was wonderful. Just them working together, bouncing ideas off of each other, problem solving, like two lobes of the same brain working in tandem. It was like a dream. Hordak would cherish this memory for years to come.

Hordak pulled up behind the decoy ship. With a single press of a button the clearance codes were transmitted from The Annihilation to the warships. Then; quiet. This moment was always horrifying. The silence. The wait. Hordak and the rest of the crew knew the codes were correct, Glimmer approved them herself, but each time Hordak’s mind briefly flashed to the thought of; What if the codes were wrong? If the warships would open fire, they would be dead in seconds - if not instantaneously vaporised by the battery lasers then they would freeze in the void of space. Seconds ticked away. They waited for the go-ahead; Hordak tense, V, behind him, completely relaxed and indifferent - the fear of death had left the old clone long ago, and then...

A green light lit up on the control panel. And the barricade of warships began to part like the Red Sea. And the tightness in Hordak’s chest disappeared and he released a sigh of relief. The two ships bypassed the armada wall and soon after separated, Glimmer watched the bait craft shrink into a dot out of the window and disappear. Soon the armada faded from visibility as well, and they were off on their voyage, no turning back now. Nothing but an endless stretch of darkness.

“Well, I guess there's no going back now.” She stepped up to the cockpit and looked on at the eternal night ahead.

V put his feet up on the pilot chair ahead, annoying Hordak, “Why so gloomy your highness. They should call you Gloomer. We’re here to have a good time! You know this is a road trip, and you know what that means!”

Dak: “No.”

Moe: “Oh Prime.”

Lee just turned around and left to his room.

V opened a compartment in the chair he was sitting on and pulled out a CD, and practically crawled over Hordak to get to the front control panel and slid the disc into a rectangular device. Glimmer believed it was called a CD player. And so music began to play from it. A country song come on not that our protagonists knew what that was exactly. The song began:

‘Life is like a road that you travel on,

When there is one day here and then the next day gone,

Sometimes you bend, sometimes you stand,

Sometimes you turn your back to the wind’

Hordak face palmed, unable to escape the sound of the song, trapped in the pilot's seat. He had clearly heard this song a thousand times before. “I can't believe this.”

‘There is a world outside every darkened door,

Where the blues will not haunt you anymore,

Where brave are free and lovers soar,

Come ride with me to the distant shore’

Glimmer bowed her head down and sighed, “This is my life now... for the next week... No going back.” She echoed the words to herself once more. She turned and waltzed back to the couch defeated.

‘We won't hesitate, to break down the garden gate,

There's not much time left today, yeah –

THE DEFECTS, FEATURING QUEEN GLIMMER OF ETHERIA, STARRING IN:

‘L I F E   I S   A   H I G H W A Y  !’

‘And I want to ride it all night long.’

End of Act One (of Three)

___

Next Time on LIAH

"I've been checking our food cabinets, some thing's eating our supplies, some thing's here with us."

Dun. Dun. DUN!

---

"Don't be mad!"

"What did you do?!"

"I said don't be mad!!!"

---

"Is that a shotgun?!?!"

---

"Fifty Romulaks?! Where are we crossing over to Terabithia?!!"

---

"Keith... I'm pregnant."

"I knew it."

To Be Continued

[aziraphales-library]

Hello beautiful mods! Thank you for the amazing job you’re doing for this fandom ❤️

Do you know any fics about what Aziraphale was doing in the gentlemens club in the late 1880s? Preferably E or M rated 😇

Hi! We have some discreet gentlemen's club fics here. And I've got some E-rated ones for you now...

A dear friend of mine by UnproblematicMe (E)

After his fight with Aziraphale he had taken a little nap, only a few decades mind you, and awoke to the rumors that Mr. Fell was part of an illustrious group of “confirmed bachelors”.

Souvenir by miraworos (E)

Twenty years after their argument over holy water, Crowley goes to the Christmas party at Aziraphale's gentlemen's club to check on the angel. He tries to stay obscured in the shadows, but Aziraphale catches him anyway, and takes him to an out-of-the-way alcove for a private...um...chat.

Gentlemen's Club by Caedmon (E)

"I used to think about you in there, fucking humans, and it would make me nearly insane with jealousy. I wanted to storm in there and scare all of them away from you, then fuck you myself.” “I see,” Aziraphale said from behind his wineglass. His eyes were twinkling. “And that’s the next fantasy you’d like to act out?” “Yeah. I… yeah.” “Well, I’m certainly agreeable. How do you want to go about it?”

Conspire to Ignite by Tangela (E)

They had had their falling out, and Crowley had slept off the rest of the century. Or at least, he'd tried to. Perhaps it was time he visited one of those discreet gentlemen's clubs that Aziraphale had always been trying to invite him to. A short story of longing, miscommunication and an eventual happily ever after. (Or, an alternate take on what happened between 1862 and 1941.)

The After-Hours Do by haleinedelail (E)

Crowley can quite plainly see that Aziraphale has got himself into some kind of trouble, which of course, sets his teeth on edge... but the angel won't say why. All the demon knows is that it's something to do with that discreet gentleman's club in Portland Place. Something there is amiss, and it's more than just a bunch of grown men learning the Gavotte together. Crowley is mischievous but (bite your tongue!) nice, and something about that combination has never allowed him just to let it go, when Aziraphale needs help... even when Aziraphale isn't fully aware he needs help. Spying, bickering, and Victorian-ness ensue.

- Mod D

[st-juliet]

Can I request an nsfw fic sitting on Sherlock Holmes’ lap while he explains a case to reader, she start kissing his neck and he starts stuttering 😩😩 (also, Im literally in LOVE with your works 😫 😭)

Pulse Point

Fandom: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: To help him relax in the midst of a trying case, Reader exploits Sherlock’s only vulnerability.

Content: 18+ for smutty smutty smut, Sherlock’s filthy mouth, unprotected sex, and pure domestic bliss.

Notes: My first prompt! Thank you thank you thank you, Anon; I love this so much. I wrote it quite quickly and unedited, so apologies for any imperfections!

“Come, sit with me, darling girl.”

Standing in the door of your husband’s study, you fall even more in love with Sherlock Holmes. He sits behind his desk in his leather wingback chair, attired in his shirtsleeves, coat discarded, posture tense—it has been hours since you saw him come home, carrying a crate of papers and wearing the expression of determination and passion that lets you know the game is well and truly afoot.

Eager to be of help, you follow his directive at once, crossing the room to his side. He settles you on his lap and places a chaste, gentle kiss to your temple, pausing to breathe in the scent of your hair. A little of his tension seems to melt away with your closeness, and you return his kiss—but on the lips, this time—with a smile. He smiles, too, and whispers, “I love you so.”

“As I love you! Now, tell me the matter of the case,” you prompt, with another light, teasing peck. “Begin at the beginning, and perhaps some new detail will reveal itself in the telling.”

Sherlock smiles, a little wearily, but with a clear relief at your presence and enthusiasm.

“Yes, pray lend me a little of your brilliance, Mrs. Holmes, for I am at my wit’s end.”

“Nonsense; your wit is endless,” you scoff, and at last he laughs, too. You share another kiss, deeper this time, and he settles more comfortably into the chair.

“It is Moriarty,” he sighs, loosening his cravat and tossing it aside. “It is always Moriarty, the spider in the center of the web. But for once, he torments me with leisure, not urgency. There is no captive aristocrat, no explosives planted, no threat of impending murder; and thank god for it. But instead, he spins me an ever-expanding list of riddles, each more obscure and particular than the last. To what end I do not know.”

He tips his head back against the chair, exposing the long line of his throat to your gaze. Though you would find it nigh impossible to select a favorite part of your husband’s body—for truly, it seems that every night as he fills your aching channel so perfectly, so completely, there is some new, glorious detail of his physique thrown into prominence—Sherlock’s neck is especially tempting. It is a singular point of vulnerability in such a massive, muscled man, and one you love to exploit: you know well that so much as a single kiss can bring the man to his knees, or else drive him to bend you over the nearest surface and make you his in the most primal, profound way.

“He boasts of the reach of his accomplices by infiltrating those systems in which we have the greatest trust, so much that the average man may not even notice anything has changed.”

You simply cannot help yourself.

Delicately, you shift upon his lap, wickedly delighted that he has fixed his eyes upon the cluttered wall opposite his desk, where his series of pinned-up schedules, diagrams, and ciphers distract him from your intentions.

“But I first noticed that the regular seven o’clock train from Trafalgar to Charing Cross was delayed on Tuesday—“

With a slow deliberation, you kiss the point where his pulse beats steadily beneath his jaw.

“—initial—initially—by seven—“

You part your lips ever so slightly and kiss him again.

“—by seven—se—“

A large, lissome hand lands heavily on your thigh. You do not let this deter you; no indeed, it only incites you further, and you press your lips more firmly against his neck.

“By seven minutes!” he concludes in a rush, and you take advantage of his pause for breath to trail your kisses lower, pulling aside the collar of his shirt for a better vantage. 

You lightly sink your teeth into his flesh, just at the juncture where his neck and shoulder meet, and he moans.

“Angel—oh, my g—god…”

As you work your way back up to his pulse point, he still stutters out a little more on the subject of the case: “Angel, the—the trains—I am—tr—trying to—explain…“

You raise your head up innocently.

“Shall I stop, sir?”

Sherlock kisses your lips hungrily, squeezing you tighter, and you wriggle in delight, feeling him grow hard at your ministrations. It gratifies you to no end, when this stern, controlled man falls prey to his own lusts, unable to help the way his length strains at his trousers—and all for you.

“No, no—“ he breathes, and you take your cue eagerly, shifting to straddle his thighs, their breadth forcing your legs wide apart. “Don’t stop, my sweet—ah—angel.”

He fumbles with the fastenings of his trousers, but can’t seem to manage the simple motor function, such is his arousal, especially as your lips return to his neck.

“Let me help you,” you offer, murmuring against his throat as you pepper it with more kisses. “Let me please you, please, Sherlock…”

“God, lo—look what you’ve—done to me,” he sighs, throwing up his hands. Laughing breathlessly, you finish the job yourself, a rapturous smile of triumph gracing your lips as your hand wraps around his freed cock, already leaking and flushed with desire. “You…you undo me completely,” he groans, thrusting up into your grasp. “Fuck, please, my darling girl, please, let me feel you—“

“Yes, Sherlock, anything you want!”

This seems to reinvigorate him, and he growls, pushing aside your skirts roughly. He does not allow the time for you to rise and doff your undergarments, but instead simply tears the delicate fabric at the seams to reveal your dripping petals.

“I’ll buy—buy you more,” he promises, as you rock your wet heat against his achingly hard cock. “What do you want, angel? What can I give? All the lace in the world. A dozen gowns, a hundred, anything for you—emeralds or pearls or—oh, Christ, you are so fucking tight I can hardly—“ This as you sink down on him, sheathing him to the hilt with your own a cry of ecstasy. “I’ll give you the world. Oh, my love…”

You continue to besiege his neck as you ride him, finding out each sweet spot that makes him clutch your hips all the harder, with Sherlock babbling out a litany of absolute filth mixed with romantic nonsense:

“That pretty, pretty mouth god your lips—you will be the death of me, angel!”

Sherlock hardly lasts a moment more after your climax causes you to clench around him, holding him tight and deep and perfect, and he gasps your name and a stammering profession of love as he spills himself inside you. You gaze into his eyes as they come back into focus, and you share a little panting laughter, for you are both an absolute mess of half-discarded clothes, dripping seed, and riotously disheveled hair. You have even left a clear mark on his neck, which makes you feel as grand as the empress of the earth, to have laid such an intimate claim upon his otherwise unassailable body. Murmuring quiet, loving little praises, you help one another to undress fully, till you stand before one another fully natural, each drinking in the sight of the other.

“My god. Just look at you, Mrs. Holmes.”

“You are the most beautiful man alive!” you cannot help but exclaim, and he tosses his head in evident pride at the compliment. How you love to make him vain.

“And at last, I am thinking clearly—for the first time all day!” he says, making you laugh again, then he lets out an exultant “Ha!” and strides over towards the gallery of evidence pinned to the wall. “You’ve done it. By Jove, Mrs. Holmes, you have knocked the scales from my eyes. I see the whole design now…”

“Then let me fetch you fresh clothes—and some water to wash, hmm?”

“Yes, give me leave a little while to dole out justice upon Moriarty. And then turnabout’s fair play for you, wife: I think your lovely neck deserves a mark or two of its own…”

If you enjoyed, please do leave a comment, reblog, or visit my Masterlist!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Favors and Broken Promises

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x journalist!fem!reader

Summary: When you begin receiving death threats while writing an article on a dirty cop, Deacon Kay reluctantly agrees to protect you. He makes the situation worse before it gets better.

Warnings: angst to fluff; non-descriptive fight scene and injuries. the detective and dirty cop's names are a somewhat obscure book reference

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: I didn't proofread this, but I'll be back soon to do so!

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Deacon is attempting - and failing – to enjoy his day off. When his work phone rings, he sighs before answering.

“Sergeant Kay,” he greets, hoping this will be quick.

“Deacon, this is Detective Jeff Sherman.”

Smiling, Deacon is pleased that it’s not a SWAT call.

“What can I do for ya, Sherman?” he asks.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything for an academy classmate. Couldn’t have survived without you,” Deacon replies.

“It’s a big favor, Deacon. Big enough that if you say no I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“What have you gotten yourself into? This LAPD business?”

“Yeah. It’s for a case I’m investigating. Dirty cop working in the academy.”

“LAPD academy? For how long?”

“Started around the time we were there.”

“We would have seen it, wouldn’t we? Is there any truth to the claims, Sherman?”

Sherman sighs, and Deacon isn’t prepared to hear, “You didn’t know to look, Deac.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I’ve got a friend, a journalist investigating the cop, and she needs protection. She started receiving death threats last week, and she was being blackmailed before that.”

“Why call me?”

“It would be off the books. Our history and your time in private security make you the perfect choice to keep her safe while we find this guy, get to bottom the threats.”

“Of course. Like I said, Sherman, anything for you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Investigating a dirty cop in the Los Angeles Police Academy isn’t as easy as one might think. After years in investigative journalism and a brief history in the criminal justice field, you found yourself drawn to telling the stories of the people who need justice the most but can’t get it for themselves. This particular story caught your attention because you know exactly what these young women are dealing with.

Walter Greener has been harassing, blackmailing, and assaulting female recruits since you were in the academy years ago. His history of mistreating women and the fact that he’s still at it with no record of any reprimands makes you eager to expose the truth.

You were likely one of the first. Greener harassed you constantly, and when he grew bold enough to assault you on numerous occasions, putting his hands on you or getting rough in the locker rooms after training, you began considering dropping out. Letting the actions of one man dictate your life seemed ridiculous, and you vowed not to quit without good reason.

When the first letter demanded something in exchange for your safety, essentially asking for a piece of your soul to keep your life, you knew you couldn’t keep going on the track you were on. You pulled away from your friends and family before dropping out and moving. During this time, completely alone, you began studying to become a journalist, refusing to let other women’s stories go unheard. Your classmate, Jeff Sherman, tracked you down and demanded to know what happened, able to see something that no one else could.

Years later, when you learned that Greener was not only a cop but was working in the academy, you had to return to the heart of Los Angeles and find the entire story; the good, bad, and ugly. Now that you have enough evidence, both past and present, you’re ready to write your article. There’s more than enough to get him fired and charged with harassment and assault if anyone else is willing to testify against him. The moment you began preparing the story, a death threat appeared in your email inbox. Within a few days, they were being delivered straight to your door.

The only relationship that survived your forced exit from the academy was with Jeff Sherman, so you called him and told him everything. He jumped to action, promising to find him and keep you safe. Believing him, you continue working on the story, unwilling to let Greener scare you away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This woman have a name?” Deacon asks.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Sherman says before telling Deacon your name.

“Are you kidding me? No way, Sherman.”

“You already agreed, Deac. C’mon, man, do it for me?”

Deacon pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering how he went from being suddenly abandoned by you to being responsible for your safety. While you were in the academy, you dated Deacon for several months. He was happy, and things were getting serious, and then, out of nowhere, you started pulling back before disappearing completely. You dropped out of the academy, and Deacon had to accept that he’d likely never see you again. You broke his heart without giving him any idea about what happened. Even today, he is hurt and angry that you didn’t talk to him about the unknown issue. 

Unaware of how you were forced to pull away from him and the career of your dreams, Deacon has remained clueless about the blackmail and harassment that targeted your personal life. Each threat included your family and friends, including your cop friends and Deacon himself.

You and Detective Sherman only stayed in touch because he realized something was going on with all of the women and found you, cornering you for answers after your disappearance. 

Deacon already agreed and won’t go back on his word, but he really doesn’t want to see you again. Doesn’t want to be that close to you, responsible for you, any of it. He was pissed when you left, and he’s still so angry and hurt that he can’t imagine letting you walk into his life, his house, without at least providing a few answers. The idea of someone threatening to kill you, however, makes it harder to say no (if he could).

“You said death threats?” Deacon asks. “Are they bad?”

“They weren’t at first. Progressively, yeah, they’ve gotten graphic and detailed. The blackmail was rough too, though. Greener knows a lot about her.”

“Wait, Richard Greener? From the academy?”

“Right, you didn’t know, I’m sorry. That’s who the article is about. He’s still harassing and assaulting young girls in the academy and she’s trying to get to the bottom of it, get him fired or indicted.”

Deacon wants clarification on the ‘still’ aspect of Sherman’s statement but decides that getting close to this is a bad idea. It’s a job, nothing more, so he can’t let you get under his skin. The anger and hurt are as powerful as they were years ago, so Deacon will keep you alive and then watch you walk away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Why won’t you tell me who my bodyguard is, Sherman?” you ask, approaching a back door.

“Because you wouldn’t have come,” he admits while knocking.

The door opens, and you find yourself face-to-face with Deacon Kay.

“Hi,” you whisper, shocked to see him.

He ignores you, looking at Sherman instead. “Check for trails?”

“Of course, Deac. We weren’t followed. Thanks for your help.” He looks between you to add, “Don’t kill each other.”

Sherman walks away, and Deacon enters the house, leaving the door open for you to carry your bag inside.

“Guest room is the second door on the right,” he says, his back to you.

“Thanks,” you reply. “I’m sure you didn’t want to do this, but I appreciate it.”

“Oh, yeah, I just live for protecting people who intentionally piss off the wrong people with their second career choice of journalism. Because writing will change so much.”

You try to ignore his hurtful jab, opting to find the guest room instead of staying close to Deacon. He’s already forgotten this is supposed to be a job, letting his emotions control him. When you reemerge a few hours later, he wordlessly slides a plate of food to you.

“Thanks.”

“Feel free to throw it away if you suddenly decide you don’t like it, since you seem to enjoy that,” Deacon snaps, taking his plate into his room and closing the door.

“I think I might prefer the death threats,” you say to yourself.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luca, you don’t get it. She left me, took part of me with her,” Deacon says quietly, pacing as he asks for advice.

“Sounds like she may still have it,” Luca offers. “Maybe give her a chance to explain. Have you talked to her yet?”

“Um- sort of. Nothing civil though.”

“Deac,” Luca sighs. “You can’t attack her for something she did back then and expect her to feel safe, for one, but that’s also no way to move on, man. At some point you just gotta let go and find something else.”

“You’re telling me to forgive and forget?”

 “I’m telling you to remember that neither of you are the same people you were back then. Give her a chance, and maybe be a little respectful of the fact that the man who destroyed her life is threatening to take it.”

“Thanks, Luca.”

Deacon ends the call and exits his room, noticing your door is closed. He sees your shadow move in the light under the door and decides that Luca’s advice can wait a day because his hurt feels brand new.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is that wise?” Deacon asks, walking into the kitchen the following morning. “Isn’t writing what got you into this?”

“Not exactly,” you answer, completing your outline.

“Well, it’s what got me into this, and it’s not my dream vacation, so maybe don’t do anything to make the situation worse, if you can manage that.”

You nod slowly, sad that Deacon seems stuck on what you did in the academy. If he can’t move on or at least give you a chance to explain after all this time, then it’s probably not worth trying, you think.

Deacon notices the sad, misty look in your eyes as you continue typing but exits the room before anything else happens. He’s not in the mood to give you pity or feel empathetic toward you; you got yourself into this situation, but you also drug Deacon into it.

Throughout the rest of the day, you don’t even react to Deacon’s jabs and outright mean comments. Whenever he sees you, you jump as if you didn’t know anyone else was around, are lost in thought, and ignore him, or stare longingly out the window. Even after stumbling upon you crying at two different times, he keeps pushing you, letting the past impact his current treatment of you. Deacon thinks you don’t seem to care, so why should he?

By the end of the first day, you refuse to meet Deacon’s eyes and try your hardest to avoid him. Deacon notices, of course, and realizes that something in your past must be affecting you, maybe even the same thing that made you leave him. Everyone seems to think Deacon needs to move on, but he’s not the only one.

✯✯✯✯✯

A few days into your nightmarish stay with Deacon, he wakes up in an especially bad mood, which shows in his snarky comments and low-aimed insults.

“Couldn’t make it as a cop so you sit behind a computer and judge those of us that answered the call to serve and protect,” Deacon mutters.

Tired and unable to take Deacon’s – for lack of a better word – verbal abuse for a moment longer, you snap. “Well, I am so sorry that I was harassed and assaulted so often that I didn’t feel safe anywhere, not even with you! Dropping out and pulling away from everyone I cared about was my only choice, and it hurt me just as much as it hurt you, Deacon, but I’m not trying to make you feel like a monster for letting me leave and not noticing that Greener was putting his hands on me every time you looked away!”

Deacon’s eyes are wide as you continue, “And if the panic attacks and trust issues get to be too much, I’ll just leave again, because I think anything would be better than sitting in this house, with the man who is supposed to be keeping me safe but instead is making a bad situation a whole lot worse.”

With your emotions raging, you can feel the panic attack building in your chest, and you storm away before Deacon can witness that level of vulnerability.

Once he’s alone in the living room, Deacon begins piecing together all of the little signs he missed before, growing more and more determined to make it up to you. From the academy to this moment, he has a lot of hurt to mend, but he can help you now, even if he didn’t back then. Your situation requires a reminder that there are good, trustworthy cops; despite his recent behavior, Deacon is one of the good ones.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon knocks softly on your door, and you harshly rub the tears off your cheeks before answering.

“I’m so sorry,” he says when you come into view. Staying in the hallway, Deacon holds his hands before him, his genuineness evident in his gaze and body language. “I’m here with you and I will protect you, I promise.”

You nod, and he sends you a small smile before retreating into his room. Your heart feels a bit lighter, and Deacon’s does, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

Over the next few days, Deacon’s heart begins healing. He’s casually protective, gently moving you out of the way when you’re blocking something he needs, calmly asking you to stay away from the window, and refusing to let you out of his sight for too long. When you spend too much time in the shower, Deacon knocks and asks if you’re okay. Your responding laugh makes Deacon smile for the first time in too many years.

Deacon does more than a bodyguard should, with evident kindness and concern underlying each of his movements and commands. When he speaks, his words are nearly parallel to his previous comments.

“What are you writing?” he asks when he finds you curled on the couch with your laptop perched on your knees.

“Working on the article,” you answer carefully.

“I’ve read some of your pieces. You write on important topics in a way that makes them relatable. That’s admirable.”

Later the same day, he encourages you to keep writing when you mumble that it feels pointless.

“Even if you help one more girl, isn’t that enough?”

He even walks you to bed, holding the door open as he apologizes again. “And I didn’t mean what I said – any of it – but especially the part about you not being able to be a cop. We both know you were on track to be the best of us. But what you’re doing now is just as important.”

“Still can’t help but feel robbed,” you admit. “He took everything I loved.”

Glancing up at Deacon, you think he understands your meaning when he smiles.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Kay,” Deacon says, answering his phone. “I’m off this week… How bad is it?... Yeah, I’ll get right back to you.”

“You should go,” you say, looking over your laptop. “Sounds like they need their best.”

“It’s a major hostage situation, and they only called because it’s urgent. I shouldn’t leave you, though, they can find someone else.”

“Deac,” you call. “I’ll be okay for a little while. And I will call if anything happens, or I get worried or just want to talk. I promise.”

Deacon reluctantly agrees, gathering his things as he calls his team back and tells them he will meet them at the scene. As he leaves you, he feels like something is wrong, out of place, but maybe that’s just because he misses you after spending so much time together.

✯✯✯✯✯

Something scratches across the front door, and you’re immediately alert. It hasn’t been long enough for Deacon to return, so you rush to his room, but the front door slams against the wall before you can escape behind another locked door.

“An article about me?” Greener asks. “I’d be flattered if I didn’t know exactly what kind of woman you are.”

“Now, I’m the kind of woman that you can’t intimidate.”

“Intimidate?” Greener laughs as he cracks his neck. “We’re way past that, don’t you think?”

You step back as Greener lunges, glad you continued training after dropping out of the academy. You’re still a good fighter, and Greener underestimates you because you’re a woman. While Deacon deals with a tiring afternoon of saving hostages, you win a tiring fight.

Car doors close in the neighboring driveway, and an exhausted and injured Greener rushes out of the broken front door. You don’t want to call Deacon, not because you don’t trust him but because you know he will blame himself. Regardless, you dial his number and lean back against the wall.

“Hey, what happened?” Deacon answers.

“Uh, Greener broke in. I’m okay… mostly okay. We fought but he got scared off,” you answer softly.

Deacon hangs up, rushing home and patching you up. He covers your scrapes and bruises, apologizing as he goes.

“I will never put you in this situation again,” he promises as he secures the last bandage over your split knuckles.

“Stay by my side?” you ask, offering your less bruised hand.

Deacon takes it with a soft touch as he answers, “Through it all.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon keeps his promise, staying by your side through the trial, the mixed backlash and praise over the article, and perhaps most surprisingly, your sudden fear of being alone again.

Standing by his door with your bags in tow, you can’t cross the threshold.

“You don’t have to go,” Deacon repeats. “Stay as long as you want. I’m by your side, remember? There’s nothing to worry about here. Other than me getting attached to you and clingier.”

You smile, glancing at the door before stepping closer to Deacon as he pulls you into a hug, and you wrap your arms around him before pressing your cheek against his shirt.

“I’m never leaving you again,” Deacon vows. “I lost you once, and after everything we went through to find each other again, what I put you through, I’m not losing you again.”

[fairy-writes]

Hello!! How are you??

If you take requests, could you please do the Tokyo Ghoul boys reacting to reader being a famous artist who is "hidden" (like: has naver shown their face in public, uses a different name, etc)?

MASKED CREATIVITY

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Kaneki Ken x Reader

Uta x Reader

Kirishima Ayato x Reader

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader

Notes: I only do three characters max for headcanons! So, if you’d like more, send in a request for part two!

Also, Ayato is :re age in this!

Also, also, I interpreted “artist” pretty differently for each person :)

__________________________________________________________________________

Kaneki Ken: Painter

Kaneki initially meets you when going to one of your art galleries! 

You open a brand new exhibit in a famous bookstore, and he goes because, coincidentally, it’s one of the only stores carrying a copy of Takatsuki Sen’s latest books.

He spots you immediately in the crowd, recognizing your mask as one of Uta’s. 

It’s a beautiful full-faced masquerade mask, seemingly made of porcelain or ceramic, and has colorful plumes of feathers obscuring your head from view. 

All he can see are your twinkling eyes as you excitedly talk about your work. 

Admittedly, he’s VERY nervous as he approaches you with his desired book in hand to compliment your latest piece. 

You turn to face him, and he offers what he hopes is a kind smile.

“You have some amazing work here.” He says and can tell by how your eyes crinkle that you’re smiling.

“Thank you.” Is all you say, and before he can stop himself, he blurts: “Is your mask one of Uta’s?” 

You freeze and look at him with wide eyes before nodding once. 

Luckily, no one has heard your conversation yet. 

He smiles again, “I’m familiar with his work. He made a mask of mine as well.” He explains, and you relax. 

“He’s quite the mask monger, isn’t he?” You say, almost breathless, as if you had anticipated something… else.

So Kaneki utilizes his senses and takes a discreet sniff. 

There it is… You’re a ghoul!

The two of you chat for a bit before he heads out, but not before shaking your hand and congratulating you again on your work. 

He stares at the card you slipped into his hand, your name and number scrawled on it in neat letters.

He hopes he can get to know you… something about you is incredibly fascinating. 

Uta: Musician

So you and Uta have been together for a while, and he only now finds out about your talent and fame as a musician. 

He finds out on accident, really, by coincidentally going to one of your shows. 

He’s with Itori and Yomo, lounging in a ghoul-friendly jazz bar and nursing a glass of blood wine when you come on stage. 

You’re carrying your prized saxophone and wearing the mask he made for you. 

It isn’t a full-faced mask. Instead, it only obscures the upper half of your face in lace and feathers. 

You scan the crowd, spot him, and your eyes widen briefly in surprise.

But you recover quickly and smile, bow slightly at the waist, and begin to play. 

And Uta is blown away by your talent. 

Kirishima Ayato: Poet

Ayato really didn’t want to be here. 

He really doesn’t.

But he promised you that he’d show up. So here he is.

He sits at an open-mic night at a local club on the outskirts of Tokyo. 

The room was dim, the air filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever disgusting human food was being made across the street. 

All chatter dies down, and clapping erupts when you come on stage. 

Ayato almost doesn’t recognize you. 

You are wearing a mask made by some mask maker in the fourth ward, and he can only tell it’s you by the smell of your perfume/cologne. 

Your mask is stunning, if not a bit creepy. It’s made of white material and painted to resemble a doll. 

You tap the microphone, pull out your worn notebook, and begin to speak. 

[cicerfics]

3, 24, 50 for bond & q :)

3. Obscure headcanon

Oh, it's so hard to determine what's 'obscure' in fandom! I am never sure which headcanons have been shared before, or how other people perceive this stuff.

But I guess my top 'uncommon' headcanon for Q is that he's on the asexuality/aromantic spectrum. I am totally capable of reading about (or even writing) allosexual Q, but in my heart, he will always be aro-ace to me! He makes an exception for Bond, because that's how it goes sometimes. But even with Bond, Q doesn't quite experience attraction in the 'usual' way. He's very intensely attracted to Bond in numerous ways, but not necessarily super 'horny' for Bond in the typical sense.

Obscure headcanon for Bond...honestly? I think Bond is a bit of a nerd! I think he's a jock and a nerd at the same time! I think he really likes learning obscure trivia, crossword puzzles, and books.

I think he's incredibly intelligent about a lot of things...a real polymath, in spite of the fact that he's also a 'blunt instrument'. I think he plays down his intelligence (though we definitely see glimpses of it in the films) because he likes to surprise people and he knows it's easier to do his job when people underestimate him.

But beyond his actual intelligence, I think he's downright nerdy in some of his interests and the sheer enjoyment he takes in learning new stuff. So that's my 'obscure' hreadcanon for him...'obscure' in the sane that it is not necessarily strongly supported by any part of canon!

24. Most annoying habit

Q is incredibly pedantic and bossy and stubborn. He will dig his teeth into a petty argument, and hold on for dear life. Honestly, I feel like he's actually better at letting important stuff go, because he tends to rationalize away his emotions (also a bad habit!) and bury any hurt feelings.

But if he's having an argument with someone about something that's honestly pretty meaningless? Q will go to the mat to defend his point. He will not let it go! Many people find this understandably irritating. (Bond delights in it, though, and he winds Q up just for fun.)

Bond, meanwhile, is an irrepressible contrarian and a complete brat. You say up, he says down. You say black, he says white. You tell him to do one thing, he'll do the opposite just to spite you. He enjoys being 'difficult' and he enjoys refusing to cooperate with people he doesn't like. Sometimes, he refuses to cooperate with people he does like, just because he takes unholy pleasure in annoying them. (See above re: Q.) He does not (and never did) play nicely with the other children. He just likes to be a pest.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

Oof.

Okay, I tend to headcanon that Q had a pretty crummy childhood with parents who were mentally unwell/emotionally absent. And honestly, I think Q has blocked out a lot of his childhood. I don't think he realizes it, because he has clear memories of his education, the things he taught himself, his childhood pets, etc. But I think he's blocked out a lot of stuff that has to do with his parents and the traumatic things he witnessed while under their care.

For Bond...yeah. I think he blocks out the bad parts of his missions as best he can. I think he erects a mental wall around his memories of being tortured, and I think he refers to those incidents very flippantly because it helps him pretend this is something that happened to someone else.

I also think he blocked out a lot of happy memories from his childhood. I headcanon that he had a pretty happy childhood overall and parents who loved him (and each other). After he lost them, it was too hard for Bond to remember how good things used to be. So he just...doesn't think about it, if he can help it. The contrast between his childhood and his current life is too devastating for him.

(I am still open for asks on this topic, btw!!)

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

I know Crafty is nowhere near unhinged as Kickin, but I feel it is only fair to ask if there are any reoccurring bits from her streams and videos.

Running gags from Crafty's streams and videos, part 1 of ????:

When she first started out, she would stutter a LOT, so there was a running joke with Kickin where he would stutter on purpose and then begin randomly singing in order to mess with her (endearing);

There was a running gag on the start of her channel of her putting Nyan Cat somewhere on the video. It evolved to her hiding a smiling critter somewhere;

A running gag of Crafty chewing on her art supplies. It's a nice stimm!!!!

Her talking on her super soft voice tone about horrific monster designs. She gets VERY excited about Silent Hill symbolism, alright? Leave her to be!!!!!

"Oh no, the carpal tunnel is being mean to me today :("

Has a flower motif going on with her channel, always decorating everything with flowers;

Stops whatever she's doing to tell her viewers to stretch, drink water and eat, esp during her streams;

VIOLENTLY shaking her head when she's going to tackle something complicated. It's her battle preparation;

Never gets scared of anything EVER, unless it's making sounds similar to choking or chewing on something. Otherwise she's just nervous all the time;

(while doodling Smiling Critters fanart) "I'm pretty impressed with how PlayCo. somehow knew that deep down, I really was a horse girl"

(sees horse in a game) "YESSSSSS"

Most of her videos are art related, with her gushing over art direction of movies, games and cartoons and infodumping about it, or drawing many, many things. When she's in the mood for it, she also records herself playing games;

Boping her head to random sounds;

She never quit scene fashion, so sometimes she says things like "raw" and "xd" as a joke;

Running gag of her just hugging whatever fluffy thing she can find;

Also a running gag of random things happening in the background while she's making a video and her staring at the camera and trying not to laugh at whatever she's hearing. "We are having this discussion for A DECADE, and you STILL haven't learned that worms ARE NOT A FRUIT!", someone screams, and she loses it;

Many people think that out of all the BBI critters, she and Dogday are the most well kept together. And then Dogday and her make a video together playing a random game and it's pure chaos. It's not because they're stupid when together, but it's because they're both different types of dumb that act like they're know what they're doing;

Her dropping EXTREMELY obscure facts about fandoms and pieces of media in general and acting like everyone knows it. She genuinely believes this;

Her becoming super serious and quiet whenever she's in deep focus, then blinking and saying "oh, no, I forgot to talk! Im sorry–" on her normal cutesy voice;

Her staring at the camera and not saying a thing;

Her randomly infodumping something unrelated to whatever she's drawing.

[vermilionsun]

Here's the good ending :]

"Bad" ending here

Word count: 2.5k Rating: Explicit Fandom: Touchstarved (Red Spring Studio) Categories: Other Relationships: Mhin/Vere, Mhin & Vere Tags: Sex, Smut, PWOP, Rough sex, Biting, Public sex/Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior (Vere duh), Dirty Talk, Dry humping, Against the wall, Against the mirror, lingerie, Top Vere, Bottom Mhin, Poor cashier

Vere was silently following a Soulless on the outskirts of Eridia, which was, well, just a small distance away from the Amaryllis District's main road. He was keeping a good distance, ready to pounce at any moment. He stalked silently through the undergrowth, his keen senses attuned to the slightest movement. Light filtered through the foliage, casting dappled shadows on the wasteland floor.

Suddenly, a rustle breaks the silence. Vere's ears perk up, and he crouches lower, blending into the shadows as he tracks the direction of the noise. Vere startles as Mhin appears out of nowhere, swiftly dispatching the Soulless with a single strike of their dagger. He lets out a frustrated huff.

Mhin’s head snaps to the side, and their eyes narrow at the sight of Vere emerging from the shadows. They instinctively move into a defensive stance, one hand grasping the dagger at their side.

Vere raises an eyebrow and eyes Mhin warily, his gaze calculating. He holds his hands up in a submissive gesture. He takes a few slow steps forward, still partially obscured by the shadows. "Impressive." He purrs, a hint of mockery in his voice.

Mhin’s expression remains guarded, their body poised to react at a moment’s notice. "I know how to handle myself," they respond tersely, their voice low and wary.

Vere smirks and steps further into the open, his movements unhurried. "No doubt." He concedes, his pink eyes glimmering. "But that was my prey."

Mhin bristles slightly at Vere���s words, their irritation rising. They clench their teeth, their grip on their knife tightening. "And I’m the one who actually took it down," they retort, their voice cool and defiant. "If you wanted it so badly, you should have been faster."

Vere lets out a low chuckle, his smirk widening into a feline grin. "Oh, I see. You're quite the little hunter, aren't you?" He drawls, his steps becoming a slow, deliberate stalk towards Mhin.

Mhin simply watches Vere, their body tense and coiled like a spring, ready to snap. They stand their ground, refusing to back down. "I’m the one who gets results," they reply, their voice betraying just a hint of smugness.

Vere's smile falters momentarily at Mhin's words, but he covers it up with a derisive snort. "You little—"

"Vere!" Vere's handler approaches the two. "Did you get that Soulless?" She asks.

Vere turns to the woman, his expression instantly shifting to a mask of feigned innocence. He gives her a small nod. "Of course, I'm just... admiring a certain someone's impressive skills." He gestures towards Mhin, his tone dripping with subtle sarcasm.

The handler turns towards Mhin, eyeing them with a hint of curiosity. "Hm, I see. We profusely thank you for your assistance," the woman tells Mhin, while giving a dirty glance at Vere as if saying, 'You're in trouble.'

Vere notices his handler's stare and lets out a low huff, knowing that he's going to receive a lecture later. He glances back at Mhin, his expression unreadable but his eyes betraying a hint of irritation.

Mhin allows a small smirk to play across their lips before turning their attention back to the handler. "Just doing my job," they reply, their tone cool and detached. "You can consider it a favor." Their gaze then moves to Vere, silently challenging him to make a move.

"A favor, you say?" He drawls.

Mhin can see the gears turn in Vere's head. Then his eyes light up.

Uh oh.

"Actually," he says suddenly, his tone abruptly changing to one of mock graciousness. "I suppose a thank you is in order. You did, after all, so generously spare me the trouble of dealing with that Soulless." He takes a small step closer to Mhin, maintaining eye contact as he continues.

"In fact, I think some sort of token of gratitude is warranted. Perhaps you'd be willing to accompany me on a small outing?"

Mhin's heart sinks. "No—"

"Perfect!" Vere cuts them off before they can utter a single word. Vere turns to his handler, a sickly sweet smile plastered on his face. He motions towards Mhin, as if in explanation. "You wouldn't mind, would you, dear?" He asks her, his tone oozing charm.

"Vere."

He bristles slightly at the sound of his handler's stern voice, his smile fading just a fraction. "What? I’m just wanting to properly show my gratitude." He retorts, feigning innocence. He knows he's pushing his luck, but he can't help the excitement that courses through him at the prospect of a bit of freedom. "It'll only be a short while. I’ll return straight after, I promise." He adds, his eyes pleading. His handler regards him, her expression unreadable.

After a few tense moments, she relents with a sigh. "...One hour."

A triumphant grin spreads across Vere’s face, and he gives a small nod. "Perfect, thank you, dear."

He turns back to Mhin, his smirk returning with a vengeance. "You heard her. One hour." He takes Mhin's arm and pulls them back towards the city. The latter blinks in surprise at the swift exchange, a flicker of annoyance passing over their expression.

Mhin ends up following Vere (big mistake); their steps measured and deliberate as they eye him suspiciously.

They arrive at a small, unassuming shop, and Mhin raises an eyebrow at the sign.

They take a step back, their cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment. "A lingerie shop?" Mhin blurts out, their voice laced with disbelief. "Seriously?"

Vere grins. "Ah, not quite what you expected, is it?" He chuckles, opening the door and gesturing for Mhin to enter.

Mhin hesitates, their expression a mixture of annoyance and incredulity. They sigh heavily, taking a deep breath to compose themselves before slowly walking into the shop.

They immediately feel out of place; the intimate atmosphere and the array of lacy undergarments surrounding them only add to their discomfort. "You have some nerve, bringing me to a place like this." Mhin mutters.

Vere follows Mhin into the shop, his eyes scanning the various items on display with a hint of mischief. "Nerve? Me? Oh, come now, relax. You might find something you like," he teases, picking up a pair of lacy panties and showing them to Mhin, dangling them tantalizingly.

Mhin's cheeks burn even hotter at the sight and quickly tear their gaze away, schooling their expression into a scowl. "Pffft, highly doubtful." They respond, trying to keep their voice level. They cross their arms over their chest. "There's no way I'm trying on any of this."

Vere sets down the panties, his eyes scanning the shop for something else. "Oh, don't be so sure," he purrs, his tone dripping with arrogance.

He strolls over to a rack of bras, his eyes roving over the selection. His gaze suddenly locks on one in particular, and he grins. Vere picks up the bra, holding it up to Mhin with a smug smile.

"Now, this looks like it would suit you quite well."

The bra is lace, and the color a deep, rich red. It looks luxurious and elegant, and would fit snugly around Mhin's chest. Vere gives it an appreciative look, his mind already imagining what it would look like on them.

Mhin's eyes widen. "There's no way in hell I'm putting that on," they reply, their voice trembling slightly.

Vere steps closer, his voice dropping to a silky murmur as he holds the bra up to Mhin's chest. "Oh, but darling, wouldn't you like to feel how soft it is? How exquisite would it look against your skin?" He spins them around to face the mirror.

"It's quite simple, really," he purrs, moving to stand directly behind Mhin. He moves the lace above their shirt, letting it brush slowly along their chest. "I can see it in your eyes... You're considering it."

Mhin's breath hitches, and they swallow hard, their mind struggling to maintain clarity as Vere's words echo in their ears. They feel the heat of his breath against the back of their neck, his proximity sending a confusing array of sensations through their body.

"I am not!" They protest weakly, their voice betraying even more uncertainty than they intended.

Vere chuckles, relishing the way Mhin's body responds to his words. "What's the harm in just trying it on? Just to see how it looks."

"Just... just to see how it looks," they whisper, the words barely audible.

"That's right, darling. Just to see." Vere smirks, taking their whispered words as a victory. He helps them take off their shirt and gently slides the straps of the bra over their arms and shoulders, positioning it so that it fits securely against their chest.

Mhin's heart races as they take in the sight of their reflection. They can feel the weight of Vere's gaze upon them, the heat of his eyes burning into their flesh. "I... I look..." They trail off.

"Speechless, are we? I don't blame you. Red suits you quite well." He praises, his hands gently caressing their arms.

"I... I look indecent," they finally murmur.

Vere's hands settle on their hips. His grip is firm, but his touch is gentle, almost reverent. "You look tempting. Delectable, seductive, alluring…" He presses himself against their back, his chest against their bare skin. His hands glide slowly up their sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Mhin shivers, and a small gasp slips past their lips. "Vere."

"Hm, are you finally giving in? Can you see just how delicious you look?" He moves his hands up to their chest, his fingers dancing over the lace, before moving to caress the smooth skin beneath.

Mhin closes their eyes, their body arching instinctively, seeking more of his touch. "Yes..." They whisper, the word coming out as a plea rather than a response.

"Yes... what?" He murmurs, his lips brushing against their ear. He continues to run his hands over the lace, his thumbs circling their chest, drawing small, slow circles over their sensitive nipples. "Say it. Say exactly what you want, and it's yours."

Mhin's body quivers under his possessive touch, their breath coming in ragged gasps. They try to find their voice to say what he wants them to say, but the words are caught in their throat.

"You," they gasp out, "I want... I want you."

Vere grins, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He can feel their body shiver under his touch, resolve completely shattered. Leaning down, he traces a path of kisses along their neck, his tongue tasting their skin. He grips their hips, spinning them around to face him and pressing them against the mirror.

They can see the hunger in his eyes, the raw desire that mirrors their own. "Please... take me," they beg, their voice breathless and needy.

"That's it. Beg for me. Tell me how much you want me, how much you need me." His hands move to their wrists, pinning them above their head, his mouth finding their neck again, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin.

It's like Mhin's under some spell. They can hardly think; their mind clouded with lust and longing. Every touch, every kiss, every word from Vere has them completely enthralled; all they want is to feel him, to be with him, and to give in to the overwhelming need that courses through their veins.

"Please," they gasp out, their voice hoarse with need. "I need you. I want you. Please, I'll do anything, just don't stop…"

"Anything? What if I want you to be mine completely? What if I want it all?" One of his knees comes up to Mhin's sex.

They try to arch into the feeling, instinctively seeking more friction, more pressure. "Yes," they moan. "I'll be yours. All yours. Please… I need you."

"That's right, darling. You're mine. All mine." He bites down on their neck hard enough to draw blood.

"Yours," they whisper, the words coming out as a desperate plea. "All yours, please…"

Vere's control is stretched thin.

Vere changes his hold and uses one hand to override their leather pants and underwear, revealing their bare skin underneath. He shifts his body, repositioning his knee between their legs. He can feel their heat against him, his body responding in kind.

They instinctively try to grind against him, desperate for more pressure, more contact. "Please..." They whisper, their voice trembling with need. "Please don't tease me…"

"Such impatience. But I suppose you've earned it." He grinds his knee against them, applying more pressure, giving them the friction they so desperately seek.

"Yes," Mhin gasps and moans, their body arching into his touch as they grind against his knee. "Please, more… more. I need more…"

Vere growls against their skin, his hands moving to their thighs, pulling them to wrap around him. He lifts them up, pinning them against the mirror. "That's it, darling. I want to hear you scream."

One of his hands unbuckles his belt and slides it off, his other hand reaching down into his pants…

With a swift motion, he enters them, causing Mhin to cry out.

"Oh… oh..." They gasp out, their voice catching in their throat.

"That's it, darling. Look at you… completely at my mercy." He pulls back, only to slam back in with even more force, making Mhin's head spin. "Say it again. Say you're mine. Say you belong to me."

Mhin's head falls back against the mirror, the combination of pain and pleasure almost too much to bear. "I... I'm yours... all yours... please," they whined, no longer in control of their own words.

Vere captures their mouth in a rough, heated kiss, his tongue finally—finally—claiming their mouth.

Their bodies move together in a frantic rhythm, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Mhin's hands claw at Vere's back, their nails leaving red marks in their wake, trying to pull him even closer, even deeper.

"You're so beautiful like this; you know that, darling? So vulnerable, so open, so mine."

The mirror fogs up and cracks under the pressure.

Neither notices.

Mhin can feel themselves teetering on the edge, every nerve feeling like it's on fire, gasps and moans growing more frantic.

"Yes, that's it. Let go for me. Let me taste you." Vere whispers as he slams into them one final time, sending them both over the edge, shaking and letting out a low, guttural moan that fills the room.

They collapse together, panting and trembling, their bodies still intertwined as they try to catch their breath.

Mhin clings onto Vere, their fingers tangled in his hair, breaths coming in ragged gasps as they try to catch their breath. "Vere... oh... god..."

Vere holds them close, his arms wrapping around them, his body still pressed against theirs. He nuzzles his face against their neck, inhaling their scent.

"I'm buying you the whole damn shop."