#i miss the dark blue costume with the gold across his chest and shoulders.

[weirdo-from-bonesborough]

I love how the bats are known for having a million gadgets and being overprepared for anything meanwhile dick doesn’t have pockets

[blutopaz15]

Flufftober Oct. 1

Winning a Prize for the Other

Hi friends! I've been badly needing some writing inspiration, so I think I'm going to make an effort to do some @flufftober2021 prompts! Some of the other things I've been working on have been getting a little heavy, so...what a good excuse for some sweet, sweet Rayllum fluff!

NOTES: modern au rayllum + ez at a renaissance faire, 1.3k word, rated g

ao3 link

“--so all I’m saying is I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be a toad, not a frog. I mean, have you ever seen a frog this grumpy looking? Toads on the other hand--” Ezran chatted on happily, despite Rayla’s inattention. He turned the bright yellow stuffed animal towards her once more, showcasing--then mimicking--its definite frown. “Rayla?”

“Sorry, Ez,” Rayla sighed, glaring at the corner that Callum had disappeared around, then glancing down at her phone.

He’d been gone thirty whole minutes, and the more time passed, the more impossible it felt to stop looking for him...and it wasn’t just the hunger pangs that’d kicked into gear.

She opened their messages again, and tapped out the text she’d held off on sending.

Where’d you go?

She’d been scanning the crowd, looking for Callum--and their lunch--every few minutes all along. It didn’t help that every so often some other boy in blue or with messy brown hair or even once with a red loop around his neck would come down the dirt path. Her breath kept catching, hoping it was Callum...and then she’d deflate each time when it turned out not to be her dork in his prince-(but-like-not-obnoxious)-turned-mage get-up.

Rayla returned her phone back to the pouch sewn into the holster at her back and her attention back to Ez and the much-loved prize she’d won for him when they’d first gotten to the Faire this morning.

“You’re probably right,” she said, fidgeting with the tape that held her pinky finger to her fourth, regretting how the distraction of looking for Callum kept making her inadvertently ignore Ez. “A toad for sure.”

“A glow toad, I think,” he commented, holding it up for her consideration again, “named Bait.”

“That...sounds made up,” she teased. Really, she was only mostly sure that a glow toad was a species from Ezran’s imagination rather than from the near-encyclopedia of animals she knew he had in his head.

“Well, yeah,” he said, serving her sass right back and gesturing to the gold crown Callum had spray-painted for him last night. “Every king needs a magical animal companion, obviously. He even had a stint as my regent, but it didn’t work out.”

“Yeah?” Rayla’s focus drifted again, her eyes pulled back to the path she kept expecting to see Callum on.

“Mmhmm,” Ezran nodded. “He--”

The fairgrounds weren’t that busy, she thought, itching to check her phone again despite not having felt it buzz against her back, but...maybe they should’ve all gone to get lunch instead of letting clumsy Callum try to manage food for three. Maybe he needed a hand?

“I’m sorry, Ez,” she interrupted, too distracted by picturing Callum and their lunch dumped all over the walkway. “You good here if I go find your brother?”

Ezran agreed--with a groan and a remark about sandwiches that she didn’t think was all that related to lunch at a Renaissance Faire--and she followed the path Callum had taken on his quest to find them all some food.

Rayla made herself pass quickly by the booth that Ez and Callum had nervously accompanied her into so she could buy her pair of props: two blades that fit just right with the elven assassin costume she’d spent all summer saving for and piecing together.

She then happily sped past the creepy, dark shack that seemed to sell replicas--she hoped they were replicas, at least--of random animals and parts of animals in jars. On her way by, she tugged the headband holding her horns--that looked an awful lot like ones the shack had on display--back into place and pushed platinum blonde hair back behind the pointy-ear prosthetics that were starting to itch.

Rayla slowed, though, when she came to the vendors where Callum had lingered earlier, not putting it past him to get so caught up in googly-eyed amazement again that he’d forgotten all about lunch. It definitely wouldn’t have surprised her if he’d spent the past half hour thumbing through old-looking books that his bedroom didn’t have space for, or poking at weird amulets and pretty-looking stones.

But...no Callum.

She was practically back at the entrance to the fairground by the time she found him--looking somehow both determined and demoralized--back at the carnival game she’d won Ezran’s Bait from earlier.

Rayla waited to speak until he’d thrown the last dart in his hands.

“You know the food’s that way, right?”

He startled like she’d thought he might, shoulders bolting upward, and sighed as he turned to her, following her gaze down the path they hadn’t yet taken before slumping over.

“Yeah...I know.” He sounded exasperated, but the dejected look on his face cleared a little when she came closer, leaning her hip against the counter of the wooden booth.

“Well,” Rayla said, drawing out the word and tilting towards him, “we’re starting to get a little hangry back there.”

Callum’s barely-there smile twitched a little wider. “Sorry,” he said, shrugging and pushing the handful of change he’d dug out of his pack across the counter. “Got...distracted.”

“By darts?” She asked, crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter now, eyebrow raised. The attendant exchanged the money on the counter for another three green-handled darts.

“You said you liked him.” Callum looked up--above the colorful balloons he’d apparently spent the last half hour trying to pop--at the blue stuffed dragon she’d said was cute when they’d stopped at the booth the first time. “And it looked so easy when you did it earlier, so I thought I’d surprise you with a cute baby dragon when I brought the food back, but…” Callum trailed off, looking down.

She reached for his hand, her taped-together fingers settling awkwardly at the side of his.

“How very noble of you, your highness.” She tugged on his scarf, pleased by how her teasing had made his eyes roll and his smile brighten again. “Want some help?”

Callum sighed again, picking up the darts and offering them to her.

Shaking her head, she untangled her hand from his, but only took one of the three.

“Which one do we have to pop?” she asked, turning slightly to the side and lifting the dart to eye level.

“The one that’s all glowy,” he answered, pointing up at the iridescent balloon near the top of the board.

“Watch.”

She took aim for the one just below the single, solitary dragon-winning target.

Pop.

A wave of satisfaction fluttered in her chest when she let loose the well-aimed dart and then immediately turned, a hand on her hip, to see Callum looking at her so attentively, eyes wide and head cocked to the side.

“Your turn, mage,” she smiled.

Callum lifted the dart to eye-level--just the way she had--but she cut him off before he could throw his second-to-last dart.

“Hang on.” Rayla stepped closer to gently press his shoulder to the side, encouraging him to split his stance the way she had.

His eyes followed when he turned and then his lips were right there, just inches from hers. It was nothing to drift closer and kiss him softly, her hand trailing away down his arm.

“For luck,” she explained, squeezing his elbow before stepping to the side.

Callum, a little more smiley and a lot more red-faced than before, nodded, seemingly having recaptured his sense of determination. He took aim, and…

Thud.

Missed.

But...it was close.

“You should probably just do the last one,” he grumbled, looking down at the last dart in his hand before holding it out to her. “I can’t do it.”

“You can, Callum.” She shook her head and closed his fingers back around the dart. “Just...breathe. I believe in you.”

Callum listened. He sucked in a breath as he pulled back the last dart, then exhaled, and...

Pop.

[honey-hippie-harper]

Walking through the dark

Hello :’) ahdjabndms well...I didn’t enter the gift exchange (I WAS HAVING A BREAKDOWN I’M SORRY) but...ansdhnsj yeah :’) @honey-harper-official like I had already told you...I wanted to do something for you. You asked for angst about Adrian talking about his mom...but this turned out to be kinda Nodrian, I hope you don’t mind :’)

Idk what to say :’) You were an important part of this fandom, and I’m going to miss you a lot. Still, I am (I think we all are) proud you’re doing what’s best for you. Carry on <3

I hope you like this <3

And thank you.

I’m a little rusty in all this writing straights businesses

Walking through the dark

Two years after the Supernova, they were trying to “get more creative” with the parade, while trying to make it more affordable at the same time.  

This year, it looked like an illustrated book. There were no paid actors, nor were the Renegades on top of a float. If anything, they were patrolling alongside the rest of the teams, and the only extra checks were for the marching band and the drivers.

The first float was about the lift of the city, and it had a city in ruins, with Ace Anarchy standing above everything. The background was in greys and reds, which made his gold and blue costume glow like a traffic light in the shadows. By the right corner, were Queen Bee and Cyanide, turning their backs at the audience, and staring at Ace Anarchy instead.

The second float was about the Renegades’ first public appearance, standing at the front, ordered by height, while the Anarchists’ silhouettes stood behind them, taller and bigger, so they could fit into six different people.

The next one was the Puppeteers’. He was standing on a Ferris Wheel, with the strings coming from his hands tied around the Anarchists and the Renegades’ shadows. The Renegades had blue strings, and the Anarchists had red strings.

The following one was new, because her parents had never been in the floats before. It was a beautiful car, with colors that resembled the Milky Way, and it showed David Artino, with a woman (Tala Artino) and a little girl (Evie, now Maggie Artino) standing behind him, placing a star into an older girl’s hands (herself). There was another, golden silhouette behind them, too.

The Day of Triumph came right after. Ace Anarchy standing on the cathedral, and Captain Chromium watching him from below, Silver Spear in hand, and a little capsule on his back.

Then came the scene after the cathedral, with the Renegades standing together outside the building. No masks. One of them missing. The rest, bruised but victorious. Captain Chromium was holding the Silver Spear above his head, and the Silver Spear had the helmet, which was on Max’s head the following float.

The supernova. Max being the one standing above them. The two of them.

Adrian and Nova. 

The supernova float had a lot of colors, and it was Adrian’s personal favorite. Maybe that’s why Nova remembered the floats so well in the first place. She had spent a good amount of time discussing with Adrian about them.

She also remembered them because she was watching them from above when she fell from the roof.

It was an accident, and it was stupid.

In order to avoid having people scattered all over the place, the teams were asked to split this year. While Danna and Nova watched from two different roofs, Adrian, Oscar and Ruby were left on the ground. From her roof, Nova could see Adrian, and if she went across it, towards the space where the water tanks were located, she could see Ruby. However, Danna was the one who could see Oscar.

When the floats arrived into their assigned street, the security camera started bothering Nova more than it should’ve had. It wasn’t really misplaced, but it surely looked so to her, because she had once been here, and she was one to know about the tricks a person who had bad intentions could play. She also knew that two could play that game, especially if they both knew those tricks.

Now, the camera wasn’t misplaced. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. But Nova was stubborn, so she climbed on the edge of the roof anyway to go check on it. For some reason, the structure being slippery due to mold or water or whatever, never crossed her mind.

One moment, Nova was standing at the edge of the roof.

The next one, she was falling.

It happened so fast she couldn’t even scream or think, but somehow she managed to activate the emergency alarm in her bracelet, as the wind made her eyes tear up, and she felt her body suspended in time, though it was still falling, and falling, and falling.

First, the panicked swarm of butterflies reached her, careful not to block her vision because that would only make the death experience worse for her (yes, at the moment, Nova was sure she wouldn’t live to tell the story about how she fell from the roof) while also trying to help, perfectly knowing there was nothing they could do.

And, a few seconds after that, all Nova felt was a wave of overwhelming pain, when Thunderbird tackled her to stop the freefall and then wrapped her arms around her, flying all the way up to the roof, and then going down again. Nova had never been rescued by Thunderbird before, but she didn’t know one single person who said being rescued by her had been a pleasant experience. Her movements felt controlled and it was evident she knew what she was doing, but she was rough as hell, to the point where, despite knowing she had already been saved, Nova screamed for her life, until she was dropped on the ground in a mildly gentler way.

Upon stepping on stable ground, Nova realized this would be the dizziest she would ever be, and stumbled. Danna, who was already reformed, standing next to her, caught her by the arm so she wouldn’t fall.

At first, when she regained control over her senses, she heard nothing but Thunderbird’s ranting, and her voice demanding to see the entire Team Sketch, here and now, because, to put it lightly, Thunderbird was as blocked as her, and none of the two were able to hear Adrian in the distance, until they spot him.

He was bawling.

The parade was following its course, as they were trying to keep things as calm as possible, and Tsunami was still out there, acting as the only active council member at the moment, although aware of what was happening. Above all the noise and the commotion, Nova spotted Ruby politely nudging her way into the crowd, following Thunderbird’s call and, obviously, the emergency alarm sent by Nova when she was falling.

Oscar was also coming, although slower.

And Adrian was bawling.

Nova could see him knelt down on the floor, with Captain Chromium’s, who also happened to be his dad, arms surrounding him, holding his body tightly. The Dread Warden, his other dad, was there too, uselessly trying to block the scene.

Well.

Maybe his attempts weren't that useless, and it was only that Nova happened to be in the right spot, at the right time, from which Adrian’s silhouette was impossible to go unnoticed, even with the Dread Warden standing in the middle.

“Who’s riding with her in the ambulance?”

An ambulance.

The words almost didn’t make sense in Nova’s head, not even with Thunderbird’s voice, which was pretty clear most of the time, especially when she was talking to the recruits. An ambulance.

An ambulance, because Nova had fallen from a roof, and Thunderbird had caught her.

Half of her body was sore, because she had been hit by Thunderbird’s body after all, but Nova was pretty sure she didn’t need an ambulance. She didn’t need to go to the medical wing. If anything, maybe she needed some water, but she was sure nothing was broken, nor dislocated or sprained.

She was fine.

Adrian, in fact, looked way more affected than her. Nova’s heart was pounding, but she wasn’t bawling after all.

He was.

“I’ll do it.” Ruby said. “I’ll ride with her in the ambulance.”

She did understand that.

“I’m okay.” She said. “Literally, I’m doing good. I don’t need to…”

“Just in case.”

Thunderbird patted her shoulder, which made it hurt a little.

Even so, Nova was still convinced she didn’t need an ambulance.

Yet, said ambulance was already coming closer to her.

“I’m fine. I’m just fine.”

“Sssh.” Ruby came over and, as Danna let go of her hand, wrapped her arms around her, so Nova could use her as the human crutch she didn’t need. “It’s okay, Nova.”

“Don’t fight it.” She heard Oscar’s voice say.

Sweet rot, she was just fine.

Being bruised by Thunderbird wasn’t something that required her being taken to the medical wing, mostly because it hadn’t been her intention to hurt her. On the contrary, Thunderbird had saved her. She was okay.

They wouldn’t believe her, of course. It wasn’t a possibility.

It never was, when something as awful as this happened.

Ruby rode with her in the ambulance.

Adrian showed up into her room a few minutes after they started allowing visitors. His face seemed wet, and his eyes were red as cherries.

Then he got into the bed and rested his head on her chest, while she gently ran her thumb through the space below his ear, going all the way down to his chin, feeling the remnants of facial hair he had previously shaved, perhaps a couple of days ago.

For the next week, Adrian said nothing about it.

Nothing.

-.-

Nova had an intermittent schedule because, once she grew to accept the fact she also needed some spare time and do something besides work, she decided she couldn’t just work as part of the patrol units and work in the Vault. On the other hand, she also had refused to leave all the work to Callum, and it’s not like she didn’t like the Vault or hanging out with Callum. For instance, she decided she would be part of the patrol units for a week, and then she would rest from that the following one, working at night in the Vault instead.

So far, it was working. She felt more rested and relaxed, even on busy days.

The post-parade days were usually busy, if she wanted to be honest, mostly because of the things that had happened during the parade but nobody noticed them until everything was over.

Nova had covered a shift with the team when she was supposed to be getting ready to join Callum at night. In her defense, the parade was pretty stressful for everyone, even the Council, now that they have to work as staff. Still, that didn’t change the fact they were walking alongside the floats, following them through the entirety of the city by foot, with the patrolling teams working as their side view, checking if there was any threat in the spots they couldn’t see.

The Anarchists were gone, and so were the Rejects.

Both Winston and Leroy had stopped considering themselves Anarchists some time ago and, besides, they didn’t like the parade. If anything, Winston had speeded towards the Headquarters the moment they called to the house, saying Nova had fallen from a roof, but none of the two were among the crowd to see her fall.

“I would love to see them dressed in the patrol units’ uniform, though.” Winston said. Because, indeed, to make sure everybody knew they were part of the staff, they had chosen to wear patrolling uniforms, and not their official costumes. “But I won’t.”

And he didn’t.

At least, not a first.

The thing was…he did see them in the hallway when he came to the medical wing, but he was too busy freaking out to even make the slightest offensive comment.

It wasn’t until later, a few days after the parade, that, while laying on the couch, Winston started wheezing at how tight the uniform was on Hugh’s chest, how uncomfortable Kasumi looked (and how she had pulled up the sleeves), how Tamaya kept tugging on the fabric around her neck, and that photo where Simon was trying to get a little piece of tape off his clothes but, out of context, looked as if he were checking on his own butt.

Winston had a blast, but only after Leroy, Maggie and him were scared to death.

The Maggie thing was questionable.

A little. Nova wasn’t sure.

Because, just like Adrian, she didn’t mention anything about it after she snuggled up in bed with her as soon as she came home from the Headquarters.

But maybe that was just Maggie.

She was like that sometimes.

Adrian, from his part, wasn’t. He wasn’t one to be closed to his feelings. In fact, he was usually willing to talk about what was wrong and why he was upset, which was pretty useful to Nova because, even if she sometimes had some trouble admitting it, she wasn’t particularly good at reading signs. It was something she was working on, relentlessly, but Rome hadn’t been built in a day.

Maybe he was just worried.

Nova never called in sick. She rarely missed a couple of days at work, let alone the entire week.

The day of the parade, just like she suspected from the start, the healers didn't find anything unusual in her body. In fact, everything was as it should be apart from the bruises. Nevertheless, they did say she might experience some mild pain in the next hours.

And mild was only one way to put it.

Maggie had been asleep, curled into a ball, next to her, for a couple of hours already, when Nova felt the sudden urge to throw up, and when she tried to move, half of her body was so sore she couldn’t find the strength to run. Or walk, whatsoever. Instead, she somehow managed to reach for the trash can, and even that was painful as fuck.

People were right when they said Tamaya wasn't tender. Nova had had her doubts, but right now there were no doubts left. When she called to notify she wouldn’t be going to the Headquarters at all, nobody tried to convince her otherwise. People rather encouraged it, knowing Nova verged on workaholic.

Adrian texted her a couple of times, and they talked about stuff unrelated to the parade accident. Nova didn’t think anything about it, as she attributed that to the fact Adrian was as sensitive as he was open. Perhaps he thought talking about it would make her upset, despite her having left the headquarters seemingly unaffected when it happened.

Then, after Thursday, the texts stopped. They were having a conversation about pizza, and then he stopped. Which made sense, to a certain extent, because Adrian was part of a patrol unit after all, and Ruby had already told her they had a couple of night shifts these days.

Once again, she tried not to think much about it. Besides, once her muscles were a little less swollen, she agreed to paint flower pots with Winston.

Not that that was something she exclusively did with Winston. Everyone in the house had done it, because they were always trying to find ways to bond and, in this case, due to Winston’s suggestion, they had painted flower pots. So far, they  were trying their best. Maggie’s flower pot had pretty dark colors, because she claimed she liked those. Leroy’s was pretty simple, because he had just sketched some formulas and painted the top part in green. Winston had not one, but three different flower pots already, plus the one he was painting at the moment, all of them very colorful and with elaborate drawings. As for Nova...she was doing her best.

She wasn’t an artist, but, with tons of dedication, she had managed to paint her flower pot in black and blue. She was now writing her name in italics on it, thinking about how she might also draw some stars later...or tell Winston to help her draw some stars. It occurred to her it would look nice.

Their house was sort of small, meaning they had a small yard too, but it was big enough to have a small garden and to place a blanket, and sit on it while they painted.

Both Winston and Nova had awful postures, if she wanted to be honest, and hers was even worse now that half of her body was aching, though she could feel she was already getting better.

A lot, in fact.

At least now she could limp through the house without feeling like she was dying, and get into the shower without Maggie’s help (which she provided reluctantly).

Over the time they sat together, Winston and Nova did some small talk, not enough to get the other distracted from their work.

In fact, the sound of Nova’s phone vibrating distracted them more than themselves had managed to do.

Normally, she wouldn’t have answered any calls or text messages when she was in the middle of a bonding session but, somehow, she also figured it could be Adrian, so she discreetly lifted up her cellphone.

Adrian: Hey.

Adrian: Can you come outside?

“Is it Adrian?”

“It’s Adrian.”

Winston scoffed.

“Don’t make that poor guy suffer.”

-.-

Nova didn’t like bright lights, because she wasn’t used to them. Hence, when she was given the chance to decorate her own room, she chose to only illuminate it with night lamps instead of light bulbs. Not only did it make her feel more comfortable, but it also helped save money, especially when there were four people living in that house.

Her closet was right next to the door, and it was fairly messy, to the point where Nova managed to reach for a sweatshirt, without even opening the closet per se.

Oscar had given it to her as a present during her last birthday, and it was in full black. At the back, it had a phrase, written in a very small font: if you can read this, you’re too close.

Nova liked to wear it.

Maybe it wasn’t that adequate in this situation but, on the other hand, Adrian couldn’t even see it and, besides, it was more adequate than a paint-stained white t-shirt, which was what she was wearing underneath it.

Nova’s bed was made most of the time, as she rarely ever used it. It was a twin bed, of course, and she had filled it with cushions and some plushies, because one was never too old for plushies (she even managed to get a teddy bear that looked similar enough to Dolly Bear). On top of the bed, there was also a blanket Nova had been knitting ever since they had moved into this house. It was so long it fell to the floor, on the carpet, and it had several, several types of wool. Sometimes, when she felt sad, mad or stressed, she just knitted and knitted for hours, non-stop, sometimes until she got blisters in her fingers.

Needless to say, she was emotionally attached to that thing and Adrian, since he was her boyfriend, was aware of it, so he always tried to be very careful when he sat on it.

He was being careful even now, as he sat down on the bed, on top of the knitted blanket, and Nova sat on the swivel chair, although not without asking:

“Do you want something from the kitchen? I think Winston made some cookies yesterday. We also have orange juice and...pizza leftovers. The usual. So, do you...want something?”

Staring at her from the bed, through the light, Adrian smiled sideways, as he reached for her hand, lowering his gaze towards the small tattoo she had in her index finger. It was nothing special, just two dots, one next to the other. Each represented one of her parents. Adrian himself had helped her make it, back when Maggie arrived into the house and everyone was having a hard time adjusting.

(Nova had always had weird ways to cope with stress).

“Is there a reason why you’re so quiet?” Nova asked, carefully, knowing that’s what he had asked some time ago, when they finally sat down to talk about everything that had happened the previous weeks to the supernova. Especially, how he had taken her bracelet away in a rather personal way, and how that had hurt her.

They rarely ever talked about it anymore, mostly because Gatlon preferred not to talk about the supernova. Leroy often said that, like the Age of Anarchy, it was an event that had caused collective trauma. When people...people who weren’t the Council, or direct witnesses, that is, tried to talk about the issue, they automatically lowered their volume, though they knew there were no legal repercussions to the mention of the tragedy.

Still, it was delicate, so everyone just chose not to talk about it.

Nova, personally, and after some time of therapy, was open to tell her experience, though she rarely took the initiative to do it. Adrian was the same, more or less.

“Am I quiet?” He asked, his sideways smile widening. Nova tilted her head to the side, scoffing.

“Pretty much.” She confirmed. “And I don’t mean just in this very moment. Is there a reason why you’re pretending I don’t exist? You know...not texting back and such?”

For a moment, he seemed uncomfortable, and it occurred to Nova that, maybe, her tone hadn’t been the right one. Her voice was like that, but she usually managed to manipulate so it would fit in a situation the way she wanted it to.

“...I’m not mad, just so you know, but still, if you want me to know, then...I...I want to know too.” She cleared her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Adrian pushed his glasses up, with the tip of his pinky.

“How are you?” He asked after a while. His voice sounded delicate, almost weak, and thin as a thread.

For a second, Nova didn’t understand.

“I’m...good. How are you?”

He laughed in response, but it wasn’t a genuine laugh. Nova knew him well enough to know that had been a nervous chuckle.

“No, I mean…” He coughed. “Thunderbird hit you pretty hard when she...when you were…”

“Oh! Yes!” Nova felt immediately stupid, so she chuckled a little too, before pulling up one of her sleeves.

Adrian’s eyes widened.

The massive bruise was getting better, but it was still there, and it still hurt to the touch. Besides, obviously, it wasn’t only in her arm, but also in her entire side, before it abruptly ended in her thigh. She wasn’t going to show that to Adrian, because one couldn’t just start getting undressed in a serious situation. He was good with just watching her arm which, on its own, was already making him uneasy for some reason. “For some reason”, she said, because this wasn’t the worst wound he had seen on her skin. These were just bruises. There wasn’t blood or anything.

“It’s getting better.” She said. “A few days ago, I couldn’t even move, but now I don’t feel as sore. Winston and Leroy brought an ointment for me, and…”

She wasn’t yet finished, when she noticed Adrian was already taking out his marker, which he usually carried in his pocket, getting it closer and closer to the bruise, to which Nova flinched, taking it out of his reach.

“Easy there.” She said, smiling and arching an eyebrow. “It’s not necessary. It's healing on its own just fine.”

“Don’t fight it, Nova.”

“Adrian, it’s fine. I’m okay. I’m doing okay. Don’t wo--”

“You’re not doing okay. You have a bruise.”

“Duh! But it’s healing. It’s fine.” Nova grabbed her own wrist, tying to get her arm out of Adrian’s reach. The bruise burned.

“It’s not fine, Nova!”

“Chill, Adrian! Chill! What’s gotten into..?!”

“IT’S NOT FINE, NOVA!”

“Why are you screaming?!”

“IT’S NOT FINE!”

The marker wasn’t directed towards her. First, because she knew Adrian would never. And, second, because she could tell it wasn’t particularly aimed at anyone or anything. Still, he threw it anyway. And given that, for some reason, Adrian appeared to be pretty distraught, letting his marker fall didn’t feel fair. Hence, Nova tried to catch it, but the chair was sort of stretchy so, in the moment she leaned backwards, it looked like she was falling.

Gasping, Adrian grabbed her by the left wrist, very tight, to the point Nova almost felt he was going to get that bruised too.

The marker fell to the floor, on Nova’s knitted blanket, and she just stared at it, while Adrian stared at her, not letting go of her hand.

Silence fell among them, as the sense of overwhelming confusion surrounded them, making them feel like they knew nothing, or that they were meeting for the first time, or that, simply, they weren’t on the same page.

As the marker laid on the floor, Adrian gulped, and finally let go of her.

“I...I think it’s not the time. I should go. I should just…”

“No.” This time, Nova was the one who grabbed him by the wrist, trying to be gentle, but also firm. “Stay. Please.”

Once again, Adrian’s eyes found Nova. He looked lost, almost like a small child, and where Nova had asked for a favor...kind of like a request, he had heard a command for some reason.

He didn’t move, but Nova did.

After picking up the marker, she moved towards the bed, sitting cross-legged, feeling the cushions behind her.

She placed the marker between them, but Adrian didn’t take it. Instead, he kept staring, until Nova took a deep breath and placed a lock of hair behind her ear, straightening her back.

“If you don’t want to tell me, then take your time.” She said. “But we can do something else. We can...paint flower pots with Winston. We could try to go on a date. Watch a movie. Nap for two days…”

That one last line was meant to be delivered as a joke, but Adrian didn’t catch it, and if he did, it wasn’t funny enough to get a reaction from him.

Sighing, Nova filled her cheeks with air, and then let it go, trumpeting with her mouth, and grabbing her own ankles, as she turned away, staring at the ajar closet.

“Nova?”

Upon hearing her name, Nova became alert, just nodding, so he knew he could go ahead, which he did after a while.

“I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“What are you talking about, Adrian?” She asked in a soothing voice, to which Adrian fidgeted with his own fingers, suddenly incapable to look her in the eye.

He was frozen.

And he couldn’t.

“When...when you were falling...when you were falling from that roof…” Adrian squirmed, frowning, and massaging the bridge of his nose. Hesitating. Maybe scared. Maybe a little confused.

Nova waited for him.

“When you were falling from that roof, before Thunderbird caught you… before we realized you were okay...before… before...before everything was okay.” He gulped, still not being able to look her in the eye.

“...It’s like…” he scratched his own arm. “...It’s like I almost saw her.”

Her.

Her, wh… ?

Something clicked inside of her brain, and all the dots connected with each other.

Suddenly, Nova remembered the one who had fallen from the roof, and taken half of the world with her in the process.

Georgia Rawles’ ghost was hanging from the sky, but not this one; she was hanging from another sky, perhaps the same one Nova’s parents were, and nobody could see her, nor hear her.

Nevertheless, they could feel her. And her absence stabbed the ones who had loved her in the stomach, perforating their insides.

Choking down a gasp, Nova took her hands to her mouth, remembering how she, too, had fallen from a roof, and for a second she saw nothing but Adrian knelt down on the floor, clinging on his dad.

“Adrian.” She whispered, in a suffocated voice. “Adrian, I’m sorry, I…”

She stared into his eyes once again. They were shiny as crystal, and red as blood.

Maybe it was time to stop talking and do something instead.

So, gulping, Nova reached for him, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight and being corresponded. After a couple of seconds, Nova’s arms started to get a little tired, and the pain came back to her, but she didn’t let go. On the contrary, she just changed the position of her arms, putting her arms beneath his’ , and resting her chin on his shoulder.

For his part, Adrian kissed one side of her head, and Nova felt his breathing between her hair. Then, she felt his fingers, tenderly caressing her scalp.

His body became tense, and his heart started beating fast, for Nova could feel it in her own chest, and in her entire body.

As Adrian shivered, Nova made sure he knew she understood, and rubbed the tip of her nose against the fabric of his shirt.

“I’m here.” She reminded him.

“I know.” He said, in a broken voice. That, for some reason, made Nova feel some sort of relief, and she hoped Adrian knew how much she meant it.

Because she did. A whole lot, in fact.

“...I know it wasn’t your fault...” He said, once they had separated, and he had wiped the tears from his eyes.

Nova held his hand, and her bracelet shone under the soft lights.

“...I know it wasn’t her fault either.” Chills ran down Nova’s spine. “It’s not her fault she died...and sometimes I wonder if she knows that. That it wasn’t her fault. That I know she wanted to stay. That I know she loved me. That I know I miss her and that I…”

Adrian cut himself off.

“That I’m sorry.”

Nova resisted the urge to ask him how therapy was going, because she knew having intrusive thoughts didn’t necessarily mean therapy wasn’t going well. Still, she held his hand tighter, and gulped.

“I’ve heard many things about your mom.” She said, smiling sideways. “And I didn’t get to personally meet her, but I trust she loved you very much. Raising a child...while trying to take down a government...that is badass, Adrian.”

She gulped.

“... And if she was willing to do that for you...then I’m sure she knows.”

Adrian shivered again, visibly, and as tears started rolling down his face again, Nova placed her hands on his cheeks, wiping some of them away.

“And I’m sure she knows it wasn’t your fault, too.”

Adrian hiccuped, pressing Nova’s hand against his skin, calm.

“...When do you learn to see in the dark, Nova?” He asked in a low voice.

And for some reason, the answer was clear from the first second, as she, staring directly into his eyes, said:

“You don’t.”

Because she knew.

“...What you do learn, it’s to walk by the ones who have an excellent night vision and are willing to help you through, and you also learn to follow the voice of those who aren’t here anymore.”

Nova gulped.

“Your dads, Max, Danna, Oscar, Ruby… and me. We’re all here… maybe she’s also still here, somewhere up there, in the universe.”

By feeling him right there with her, Nova felt that they really were.

That they were.

And that they could.

Adrian smiled sideways, and when they laid next to the other to nap for two days, and Nova made sure they both knew they could use the blanket if they wanted to, she asked:

“Remember when you said that maybe you wanted me to be your nightmare?”

“I remember.” Adrian rested his head on his own arm. His eyes were still shiny for the tears, and they were very brown and very beautiful.

“I don’t want to be.” She said, slowly. “Let’s not be each other’s nightmare, okay?”

“Then what should we be?” He asked, scoffing a little.

Nova thought about it for a while. Then, she kissed him. A small kiss, that felt as if the other were a safe, warm space.

“Light.” She said.

“Let’s walk together through the dark, so we don’t fall.”

And for a while, the world was theirs.

Then, Maggie came to knock on the door, saying Leroy wanted them to take the car and go buy food, knowing Adrian would stay for dinner.

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

Good Girls Bad Guys {Dabi}

“So,” his whiskey smooth voice began, “why do good girls like bad guys?”

She sneered at him, shoulders tensing in anger. “Wouldn’t know, I’m a grown ass woman, not a little girl.”

“I mean, I’ve had this question for a really long time,” he continued as if she had never spoken, long fingers rotating a now-empty shot glass slowly as he examined it. Then his gaze shifted to look at her out of the corner of his eye, his head cocked slightly. “Shit, just look at me.”

The shot glass was set on the table with a dull thud as he stood up to face her. Even with the dark maroon patches of burned flesh and golden staples and piercings holding him together, he was handsome. She was stubborn, not a liar.

Quick as a flash he had crossed the room and was in her face, his tall figure bent down to rest his hands on the arms of her chair. He regarded her for a moment before lifting one hand to allow a blue flame to dance in his palm.

“I've been a bad boy and it's plain to see,” he grinned, staples pulling his skin taut. “So why do good girls fall in love with me?”

“Good or bad I don’t know a bitch stupid enough to fall in love with you. But if there are so many “good girls” falling at your feet, why aren’t you asking one of them?”

Dabi closed his hand into a fist to extinguish the flame before placing it back on the arm of the chair.

“I am asking one of them, doll,” he said with a dangerous smirk. “Sure, you can try and deny it because you've got pep in your step and you live your life with no regret, but let me tell you something I’ve noticed, little Miss Hero. A few somethings actually.”

He straightened, his grip releasing from the chair to allow his left hand to come up and cup her jaw. Beneath the rough pads of his fingers he could feel her grit her teeth, but she didn’t make a move to pull away; so much bark, so little bite.

Carefully, he stepped to her left and started to circle the chair she sat in at a tortuously slow pace, his hand dragging lightly across her face, cresting at her chin only to fall back down the slope of her jaw once again. This time, though, he lifted all but two fingers as he traced down the side of her neck, feeling the quickening pulse below soft skin as he stopped walking to stand behind her.

“I’ve noticed those little moments where the desperation clouds over those pretty eyes of yours when I’m around. I notice every time you squeeze your thighs together when I talk too—you like my voice that much, baby doll?”

She glared at where the shot glass sat.

“Oh c’mon, don’t I get points for observational skills?” he asked, leaning down to allow her to feel the breaths from his words on her neck. “My favorite thing I’ve noticed, though, I’ve gotta tell you about that one.”

He licked a stripe up her neck and chuckled when she jolted with a surprised gasp.

“How you look when you’re wet, when I know you’re soaked just for me… now that is something I cannot ever forget. I think about it and you know, I just wanna kiss your lips.”

His hand on her neck dipped lower to hook into her costume’s neckline resting at her collarbone, and she could feel him leaning farther over her as the heat radiating from his body grew steadily hotter.

“The ones between your hips, of course,” he said huskily, reveling in the shudder that went through her. “Bet everything I have you’d taste real good too, huh? If I cashed in all my chips on you then baby I'd be rich, wouldn’t I?”

The fingers hooked into her costume tugged it down her arm to expose her shoulder and lips gently pressed against the skin there, the contrasting textures feeling foreign.

“So come on, doll,” he murmured, lips never leaving her.

She swallowed audibly, the heat from his body and the situation she was in causing a bead of sweat to fall from her hair down to the fabric of her top.

“You’re so nervous,” he said as he straightened, the only contact left being his fingers still in the neckline of her costume. “Not sure why when I’m here making the advances. You need me to be a little more desperate, is that it? You want me on my knees pleading for a taste of you? That hero complex means you gotta be the one to save me from a painfully hard cock?”

“If it hurts so much go jerk off,” she replied with a scoff.

He huffed out a laugh. “Don’t act like you would pass up the chance to jerk me off yourself, doll. I’ll get you to admit it too, it’s just a matter of time. You wanna hear me beg, I just know it, but maybe in person is what’s got you so flustered. You kids these days do everything over text so that could work on you, huh?”

His hand moved up from her top to grip the back of her neck, the pressure light but the unspoken threat clear.

“Need me to blow up your phone?” he asked. “I could get you goin’ like that. ’Sexy, please text me, I’m ready for you!’”

Her cheeks heated and her lips curled back into a snarl.

“’So come on, I’m waiting, I’m begging, baby doll!’” he continued. “’So please, oh please, get here soon!’”

“Shut up!” she shouted, his mocking words cut off by the outburst. “Shut the fuck up, Dabi!”

The pout she just knew he was sporting was evident in his voice. “Don’t be so mean, doll. You’re supposed to be the good girl in all of this, remember? I may be the bad guy here but I promise, I can take care of you real good.”

His thumbs came to rest on the side of her jaw then slowly slid down to meet her collarbones, sweeping out along them to expose both shoulders by tugging down the sleeves of her costume. The movement made the swell of her chest much more prominent than it had been, and Dabi wasted no time in brushing his fingertips just barely low enough for it to feel sensual.

“Oh doll, what lovely curves,” he practically purred. “You gotta understand that I may be a villain but when I do someone I don’t pull punches, I do my job well. See, baby doll, I get off by getting you off first.”

She couldn’t help the hitch in her breathing.

“Oh ho ho, you like the sound of that, huh? What, you the type who always has to finish herself off after some three-pump chump sidekick has his way with you? That ain’t how I like to play, sweetheart.”

“You make that sound like a threat,” she muttered.

He chuckled in her ear, his hands still moving across her chest. “No, doll, the threat is this: I don’t actually have to be generous if you’re going to be a bitch about me wanting you. I’m a villain, I have no obligation to get you off. A half-hearted ‘sorry if this is quick, baby girl’ and I can do whatever I want to you, pro hero or not.”

One hand left her chest and slid down her side to grab the plush skin hidden by the seat of her pants, and he loved the surprised squeal she let out.

“Could make you take it in the ass, even. Bet you’ve never done that before. Or maybe I just face fuck you until you’re crying; I think that’d be fun, seeing the cute little hero on her knees for me all eager to suck my dick even though I could fuck your throat ‘til you bleed.”

“Like I’d give you the fucking chance!” she hissed, pitching her body forward. She didn’t get far, held back by the quirk-cancelling cuffs around her wrists woven through the slats on the back of the chair.

With a click of his tongue he stepped around her chair to crouch down in front of her, his expression unimpressed. Despite being the one looking up he still carried his confident attitude, not minding one bit that she could knee him in the chest and crack a rib at any given moment; he knew she wouldn’t dare.

“Doll, you need to start acting like the good girl we both know you are.”

She glared down at him silently.

“That look isn’t helping your case.”

His hands came up to rest on her knees and she could feel the heat radiating off them through the material of her costume pants. Slowly, he began moving them up her thighs, his fingers fanning out causing his thumbs to brush along her inner thighs. He arced his movements to shift to her outer thighs as he circled his hands back to her knees, surprising her.

“I’m going to give you one chance to prove that you deserve my nice side,” he said lowly. “It’ll be easy if you cooperate.”

She nodded once, stiffly, in understanding.

“So why do good girls like bad guys, doll? I wanna kn—no,” he cut himself off, amending, “I need to know.”

It all came down to that for him: good and bad, black and white, hero and villain. Did he just want to know about the matchup of opposites, was that it? It wasn’t that simple if he did.

“I gotta know.”

His insistence was ridiculous and she hated it, hated how those turquoise eyes held both danger and amusement as he asked her this question again and again.

“C’mon, doll.”

Being stubborn was one of her most defining traits and she knew the people in her life both loved and loathed it about her, just like she did the persistent grin on his stapled face.

“Tell me.”

Dabi stared with the challenge for her to speak in his eyes. She had a choice to make and the options weren’t plentiful but she knew, she knew what she was going to choose, had known it since she’d opened her eyes after being cuffed to the damn chair and seeing the black spikes above pale and dark, mutilated skin.

“There’s a lot of reasons,” she admitted softly. “Some… some girls like the danger. It can be like facing a fear almost or getting the best adrenaline rush money can’t buy. The unknown, the unpredictability, is, uh, alluring, I guess.”

He cocked his head to the side, intrigued.

“Others like the idea of the bad guy who’s only good for them. They know he’s bad and they don’t want to change that exactly, but they want to see a heart of gold underneath it. Crack the armor and see the vulnerability hidden inside.”

For a moment he regarded her, hands stilling the pattern he’d been following and a calculating look on his face. She didn’t feel threatened by the look; just as he knew she wouldn’t hurt him, she knew that despite his lewd threats he wouldn’t harm her either.

Seemingly finding the conclusion he wanted, he nodded once to himself, sure, and stood up to his full height in front of her. One hand raised to cup her jaw with a light grip, so careful that if she hadn’t seen him move she may have doubted he was touching her at all.

“And which of those categories do you fall into, baby doll?” he asked softly.

“Does it really matter?” she replied, curiosity overtaking the potential for snark.

His thumb brushed across her lower lip. “Guess it doesn’t in the long run. You and I both know which of those things I can deliver on and which ones I really, truly can’t.”

It was silent as they held one another’s gaze, an understanding met without any more words spoken aloud. What more could really be said on the subject anyway?

She moved first, turning her head just slightly so his thumb was once again against her lips and took it into her mouth, her tongue running up the pad of his finger slowly. Her eye contact didn’t waiver which allowed her to see his pupils dilate at the action, the turquoise she had grown so accustomed to nearly consumed by blackness. Fitting, she supposed.

He pulled his hand back from her mouth, watching as she formed a pout.

“As much as I’d love to feel what that smart little mouth of yours can do, you were a very good girl for answering my question. That means you deserve my nice side—but the question is, do you want it?”

She nodded, earning a shake of his head and another click of his tongue.

“Words, baby doll.”

“Yes, I want your nice side, Dabi.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “I like this side of you.”

Before she could even begin to think of a potential comeback, his lips were on her neck with those mismatched textures and then his teeth were biting and scraping, a mark already sure to be forming. Her pulse was racing as he licked and sucked at the bitten skin and she wanted to run her hands through the black hair that tickled her cheek, the twitching of her hands making the cuffs clink quietly. At the sound he pulled back, his top lip noticeably pinker as he slid his tongue along it.

“I’ll think about uncuffing you after,” he said as he sank down to his knees, his warm hands going to her hips and fisting the fabric of her pants. Yanking her costume pants and, by virtue of his grip, her underwear down, he used enough force that they slid down her thighs without her having to lift her hips. Once completely free of her boots he set them aside and placed his hands back on her knees, his eyes focused directly between her legs.

She felt self-conscious under his intense gaze, her thighs starting to drift closed in embarrassment before his grip on her knees tightened and spread her legs farther apart to the point where her outer thighs were flush against the structured arms of the chair.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ hide from me,” he said lowly, eyes now trained on her face. “My interest doesn’t disappear once the clothes come off.”

Once again she couldn’t think of a response before he moved again, this time pulling her forward so that she sat lower in the chair and her legs spread wider. It wasn’t the most comfortable position with her hands still cuffed but the press of his lips on her inner thigh had that thought flying out of her mind.

His teeth scraped against the delicate skin, much gentler with his biting than he had been with her neck, but still determined to leave a mark. This one could be lighter, he had decided, because no one else should be seeing it, deterred by the red and purple monster he had left below her jaw. When he was through, he shot a glance up to her face and what he saw made him glad that he did.

Looking down at him with dazed doe eyes he could see the flush on her cheeks that crept down her neck and dusted her chest. As much as he enjoyed that view, he had a goal in mind that he was more than ready to reach.

His eyes fell closed as he moved forward, his tongue licking a wide stripe between her legs. The small gasp and shudder he received from the action spurred him on to do more and he sealed his lips around her clit with a hard suck.

“Dabi,” she breathed out, the warmth of his staples and piercings against her skin and the feel of his mouth on her were making her lightheaded. She slumped down further, as far as was manageable, just to get closer.

He felt her shift and wanted to smirk but held back. Instead he concentrated on using his tongue to spell out every name he had ever gone by: his given name, his family name, every nickname, alias, and pseudonym.

When her whimpers and whines went to a higher pitch he slid his hand up her thigh to press two fingers into her, pausing for only a second before curling them and setting a fast pace.

“Fuck, Dabi, please!” she moaned with a buck of her hips.

If the tightness of his pants hadn’t been enough incentive to finish this first act, the pleading tone of her voice cemented it, and he continued to work his fingers and his tongue in tandem to give her that last shove over the edge. Within a moment, he felt her grow tighter around his fingers and her body shake, small noises escaping her lips as she struggled to keep her eyes open. He slowed down gradually, letting her ride that pleasure for as long as possible.

When he felt her start to squirm and try to move her hips back he pulled his fingers from her and sat back to look up at her, sure she could see the wetness lingering on his lips.

“Dabi,” she said, voice cracking as she blinked to refocus her vision.

“Told you I could be nice,” he chuckled, his tone husky. “But now that I’ve been generous, I’d like to get what I want.”

She straightened in the chair as he stood, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Will you uncuff me now? I…” she trailed off in embarrassment, “I want to touch you.”

He licked his lips, still able to taste her. “You have been a very good girl for me, so I think I can trust that you’ll keep behaving.” He leaned forward and hooked his chin on her shoulder to see the cuffs and reached around to trigger the release mechanism. Before he pulled back to let them fall, he warned lowly, “Try something and I’ll burn you alive.”

The danger sparked something in her just as she’d revealed to him earlier, and she had no idea if he said it as a serious threat or as just one more thing to turn her on. A large part of her didn’t care as long as he kept touching her in all the right places.

As the handcuffs fell to the floor loudly she surged up to kiss him, her left hand going to the base of his neck and the other fisting in his hair. She could taste herself with the faintest hint of the alcohol he’d drunk earlier on his tongue as she parted her lips for him, and the firm press of his body against hers had desire pooling low in her stomach. The feel of his pants on her bare lower half wasn’t enough and her hands fell to the large belt looped around his waist, tugging lightly. She wanted more.

“Condom,” she breathed between kisses, his hands on her hips tightening their grip.

He pulled back slightly with a scoff. “I’m not gonna give you the fuckin’ clap, baby doll.”

“S’only half the reason,” she said. “Jus’ get a condom, it’ll take two seconds.”

“Don’t have one,” he grunted. “I’ll just—”

She shook her head. “No, no we can’t. We aren’t doing this without a condom.”

“Fuck, doll, c’mon,” he groaned, his forehead falling to her shoulder as she slowed her work on his belt.

“Dabi you’re not fucking me without a condom,” she repeated, pulling his head back up by his hair. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not getting off.”

Any annoyance he had with her tugging him up by his hair disappeared at those words and the constricting feeling of his pants became even worse.

Her fingers undid his belt and unwound it from too-thin hips before dipping one hand beneath his loosened waistband. She moved further still past the elastic of his underwear, smirk pulling at her lips as he let out a low groan at the feel of her hand wrapping around him.

“As much as you loved my tongue on you and I don’t get the same courtesy?” he breathed as she began to slowly move her hand.

She used her grip on his hair to pull him forward into another bruising kiss, gradually stroking him faster and running her thumb along his tip.

His hands pushed up her shirt and beneath her bra, the warmth of the staples on his wrists pressing into her as his even warmer hands cupped her breasts and kneaded them roughly. Her own groans were muffled by his mouth on hers, the low rumble in his chest vibrating against her.

Small rolls of his hips into her hand let her know he was close, and she pulled back from their kiss to look at him, his usually half-lidded eyes clouded over with lust.

“Wanna finish on your chest,” he panted, his fingers digging into her skin even harder making her cry out softly. He bunched her shirt and bra up to her collarbones, exposing her completely. “Get on your knees.”

She sank to her knees without argument as she continued stroking him, only a few pumps of her hand needed before he let out a long, low groan. Several ropes of his cum covered from her chest to her navel, and she wasn’t even surprised at the higher temperature.

“Fuck, doll,” he sighed, helping her stand up so he could get a better look at his masterpiece across her skin. “Good girls like you look best just like this.”

With a laugh she moved to clean herself off, but he stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. At her questioning look he smirked and pulled her bra and shirt back down over her chest, situating them to lay just as they should.

“Dabi!” she scolded, indignant but smiling nonetheless.

“Now if you had just used your mouth this wouldn’t have been a problem,” he teased as he tucked himself back into his pants and retrieved his belt.

She shook her head in disbelief and scooped up her costume pants and underwear, shimmying them over her boots and up her legs to settle them on her hips once again.

When she turned back to him, she opened her mouth to speak but a loud knock on the door beyond his shoulder startled her into silence.

“Yo Dabi, if you’re done entertaining we got a meeting to go to!” came through the door, followed by a nastier, “We got shit to do if you’re done fuckin’!”

A chuckle from Dabi preceded his answer. “I’ll be out in a minute, save me a fuckin’ seat, asshole.”

Two affirmatives were called back, one distinctly more vulgar than the other.

“Shame we didn’t get to the main event today,” he said casually. “Next time I’ll bring the rubber, doll. Promise.”

Next time. She was only a little disappointed in herself at the thought of being excited for that prospect.

“When will I—” She was cut off by another press of his lips against hers, the words on her tongue stolen by his as she parted her lips.

After a moment he smirked as he pulled away to step back. “Don’t worry, doll, I’ll find you.”

A cold chill went up her spine and suddenly she wasn’t in the room with Dabi anymore but on a deserted sidewalk painted purple and pink from the twilight hour. The shops across the street were closed but she recognized the specials board in the window of one of the restaurants, the sign for a nearby train station letting her know where she was—certainly not with the dark-haired villain, certainly not in her district.

She sighed, pulling her wrists to her chest to rotate them and work out the lingering soreness from the time she was in the handcuffs.

Accidently bumping one of her costume’s bracers, static crackled and her name was called out. Inwardly she groaned, not ready to have this conversation at all.

“Yes, I’m here. I’m okay,” she said. “Check my tracking from at the very least the last hour and a half and we should have a solid location of where the lieutenants are conducting business. Cross reference with the info we have from Hawks and I think we have a shot at that raid starting sooner rather than later.”

“Coordinates are listed for us and we’re checking against Hawks’ intel now. Do you need transportation from your current location?”

“No, I’m close enough to Nighteye’s agency that I can get some civilian clothes and head home. Bubble Girl and I go way back so she’ll help me out. My report will be done by midday tomorrow.”

“Excellent work as always.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, moving to adjust the top of her costume before pausing. “Oh, hey, remember the DNA that Tsukauchi wished he had? Let him know I’ve got some for him.”

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Devil of Gronkk - A Halloween Story

“Gather around, children, if you wish to hear a scaaaaaaary story!” the Storyteller laughed as she gestured to the group of children in front of her in a tucked away corner of the Grand Piazza of Lion’s Arch. Charr cubs, asuran progenies, human and norn children, and even a few newly born sylvari, most dressed in costumes of some sort, all sat on the ground in front of the cloaked woman, most of her face hidden by her oversized hood. Once everyone was seated, she sat in an ornately carved chair, its high back towering over her. Her cloak fell open revealing an ornate black silk dress embroidered with dark red accents. Various carved pumpkins, their faces glowing by candlelight, sat on the ground around her and the children, forming a half circle, as a smaller pumpkin, it’s ghoulish face flickering in the darkness, sat on a table next to the Storyteller.

“Now who wants to hear a story of the Devil of Grunkk!?” she asked whimsically.

“OOoohhh!! I do! I do!” hands raised into the air and the children yelled their approval.

She raised her hands, clad in red and black embroidered silk adorned with silver jewelry, and gestured with them whimsically, producing an image of a sylvari suspended in the air.

“Good! Let us get started, shall we!?”

“So close…” Faeyin quietly squealed. A sylvari of the Pale Tree, she hung upside down from a rope in the study of a mansion in the high residences of Lion’s Arch. She had heard of an artifact that housed a gem of considerable value that was in the custody of a rather wealthy merchant that owned a shipping company. She carefully cut a small hole in the top of the glass case holding the amulet that she desired. She gently fed a small clasp into it, locking it into place. With her cutter, she drew a circle around the clasp, cutting the glass through. She carefully lifted the newly cut disc away from the case.

“And now…” she carefully reached in and plucked the amulet from its display. Withdrawing her hand, she quickly secured it in small pouch in her chest piece. In an instant she flipped upright and started climbing the rope, stopping near the skylight as a slight chill washed over her. She shrugged it off and climbed out of the window. Rolling up her rope, she heard someone behind her. She turned, throwing a small knife at the footsteps. The weapon clattered across the roof as there was no one there. She dropped the rope and grabbed her dagger from her hip, activating the fiery blade as she quickly glanced around. Making her way to the knife, she looked around everywhere as she knelt to grab the weapon. A giant dark cloud of smoke and ghostly bats suddenly erupted from the skylight spewing out over the rooftop. Faeyin leapt backwards over the edge of the mansion.

“Oh boy! This just got interesting!” she yelped as she landed in the grass yard beside the structure. Looking to the sky, she could see the billowing fog erupting into the night sky as a cloud of whispy bats came flying at her. She bolted across the grounds and leapt over the fence into the street, racing away from the domicile as fast as she could.

“Ms. Storyteller!” a charr cub raised his hand in the air.

“Fae…yes?” She looked at him.

“Is her knife magical?”

“Well, if you listen to the story, maybe we will find out?”  The Storyteller smiled as she handed out pieces of candy to the children sitting around her.

“Now, let’s continue.” she said, a big smile on her face.

Faeyin darted through the streets of Lion’s Arch as fast as she could. She finally stopped when she noticed the cloud following her had finally dissipated. Ducking into an alley to catch her breath, she removed the amulet from its satchel. Activating a small lamp, she looked over the intricately carved gold plate, focusing on the brilliant blue gem embedded in its center. She noticed a small murky cloud floating around within the gleaming exterior.

“Oh my…” she whispered to herself. “What do we have here?” The dark cloud within pooled into the center of the gem.

“I found you.” A deep voice growled in the alley. Faeyin turned, the light from her lamp being swallowed by the billowing darkness that was washing through the alleyway.

“Thorns!” she dashed out into the street. The black fog rolling out behind her. She could hear the hiss of the fog shaped bats chasing behind her.  She yelled at a group of pedestrians that were returning from the Halloween festival being held in the city center.

“RUN! Get away as fast as you can!” as she ran by them. The group froze as the black cloud washed over them, pulling them within itself.

“I have a question!” a young asuran progeny raised her hand.

“Yes, what is it?’ the Storyteller asked.

“If it’s fog, how did it grab them?”

“It’s magical living fog that will grab you if you aren’t careful and take you into a dark world full of demons and monsters that you will never escape.” The Storyteller responded playfully menacingly. The progeny’s eyes grew big at the thought.

“Now, let’s get back to the story.”

As the street took a downward slope, Faeyin started ducking between buildings and darting through alleyways trying to get away from the billowing cloud that was in pursuit.

“What in Tyria is this thing!?” she asked out loud. “And how do I stop it!?” She glanced over her shoulder in hopes that she had gotten away from it. Seeing nothing of the sort behind her, she slowed down to catch her breath once again.

“Well, it seems I need to figure out what this thing is?” she breathed in deep looking at the amulet. “There must be someone here that can help.”

“And just want do you need help with?”  a voice said behind her. She yelped and spun around, pulling out her dagger.

“Whoa! Whoa!” a male human shouted; his eyes wide with his hands up as she held the weapon to his neck. “I’m not gonna attack you or anything!”

Faeyin narrowed her eyes as she studied his face. It was painted in a somewhat familiar design.

“And just who…ah, are you supposed to be Prince Thorn?” she asked.

“That’s who I’m dressed as for the festival. And who might you be?”

“Doesn’t matter. But what does matter is that you need to get off the street. There is a monster out there devouring anyone it comes across.”

“Well, that certainly is a tale to fit the season. And what does this creature look like?”

“A black fog. Some smokey looking bats.”

“Hmm…I guess I should watch my step.” He said, slightly disbelieving. “Anyway, I might be able to help you with that fancy trinket you got there.” He nodded at the amulet, which was firmly in her grasp.

“I don’t think so.” She placed it securely back in its satchel.

“Look, I don’t know much about fancy jewelry, but I do know there is someone who might be able to help. A jeweler named Roland Lambombard in Merchant Row down near the festival area. He seems to have a knack for odd pieces. He has a place set up there. If you hurry, you might catch him before he leaves for the night.”

“A jeweler you say?” She asked raising an eyebrow, a slight smirk on her face. “Well thank you. I’ll check him out.” Faeyin smiled lightly as she returned her weapon to her side.

“Um…Ms. Storyteller?” one of the sylvari sheepishly raised his hand.

“Yes, sapling?”

“Is…is he going to die?”

“We’ll just have to find out now, won’t we?” she responded.

Faeyin cautiously made her way through the streets, laughter and singing filled the air as she drew closer to the Grand Piazza of Lion’s Arch. Many of the local pubs were brimming with festival goers filling the air with joyous atmosphere. She searched around along the merchant booths for the jeweler in question, stopping in front of a shuttered booth whose sign read “Lambombard”.

“Well…” she sighed. “Bad luck here, I guess.” She turned looking around the area for anyone that might be able to help. She spied another merchant close by that was in the process of closing up shop for the night.

“Excuse me, miss.” Faeyin approached the female charr.

“Yes?” the woman growled, continuing to close her booth.

“Could you possible tell me where I may find Mr. Lambombard this evening?”

“He had to leave a little early. Got word something happened at his home up on the hillside.”

“Oh…um…thank you.” Faeyin turned abruptly and walked away, realizing where the jeweler was heading. “Oh boy…” she whispered to herself. “Surely there is someone else here to help…” she thought to herself.

“Return the amulet to me.” Faeyin heard the deep growling voice again. She turned and saw the dense fog billowing through the lane.

“What in Tyria is that!?” the charr asked.

“Just run!” Faeyin yelled.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” The charr woman raced away as fast as she could with Faeyin close behind. They heard a rushing of wind and a loud clap of thunder that knocked them to the ground.

“You dare stand against me!” the voice boomed. Faeyin turned to see another sylvari standing in the street. He was clad in bright blue robes holding a sylvari styled staff. Another sylvari stood nearby, with a bow at the ready, a raven perched on her mushroom head.

“We had heard about a smoke cloud moving through the city terrorizing the populance.” the woman spoke.

“And you’ll will go no further, creature.” the other continued.

“OOoooooohhh!” the children gasped.

“They’re going to save the day!” one of the norn children quipped. The Storyteller smiled at the group as she passed out another piece of candy to them.

“Then you will serve me like the rest of those cretins! Minions, destroy them!” The sylvari heard the shuffling of feet as a group of people slowly walked out of the murky cloud.

“Oh no…” Faeyin gasped as she recognized some of them, including the man dressed as Prince Thorn, as the people she passed on the streets. Wispy black smoke flowed from around their eyes and out of their noses and mouths. She saw the two sylvari raise their weapons.

“Don’t hurt them!” Faeyin screamed. “They’re being controlled!” The duo glanced at each other. The woman launched an arrow which pierced through the knee of the Prince Thorn actor, causing him to scream in pain and drop to the ground.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m outta here.” The charr spoke and dashed away.

“Well, they aren’t undead.” The male spoke. He raised his staff a moment and pointed it at the group, sending a bolt of lightning through them. They stood convulsing for a moment before dropping. Faeyin noticed the lightning arc over something of considerable size within the cloud.

“GRRAAAHH!!” the voice bellowed. “You will pay for that with your lives!”

“Oh! It’s the devil!” one of the children shouted. The Storyteller smiled as she looked upon the group.

“Something…or someone is in that cloud!” Faeyin shouted.

“Return the amulet to me and I will spare your lives!” the voice boomed. Faeyin removed the amulet from her satchel.

“What’s so special about this trinket?”

“Return it! Now!” The cloud started moving towards the trio.

“Terebellum, strike it with lightning again.” The mushroom head sylvari ordered. The blue clad sylvari raised his staff in the air and pointed it once again, launching a lightning bolt into the cloud. Again, it struck something within the cloud, arcing over it.

“AAAHHH!!! Now you die!” The cloud seemed to shuffle along slowly. Faeyin unhooked her dagger from her belt, igniting the blade.

“I’ll be right back.” She said as she ran into the dark fog.

“What are you doing!?” the voice spoke. “What! Get away! Don’t strike that!” There was the sound of metal clanging. The duo could see the firey blade of Faeyin’s dagger faintly moving about in the fog.

“Vespertilio, do you think we should help?” There were sounds of what seemed to be a struggle followed by the sound of a crash.

“No, I don’t think so.” She replied. The fog slowly dissipated as Faeyin walked towards them, dragging what seemed to be an asura behind her.

“Let me go! You’ll pay for this!” the asura yelled at her. Terebellum and Vespertilio could see the inoperable remains of a small hovering chair laying on the ground once the fog had cleared. Faeyin plopped the asura down in front of them.

“Here’s our mysterious voice.” she said. They looked at the asura, who was dressed in a worn black robe, wearing an ornate skull mask with horns. Vespertilio pulled the mask from him, revealing and older asuran face.

“Wait…I know you. You’re the asuran necromancer Gronkk.” Vespertilio spoke somewhat stunned. “You disappeared last year while trying to trap Mad King Thorn when he appeared in the plaza.”

“Yes, and unfortunately, the runes on my amulet were backwards and I ended up trapped in my own amulet, which your friend here released me when she unknowingly broke the wards keeping me there. Now, if you will, may I please have my amulet back?”

“Um, I think you would be better off without it. After all the trouble you caused this night. Perhaps we should get the Lionguard.” Faeyin crossed her arms. It wasn’t long before members of the guard arrived and took the asura away, while others helped the wounded festival goers.

“You’ll pay for this!” he shouted as they marched him off.

“Thanks for your help.” Faeyin said to the duo.

“It was no problem. Glad we could be of service.” Vespertilio replied. “Should we celebrate a little?”

“I think we should.” Terebellum agreed. Faeyin nodded as they headed to the nearest pub.

The Storyteller handed out one last piece of candy to the children as she concluded her story.

“Now please enjoy the festival!” she quipped as they ran off.

“I do believe you are actually enjoying this.” Amaranda spoke nearby, eating from a cup of ice cream. Ceara lowered the hood of her cloak as she turned to her sister.

“It’s fun!” Ceara replied smiling, plucking a piece of candy from the bowl. Amaranda walked up to next to her. “And besides…” Ceara continued, lowering her gaze to the ground momentarily before looking towards the children in the distance, a somber look crept across her face. “It’s the least I can do for them.”

“You do remember what Faeyin told you, right?” Amaranda asked, scooping the last of her ice cream from the cup.

“’If you keep living in the past, you will never step into the future.’ I remember.” Ceara smiled lightly as she gazed off toward the harbor.

“Come on.” Amaranda grabbed her by the wrist. “I think I hear some chocolate ice cream calling your name.”  

“You know me too well now.” Ceara said as the pair walked out into the festival grounds.

FIN

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Naughty or nice?

Based on this: “Thor dressed up as Santa for the Avengers Christmas party. Sitting upon a throne of candy canes and gum drops he calls out your name. It was your turn to sit on the God of Thunder's lap. Imagine him whispering in your ear asking if you were going to be naughty or nice for him later that night. Feeling disgusted you excuse yourself from the party to return to your apartment only to find him waiting for you.” requested by anonymous

Warnings: noncon sex (fingers, intercourse)

Note: Okay, so I’ll be working on holiday drabbles over the next few days. I haven’t too many atm but hopefully one or two a day if I can manage!

Hope y’all enjoy. Like and/or reblog!! <3 Reblogs really help especially since I haven’t been getting many.

Tony’s parties were always extravagant. Over the top but elegant. This year’s theme was winter wonderland. Cliche but classy. Wear something sparkly, the invitation said. Of course, sequins were the look for the night but you opted for blue-silver dress with long sleeves and a skirt to your knees. Elegant, like Taylor before Burton. Your sparkle was a silver necklace with a single sapphire.

When you entered, it was a swarm of sheen and shine. Tony wore a dark red suit with a sequined gold tie, Steve had managed a glittery blue tie with his grey suit, and Bucky looked dour amongst the bunch with a string of tinsel around his neck, no doubt forcefully slung over his head. The women were only too content to show off their sequined gowns and bright frills.

Thor stuck out like a sore thumb. A santa hat of sequins and a full-out costume as he sat on the faux-snow throne at the front of the room. Loki frowned as he held a pair of elf ears and argued with his boisterous brother. Tony looked on with amusement as others tried to ignore the bickering.

You neared, hesitant, eager to greet your host before you found a flute of champagne to hide behind. Tony was chuckling as you came closer and you could hear the Asgardians’ voices above the jazzy seasonal tunes and refined din. Loki tossed the ears at Thor’s chest.

“Brother, you demean me!” He accused. “For the last time, I am not your sidekick.”

“Oh, brother, don’t be so dramatic. It is theatre. I am the god of Christmas--”

“Santa Claus,” Tony intoned.

“Yes, this San-ta Cloos,” Thor mimicked, “And you are my loyal helper. The true hero of the night.” Loki fumed and Thor turned to reach over the arm of the chair. “Fine, you don’t have to be an elf. How about...a deer!”

Thor pulled forth a headband with antlers and offered it up. You stopped beside Tony who was shaking in silent laughter. You nudged him and he glanced over at you, his face red with restrained mirth. 

“Who’s idea was this?” You asked.

“Well, I was just going to hire a mall santa but...Thor insisted.” Tony explained. “Though I don’t think he discussed it with his brother first.”

“Clearly,” You eyed the brothers as Loki snatched the antlers and snapped them in half. “Were you intending on keeping this place in one piece?”

“Worse things have occurred here than sibling rivalries.”

“I think you underestimate them,” You shook your head and turned to him. He was still rapt by the scene. “This is really fabulous...for now.”

“Thanks, but it wasn’t me.” He shrugged. “I think if I took credit Pepper may just reenact this little show with me tonight.”

“Well, I’ll let her know--”

Tony raised his hand and pointed to the brothers. Thor had stood and Loki was right before him. Thor reached out and placed the ears over Loki’s and his wrists were seized by the black-haired Asgardian. 

They struggled for a moment, Loki’s dark haired was mussed as he wrestled with his brother, and the scuffle last only a moment before he snaked out and took the ears with him. He whipped them at his brother who caught them with one hand and spun on his heel. Loki cursed under his breath as he stormed away and Thor boomed with laughter.

“Never an occasion without a tantrum,” Thor pronounced as he turned to Tony. His eyes found you beside the billionaire and his smile grew. “Ah, my lady, you’ve arrived.” He sat in the snowy throne, his thick arms draped over it. 

“Thor,” You greeted reticently.

“Santa Close,” He corrected and you squinted at his peculiar pronunciation. Tony chuckled again. “Tony has declared me the king of the party.”

“Alright, I really don’t know where he’s coming up with this stuff but...I’m gonna find Pepper before he drives me crazy, too.” Tony excused himself with a twitch of his brow. “Santa.”

You watched Tony go and wondered if you could slip away with him. Thor was boisterous tonight, more so than his usual fervour, and you were quite ready to contend with it alone. “Um, I should--”

“You should come sit on Santa’s lap!” Thor declared and you looked back to him in shock. “Tell me what you want this year?”

“Okay, Thor,” You laughed, “You’re really taking this seriously.”

“Yes, I have a list,” He tapped his head. “Lady Natasha wants a new knife, she showed me how dull her old one was. And Steve wants a nice pair of shoes, very practical. His friend with the arm wanted me to leave him alone and that was an easy enough gift to give.”

You blinked at him. Wondering at how disastrous this evening had been so far. You weren’t exactly late and it seemed you’d missed all the fun. “Well, Thor, what I want for Christmas--” He shook his head.

“You have to sit in my lap and tell me,” He insisted as he rubbed the red velvet across his thigh. “I understand this is Midgardian tradition.”

“For children,” You scoffed. 

“Well, my lady, we are still young. So sit.” He slapped his thigh and beckoned you close with his other hand. 

You glanced around and saw how so many guests were avoiding Thor’s gaze. Bucky frowned as he peeked over and a glimmer of pity shone in his eyes. Steve looked over in kind and quickly grabbed him to draw back his attention.

“Alright, but then I’ve got to go say hi to everyone, I’ve only just got here.” You relented and stepped closer to the bottom of the chair.

“Very well,” He allowed and held his hand out. “But you cannot start the evening without first greeting Santa.”

He tugged you up onto the step below his throne and between his legs. He guided you as you turned and released you. He swiftly grabbed your waist and swept you up onto his leg. You grabbed his shoulder to steady yourself.

“So, my lady, what do you want for Christmas?” His hand rested on your lower back, tenuously close to your ass.

“Um,” You looked around, suddenly hyper aware of the room full of guests. “Thor, this is silly, I’m gonna--”

You tried to slip out of his lap but he snaked his arm around and clung to your hip. He took your chin with his other hand and made you look at him. “Tell me what you want?”

Your eyes rounded and you felt your skin burning. You stuttered before you could even find your breath. “Uhhhh, um,” You licked your lips as you thought, your mouth suddenly dry. He focused on your tongue and you pressed your mouth shut. Finally you found your voice. “A vacation.”

“Vacation?” He repeated as he tilted his head.

“Yes, I uh, wanna go away for a while. Take a break from work.” You explained nervously as you moved your clutch onto your lap and played with the embroidered flap. 

“Well, my lady, you surely deserve a respite,” His arm fell slightly and his hand returned to your back. He leaned forward and his fingers crawled down until he was cupping your ass. “But are you going to be nice or naughty?” You gasped. “As I understand, only nice girls get what they want.”

You stared at him and trembled just slightly. He squeezed your ass as he felt you waver and you pushed yourself off of him. You nearly stumbled as you landed on your heels painfully and clattered down the step. He let you go without a fight but his fingers longingly trailed your arm as you detached.

“Sorry, I should--” You turned back to him as you righted yourself. “I gotta say hi to Nat before she takes out that knife again, yeah?”

Your feet twisted together clumsily as you fled. Thor said nothing but you could feel him watching you as you dove into the crowd. You were lost at first, Nat’s red head not visibly until you were on the other side of the room. You leaned on the wall as you tried to clear your head. 

Were you being stupid? Did you overreact? You looked across the room to where Thor sat at a vantage across the whole din. He looked back at you and grinned. Was he really looking at you? You peered back to Nat and Wanda and pushed yourself from the wall. 

You grabbed a drink from a server as he passed and wove between the couples and groups that chattered. Forget it. It was done with. All in your head. Nothing. Your own anxiety fueling your fretful imagination. Have a drink with your friends and you wouldn’t care so much.

-

At the end of the night, you barely recalled its beginning. Three glasses of champagne kept you in a festive spirit. Thor remained a speck in your vision, looming in your peripherals. But it grew easier to ignore him. Easy enough to chalk it up to your social awkwardness.

You left with a final goodbye to your hosts and wrapped yourself in your jacket as you headed out onto the chilly city street. Tony had hired cars lined up for guests, both inebriated and not. Always mindful, always thinking a step ahead. 

You slid into one and gave your address, a tip for the comped driver. The drive was relaxing and lulled your champagne hazed mind. You were almost dozing in the backseat as the car pulled up to your building. You thank the driver one last time and were once more awakened by the winter air.

The elevator ride was slow. Or so it seemed. You stepped off and dragged your feet down the hall to your door. You unlocked the door and entered with a yawn. You kicked off your heels with a sigh, happy to be ride of the torturous arches. You just wanted to sleep.

You dug your phone out of your clutch and flicked on the flashlight. You shone it ahead of you as you crept through your dark apartment. You were too lazy, too tired to flip the lights on. You were just going to get out of your clown suit and fall into bed.

Your bedroom was full of shadows. You passed the open door and set your phone on the night table to let it shine up at the ceiling and illuminate the space. You reached back to unzip your dress and struggled to bend your arm at such and angle. As you brought your arms up over your head to push down the zipper, a large hand caught yours.

You tried to scream but another hand clapped over your mouth. A long shush filled your ears as a warm body pressed against your back. “My lady, you needn’t be afraid.” Thor’s voice was low, sultry, “I only mean to help you.”

He parted just slightly, the heat of his body still radiated around you. He tugged down your zipped in a single swipe and the fabric loosened around you. You held it up against your chest as he kept his hand over your mouth. Your voice was smothered by his palm and you pulled at his hand.

“You didn’t answer my question?” He shoved his other hand beneath your chest and snaked around to your stomach. “Have you been naughty or nice?”

His hand slipped down to your neck and you kept yours on it. “Thor, what are you--?”

“I think you’re a naughty girl.” His hand drifted lower, just over the top of your panties. He played with the lacy elastic. “Aren’t you?”

“Thor,” You warned and his other hand slid from under yours and tugged at the top of your dress. “Stop.”

“You said you need a break…” He purred and moved his hips against you. You could feel his arousal through your skirt. “I can help you relax.”

“I think you misunderstood me.” You clung to your dress as he tried to push it down. “Please--”

“Don’t act so innocent,” He snarled as his fingers edged under the top of your panties. 

He turned you, the light of your phone gave a sinister dim to the room. You tried to resist him but he was too strong. He almost had you off your feet as he pressed your legs against the bed. 

“Naughty or nice?” He asked again.

“Get off of me,” You whined. “Thor!”

He stopped pulling at your dress and wrapped his arm around your middle. He lifted you and brought his knee up between your legs. He climbed up onto the bed with you in his grasp and fell onto you, pinning you beneath his body. Your legs hung over the edge as his other hand felt around your vee.

You were crushed beneath him as he kept your legs apart with his knee. He pushed his fingers between your lip and pressed on your clit with his index and middle finger. You squirmed and whimpered. You could barely breathe against his weight. 

He dragged his fingers up and down your folds and circled your clit, over and over. The shame mingled with your unwanted arousal. You grabbed at the blankets, unable to move yourself from beneath him. 

The heat gathered with your juices and he groaned as he felt it. As he spread around your entrance and shoved his fingers inside. They were so thick, it hurt. Even with your bodies response, it was too much. He pulled out and pushed back in. Slow at first, he kept his palm against your bud. 

You quickly unravelled. You whined as you tried to resist the surge within you. You writhed beneath him, unsure if you were working against him or with him. You buried your face in the blanket as your breath picked up and you gasped. He worked his fingers faster and you shuddered as the waves washed over you. 

You went still as you came; ashamed and trapped. He ground his crotch against you as your pussy clenched around his fingers. He slowly drew his fingers out of you and lifted himself slightly to free his arm from under you. He brought his hand around as he grabbed your chin and squeezed your jaw. He forced his fingers past your lips, the taste of your cum sweet on your tongue.

He reached down with his other hand and pulled up your skirt. It wrinkled around your hips as he revealed your skimpy black thong. He tugged on it and groaned. His hand fumbled between you and you grabbed the hand in your mouth as you realized what he was doing. 

You felt the tip of his cock as he pulled it free of his pants. Your fingers clawed at the furry cuff of his jacket, the realization that he still wore the costume chilled you. He brought his other leg between yours and spread them further. He dragged his cock along your ass and down the line of your thong.

He hooked his fingers under the sheer fabric and pulled them aside. He used his thumb to guide himself to your entrance. You slapped his hand desperately and protested around his fingers. You bit down as hard as you could. He flinched but didn’t withdraw his fingers, only pushed them deeper until you gagged.

His tip stretched you as he entered you. He paused as if to let you adjust and you tried to kick your legs around him. The movement coaxed him deeper. He was thick and your walls strained against him. He didn’t stop this time. He slid inside until you were sure you couldn’t take anymore, but there was more. When he bottomed out, you were weak and he held your head in your hand as you lost all strength.

“You are a naughty girl,” He growled as he nuzzled your hair. 

He pulled back and thrust. He jolted your body and wiggled his hips as he splendoured in your warmth. He repeated the motion, each time jerking your body as you gagged noisily on his fingers. His other hand snaked under you and groped your tits, pinching sharply through dress and bra. The velvet of his coat rubbed your bare back and caught on your open zipper.

Soon, the whole bed shook with him. You mewled as you felt your core begin to bloom. You knew he felt it too as he sped up and his cock slid in and out smoothly. He drew his fingers from your mouth and gripped your neck instead. 

He forced your back to arch as he lifted himself to his knees, your legs propped open around them. He slapped your ass with his free hand as he rutted against you, his groans filled the air and he gripped your hip roughly. You latched onto the wrinkled blanket as your thighs buzzed and your climax rose sharply.

You came with a squeak, his hand still at your throat as he contorted your body. The pathetic sound only encouraged him and he fucked you faster and faster. It hurt but felt so good. You orgasmed again with a hiss, ashamed of your reaction to his intrusion.

He let go of your neck and pushed your head down into the mattress. He grabbed the back of your thong and snapped it with a yank. He freed it with another and held you down by your head as he pounded into. His groans grew louder and louder until he was roaring. 

The pleasured cries were muffled as he slammed into you so sharply you yelped. He spasmed and his thrust turned uneven. He slowed and you felt the flood inside of you. He pulled his hand away from your head and leaned back, his cock still in you as he panted. 

You turned your head to peek back at him. He held your thong to his face as he caught his breath, inhaling the scent of it. You closed your eyes and shakily reached up to try to drag yourself off of him. He caught your hips, the thong pressed against your skin.

“Ah ah,” He warned as he pulled you back to your limit. “Naughty girls must learn to be nice.”

[quant-um-fizzx]

Swept Away

Synopsis: Bucky feels strangely drawn to a woman at a Halloween party thrown at the Avengers compound. 

Bucky Barnes x Reader. Except - not? There’s really no way to explain this upfront without giving the whole thing away. It is a nameless female character but it’s also not “fictional you” as a reader because I could not get that to work within this mystery concept. 

Warnings:  Smut, I’m calling this Dub-Con (but only in the sense that things might not be what they seem) Language, mild Angst, an attempt to be eerie. 

Word Count:  about 3000

This is for @sherrybaby14‘s Fall Into You writing challenge from the prompt: “Halloween Party”  

It’s loud like parties always are and Bucky welcomes a reason not to join in their bickering, no matter how playful. 

“It’s the principle, really.” Steve says, sniffs whatever Thor tipped into his glass this time. 

“Yes, that’s my point. Thank you. Don’t make a rule and then break it.” Rhodey gripes, adjusting the gold construction paper shooting star taped to the center of his shirt.

“I believe the rule as stated was ‘don’t spend more than $10 on a superhero costume.’ I spent zero dollars on this ensemble.” Tony gestures at the Mark 5 armor he’s wearing. “What we need is a neutral party analysis, who will then concur I am winning at not spending.”

Clint twirls an empty beer bottle between his fingers. “Look, I’m not saying that it’s cheating to come as yourself...”

“I sense a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Nat says.

“I sense a butt right here,” Rocket chimes in. He’s dressed no differently, having openly complained he didn’t see the point and costumes sound more like some of the stupid shit Quill would be into. 

Steve flicks the deep red bed sheet pinned to the back of his shirt, making it swoosh around his feet, casually flipping what no one needs to know is Thor’s actual hammer. The group chatters on as he surveys the room, pausing when he spies Bucky in a far corner, his arm slipping artfully around the waist of a very pretty woman in a white post-Edwardian nightdress. She seems familiar but he can’t really get a good look at her and, considering Bucky’s clearly enthralled with her, he doesn’t think he should be trying to get a better look. They appear deep in conversation, the woman’s hair falling across her face like a curtain. It’s intimate, the way they lean in, and suddenly Steve feels like he’s intruding. He coughs and returns his attention back to the current debate. 

***

She curls further into his side, burrows her chilled shoulder down where he’s warm and snug. Her head falls back to look up at him with doe-eyes. He gets lost in them, irises so peaceful and deep, dark like still waters, like starless night sky. She runs her hand over the blue near-ancient canvas stretched across his chest, traces the white star with an elegant digit.

He leans in, almost captures her lips.  Forgets it’s not private. Like there’s no one else. Like there shouldn’t ever be. She offers her neck, bends so far back that it’s a bit unnatural, but he brushes the thought away. He shakes his head, tries to recall something. It seems important. Scratching at his brain. 

He stops, pulls back. His eyes pinch. He doesn’t know this woman. Doesn’t know anything about her. But he wants to. He wants to know her. Maybe that’s what he couldn’t remember. “What’s…” Runs his nose along her cheek. “What’s your name, Darlin’?”

Did she already tell him that? Did he already ask?

***

“Tell me again, how is coming as yourself and wearing your actual multi-million dollar suit not breaking the rules?” Nat saunters across the circle, grabbing a drink off the bar.

“I’m just saying, that since you were the guy who made the rule, it’s kinda weird that you’re the one breaking it.” Clint sets his bottle down with a clink that sounds a bit more irritated than he appears. 

“Point of order: Cap lent his costume to two people.” Tony feigns deep offense, gestures toward Scott.

“What? This? Nah, I hand-sewed this baby myself for Comic-Con years ago.” Scott stands proudly, hands heroically on his hips. 

Tony’s eyes roll back into his brain. “That still leaves Barnes and his circa WW2 Star-Spangled-ness? Care to explain the museum piece over there and the clothes he’s wearing while you’re at it?”

***

She smiles softly, delicate. Her features unbothered despite that it seems he’s forgotten her. Goes up on her toes and places cool fingertips on his fevered lips. Pushes her own together in a silent hush and he feels it in his gut - feels himself give in to something more than gravity pulling him down, twisting. He leans in toward those lotus-petal painted lips, almost...almost. 

She pulls back just a little. Smile shy, but somehow not. A little knowing. Knows a secret she’s going to show him. He doesn’t like secrets; he’s kept too many, he’s been too many. Doesn’t trust them. 

But he wants to know hers. Wants her. Needs to see where this leads. 

Her fingers entwine with his, pull him fluidly toward the exit door. 

And he forgets. Forgets they are leaving a brightly lit room, forgets there are people who might miss him, forgets everyone, everything but the promise of losing himself in her. 

***

Steve shrugs. “Bucky asked how much trouble it would be to borrow it. Turns out it wasn’t much trouble,” he says, pulling his eyes away from the door Bucky had disappeared through. 

“Excellent!” Tony claps. “Now that we can all agree the utilization of old suits is not a budget factor, let’s discuss what I am sure is a fascinating reason why Wilson here jumped on the opportunity to dress as a defunct Russian asset.”

Sam scoffs and pretends to smooth the aluminum foil wrapped around his left arm. “The Winter Soldier? Nah, my arm’s just dressed as a baked potato.” 

***

Her fingers swim up under his shirt and along each rib like organ keys. He’s draped over her, touching every inch, body covering her like a blanket, a pall. Their kisses swell and he dives when her mouth parts for him. At first a shallow exploration, his warm pink tongue skimming inside until she, impatient and sudden, curls into his mouth and catches it. 

The party and the lights feel a million leagues away. The sounds muffled and distant as if they’ve sneaked off to skinnydip not go necking in a backseat.

Lips and teeth banging, urgent. She’s under and around him all at once. Calling him to claim her like the open sea. 

Hot breath rushes from him as he pulls away and she floats up to follow but then settles back flat along the seat, smiling up at him. Hair splayed out around her face in waves and her face glowing like the moon. 

It registers with him that they’re in a parking lot, in the back of a car. It seems like new information, as if he had just realized. Must have been too busy kissing her, touching her because he doesn't know how they got here. Doesn’t remember clambering into the car. It’s large and old. A Studebaker? A Streamliner?

No, that can’t be right. 

***

“Hey, Mr. Stark. Cool Costume. Ned dressed as Mark 5 in 3rd grade.” Peter scurries up, acting slightly winded, as most of the crowd shoots daggers at him. “It, uh, it looks way better on you though.” He looks hopefully around, checking if that fixed whatever he’d said wrong. 

Shuddering, as if he’s just recalled what he’d come to say, Peter looks back quickly over his shoulder at the doorway Bucky and the woman walked out. “That’s all kinds of creepy. Just like that urban legend, right?”

“When it comes to questionable bed partners, I am spectacularly aware that I have no room to talk. But what is the deal with Steve’s pal and Coraline?” Tony gestures over his shoulder. “There’s a line between cute and creepy. But that one just runs a bit too realistic as The Woman in White.”

Steve looks between them and the door again. “The what?”

***

He presses his lips to her neck. Runs his tongue up a long trail to the shell of her ear.

Soft. He’s never felt anything so soft in his hands. Breasts like silt, spilling under his palms.  Soft every place he’s hard. He’s so hard, aching with it. Cock straining, reducing him down to that near-pain desire. He wants to bury himself between her thighs, drown himself inside her.

She pulls the gown free from her shoulders and it pools around her. She arches up to him. Offers. Urges. 

Insists. 

He licks his lips and wants more. Already can’t remember what she tastes like, saltwater or sweetened honey? He kisses her again, soft press against his tongue and he’s thirsty. Parched. Dives in for more but each touch leaves him wanting more. More heat. More water. More...air.

She’s under him and begging him. 

“Take me.”

Rouge tongue runs over chapped lips as he comes up for a breath. “You don’t have to ask me twice, Sugar.” He rasps, lungs seized up in want. 

Her hands dig into blue shoulders and her legs wrap around red and white stripes, clasping behind the small of his back. Pulling him down to her, pulling him under. 

Fog coats the windows. Their want dripping in rivulets down the glass. The air is thick with it, clings to his lungs, each breath heavy, laboring. 

“Hang on babe,” he pulls back, heart racing gulping down air. “Whew. Huh. Wow.” He looks around, squints, trying to get his bearings. “Gimme a sec, okay?”

She smiles again, sweet as rain. Shakes her head slowly, hair swirling around, a tangle of moss on the seat. Locks her hands behind his neck and digs her heels into his thighs.

She reaches down inside his pants and draws him out, a whisper caress on his length. Barely there, but possessive. Hers.

“Take me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he gasps, breathless. Gasps as strokes him. “I’ll make it good, so good for you.” 

He wants her. Wants her like air. “Can’t wait. Gotta have you - now.”

She flips him over, deft like he weighs nothing and he floats beneath her. Straddles his hips and anchors him, grinding onto his cock. Her head falls back again, does that deep swoon to expose the marble column of her neck. And he feels again like he needs to stop her, to catch her head and stop her. To cradle her skull.

***

“I can tell you, Cap,” Sam says, leaning in conspiratorially, “but you and I are going to have a long chat later about how you manage to interact with other humans every day and still stay so damned isolated.”

Steve gives Sam a withering look but motions for him to continue. 

“The story goes, there’s a ghost that wanders the area. She fell for a guy years ago and got abandoned. The story changes in the details. Sometimes she died in childbirth, jumped off a bridge, whatever.  But one detail is always the same: heartbreaker was shipping off to war the next day. So, she, you know, ‘did it for her country.’ But the guy never comes back and she dies, waiting for him. Wandering the road leading to where they were last together.”

“Huh, that’s super weird,” Scott says, throwing back what he immediately learns is heavily-spiked cider, his eyes going wide on the burn. 

“Ghost stories are weird by definition, Scott” Nat says, licking the rim of her glass. 

“No,” Scott coughs, throwing back two more cider shots in quick succession. “I mean it’s weird because I picked her up on the road coming here. She asked all slow and dramatic about her soldier - I guess she is just super into Halloween - and I was gonna call her an Uber but then she said she was looking for Stark’s thing.”

Steve is incredibly done with this entire conversation. Peter, the exact opposite, presses for more info. “Which road?”

Sam shrugs dismissively. “The one by the old fairgrounds.”

Scott chokes on a fourth shot.  “Down in Queens.”

“You mean the fairgrounds where Stark held the first Expo?” Steve say, unblinking. All fun gone. 

Suddenly, Steve knows where he’s seen her. It’s just been a very, very long time since 1943.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Tony says, eyes locked on Steve. 

“Are you saying that I picked up a...a... ghost and rode with her for an hour? Guys...guys, I need to sit down.” Scott wobbles, hand shooting out to steady himself on Rocket. Rocket steps aside. 

Before Scott’s ass hits the floor, everyone else is out the door. 

***

She sinks down around him, fluid and silk. Her hands press into his chest. His warm muscles tense and brown nipples pebble in her touch’s wake. 

As she rides him, the night’s light behind her makes her hair look like a halo floating out around her. A thought breaks through that she looks familiar - he does know her - but she’s just one more thing he lost along the way. 

He wants to tell her they can make this new, start over, whatever went wrong before, he can fix it and it wasn’t his fault and didn’t mean to leave her and please forgive him because he didn’t mean to toss her away.

Wait.

Wait...

He recalls a flash of her face, dry and bright. She’s looking up at him in his brown uniform. Red car hovering on a stage behind her. Then, as suddenly as it came, the picture’s gone, popped like a burst bubble.

***

Steve and Sam are first out the back, toward the dock. Peter has a legit meltdown but still manages to check every car. They’re all empty.

“Cap! There!” Clint shouts, pointing out at the water. 

The middle of the goddamn lake.

In the goddamn, deathly still, dark lake.

***

She glides over him and it’s so desperate and slippery. Everything urgent when all he’d really wanted is to take his time. To do this right. Bring her some daisies  - or, no, she'd like lilies he thinks dumbly and runs his hands up to cup her face. He wants to show her a good time before his ships out in the morning and see if she has a different friend for Steve. 

The guilt is raw and burrowing in his heart he can’t shake it but he doesn’t quite know why. 

Maybe that’s her secret. What she wanted to show him. 

Maybe it’s that she deserves better than this back seat in a parked car outside Stark’s expo. He starts to say sorry but is silenced with another watery kiss.

Burning starts low in his back, the building pull low in his spine, and he wants to come. Desperate for his end. 

 Maybe it’s too much because she can have it all she can have him and he’s not scared - but a small spark fires some forgotten place in his mind, that he is scared - that maybe he should be.

Sliding over him, bend and rock. Tight. He surges up into her again and again. His release looms, vision tunneled down to her. Nothing but her and the sweet hold, the way she’s anchored him down after so many years adrift. 

He thinks blindly that he should warn her. Opens his mouth but she swallows his words. 

Then he’s coming, pulsing out of him like lifeblood. Breathless and drained. And he’s so tired. 

Peaceful. Serene. 

“Take me,” she sings.

He can’t hold on. Body aches for rest. 

Her brow furrows. “Take me home.”  

His eyes flutter. He starts to form the words, but just...can’t. 

He would’ve taken her home and not left. He didn’t mean to make it seem like it must have seemed. He didn’t just throw her away. But it was war and he wasn’t expecting the hell it brought or the hell that came after. It had all seemed so innocent in that old back seat, with his promises he didn’t mean to break.

She grinds down, damned serum refractory period kicking in. He swells against all reason and moves with her until she shakes and clenches, nails digging into his skin, a mournful wail spiraling out of her as he feels himself spill again. 

She touches his neck, feels his pulse stutter out, slow.  Her face is confused. Head shaking. 

He takes her hand, holds it to his heart. An apology. 

Then, she rails back, wretches and twists. She slips through his fingers like time, like silk, like thread.  

What was once solid, warm like new sun on a cold sill, now shifts. Contorts and writhes, skin viscus and pooling around his fingers like so much rancid dough. 

He wants to care but he wants to sleep. Just rest his eyes. Just for a second. It doesn’t feel right but he can’t make himself care. It’s so quiet and peaceful, down here where she used to be solid, where he used to be warm.

***

Then, when he’s almost gone, when peace has fired off in nearly every cell, he’s yanked free. 

Colder than he’s ever been. Night air like a fire burning, like he is nothing but frostbite dropped in a boiling pot.

Sam drags him up onto the dock and collapses beside him. Sam’s face is drawn and terrified and their clothes soggy and weighted, water running off between the wooden planks.

“The Hell Barnes? Party full of perfectly available, alive folk and that’s the strange you go for.”

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Pretty Little Red

Derek was just trying to enjoy the party. The last thing he expected was a pretty little thing dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood to come wondering into his life.

Commission for @loveyprophet​

The frat house was full of people all dressed up in Halloween costumes. There were the cliché costumes—Frankenstein’s monster, vampires, mummies wrapped in toilet paper, and ghosts that were just bed sheets with holes cut into them, etc—but a few had dressed up in some more creative costumes—Peter Pan, Ghostbusters, Batman, Spider-Man, there was even a group of guys dressed as Sailor Moon characters.

Derek looked down at himself. He was dressed in a pair of pants that were frayed at the hem and the torn rags of a shirt that left his firm biceps and abs exposed. His hands were covered by a pair of gloves that looked like the backs of his hands were covered in fur and his nails were claws. Erica had also worked some magic with makeup and prosthetics in order to make Derek’s face look more like a werewolf.

“Remind me again why I’m wearing this stupid costume,” Derek said, turning to look at Boyd.

Boyd was dressed as Superman, wearing a blue body suit that had a bright red S shield painted across the chest.

“Because it’s Halloween and it’s a costume party,” Boyd said bluntly, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand.

“What was wrong with the costume I had?” Derek asked.

“That wasn’t a costume; you looked exactly like you normally do,” Boyd replied.

“Yeah, because I was going as a serial killer,” Derek said, levelling his cold glare on Boyd. “And they look just like everyone else.”

“That ‘tough guy’ shit doesn’t work on me, Hale,” Boyd scoffed. He took another swig of his drink, finishing it. “I’m going to get another drink. Do you want another one?”

“No, thanks,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“Okay.”

Derek watched Boyd leave, his eyes drifting across the room to the figure that stood by open doorway.

They were dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, wearing a white shirt and a crimson skirt. A thick black belt was cinched around their waist like a corset, making the fabric of their shirt billow slightly. The red fabric of the skirt was lined with a frail white lace that billowed around their thighs, leaving their long, slender legs uncovered.

The look was finished off with a pair of glossy red heels and a crimson velvet coat.

Derek swallowed hard, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

Little Red turned slightly, smiling at Boyd as he passed.

Derek’s eyes flew open wide, his heart skipping a beat.

Derek was thrown off guard by his dark brown eyes, watching—mesmerised—as they caught the golden light and swirled like pools of golden liquor and honey. He raked his fingers through the tousled mess of his chestnut-brown hair, pulling it back from his face. His moonlight-pale skin was covered in moles that charted constellations.

Stiles.

The fraternity’s latest pledge.

Derek quickly looked away from Stiles, staring down at his feet as a wave of panic crashed over him.

I’m not gay, he thought. Am I?

The question rolled around in his head for a while.

He glanced out the corner of his eye, his gaze drifting to the hem of Stiles’ skirt as it brushed against his thighs. His gaze traces the curves of Stiles’ leg, up to the small of his back, and up to his neck.

I’m not balls deep yet, he thought, but damn if I want to be.

He let out a deep sigh and made his way across the room to Stiles’ side.

“You lost, Little Red?” he asked.

Stiles looked up at him.

Derek leant one arm against the wall, leaning over Stiles and pinning him in place. A charming smile played across his lips as he looked down at Stiles’ honey-golden eyes. His voice was low and sultry as he said, “If you’re looking for a Big Bad Wolf, I’ll be yours.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You think this is funny?” Stiles asked bluntly. “I get it; you made the new pledge dress up in a dress and now you’re going to mess with him for shits and giggles. Thanks, but I’m not interested.”

“I’m not messing with you, I assure you,” Derek said quietly. “And the dress has nothing to do with it; I would just as happily see you out of it.”

Stiles blinked in surprise.

“You don’t waste time, do you?” Stiles teased. “I think you’re drunk.”

“Drunk off love,” Derek finished, meeting Stiles’ gaze. “Intoxicated by your eyes and enraptured by the melodic sound of your voice.”

Stiles burst out laughing.

“You’re kidding, right?” Stiles said between fits of laughter. “That’s the corniest thing I’ve ever heard. Poetic—but corny. You’re definitely drunk.”

“I mean it,” Derek said, his voice low as he leant in closer. “You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

“And my what big eyes you have,” Stiles said mockingly.

“What do I have to do to convince you I’m being sincere?” Derek asked.

“Sober up and talk to me when I’m wearing pants,” Stiles replied bluntly.

Derek glanced down at the half-empty beer in his hands.

“I’m not drunk,” he promised. “A little tipsy maybe, but not drunk.”

Stiles levelled him with an unwavering unamused glare.

“Okay,” Derek said in defeat. “What can I say right now to convince you I’m being genuine?”

Stiles thought for a moment, gently gnawing on the corner of his lip as he thought. He turned to look back at Derek. “Tell what you like about me.”

“I like your smile,” Derek answered, honestly and without hesitation. “I like the way it dimples your cheeks and makes your eyes light up. I like how the chestnut-brown of your eyes become gold when you smile. And when you smile, it brightens up the room, and every time I see you smile it gives me butterflies in my stomach and makes my heart skip a beat.”

Stiles looked up at him, shocked.

“I like the way you don’t care about what people think about you,” Derek continued. “They dared you to put on a dress and you did without a care in the world. You talk about what you’re passionate about in a way that makes others interested. You could talk about anything and everything and people will listen.”

Stiles was at a loss for words, his lips quivering as he tried to find his voice.

“I like your eyes. They’re brown—but they’re not just brown. In the shadows they’re chocolate brown; in low light they’re chestnut brown; and in the sunlight, they turn to gold. They’re gorgeous—beyond words. And when I look into them, I lose myself. I forget what I’m saying. I lose track of my thoughts.”

Derek paused for a moment.

“You steal my breath away,” he admitted. “There isn’t a thing about you I don’t like.”

Before he knew it, Stiles closed the space between them and drew their lips together.

He let his breath fall from his lungs as his shoulders dropped. His eyes fluttered shut as Stiles looped his arms around Derek’s neck, balling the soft worn cotton of Derek’s torn shirt into his fist and clinging to it.

Derek moved closer to Stiles, pressing his body against Stiles’ warmth and pinning the younger man against the wall. He cupped Stiles’ face with one hand, the other dropping to Stiles’ waist and pulling him close, enveloping him in his warmth.

Stiles sighed in return, weaving his fingers into Derek’s hair, pulling soft tufts into his fist as the other hand running down the man’s shoulder, bicep and back.

His lungs burnt so much he wanted to cry but he desperately didn’t want to let go. He fell weakly into Derek’s arms.

They drew back, gasping for breath.

Stiles licked his lips and grinning at Derek’s stunned expression.

“Wow,” Derek whispered, breathless.

Stiles slid out from Derek’s hold, taking a step towards the open doorway. A mischievous smile lit up his face as he said, “Talk to me again when you’re sober.”

He disappeared into the crowd, leaving Derek standing there, stunned.

Boyd came back into the room, holding a beer. He looked from Derek to where his hazy eyes stared into the crowd of people in the next room, frowning in confusion.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Derek said quietly, a smile turning up the corners of his lips.

[AO3]

[vgckwb]

ML: Are They Worthy? Chapter 81: Of Monsters and Men!/Superbug (The Battle for Paris, Part 1)

A cloud of darkness had descended upon Paris. At the center of it was a being who was entirely purple, masculine, had wings, antennae, grizzly sharp teeth, and void pupil-less eyes. Their fingers were clawed. He looked around. He noticed that he was being filmed.

“Heh heh” he laughed. “Greetings Paris” he said to his audience. “I’ve been waiting for a long time. Watching. Doing nothing but observing without the power to do anything. But finally, I am free! And now I shall conquer.

Ah. Forgive my manners. My name is Nurushwa. I am a kwami. A kwami labeled evil by some. A label I don’t hate. I’ll be blunt with you all. I wish to take over, and once I do, I will free my captive brothers and sisters also deemed evil. This can be as painless or painful as necessary. I don’t mind either way, but my personal preference is painful.” Nurushwa laughed.

Meanwhile, all the heroes and Hawk Moth were watching this unfold on their devices. “Evil kwami?” Ladybug remarked.

She got a call and took it, while also keeping an eye on Nurushwa. It was Sting. “Ladybug! Web-Spinner and I are converging on your position! Have every hero do the same!”

“What’s going on?” Ladybug asked.

“That thing is an evil kwami!” Sting replied. “It’s apparently a powerful creature that’s been locked away for quite some time!”

“How did it get out?” Ladybug asked.

“It takes three things to unleash it!” Sting explained. “A close proximity to the area in which they are locked, an affinity to miraculous energy, and overwhelming negative emotion! Someone MUST have found them!”

“But who?” Ladybug asked.

Nurushwa was still laughing when he started gagging a little bit. Suddenly and viscerally out of his mouth pops the head and torso of Lila. She takes a few breaths. “Paris! I am sorry! I don’t deserve your kindness! I lied! About everything! Truly, I am a terrible person! But please! Stop this monster! And if you could find it in your heart! Save me as well!”

“Well that answers that” Ladybug said.

Nurushwa used one of his arms to push Lila back in. “A feisty one.” He turned his attention back to the cameras. “Enough dilly-dallying! Now my pretties, DESCEND!” The dark cloud broke up. It turns out, they were a cloud of akumas. They rapidly descended on the city, engulfing the citizenry one by one. However, instead of any unique villains, they turned into beings that looked similar to Nurushwa.

Meanwhile, Lila was inside Nurushwa, fearing for her life. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you everything you’ve wanted. Power. Friends. Control.”

“I don’t care about that anymore!” Lila said, sobbing.

“Oh, but it isn’t a choice,” Nurushwa told her. “There’s just one thing I’m asking in return.”

“What?!’ Lila hissed.

“Your humanity” Nurushwa answered.

Lila started to feel her body start to fade away. “What are you doing to me?!”

“Heh heh” Nurushwa laughed. “I’m simply turning you into one of us.” Lila was even more scared. “Ah. You have the soul of a fox kwami. Trickstern would love a new playmate.” He laughed as Lila was struggling while her body was slowly turning into a kwami like him.

Within a matter of minutes, all of the heroes had met up with Ladybug and everyone else. “What do we do?!” Honey Bee asked. “There’s a crazy, maniacal...thing, and it has Lila!”

“AND it’s taking the rest of the city” Chienne Reaction pointed out.

Hawk Moth turned to face Adrien. “Adrien! Get out of here! Go to our house! You should be safe!”

Adrien looked at Hawk Moth. He smiled and sighed. “Sorry, but I can’t.” Hawk Moth was confused. “Plagg! Claws out!” he turned into Cat Noir.

Hawk Moth was surprised. But he shook himself out of it. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we need to deal with Nurushwa!”

“So, you’re willing to help out old man?” Carapace asked.

Hawk Moth glared at him. “I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m no angel. But today, I’d like to be on their side. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

Ladybug looked up at Nurushwa. “Well, Sting said that they need a person. What if we try to free Lila from him?”

“It’s a good idea” Rooster Gold started.

Bleat Star came in. “But I don’t think he’d let us get close to him!”

“Even with all of us, he’s creating an army as we speak!” Hog Wild reminded her.

Ladybug thought. She looked at Chienne Reaction and Hawk Moth. “That’s it! We need to power up! Chienne Reaction! Power up Hawk Moth! Once he’s powered up, he can bestow more power unto us! Once we have that power, we could take the fight to him more easily!”

“Plus, we could save people, and have Hawk Moth give them powers as well” Cat Noir said jumping in.

“Right!” Ladybug said. “Are you up for it?”

Chienne reaction thought. “While I don’t LIKE supporting Hawk Moth, I think it’s our only option.” She breathed out. “Here goes. Kiss of Luck!” She powered up Hawk Moth.

“Thank you,” Hawk Moth said. Butterflies surrounded him. “As a reward, here you go” he powered up a butterfly and infused it with Chienne Reaction’s miraculous. She transformed so that she was a bit taller, a bit stronger, the color of her costume was a bit darker, and she had three heads. “Cerberus. Once I give everyone else a Tenshi, I want you to power them up further. Can you do that?” Cerberus nodded. “Excellent. Now then, who’s next?” He created an army of tenshi, and one by one, they fused with the miraculous.

Bunnyx gained a light blue helmet with the bunny ears still attached, light blue elbow pads and knee pads, and was now floating on a giant chromatic light blue pocket watch. “Time Hopper!”

Viperion’s arms and legs got covered in different bangles, but the original one was still distinct. He also had a headband, which lifted his hair a little bit, a belt, and a metal mask going across his mouth, all of which were similar to his bangle. “Viperidae!”

Pegasus grew longer dreads, and they were no longer tied up. His shoes were edged with a bit of metal. Additionally, he had two black spots on the palms of his hand. Aside from that, he was made a little taller, and a little stronger. “Wyld Stallyn!”

Tigress’s stripes were made bolder, and more jagged. Her hair was let down, but more frizzed. She also grew nail-like claws of different colors on each one. “Neon Tigress!”

King Monkey gained a golden light around him, as well as a cloud-like essence coming off of his gloves, footwear, and tail. “Wukong!”

Ryuko’s face was enveloped with a dragon mask which kept the horns. Ryuko’s eyes peered through the nostrils, while the eyes on the dragon head were white, but reverberated an energy to them. Additionally, all of the black on Ryuko’s costume, aside from the seal, turned to that same white color as the eyes, and was also radiating energy. “Ryukyu!”

Hog Wild’s shoulder pads grew hair-like thistles. The tusk design on her respirator grew out into actual tusks. And her hair stood on end, with a line of pink going down the middle. “War Hog!”

Rooster Gold’s feet grew three talons. His hair grew a little bit longer. His crossbow became bigger, and he was also surrounded by two rings of feathers which made him look like an atom molecule. “Thundercluck!”

Scouries grew little tufts of hair on her suit to make her look more mangy, and her natural hair followed suit. Her torso was adorned with a multiplication sign with the number 1 in the middle of it. She gained longer mask ties, and she was also given a small, floating monitor. “Miss Souriesous!”

BleatStar’s horns grew in size. The suit’s black feet and hands turned gold to reflect the color of the bell. His hair was let down, leaving it a bit messy, and he had a lightning strike design going across his face. “Abaaaddin Sane!”

Each section of Oxenfree’s costume was given a little scale which read out how hard or soft he is. At the moment, all of the needles were in the middle. “Kiloxenfree!”

Paonne Ange gained two sets of deep blue wings; one set on her upper back, and one on her lower. Her domino mask gained a vertical rectangle in the middle of it. “Paonne Archange!”

Sting’s arms grew pincers that acted as gauntlets around his fists. His tail grew bigger, and his stinger grew sharper. “Heraculeaus!”

Web Spinner’s fangs became more pronounced. Her costume grew four legs that could hold her up. She also gained an hourglass insignia on her chest and back. “Web Weaver!”

Honey Bee’s decorative wings became real, and her honey colored gloves felt like they were made of tangible honey. Also, her hair was let down, and she had two more streaks going through it, one black, one honey colored. “Honey Queen!”

Carapace gained giant, shell-shaped knee pads, elbow pads, and shoulder pads, as well as a face scarf that covered the lower half of his face. “Murtle!”

Rena Rouge’s hair was let out of its ponytail, and the little tails in her hair stood on end. The black sections on her arms and legs gained orange lines that followed the skeletal structure of those areas. “Rintails!”

The hood of Judgement Wolf’s cloak was made more wolf-like. His cloak was now fully open, and his torso was adorned with three gray claw marks. He also gained claw-like nails on all fingers, except the one the miraculous resided on. “Lupus Judgement!”

Cat Noir’s entire body came to look like a black mist, but you can still see a tangible shape. Also, his claws were more pronounced. “Ultra Noir!”

Finally, Ladybug’s outfit changed so that she was white with red spots, instead of red with black spots. “Superbug!”

Cerberus powered up the tenshied heroes even further. Paonne Archange was next, as she brought back everyone’s sentimonster from a few days ago that had one. Heraculeaus got Golden Dragon back, and Web Weaver got a similar one called Jade Dragon. Paonne Archange also gave one to Hawk Moth; a humanoid figure who looked like Gabriel, except he was all white, with the exception of a red cross going across his chest, whom Paonne Archange dubbed “Healer.” Royal Guard came in and powered everyone up even further.

“Alright,” Superbug commanded, “I will go and confront Nurushwa directly and try and figure out a way to free Lila. While that’s going on, the rest of you are going to fight these akumas, save the people, and have Hawk Moth and Paonne Archange create more heroes and sentimonsters to aid us in that. Cerberus will continue to power people up as well. Are we ready?!” Everyone nodded. “Then let’s go!”  The heroes spread out from their position, while Hawk Moth stayed there to create more tenshi to spread around the citizenry.

Before they went off fully, Murtle stopped and pulled Wyld Stallyn  and Time Hopper aside. “Hold on” Murtle said. He created a barrier behind Hawk Moth that stretched across the remaining city on that side. “Nurushwa does not have anyone there!” Murtle explained. “Whoever we free, send them there.”

At that moment, a large group of people started appearing. Time Hopper shrugged. “I guess I already did.” Murtle nodded, shook his head, and the three of them left off.

While this plan came together fast, Nurushwa’s power was unlike anything they had seen, and he already amassed a powerful, sizable army to fight on his behalf. However, the process of turning Lila into a kwami was taking its time since Lila was his primary power source after being locked away for many years. “Why are you doing this?!” Lila asked.

“Because I can,” Nurushwa answered for his prisoner. “I have the power to exert dominance over others. The other kwamis go on and one about peace, and unity, and helping others. It’s disgusting. Once I have freed my like-minded brothers and sisters from the prisons those other kwamis made, we can finally subjugate these pathetic humans.”

Lila remained silent. She knew she couldn’t preach of the ideals he threw aside because she herself failed to live up to them herself. She realized she felt like she was doing what he was. “What, no comeback?” Nurushwa taunted. “Of course not. You’re just like me. And soon, that will fully be realized.”

Lila silently cried. I guess there really is no hope for someone like me.

There was an explosion. “What the?” Nurushwa sensed his army was taking several blows. “Grrrr. HOLD STRONG! WE’RE GOING TO TAKE CONTROL! NO BACKING DOWN!” he yelled at his army, to which they cheered. The army continued making advances.

Superbug was bee-lining it to Nurushwa, taking out what she could of his army, with Royal Guard doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Despite the fact that there were now tens of thousands, she was more confident than ever that her team, Hawk Moth, and the army he was conjuring up would handle them.

Ultra Noir was keeping close to Superbug, but focusing on the enemies rather than where she was going. His misty features made it hard for the enemies to hit him. Ultra Noir also found that he could create Cataclysms as big or as small as he wanted. He used it to destroy parts of buildings to land on Nurushwa’s unwilling minions, as well as destroy them outright, while keeping the humans inside safe. He continued his attack.

Meanwhile, his Sentimonster, Guardian Angel, flew close by; taking out Nurushwa’s army with their light powers and feather manipulation. They also had the ability to heal those who had been recently freed from Nurushwa’s control.

Lupus Judgement was going around freeing everyone he could with his powered up Reveal Claw. He only took out his sword when he needed to defend himself. Lucky for him, this was a rare instance because Firefighter was backing him up at every turn.

As Rintails was running, she saw Nurushwa’s akumas descending. She grabbed Murtle and said “I have an idea! I’ll lure them with fake people, and you capture them in little bubbles!”

“Sounds awesome!” Murtle. Rintails nodded and began phase one of her plan. The akumas took the bait, which allowed Murtle to do phase two. To protect them from danger, Composite Ladybug and Bubbleblast worked together to fight off any attackers.

Honey Queen was flying around the city. On top of her beebots immobilizing Nurushwa’s army, she could also shoot sticky honey from her gloves to make them stick to where they were. Following behind her was Pride Monster, who would swallow the akumatized people and spit them back out free of Nurushwa’s control.

Also taking to the skies was Paone Archange. She flew around granting people Sentimonsters. She would usually coordinate this with people being Tenshied by Hawk Moth to gain even more power. She would protect herself when needed, but she also received aid from Buzzstormer and Cerberus. Cerberus would also go around powering up the Tenshis to make them even stronger.

Time Hopper and Wyld Stallyn were working together to track and find anyone free from Nurushwa and time travel/teleport them to the area behind the defencive wall, while also taking care of anyone attacking them directly. MX-01, apart from being really good at taking out Nurushwa’s soldiers, was able to locate these people and relay that information to Speedstaker, who in turn would bring those people closer to Wyld Stallyn and Time Hopper. Time Hopper would invite people onto her watch-board and travel to the safe zone; instantly traveling back to take enemies by surprise. Wyld Stallyn would create portals for himself when the situation called for it, but he would also use the spots on his hands to make portals for others. His was his main way of getting people to the wall.

Viperidae launched chronospheres from each of his straps. Each Chronosphere covered a section of the city. He and Soundwave Rider would make their way through the city, battling the monsters. Every so often, each strap, at a different time, would reset everything in the chronosphere it had influence over, on the chance that things would go wrong in said Chronosphere. The heroes inside would be made aware so they could make adjustments.

Wukong would blast out disruptive objects to the minions, causing them to lose control. Valkyrie Archer would then use their arrows to pin the monsters. Both would attack together if the situation called for it.

Kiloxenfree was fighting the creature head on. Most of the time, he remained hard all around, since that made him practically invincible. However, if the situation called for it, he would go soft in some places; most notable whenever something was thrown at him, it would fly back at whoever threw it. Loveheart also helped with the offensive front.

Miss Souriesous was also fighting Nurushwa’s monsters, when one of them snuck up on her. However, another Miss Souriesous, at full size and with a number 2 on her X, attacked them. The two Miss Souriesouses smiled and nodded at each other. Miss Sourieous 1 looked at her monitor and saw that her plan of dividing and conquering was going well, with many Miss Souriesouses of differing sizes fighting these monsters all across Paris. Courificator helped by attacking these monsters, and providing transport to some of the smaller Miss Souriesouses.

Ryukyu was storming the area and fighting the Nurushwa army head on. Whenever she would call upon one of her weather powers, not only would the seal glow to the corresponding effect, but the eyes on the dragon mask would change color to match, as well as the sections on her costume that matched. This meant that not only could she change into the effect itself, but those parts would have the powers of said effect; making them really useful in combat. Aiding her was Oniposte, and their battle prowess alongside each other was astounding.

Neon Tigress was doing her best to remain calm. This is so that whenever she shot out a Reverb, the monsters around her would calm down as well. Because she was powered up, she could shoot out many reverbs at a time. Threadmaker would then tie them all up, and the two would continue to advance.

Wherever War Hog went, she would distort her surroundings before battle. She would do this during battle too, but doing it before allowed her to make the area to her liking, and it also gave Rebel Cat better opportunities for surprise attacks.

Thundercluck worked on keeping his distance and sniping the monsters with Down Strikes, while Pagemaster summoned as many drawings as it could to aid in the attack. Whenever one of Nurushwa’s monsters got close, they would touch one of the feathers circling Thundercluck and instantly fall asleep. This was helpful, as it allowed Thundercluck time to move when necessary.

Abaaaddin Sane notices that one he began harvesting feelings, they would continue to come to him. This gave him more than enough ammo to take down Nurushwa’s army in many creative ways. Following him was Multi-Bleat, who would often assist Abaaadin Sane with his takedowns.

Heraculeaus and Web Weaver were working together. Web Weaver would corner the monsters, alongside Golden Dragon and Jade Dragon, and the Heraculeaus would use his stinger to unlock the binds of the akumas to the people. Healer was not too far behind, and he would heal the citizenry after they were free, and protect them from getting akumatized again.

Nurushwa was furious that his minions were taking severe blows. “Well well, it looks like we’ll have another thing in common” Lila chuckled. “Losing to Ladybug.”

“Grrrr” huffed Nurushwa. “It’s not over yet! I’ll just have to keep making more! Soon, they’ll be so overwhelmed and overworked that they can’t help but fall!” Lila became worried.

However, as Nurushwa was gathering the energy to do this, he was interrupted. “HALT!” screamed Superbug. Nurushwa looked at her. She was staring at him intently. “LET LILA GO AND STOP THIS SIEGE ON PARIS! OR I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!”

Lila looked up. She could see what Nurushwa was seeing. She could believe her eyes. “Ladybug?”

[badboy-mysweetboy]

Crazy Ace

Joker x reader? Kinda.... you’ll understand once you read. I don’t wanna spoil

Jared Leto joker is so fucking....yum. I love Harley just saying this now. Warning this does get....graphic about wounds. Random tags: @missmarrinette​ @jokeresques​@jokerimagines​ @suicidesquadimagines​ @pindragon13​

A series of small beeps could be heard from a distance before heavy cement is rubble on the ground.

Turning on my heel my henchmen form in costumes all overtaking the asylum. Arkham Asylum.

They say Harley Quin and the Clown Prince is here. Good.

The henchmen in teddy bear costume on tables shooting the guards aimed to kill. It was a blood bath, all for my doing. All at my pleasure.

Skipping down the halls as my eyes scan the area locating the criminal lockup, music blasted from every speaker. With every time my foot connects to the ground, another 5 bodies hit the floor. Hiding my pales skin with layers of black and blue, my lips followed words of the song without effort. 

The tattoos that are drawn on my skin prominent against the harsh paleness of my skin. The streak of the speaker idolized the end of the song, dead silence. A foul smirk overcame my bored expression as one of my boys opened the door for me. Walking in, there they were. In large cages. Harley cornered herself as Joker watched curiously.

My henchmen stood frozen waiting for my next move, nodding towards the girl they immediately got to work. My stare held close to his, approaching his cold bared solitude. The dark hair covered most of my eyes until looking up, “Well, look at you Harley. All grown up after being a stripper. Must have... grown out of it.” Switching my focus to her. Who I came for. “Me? Not Mista J?” She quirked in confusion. “Give me my package boys then roll out.” Almost within seconds, she’d retrained on her way to my mansion. Turning to meet blue eyes once again, “Let him out after I’m gone.” I wave off my last few men before walking out. 

The only sound heard was my boots meeting the groud as a cold tune of whistling left my lips leaving Joker to rethink everything over.

Joker sat looking around before my men released him, smirking he got up and strolled passed the guards. A firm hand to the Clown Prince's chest stopped him before the door. His cold stare meets a card. A black ace turning it over in front of Jokers' face his eyes now meet with a location. Then they left.

Joyriding around the city, weaving between the traffic with sirens blaring behind me. Music screaming from its speakers as I jerk the wheel to my will. After losing them, which took way to long my eyes gaze upon my place of crime. 

Meeting me at the front door the henchmen welcome me back, “Wassup Shaggy! Got my toys?” Talking to the leader of my boys, Shaggy. He smiled, yes he was older than me. Yes he’s 25 and I’m 15 but he’s my homie. “Yes, Miss Quinzel is in the playroom. Do you need anything?” Shaking my head I headed down to the playroom, skipping 4 steps at a time. The concrete echoed my boots as a curling whistle left my lips once more, one that terrified Harley to her core. 

The door opened, to meet her tied and gagged in a steel chair bolted to the ground. Pure anger took over my expression but a grin found itself on the corners of my lips. “This should be fun.” Shaggy ripping off her gag from her, questions flew from her like a child on crack. “I will gag you again, but with a needle and thread this time.” Immediate silence came from her. Shaggy’s pocket vibrated as he left to take it. 

I stalked her, walking around her like prey. Slightly playing with her pigtails. “I’m gonna have so much fun with you Harley. And then when you’re barely there, I’m going to stop. Then I’m going to tell you why you’re here, and I’m gonna keep you here. Joker can’t save you, because of what you did. You are sitting there for a reason, you put yourself there Dr.Harleen Quinzel and you didn’t even know it.” A menacing laugh erupted from my mouth before going to look at my toys. 

Fingers dancing over the many toys before deciding on my blade, holding it up, admiring it I spoke up,” Do you know why this is my favorite blade Harleen?”

Her head shook violently, “Now let us use our words Harleen. Is that the way you speak to me after I broke you out of that place? Ungrateful.” Approaching her she squeaked out, “I’m so-sorry. W-why is i-it your fa-avorite blade?” Smiling I level my face with hers, “You see, this is the blade that I killed my adopted father with. I stole it when around 7.” Tracing her cheekbone with the old blade leaving a fine line across her face as she whimpers. Smiling I continued drawing in red, her screams filled my ears as I covered every inch of her pale skin. 

Letting out a dramatic sigh, “I’m starting to get bored. How about you Harleen? Are you bored?” Searching her eyes, “Now, now, now Harleen. We spoke about responding.” Not leaving her stare, the knife plunged into her leg with a scream, “I’m sorry! No, I’m having fun. Please, why are you doing this?” A whisper left her lips, smirking leaning into her ear. “That the question isn’t it?” 

“Hey Boss, The Joker is here.” Shaggy pronounces, standing straight a look of hope gleamed in Harleen’s eyes. I too smiled. “Awww that’s cute, look at that Shags, she thinks he’s here for her. No, honey, I gave him my location. Stay here honey I’ll be back!” I yell pass my shoulder leaving the room. Checking my watch, “Ah ya see, he’s late Shagster. People have no sense of respect nowadays.” Walking up the final stair the green-haired Crime boss stood, “Why am I here Ace?” He grumbled, smiling I walked to him. “Where’s the fun in that?!” Skipping away to the staircase and whispering to the men on top of the stairs, they quickly went down as I returned to the clown. “Come on we don’t have all day.” Leading to my office deeper into my home. The massive gold doors opened to reveal my business room. 

Harleen was sitting in the middle of the exquisitely expensive room. “Ah! You’re here! Shag, what would I do without you.” Exclaiming punching him on the shoulder, the doors shut behind Joker as I hopped on to my chair sitting particularly strange to most. 

Watching the scene unfold, Joker eyed me cautiously. “Puddin’! Ya here to save me! I love ya so much! Baby!” My ears were ready to fall off, “Harleen shut up!” My voice boomed over the room, “Slightly better, if ya kept going I was going to throw up. Now here comes the best part of the story.” I eyed Joker than the chair, he placed himself in the chair. Standing from my chair and circling in front of Harleen. “Ok now, you’re probably thinking, ‘hmmm why am I in a nice ass house in front of a 15-year-old crime boss like myself?’ well I’m going-well Harleen is going to do us that favor.” Turning my heel I re-level myself with her face. 

She shook with fear as I got closer to her, it clicked. “Dr. Harleen Quinzel, you are the doctor who took care and loved the Clown Prince over there. La-la lovely Dovey shit later Dr. Harleen Quinzel helps Joker get out, and continue Doc. Why did you really help him out?” Turning to met jokers face before sitting back into my chair. She shifted before gulping. “Harley.” Joker's voice was stern, she looked at the floor. 

“Today Junior! Speak puppy, speak!” I yell as she jumped at my voice. “Well Puddin’ ya see when I was helping you in the Asylum, and during one of-of our sessions I started getting sick.” Joker’s eyes widened, sitting forward. A smile came over my face, “Yes come on keep going, 7 months forward!” I place my chin on the chair waiting for the story to continue. “Puddin’ you said ya didn’t want any kids so when I got pregnant I ditched it and came back to ya baby!” He growled before I jumped in, “Where did ya leave her Harleen? Where did ya leave it? A fire station?” 

“No.”

“Oh, then an orphanage?” “No.”

“Then possibly a random doorstep?” “No! Stop!”

“Then where did you leave her Dr. Harleen Quinzel?! Where did you leave this perfectly and completely innocent baby in the dangerous streets of Gotham?!”

Silence followed, the air thick in tension. “Where did ya leave her Harley?” The Joker spoke up, even she didn’t meet his eyes. Finally, she spoke but never looked up, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Joker repeated himself, Ya know ya club, I may or may not have put the baby in one of the dumpsters before rejoining you at the Acid storage factory. When you fell in love with me baby.” 

Joker stood and looked away from the woman, I smile letting out a sigh. “Wasn’t that a lovely story! But, I know the sequel. Here sit down, I’ll let you know the ending. Sit Mr. Joker, please I insist.” I jump up and offer his chair with a glass of Jack, he takes it and sits. “Now let us wrap this up with a bow, Once upon a time a little girl was born, born in a very dangerous place but this baby believed in the trust of her beloved parents even though her father never known of her existence. But instead was left in a dumpster to die outside a Crime Bosses night club, until a druggy-acholic found her when he was dumpster diving for some heroine. He brought her home, not to love her and to take care of her. No, he saw something to raise into the perfect slave for any need he may have. No censor bars there sweetheart. Take that any way you want, or how dirty you want because it happened. When she was 7 she killed the horrid man, then she found someone to help her-” Shaggy had a sad look over his face, but met my eyes when I spoke, “He helped her grow and learn what happened to her, he helped me become the biggest Crime Boss there ever was. Even bigger than you Joker. The End! What a beautiful story don’t you think, Harleen? Well, that’s all I wanted. You can leave goodbye.” 

Walking out of the room and into the kitchen while my boys made sure Harleen left in one piece with Joker. “I wonder how it will go? How about you Shags?” He sat across from me as he handed me a drink, “Well by his reaction, I believe he will get rid of her by tomorrow or the next hour. How are you?” Chewing on the straw a muffled,” I’m fine, really actually. How about you, shagster?” He thought while standing next to me. 

“It was hard not to kill her right then and there but this plan of yours should work perfectly, it always does.” Patting my shoulder before the door sung its normal melody. “A lot sooner than expected.” He mumbled before the Joker came in and passed the henchmen. They detained him, “Hey. It’s okay to let him go. Come and sit. We have milkshakes and alcohol for all mental fun.” 

After they let him go he sat on the patted stool, “So, I’m guessin’ the story was bout you?” He finally spoke up after a short silence. I chuckled, raising my hands. “How’d ya guess? I thought I told the story for the plot twist.” I chuckle but mumble the last part. He chuckled too. Our eyes meet once again like the first time we meet, the same icy touch and the paleness of our skin made us right out of a comic book. 

“So, Ace. is that your real name?’“ 

“No Jack, It isn’t.” His eyes widened and stayed on me for a while. “How’d you--?” 

“I won’t tell anyone but 21 and Me. Man those ads always get me. But my name Y/n. After Shagster's mother. But people call me Crazy Ace”

[vexing-imogen]

hide your face (so the world will never find you)

Masquerade! Paper faces on parade Masquerade!

They’re the guests of honor tonight.

Fjord guesses that’s what’s supposed to happen when you’ve saved the world about half a dozen times and counting. It is a bit surreal though. Looking down at the sea of people crowding the Lavish Chateau and knowing they’re there for you, because of you.

He hasn’t joined the party yet, choosing instead to watch the revelry below from one of Jester’s childhood hiding places. He observes the masquerade through a simple face mask; a deep forest green, dappled with lighter greens, decorated with kelp and colorful sea glass, and held in place with a piece of the red cord he’s carried with him since his time on the Tide’s Breath. Jester had insisted that they all keep their masks and costumes a secret until the party, so Fjord makes a game out of searching the crowd for his friends.

Nott (Veth he has to remind himself. Not Nott anymore. Veth) er, Veth is easy enough to spot, leading Yeza around the buffet table. She’s wearing a pretty yellow dress, embroidered with delicate flowers. Her dark hair is braided into an elaborate updo, dark eyes sparkling with excitement above her broken porcelain mask.

He picks Caduceus out next, his firbolg form towering over most of the guests, but especially the white-haired gnome he’s conversing with. The beetle mask he’s wearing should be creepy as fuck, but his soft, floppy ears and long waterfall of hair soften the edges and make him look only mildly disconcerting.

Yasha would be hard to miss in a crowd, even without the large white wings that sprout from her shoulders. Her dress is midnight blue, embroidered with silver thread in patterns reminiscent of a lightning strike. Fjord thinks her white avian mask might be an eagle of some kind, but it’s hard to tell with her head ducked as it is, eyes on her dance partner.

Her dance partner being Beau. Beau, who Fjord wouldn’t recognize if he didn’t already know what her mask looked like. They’d gone shopping for masks together (Jester had pouted for hours when she found out), and he’d been the one to find the elaborate owl mask that looked a little too much like Professor Thaddeus. She’s dressed in a charcoal grey suit trimmed with blue. It has sleeves. Beauregard Lionett is willingly wearing sleeves and dancing and isn’t trying to start a brawl with the goliath from Vox Machina. He’s so proud he could cry.

It takes him a while to find Caleb. He’s sequestered himself in a dark corner (another one of Jester’s favored hiding spots), like Fjord, keeping himself separate from all of the attention and praise that none of them are quite sure they deserve. His cat mask is pushed up so he can better focus on his conversation partner. Essek, Fjord realizes with no small amount of shock. They’d invited him of course, at a banquet in Rosohna celebrating the end of the war, but none of them had expected him to actually show, Caleb especially.

Fjord searches the room for Jester fruitlessly. She isn’t by the stage, where a family of gnomes called the Shorthalt Seven play song after song. She isn’t sitting down with Allura Vysoren and her wife, Kima, who have abandoned their masks (a golden swan and a silver dragon, respectively) in favor of wine and ale. Nor is she at her mother’s side as Marion flirts with both Lord and Lady de Rolo. The Lady’s bronze dragon mask does little to muffle her laughter as her husband flushes a brilliant crimson behind a raven. She isn’t pestering Taryon Darrington, who is wearing a garish mask that can only be his construct, Doty. (the construct is wearing a mask, too. A truly horrifying thing that Fjord can only guess is supposed to be a likeness of Taryon.) In all of the music, laughter, dancing, drinking, mischief, and general chaos of the evening, Jester is nowhere to be found.

“Looking for someone?”

Fjord nearly cracks his head on a low beam jumping at the soft voice beside him. He’s halfway to summoning the Star Razor before he thinks that it might not be the best idea to run a random party guest through with a sword. He does spin towards the voice, and comes face to face with Keyleth of the Air Ashari and Vox Machina. The Voice of the Tempest. The powerful as fuck archdruid that could level the Chateau if she really wanted to.

Her rabbit mask is pushed up between her antlers, so he can see her wince and blush. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He waves off her apologies. “It’s fine, really,” he says, taking a breath and willing his heart to stop racing. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up here, that’s all.”

Keyleth nods, her mask slipping a little with the movement. “I get it,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong, I love getting dressed up, and the free drinks are always a plus, but the whole socializing part of events like these have never been my forte.”

“It’s not the socializing I mind,” he says, searching for the right words. “It’s being the center of attention that bothers me, I suppose. Especially when-”

“You feel like you don’t deserve any of it, and you’re terrified that everyone will realize all at once how much of a fuck-up you truly are and throw you out on your ass?” Keyleth finishes, giving him a wry grin.

Fjord laughs. “Um, yes. To all of that.”

“Unfortunately, that feeling never really goes away,” she says, shrugging. “Sorry.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Having friends helps,” she says eventually. “Getting to see the positive impact of something that you did? That helps, too.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I think it also helps knowing that you aren’t alone in what you’re feeling.”

Keyleth grins. “Don’t mention it. Now, did you need help finding someone?” Her fingertips spark with magic as she wiggles them at him. “I probably have a spell that can help.”

Fjord shakes his head. “Thank you, but sometimes it’s just nice to sit back and watch the crowd.”

She likely sees through the lie, but she doesn’t push it. “Okay,” she says awkwardly. “Well, I should probably get back before my friends send a search party after me. They can get kind of paranoid sometimes.”

He nods. “It was nice talking with you, Miss Keyleth.”

He’s turning back to search for Jester when Keyleth calls his name. He turns back to her, about halfway down the stairs, an unreadable expression on her face. “Yes?”

“One last piece of advice?” He nods. She takes a deep breath. “Don’t wait until it’s too late to tell someone how you really feel about them. It works out for some,” she adds, eyes darting to Lord and Lady de Rolo, now dancing close, lost to everyone else but each other. “But, the more time you get with someone you love, the better.”

He swallows past the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

What he doesn’t say is that he was already almost too late. They’d lost Jester during one of their recent battles. She’d gone down and Caduceus was too far away, too focused on keeping Caleb and Beau alive. Fjord and Yasha’s meager healing abilities hadn’t been enough, and, for twelve agonizing hours, Jester was lost to them. Cad was able to bring her back with Beau and Nott’s help. Fjord’s too. He’ll be damned if he can remember everything he said, but he knows he’d whispered his love to her, for only her to hear.

Keyleth is long gone when Jester’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “Fjo-ord, where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. The party got too stuffy, so I went to my momma’s balcony for some fresh-”

He chuckles as her message cuts off. “Message received, loud and clear. Stay where you are, Jessie, I’ll be right up.”

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

Fjord finds Jester right where she said she’d be; in her mother’s room, out on the balcony, staring up at the night sky, the ocean breeze gently ruffling her hair. He stops to examine the mask that she’s left on the table before going out to join her. It’s a full face mask, styled after old theatre masks. One side laughing, one side crying; comedy and tragedy in one. The laughing side is a deep emerald green, the crying a jewel-bright pink, all accented with gold.

As he sets the mask aside and moves to join her on the balcony, he sees that the colors perfectly match her dress. The sleeveless bodice is patterned with harlequin diamonds, green, pink, and gold. Her skirt flares out, layer upon layer of emerald green tulle. She looks like a princess, and Fjord, in his simple mask and pirate costume, feels every inch a pauper.

The moment he sets foot on the balcony, she turns to him, and the smile she gives him wipes away any momentary insecurities.

“There you are, Fjord,” she teases. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

He grins, moves to lean against the railing. “Please accept my deepest apologies,” he says. “How ever can I make up for such a grievous error?”

Jester giggles. “Wellll, for starters, as cool as it is, you can take your mask off. This balcony has officially been declared a “no mask zone”.”

“Is that so?” he asks, smirking when she nods seriously. “I suppose I should comply, then. I wouldn’t want to break official rules.”

He unties his mask and hands it to Jester, watching as she runs her fingers over the sea glass. “This is really cool, Fjord,” she says, rubbing her thumb across a piece of kelp.

He blushes a bit, ducking his head. “Thanks, Jes. Yours is...gorgeous,” he says. “The wh-whole ensemble, really. I mean, gods, Jester, there’s rarely a day you don’t take my breath away, but tonight...gods, tonight...”

Her eyes are wide when he finally dares to look up at her, mouth hanging open just a little, a purple flush coloring her cheeks and chest. “Fjord...” She laughs a little, breathless. “Fjord, I...”

She’s speechless, searching for words, but she isn’t panicking. There are tears starting to gather at the corners of her eyes, but she’s smiling, and not the sad, pitying kind of smile she’d given Freddie de Rolo when he’d tried to kiss her, and she had to turn him down. He steps a little closer, gives her time to retreat if she wants. She doesn’t move.

He reaches up to stroke her cheek, and she leans into his touch, eyelashes fluttering. “We never did have that talk about the day you died,” he says softly. “Or about the day we brought you back.”

“No, we didn’t,” she says. She bites her lip. “What...what did you want to talk about?”

He has to close his eyes, can’t watch her face as he says what he’s about to say. “I don’t know what I would have done if we hadn’t been able to bring you back, Jester.” His head drops until his forehead meets hers. “Losing you would have destroyed all of us, certainly, but you can ask anyone, Jester. I was useless. It was only twelve hours, but it felt like a lifetime.”

She lets out a shaky breath that he can feel wash across his cheek. “And all of that stuff you said during the ritual?”

He pulls back just enough to look into her eyes. “I meant every word.”

Tears are flowing freely down her face. “Even the part where...”

“Especially the part where,” he says. “I’m in love with you, Jester Lavorre, and it shouldn’t have taken you dying for me to admit it.”

Her answering smile knocks all the breath from his lungs. Or maybe that’s her jumping to kiss him, throwing him off balance with her enthusiasm. He ends up on his back on the floor, Jester sprawled on top of him, both of them laughing hysterically.

“Oh gosh, Fjord,” Jester manages between giggles. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jes, don’t you worry.” He pushes himself to sitting, giving her the chance to climb off of him. Instead, she settles more fully in his lap. “And you don’t ever have to apologize for trying to kiss me, alright?”

She grins, leaning in to kiss him. “Good,” she says. “Because I’m going to want to kiss you a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. I’m talking an obscene amount of kissing here, Fjord.”

He laughs, winds an arm around her waist. “I think I can live with that, darlin’.”

She rests her forehead against his. “Will you say it again, Fjord?”

He kisses her again. “I love you, Jester.”

“I love you, too, Fjord.”

[queen-paladin]

White Queen (John Deacon x fem! Reader)

A/N Written for Laura’s extravaganza! Enjoy! From the prompt of the song “White Queen (As It Began).

Word Count: 2,000 Paring: John Deacon x fem! Reader, Freddie Mercury x Platonic! fem! Reader

Content Warnings: brief swearing, mentions of drugs/smoking/alcohol, a bit of angst, fairy gay godmother Freddie, liberties from the song inspired for this, and tooth-rotting fluff.

“Darling, you are going to my ball tonight or I will drag you by your hair!” Fred was declaring as his car was pulling up to Garden Lodge. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were looking down at your hands folded on your lap. Creamy, clean insides of cars were still something you had to get used to, being a close friend of none other than Mercury himself.

“Fred…It’s just…” you mumble.

“I know you don’t normally like to go to my parties, Y/N, but you can’t cower anymore!” he said with a little huff. The car was slowing to the front and Fred was saying his thanks to the driver.

To think that twenty minutes ago, you were canceling to Freddie via the phone. There was a click and you were preparing for a quiet evening. A limo outside honked with your whistling tea kettle. 

Now here you were. 

Thanks to Working early in the morning, you felt drowsy. The thought of being crowded in a room full of loud, obnoxious people lining up for crack buffets was unappealing. If you showed up tomorrow hungover you would have to kiss your job goodbye.

Besides, there was the matter of Fred’s friends altogether. You met the band members several times prior. The tall guitarist and the blonde drummer had their constant moments of explosion with Freddie joining in until it was a pure cacophony.

Then there was their bassist. He would only nod politely and gently strike the strings of his instrument. But he hardly said three words together. When with you especially he seemed especially shrunk and unwilling to speak.

What other sorts of wild guests would come to the party? Hosted by the only person you were close with? 

Exhausted misery was creeping inside you.

Fred dashed over to the other side of the car and led you out. Your arm looped around the dark leather of his jacket out into the cool air. Stepping up to the entrance, he opened the door courteously to show you into Garden Lodge.

“But Fred…what if I don’t like it?” you ask. Echoes of your voice drip around the front parlor.

“You’ve never been to one of my parties, how can you say if you don’t like it! Besides, it’s different this year-it’s a bloody costume ball! There will be dancing and champagne and everything you could dream!” Freddie cheered. He gave a smile that reached both of his cheekbones.

The clicks of your shoes against the tile floor kept the rhythm of your wandering. A delicate chandelier crinkled over you. Directly under it was a vase full of yellow roses beaming like beads of sunlight. What sunlight there was now began to fade through the wide windows of the house, dripping the place in orange light.

“It does…sound wonderful. Like a fairy tale” you coo.

“Well, I always wanted to be your fairy godmother, Y/N. You do so much for others. And me. I thought you deserved to have some fun. A shame if you missed the chance to live a fairy tale, darling Y/N.”   Freddie compliments.

You walk over and greet your hellos to the staff polishing the place spotless for tonight. In their white suits and dresses with black bows, they were like reverse penguins. Fred would shake their hands, call them by their first name and “darling” and occasionally pop out a little present from his pockets for them to open later.

You looked around at the extravagant house. In just mere hours, there would be an army of people dripping in jewels, satin, and lace all over them. Your formal dress from your high school prom was sighing in a bedroom closet under your parents’ roof.

Fred leads you to up his grand staircase. You glance down at your dark blue t-shirt and jeans. Your face gets hot.

“Freddie…” you start, stopping in between two steps. He turns his head back and takes a step back to be at your level.

“I…I don’t have anything to wear. I don’t think any of the nice shops are open now. They’ll all laugh at how…ugly I look” you mourn. You start to notice how muddy your sneakers have gotten compared to the crisp whites of Freddie’s.

Fred gasps a little with a large “What? Nonsense, Y/N, don’t you dare think like that. Did someone say that? They’re an idiot and I’ll hit them” he insisted.

You give a little smile. Leading you up to the top, you see a hallway with four doors. he points to the door at the end to the left.

“That’s the guest bedroom. Well, for tonight, it will be your room. You’re sleeping over here tonight, you and anyone else you bring upstairs. I provided condoms, too” he informed cheekily.

“Fred!” you exclaim.

“Just in case! I’d rather you be safe! And darling…” he leaned over to your ear. You could feel his giddy, childish excitement bubbling up, ready to burst any second.“I bought a gift for you. For tonight. It’s on the bed. You’ve been an angel to me these past few years, through everything. I thought I might do something in return. And you don’t owe me a penny” he affirmed.

 You walk to the guest bedroom and curiously opened the door. You saw a large white box, wrapped up in silk, silver ribbon laying on the large, pink canopy bed. It’s almost the size of three of the white, lace pillows. 

You undid the ribbon gingerly, opened the lid, and were speechless. 

You heard Fred’s fingers tapping against the doorframe in excitement.

“Darling, your stylist will come to help you in five minutes. As my bonus…” he gushed.

With the stroke of nine o clock, Freddie swept you in your gown among the guests down the stairway. It went a little quiet. You were wearing your gift from Freddie, a white ball gown with a crinolined, puffy skirt, a delicate sliver that puffed out from the sleeves dripping down to reveal your shoulders, collarbone, and neck in only little clouds and was dripping with small silver sparkles. There were endless layers on the skirt, and you had to ask Fred to help you put it on. It almost made a swish sound whenever you moved. Sparkling silver heels embraced your feet. There were also little star jewels that the stylist tucked into your half-updo.

Fred insisted you wait until he himself entered. You found out that you would be walking down the staircase together, looking almost like a couple in a melodramatic wedding. With Fred’s long, black cape, Victorian-era black suit, and black fedora, it pulled off seamlessly. In one hand he held a stick that placed a threatening white mask on the end. But his beaming face expressed otherwise.

You noticed there was a pair of green-brown ones tracing your every step. Familiar. Quiet. Soft. Ignoring those, Freddie indulged the gaping crowd by waving an arm and bowing down low enough to touch his toes to applause. The chatter continued and heads turned away.

“It wasn’t just for me they were silent for, darling” Freddie complimented with a wink.

You felt his arm tugging you across the heads of people, red, gold, silver, and blue bodies. Sometimes there were masks - some ranged from plague masks with daggers for noses to delicate lace masks that blended like veins into their skin. Crinkling skirts covered the hall. Violins and cellos plucked out complicated Mozart lines like breathing. Bodies pressed against your wide skirt. Cigar smoke drenched the air.

Greeting everyone by name, Freddie’s arm nearly strung you around until you saw the eyes you felt earlier. Taller than he looked in pictures, his eyes that crinkled despite his youth as he gave Fred a smile and stopped it midway when his fluffy reddish-brown head turned to you. He was decked in blue trousers and a puffy-sleeved blue shirt opened to reveal his pale chest and long pants the same color of blue. He had a silver vest too large for him kept barely straight with pins. A silver crown rested on his head. Freddie nudged you with him. 

“Deacy, this is Y/N. Y/N, Deacy-or just call him John, if you’d like”.

“I met you before! You’re the bassist!” you exclaim. As you offered your hand to shake his, he took it hesitantly. His hands were sweaty.

Freddie nudged John and said “start off with your thoughts on Flash Gordon! He’s an expert!”

A raspy voice suddenly shouted “Freddie!” and he turned, with a dramatic swish of his cape, with an excited “Rog!” and jogged off.

You two stared at each other. Deacy bit his lip.

“Y/N” he stuttered, his northern twang slipping out “who…where is the bathroom?”

“It’s down that hallway,” you said, pointing “to the right.”

He nodded at you and gave you a smile as thanks before walking away. Something about it, the gentle way he carried himself, the shyness of the nod, and his sweet smile made you feel a little dizzy.

It was ten minutes until you were already sweating. You couldn’t find the refreshment table, no one seemed to want to talk to you, and it was too loud to think. With the crowding and the heaviness of your gown, you needed air. You turned your head to see the glass door. 

You make your way to the entrance of the garden. You slide out, relieved for the bit of clear air. It was falling to night-time. The garden was filled with rose bushes of yellow, red, and white like luminescent gems. You bend down to see the tulips for a bit and sniff them. A lovely break from the stench of tobacco. Now there was only the faint sound of cars and the muffled sound of the party. You walked a bit, admiring the flowers.

“Bloody hell.” Someone sighed.

You let out a little yelp and in surprise, you tripped on your skirt and fell, your hands landing on the dirt and your nose grazing grass.

“Oh! Y/N! I’m so sorry!” John apologized. 

He had been right behind you and did not see anything until you screamed. Feet rushing over he helped you up. John noticed the sight of your hand grabbing his arm and immediately retracted. He bit his lip and kept his eyes down.

“Are you okay? And your dress?” he pondered. 

You turned over to a green stain on your white balloon of a skirt.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, you must…” he said. He began to hide his face in his hands.

“It’s alright, John” you insist…maybe you can fix it. 

You glance over to notice some red roses in full bloom.

“Could you get one of the roses and help me pin it over the stain, please?” You ask. You start to wheedle a pin from your special hairdo. 

“Of course!” John insisted.

He rushed over and plucked it out easily. The attachment of the rose over your grass stain was so tender you fought back a smile.

“I’m sorry…but earlier, I knew already where the bathroom was.” He confessed as he bent down to start pinning the flower.

“Really?” you ask.

“I…I always notice you around Freddie. I know we met a bit before. And, he talks about what a kind person you are. And… I thought, maybe you really fancied him and that there was a slight chance he fancied you back, so you were...I want to talk to you but…I’m pathetic, I’m sorry, I don’t even know how to approach you and tonight…well, it was especially hard because…. you really do look lovely” he said. 

His eyes kept down as if he was daring himself not to stare right at the sun.

The secret smile of yours wins.

“Fred and I are just friends, John, thank you… for the flower, and pinning it up too…and the compliment, I mean. It’s nice to talk to you” you say.

John finally looks up in your eyes. Electricity burns inside you.

“I…I’m afraid I never really knew what to say with you, I don’t like small talk” he blurts.

“Well, we could start with what our favorite colors are…or Flash Gordon, or Fred” you offer with a toothy grin.

You hear violins sweeping out a ¾ melody. People inside the building begin rushing over to the biggest room. You can even make out Fred’s cheer of “who doesn’t love a good waltz, darlings!”

You grab his hand, every bit as soft and sweet as you imagine. And a little less sweaty now.

“But first, can I have one dance with you?” you plead. 

He nods and you both run inside in time.

It would be a better night than you thought. You didn’t know how much time you would spend with him. Goodbyes would eventually be exchanged. Now you wanted to savor every second.

Tagged: @bensrhapsody​ @littledarlingwellaway​ and my angelic beta-reader @thosequeenboys​

[mycatshuman]

I Put A Spell On You

Chapter 3

Down the Scary Path to the Sanderson Cottage

Previous | Next | More Chapters

Masterlist

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality, Remile.

Warnings: I don't think there are any? Let me know if I missed any.

Thank you so so much to @civilsounds17 and @icequeenoriginal for beta reading! You are angels!💚💜💚💜💜💚💜💜💜💚💜

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Roman cautiously picked up his costume and took one final look before he began to pull the costume on. First the pants, then a white t-shirt and then the jacket. Finally the sash and then he pulled on his shoes. He took a few moments to prepare himself before he turned around to look in the mirror. He was nervous. Incredibly nervous. He wasn't sure if what he saw in that mirror would be good. He wasn't sure that it wouldn't hurt him. He was terrified. What if he saw exactly what his ex saw? A childish immature teenager trying to play house.

He took a few moments to dig through the boxes in his closet, keeping his attention away from the sheet of glass sitting ready on the wall. After a couple of minutes of rooting through all the "childish" things, he took a deep breath and stood up, turning towards his reflection.

Roman inspected himself in the mirror. He looked good. He actually liked it. The costume felt right. But it also felt different. Despite having been working on the costume moments before his ex came in to break up with him, Roman had little to no reminders of him in the costume. Sure, when he looked at the gold stitching on the cuffs, he remembered the way his ex had come into the room. But it didn't really bother him now. The costume actually made him feel happier. He liked that. He liked feeling happy. He just hoped it lasted.

Roman adjusted the jacket again while he waited for his friends. The jacket was mostly white, with gold epaulets on the shoulders and gold stitching over his chest and on the cuffs. It had a high neck collar and a royal red sash laying across his chest. He paired it with a pair of black dress pants—pressed of course—and nice dress shoes. He had even attached his sword to his hip to complete the outfit. He was going out as a prince. It was a nice play on his last name. Patton would appreciate the pun. He let out a sigh and leaned closer to the mirror and fixed his hair for the tenth time before pulling back. The sound of the doorbell rang out through the house. His friends. Roman left his room and ran down the stairs, two at a time, he was excited. He did a quick peep out the peephole just to confirm his friends were in fact here. He opened the door with a broad grin.

"Awwwww!" Patton immediately squealed. "You look so amazing!!" He exclaimed. He bounded forward and gave a quick hug before pulling back and inspecting Roman's costume. "You look so princely!"

Roman grinned wide. A real smile this time. His first real smile in a while. "Well, you know a prince has got to slay." He chuckled. Then, "You guys look great!" He took in his friend's costumes. Patton was in a light blue polo, a grey cardigan wrapped around his shoulders and tan slacks. He had even traded his normal glasses for a pair of rectangular black framed ones. He looked like the embodiment of a typical dad.

Meanwhile, Emile was wearing his normal cream-colored sweater over top a white dress shirt. He paired it with a blue and pink tie and his normal glasses. He had a pair of nice slacks and some pretty comfortable looking shoes. In his hand, he held a notebook and pen and he had his backpack over the shoulder with him. (Hopefully empty of school books.) Roman smiled. He really loved his friends.

"Thank you so much, kiddo!"

"Thanks!"

Roman stepped outside and closed the door behind him. "So, are we ready to go?" He asked.

"Yes!" Patton exclaimed. He linked arms with Roman and Emile before beginning to walk down the walkway and out onto the sidewalk. "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of all!!!" Patton sang out with both Roman and Emile joining immediately. They began skipping down the sidewalk and made it about halfway down the block before they dissolved into giggles. They broke away and stopped to take a breath and rid themselves of the giggles.

"Maybe next year we should dress up as Dorothy, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow," Roman suggested through giggles, his eyes smiling.

Patton let out an excited gasp. "That would be so much fun!" He exclaimed.

Emily's eyes lit up. "Oooo! We can work on our costumes together too!"

"And we can watch The Wizard of Oz while we work!" Roman chimed in as they set off walking again. Patton let his mouth pull into a content smile. It was good to see Roman smiling and laughing again. Really good.

The three walked down the sidewalk as other children ran by giggling with bags swinging, heavy with the sugary sweets gathered from their hunts through the neighborhoods of Salem. The three friends entertained themselves with random conversations. The type of conversations that don't always have a point of meaning to them but are enjoyed anyways due to the people a part of them. Eventually, they fell into a comfortable silence, simply opting to listen to cheerful shrieks from younger kids running around with bags of candy and fun costumes. Roman was happy his parents still had the key to the witches' cottage from their failed attempt to open a museum in the house all those years ago. He was actually looking forward to seeing the inside, and the fluttery feeling this being a life-changing adventure brought him more optimistic thoughts than he guessed it would.

However, the closer they got to the road leading to the Sanderson house, the colder it got. The trees held fewer leaves until eventually, they were all dead and dull brown and orange, burying the ground so that with each step, the crunch crunch crunching of once green leaves sounded beneath the three sets of feet as they traveled further and further from the fun-filled screams of trick-or-treaters. A mournful breeze blew past the group and they startled to find the tall, imposing wrought iron gates laid out before them. The three shared a nervous glance. "Looks like we're here," Roman whispered. It's not like there was anyone who could overhear them. It's not like there was a law that demanded a person had to whisper near any spooky home, but he still felt the need to whisper anyway. Patton nodded.

Emile glanced between the two. "So...who's going to open the gate?" He whispered.

"But what if it squeaks?"

The three glanced between each other for a few moments, a silent conversation passing between them. Logically, no one would be able to hear them open the gate, however, the fear still nipped at their hearts. Roman bit his lip as he turned towards the tall gates. He reached forward, his hand landing on the cool metal. He took a deep breath before pushing the gates open. The creak from the old hinges rang out, a deafening sound in the otherwise chilling silence. The three friends winced and shivers ran down their spines. After taking a few moments to gather their courage, they all took one step forward. Slowly, the group inched their way forward. Once they got to the steps they stopped. "Are you guys ready?" Roman whispered as he pulled the old key out of his pocket and waved it lightly. The other two nodded and then they stepped right up to the front door. Roman pushed the key into the lock and turned. Then he placed his hand on the knob. He took a deep breath. Then he pushed open the door to the Sanderson House, unaware of two sets of amber eyes staring at them from the darkness.

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I Put A Spell On You Taglist: @maryann-draws @kittycake574 @partypoison1923 @i-need-you-buddy @ksallyyt

Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist

[words-writ-in-starlight]

'For reasons wretched and divine', Sarah and Jareth?

Between you and me I wrote three whole pages of a Wild Huntscene, read two romance novels of questionable quality but with a GREATconcept, scrapped the lot, and wrote this AU instead.

For this ask meme!

Some things about archangels just don’t come through overthe TV.

Everyone says as much, but it’s not until Sarah’s standingsix feet from one that she really gets it.  Sarah prides herself onher unflappability—flappable vampire hunters don’t live too long, and Sarah is immaculateas vampire hunters go—but just seeing the Archangel of New York touch downon the roof knocks the air from her lungs. He’s slim, dressed in a loose white shirt that looks like it belongs ona stage, a black vest so tight it’s almost a corset, and his trademark painted-on pants, with wild blond hair,and for a split second Sarah helplessly remembers how many people she knows whowould kill to be this close to him. 

Then he starts walking toward her, eggshell-white and palegold wings mantled behind him and his trademark slim smirk on his lips, andSarah feels her lizard brain sit up straight and inform her that if he wantedto kill her, there wouldn’t be a damn thing she could do about it.  It’snot fear, not really.  Sarah is intimately familiar with fear.  It’sjust inevitability, and for an alarming moment Sarah feels herself lockup like a rabbit in headlights.

“You must be Miss Williams,” he says as he drawsclose to her.  He sounds amused—he always sounds amused, it’s part of whyhe can hold his territory so effortlessly.  It’s hard to contest someonewho won’t even give you the dignity of sounding displeased while he turns thefull brunt of his power on you.  Jareth never sounds more than mildlyinconvenienced, and as a result he’s held North America more or lessuncontested for a long, long time.  

Three years ago, some vampire under Jareth’s command triedto rebel, betrayed him to Maeve, the archangel who holds most of Europe. Unfortunately for the vampire, Maeve told Jareth.  The vampire lived—butjust barely.  Jareth had laughed outright at the one and only reporterwith the brass balls to ask him about it.  Sarah does not want tobe the next cautionary tale about crossing an archangel, and if she’d had anysay in the matter at all, she wouldn’t be here right now.  Angels arepretty to watch and necessary to control vampires, and Sarah is perfectlycomfortable seeing them at a distance, thank you kindly.

But Jareth and the rest of the Cadre want a vampire hunter,and saying no when invited to the Tower isn’t a good way to keep adistance either.  Even the most easygoing archangel is used to beingobeyed, quickly and without a fight, and while there are crueler archangels outthere, Jareth isn’t exactly known for being easygoing.

Sarah realizes abruptly, after solidly ten seconds ofwatching Jareth like a snake about to strike at her, that he’s expecting aresponse, the angle of his smirk going sharper and more amused with each momentof silence.

“Yes,” she says.  “I’m SarahWilliams.”

“Sarah,” he says, consideringly.  He hasn’tever adjusted to the American accent, much less New York, and retains somethingthat sounds most fundamentally British, with a trace of the same exotic,nameless drawl that every angel seems to learn at birth.  It makes hername sound like something rare and strange, rather than one of the most commonnames in history.  Sah-rah.  God, Sarah wants to be out ofhere.  “I’veheard of you.”

That gets her attention.  Normally, vampire huntersoperate in relative obscurity—only someone paying close attention to reports ofescaped vampires or to the Guild’s rare public announcements would have pickedup on her name.  Even though everyone agrees that Sarah is thebest–that’s why she’s here—her childhood dreams of being famous diedwhen she realized she had the gift for tracking vampires.

“I’m flattered,” Sarah says carefully. There’s something about his expression that says you should be withoutthe slightest flicker of change.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the tidy table setwith something between a tea service and an elaborate breakfast.  Thechina looks like it might cost as much as Sarah’s apartment, and the neat towerof scones bears the sort of perfect uniformity that only skilled professionalscan manage.  She’s been scrupulously ignoring the table since she reachedthe roof, for fear of more or less this exact situation.  “Eatsomething.  My chefs are the finest in the world, you’ll taste nothinglike their food elsewhere.  Even on a Guild hunter’s paycheck.”

Sarah hesitates, and his gaze sharpens, just slightly.

“Sit,” he repeats.

Sarah sits.  But she doesn’t take any food, nor touchthe numerous pots of tea and coffee.  Something about the way he givesorders, like the world will rush to bend itself to his word, makes herbristle–he’ll get civility from her, but he needs her.  Sarah doesn’tknow for what, not yet, but until such a time as she’s served that purpose,she’s reasonably sure that he won’t cut out her heart and leave it in her handsjust yet.

“Not hungry?” Jareth asks, almost silken, as hesettles across from her, wings flared neatly behind him and one eyebrow cockedas he arranges himself in a casual slouch that is doubtless completelyintentional, right down to the careless drape of his hand on the table.

“Ate before I came,” Sarah lies.

Jareth smiles at her.  It's not news thatarchangels are beautiful, every one of them.  Having every inch ofJareth’s beauty directed at her feels like a revelation, like Sarah’s neverseen beauty before, and it makes her frantic cocktail of nerves and awe andfear settle into a much more comfortable status quo ofslow-burning anger.  

“No,” he says, still smiling.  “Youdidn’t.”

It’s been—a long time, since someone called her out thateffortlessly.  Vampire hunters live and die on their poker faces, andSarah—well, Sarah’s the best.

“Why am I here?” she asks, throwing caution to thewind.  If he wanted her dead, nothing and no one could stop Jareth fromtossing her off the edge of the roof, to drop a hundred and forty-fourstories.  She’s seen how fast archangels can move when they want to, andhonestly, if he wanted to, she probably wouldn’t even have time to reach forher hidden knife before her head parted company with her shoulders.  

That’s very gruesome, Jareth’svoice says in her mind, still threaded with laughter, as if her mental image ofhis long elegant hands neatly ripping her head off is high comedy.  I’mdisappointed.  I’d have expected something more creative from you, Sarah.

“Get out of my head,” Sarah says, forcing hervoice to remain level, “and tell me why I’m here.  The down paymentfor this job was–"  Ludicrous, she wants to say.  Insane. Enough zeroes to fill a textbook.  Instead she opts for somethingapproaching diplomacy and finishes, "Impressive.  Why did you want meso bad?”

Does it matter?  I am prepared to pay you anunfathomable sum of money.

His gaze is fixed on her face, a riveted attention thatdoesn’t match the pose of laconic good humor he’s affected.  His eyes aremismatched, and Sarah used to believe that one was dark.  Now she can see,at such hazardous close range, that they’re both the same shade of impossiblemetallic blue, but that one is all but consumed by pupil, endless black staringback at her with only the thinnest rim of blue around it.  It makes theskin of Sarah’s throat prickle, her heart racing in her chest and her breathingpicking up the pace just enough to make her a little dizzy.  Shedecides immediately that she doesn’t care for the feeling.

Sarah can smell snow—no, frost, she can smell frost andstone, too strongly to be imagining it, but it’s a warm June day and there’snothing near her but concrete.  None of the vampires she met in the Towersmelled of frost and stone, and it’s not a vampire sort of scent anyway. They smell tempting, enticing, like wine or chocolate or even paper, but she’snever met one yet with a scent as unfriendly as frost.  Maybe she’sfinally losing her mind.

Sarah takes a breath, does her best to set the scent aside,and says, "I don’t work for people who won’t tell me what I’m doing,I don’t care what you’re paying me.“

Are you sure?  I could pay you in more thanmoney.  His humor takes on a harder edge inher mind, and a memory surfaces unbidden, of herself as a child dressed up incostume jewelry and dancing around her room, in a young teenager’s bestimpression of a waltz.  The memory is shadowed with her younger self’simaginings, an ornate ballroom and beautiful music, dancers all around not quiteas beautiful as she, and an indistinct prince, looking nowhere but atSarah.  

In the memory, the prince blinks mismatched eyes and says,"I could pay you with your dreams, if you would prefer.”

The air leaves Sarah’s lungs in a rush, and for a moment,she’s herself as a teenager, dressed in a white and silver ballgown out of somebygone era, staring up at Jareth, too much in shock to even answer.

Then she shoves his dream-self away from her, hard,and closes her hand around the blade of the knife hidden at the waistband ofher jeans.

“Stay the fuck out of my memories, Jareth,”Sarah hisses as blood seeps through her fingers.  The pain helps, itclears her head just a little, and the vision of them dancing evaporates likemist under sunlight.  “And tell me what the job is, or I’m goinghome.”

Something in Jareth’s expression cools.  “You lackrespect,” he observes.  Sarah can still feel him, pushing at theouter edge of her mind.  Not trying to break in, just nudging the wholething slightly off kilter, like taping a penny to a gyroscope.  She’spretty sure the penny is labelled obedience, and she sets her jaw.

“Get.  Out."  The words come out groundfine through her teeth, against the sudden pressing urge to agree, agree,agree.  "Fuck off.  Either you hire me as is, or you tossme off this roof.”

“You seem very ready to entertain the latterpossibility."  Jareth’s wings flare around him, idly, and Sarahthinks semi-hysterically that they’re patterned like a barn owl.  Thisisn’t the first time she’s noticed it, but no one ever says it aloud—eventhough his wings look crafted out of barely off-white bone china and palestgold, it’s just too common a bird to safely associate with the Archangelof New York, who holds all their lives in his easily-bored hands. "Do tell, why should I hire someone who clearly has such a death wish asto tell an archangel to fuck off?”

Well, to hell with it, Sarah decides.  Might as well behanged for a sheep as for a lamb.

“Here’s what I’ve figured out,” Sarah says. “You and the Cadre need a hunter—not just any hunter, the best hunter,because Didymus is my friend and he admitted outright to me that you personallycontacted him looking for someone on those terms.  You’re anarchangel–”

“Well spotted,” Jareth says in his mostcoldly entertained tone.  Sarah ignores him and silently hopes thatDidymus will remember to send her bank account details to her brother, alongwith the announcement that, unfortunately, Sarah got mouthy and got herselfkilled by an archangel. 

“—so obviously you don’t need a soldier. Anything youcan’t take out would turn me into a smear on the pavement in under a second.That means you need a bloodhound, and I’m hunter-born, the strongest tracker inNorth America.  So you have an old, powerful vampire who’s managed toelude you—maybe a couple of them.  The most I’ve tracked on a normal jobwas five, so it would need to be quite a few. The only thing I can’tfigure out,” she adds, musing almost to herself, “is why you paid somuch.  You don’t manage your own finances, I assume you have people forthat, so it’s not that you’re unaware of the usual fee per head.  Evenaccounting for hazard pay, it’s way too much.  So all I can think is thatyou wanted to be sure I’d be here, even though only an idiot would meet anarchangel on terms like these, and expected me to say no right away.  Youeven had a table set up, like this was going to be a nice chat rather than ajob interview.  You’ve been trying to make me want to agree, soobviously you think I’m going to say no.  Which would mean…”

For the first time, Sarah follows that thought all the wayto its conclusion and she does not like it.

For the first time, she’s seeing Jareth unamused, and shedoesn’t like that either.  His angular face is harsh without humor, themismatched blue of his eyes sharp enough to slice her to ribbons, and insteadof a smirk, his thin expressive lips are twisted into something alarminglyclose to a snarl.

She wonders if this is the last thing that traitor vampiresaw, before Jareth’s hands broke open his chest and lifted out his heart, stillbeating.

Do continue, precious, hisvoice says in her mind.  It’s not laughing now.  It’s as quick andfrigid as a snowmelt river, and infinitely more lethal, and it tastes likefrost and stone.  Tell me your conclusions.

“You’re desperate,” Sarah says, almost awhisper.  Her voice picks up strength as she goes on.  “Youthink that, whatever this is, it’s so bad that it’ll affect the whole Cadre ofTen.  Something that could hurt archangels.  You want to make sureI’ll work for you, and do it fast and quiet, before anyone can realize there’ssomething wrong.  You’re–” oh God Toby, she’s sorry she’s about todie like a moron “–you’re scared.”

“And tell me, Sarah,” Jareth says aloud, leaningforward.  He doesn’t look casual or careless anymore.  He looks likea falcon in mid-dive, every fiber of him focused on his target.  “Wasthat a difficult conclusion to reach?”

“It was a piece of cake,” Sarah says, numb to thebone with the knowledge that she’s absolutely not going to live throughthis.  Live through this meeting, maybe, if she’s right.  Livethrough the job, increasingly unlikely.  But afterward?  She’s rightthat they’re scared—that something, somehow, has frightened the Cadre, the mostpowerful beings that have ever lived—and that information is an undeniablethreat to them.  

“You’re clever, precious,” Jareth says.  Heleans back and rises to his feet, pacing slowly around the table until he’sstanding next to her, wings mantled around him as he bends down to speak intoher ear.  She can feel his breath on her skin, stirring her hair. The smell of frost rises so sharply that Sarah has to repress a shiver. “You were only wrong about one thing,” he says.

“What was it?"  Sarah does not turn herhead.  She keeps her eyes fixed directly ahead, not allowing them to evenflicker toward him—he’s trying to get a rise out of her, and goddamn him, it’sworking.  She unsettled him and now he’s unsettling her right back.

"I don’t need you to hunt a vampire,” he says, andreaches down to pull her bloodied knife out of the hidden sheath at herwaist.  She shivers properly this time, as he tosses the little knife ontothe table, where the blood still clinging to the ceramic blade stains the whitetablecloth.  Some security guy is going to have a very unpleasantconversation with an archangel, unless she’s mistaken, for letting her get thatpast the front door.

Jareth brushes her hair back behind her ear and murmurs, lowand sweet and lethal, “I need you to hunt an archangel.”

[that-shamrock-vibe]

First Look: Descendants 3 Promo Picture Breakdown

With the third installment in, what is to date, the best Disney Channel Original Movie franchise with the first movie’s premier night surpassing High School Musical’s opening, coming to our screens this Summer. it is obvious we will be starting to get some advertising and promotions from the movie to ramp up the hype.

This comes most recently in the form of a set of character promotional photos courtesy of Just Jared Jr, not only giving us our first look at main characters outside of the main four V.Ks but also Hades.

So we’re going to break these down in terms of styling and authenticity to the characters both from the original material and previous movies.

Original Release:

So before Just Jared Jr. released his set, this image made the rounds giving us our first official look at our main four V.Ks Carlos, Evie, Mal and Jay. Honestly from a personal perspective I have never been a fan of shooting from a low angle mainly because it creates that very unneccersary shadow effect on the necks so aside from Carlos and Evie, you can’t tell they have necks. It could also be the costumes fault which we’ll go into when we get a closer look at them further down.

Overall though with the actual styling, I like how the look has evolved again from the second movie after that look evolved from the first movie. It is still very much all about the leather to be a V.K. and for some characters it works but for others not so much.

We also had this promo of Uma and her two henchmen Harry Hook and Gil, it is interesting to see the three still together despite Uma now not really having need of cronies but I love how all three of them look.

New Promos:

Alright so we have 9 images and 8 characters to talk about. Surprisingly though there is no sign of Ben or any of the Auradon Prep kids and that may be because they’ll have their own set released but it is weird to have the main four and even Uma but not Ben.

Mal:

Mal is obviously the main character and so her shot is the one we start with. I don’t like this look one bit for Mal. I know in the first two video promos with Hades being teased and that Under the Sea special that Mal had her main look from Descendants 2, I was expecting Mal to obviously update her look but this just seems basic for her. They do say less is more but this look not only looks reverted but too plain.

First of all, these shots are way too dark because the amount of purple in the outfit as seen in the first image isn’t as visible here, so that’s a misstep, also the fact that obviously Hades is Mal’s dad explains the heavy layer of black but I really do miss all the purple.

Next her hair, I didn’t really believe Mal’s wig in the first movie but definitely believed it in the second movie, this seems just like the first movie again just a little bit thinner and longer, also with the lighting in the image it makes her hair look blue rather than purple so of course there is that misstep between her and Evie.

Evie:

Similarly with Evie, she looks like she has purple hair. It’s really confusing and I don’t know if it is to do with the story of Descendants 3 but I would love some clarity or insight because this franchise has done a lot to distinguish colours for the specific characters and purple and blue are Mal’s and Evie’s respectively.

I will say I do like her hair though, I like the fact that even though Evie isn’t royalty in Auradon she still wears a tiara because that’s just her style. I love the red heart jewel in the middle and I would love it if this was one of Dizzy’s designs.

As for her outfit, I would say the side-view doesn’t do it much justice but the front view isn’t as good either. The outfits in these promos almost look like battle armour and there is a severe lack of blue for Evie in the outfit. I actually don’t think there is any blue.

I really liked her outfit in Descendants 2 because I felt it was mature, stylish and appropriately regal for the character. This just does not say Evie to me from the neck down, I can’t imagine Evie as a fashion designer would create this for herself and believe it to be “fabulous”.

Carlos:

Carlos genuinely looks like a cross between a spaceman and motocross racer, neither of which I would ever associate with the son of Cruella De Vil.

Interestingly enough he is not wearing shorts here despite the fact Carlos has always worn shorts because I think they’re trying to show Carlos as the youngest of the four which works naturally anyway as Cameron Boyce is 3-4 years younger than the other three. I do miss the shorts I have to say, because it added a certain youthful quality to the looks that again is needed for the character in my opinion.

Also I get how the black and white colour pallet is supposed to represent the dalmatian theme he is associated with, but I feel his first two looks represented that a lot stronger than this, it almost comes across as a cow-hide than dalmatian theme. I do miss the fur I have to say, that fur collar in the first movie spoke to me like the green paw print on Beast Boy’s jacket shoulder in Titans.

I have to say also, I don’t get the hair. I think the color is still great but I don’t like them taking Cameron Boyce down the Ross Lynch route of pretty boy hair and to be honest I loved the slick look he had at the start of Descendants 2.

Jay:

Jay’s I would say is most authentic to his character and shows an organic evolution throughout the three movies, even though he has sleeves here I do find it works as a more mature look developing on his original style as opposed to how the other three look.

All his colours are still there, there’s the golds, the patches of black, the reds. I can believe this is what a modern day son of Jafar would wear. Leather works for the character anyway and this is leather-bound brilliance.

I have to say, I can’t decide if I miss the beanie or not but I would have maybe liked to see a bandanna or some sort of headwear because, if these are battle outfits, I feel Jay would wear a bandanna.

It is shocking that this, out of the four, is my favourite look because Jay, as anyone who has read my reviews know, has not been my favourite character but I will say he definitely knows how to be stylish which I thought I would say about Evie or Carlos.

Uma:

Now you see looking at this I can kind of understand Mal’s look if she’s trying to compete with Uma or vise-versa. But the problem is, Uma wins hands down as this is Uma’s style. I love everything from the accents of seagreen, to the shape of the outfit, the hair and the accessories.

Speaking of hair, it was interesting that in Descendants 2 and that special Under the Sea, Uma had braids which mostly were extensions which China McClain had embedded into her already braided hair. The look worked for the with the whole pirate gang captain attire. Here though, I will be interested to see if Uma keeps her Sea Witch status and this is definitely Sea Witch style hair. It’s very regal and you can tell where her hair ends and the extensions begin but that’s only because she filmed this alongside Black Lightning, although in Season 2 she does have shorter hair so maybe she dip-dyed and then had that cut for the show. Regardless I love how she kept the braid-style, it almost takes her look from gang leader to crime boss.

As for the accessories, Evie should be ashamed that Uma is showing her up with her bling. The necklace that she either got or stole from her mother is still there but I will agree with some critics from the her first appearance that in some shots the necklace kept changing size, but here it looks like a trinket rather than a magical object. She also seems to have more bling on as well as that so I am looking forward to seeing that in full. Also her bracelets and nails are subtle enough to not be garish but also to be the right level of stylish. Clearly her time at sea has done her good.

Harry:

If Harry has taken over Uma’s crew from the last movie, then this is the look of a renegade gang leader. I love the level of chains going on with his trousers, it’s subtle because of the darkness of the photo but seeing the shine makes it so cool.

I will say I miss the curliness and unkempt nature of his hair in Descendants 2. Here it does look good but flat, and also I miss his hait. It may not go with the outfit but I do miss it.

The leather vest with the belt motifs is a great choice for the character. I am a bit annoyed about the lighting and obscurity of his shirt because in that first promo you can clearly see it’s a skull shirt whereas if no one was to see that and instead just see this they’d be unsure if his chest is covered in body hair or tattoos because it isn’t quite distinguishable.

I like the use of the hook even though it’s merely an accessory for Harry to honor his father, I like the leather wrist-straps, love the fact he still wears guy-liner. It adds a level of camp to the character without making it seem goofy.

The only thing I don’t understand is those straps around his neck which I think are supposed to be braces but it’s too dark to tell and his arms are in the way.

But he looks good, he was one of my favourites in Descendants 2 and I am thrilled he is back with this look for the third movie.

Gill:

Gil has actually surprised me as while his Descendants 2 look was very suitable for the comic-relief role he had and actually reminded me a lot of the looks in Hook for the lost boys, this is a step up and a more mature version of that.

Looking at the head alone I do see why Jay may not have gone with a bandanna as with the long hair here the two do look alike, the two actors look alike anyway so it makes sense not to confuse the styles too much especially as you’re talking about the sons of Jafar and Gaston who are two completely different characters.

I do believe he is actually bulkier here than he was in Descendants 2 which again evolves his character and makes his resemble his father Gaston more. I will say also, I love the amount of straps he has. It references the fact that in the animated movie during the song Gaston, Gaston chewed a leather belt and spat it out. Leather is always good in my opinion and an obvious choice for villains.

I’m not crazy about his long hair, again I think it’s copying Jay a little bit too much, also I would like to see him with some sort of weaponry particularly if he is still part of Harry or Uma’s crew. Maybe not a gun like his father but a sword or a dagger or something. Uma has magic, Harry has his hook, Gil needs something.

Hades:

Alright so this is the big reveal of Cheyenne Jackson as Hades, we get two photos here to give us a proper look and I will start with the side-view.

Obviously immediately I am focusing on the hair because, my god that is not Hades. The look overall screams punk or rocker to me which, as we’ve seen with the V.Ks, is the style the movies have taken them but even with Maleficent they at least kept in touch with how the original character looked. Here that hair 1) Has way too much product in and 2) Looks ridiculous. I get they’re trying to represent the flaming hair that Hades in animation always has which is obviously not easy to do in live-action but then go with something subtler like Once Upon a Time did, do not tell me Hades is now apparently a punk. I will say they got the colour right and the mohawk effect does look like fire but, hopefully they’ll CG it in the movie but I would prefer Cheyenne Jackson to be bald and just for them to say they’ll add the hair in later.

In the front view the hair doesn’t look as bad but knowing how it looks on the side-view I can’t forgive it. However with the front view we get a better look at the outfit and again it screams punk, Where’s the robe, where’s the smoke, nothing here is giving me Hades, Lord of the Underworld.I will say he does look a lot like what they did with Steve Coogan in Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief but that wasn’t good either and obviously that wasn’t meant to be based on the Disney version and rather Greek Mythologu, but the Disney version is obviously drawing inspiration from Greek Mythology and I am not getting any of that here.

It’s more of a renegade warlock type of look than it is a supposed god of the Underworld. The only good thing about the look is the colour because at least they’re right, the leather coat does kind of answer why Mal’s look is so dark in this movie but surely this isn’t just going to be a question of Mal siding with her father and therefore dressing like him.

Also I can kind of see Cheyenne Jackson and Kristin Chenoweth together in a sitcom or American Horror Story style setup, but as the Lord of the Dead and Mistress of All Evil...I just don’t see those two characters as a thing.

As someone who loves Greek Mythology and the Hades character James Woods portrayed so well, I am not getting any respect for either interpretation in this portrayal. I do think Cheyenne Jackson is the wrong casting choice for the character,

Overall I am not as hyped for these looks as I was for the Descendants 2 first look promos we got, I do think there is some good and surprising good but I do also feel nervous for some of my favourites. It’s not all about the fashion at the end of the day but it is part of what makes this franchise enjoyable.

So those are my thoughts on this first official look at the characters of Descendants 3, if they do release a set for the Auradon kids I will probably do another post to dissect them but until then post your comments on what you think about these looks and if you think the styling of these characters are a key component to these movies? Which are your best and which are your worst? Post your comments and check out more posts.

[tracing-in-gold]

Sunday Six 5/5/2019

Sorry it’s not really Sunday anymore! Trying out the Sunday Six. It’s supposed to be six sentences of a wip, but it grew into more.

Also, this particular scene has been kicking in my head awhile.

(Disclaimer: most wips I ever post have no chronological order, canon continuity, or sense-making whatsoever. It just needs to get out!)

“C’mon, Inspector Brows! Push me again!”

“I already taught you how to push yourself,” Link said primly. “Kick your legs straight when you swing down.”

Link watched the sunset stretching the shadows of the small clearing. Though the town had relocated the school building closer to the other houses, the tiny stand of trees still hosted the lone rope and wood plank swing, which was shaped into a crude chair. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed or gave someone an uncomfortable splinter up certain extremities, Link was sure. Nevertheless, Timothy had jumped on with all gusto.

Better for Timothy to have fun as children should, while he still knew how.

They had not found the rumored Innocence.

“One more big one?” Timothy whined, sailing past him on the upswing. “Pleeeeeaaaasse?”

The sun cast everything it touched in fiery, red gold light. Shadows, the shapes the sun did not reach, continued to lengthen beyond normal proportions. That was what made Link decide.

--

“One more big one?” Timothy whined, sailing past Link on the upswing. “Pleeeeeaaaasse?”

He didn’t want to go in yet. Kanda was there and he had a grudge against anything fun.

“All right.” Link walked forward and turned to face him. Just outside of kicking distance as the younger Exorcist swung to and fro. “But you must do something for me.”

“What?” Timothy said. He wondered if it was to finish writing the report for Ms. Nyne before dinner, Inspector Brows always wanted that done. *Not Inspector anymore!* he told himself. Link wore the Exorcist uniform, just like he and Ms. Nyne and Grouchy Bro Kanda and Big Brother Allen did! But man, he still acted like an inspector.

His swing began its downward arc--and Link followed right along, arm straight, running fast enough that he could put his hand flat against Timothy’s chest just as he reached the highest point of that arc again. And right about whenTimothy would go no higher, Link stopped running, and just--held him up.

In mid-air.

Timothy yelped in terrified glee. Feet dangling dangerously close to Link’s head, nothing but air underneath the seat of his pants. Not moving meant he could see how high he was, high enough to be just a little dangerous. Nothing else holding him in place but the flat palm and Link’s bland expression. He was still hard to read, but seeing his forked brows relax, Timothy knew, that was his way of smiling.

“Inspector Brows I’m gonna fall!”

“I won’t let you fall,” Link said, serious as ever. “But you must go inside and tell Kanda that,” he frowned, “he shouldn’t miss the sunset. There are really long shadows out here.”

“Okay okay,” Timothy laughed.

“And then wait for us till we get back. Understood?”

“Yes! Okay!”

“Good,” said Link, and stepping aside, he let go of the swing.

Timothy’s gleeful screech echoed around the trees.

--

Once he had shooed Timothy back to the school house, Link rested his hands in his pockets. The horizon smoldered orange, with dusk spreading purple and blue across the sky. Edges between trees and sky began to blur in the encroaching dark. The air was cooling quickly. Once the light faded its coolness would sting.

He didn’t move when he felt sharpened nails press into the small of his back.

“You used to push Kiredori on the swings like that,” Tokusa purred in his ear. “And Tewaku.”

Link breathed out. So. He’d been right about those shadows after all. “He’s still a child.”

“We were children once. And look how we turned out.” Tokusa’s voice turned bitter. “Shibaribane.”

A weight settled lightly between his shoulders, the energy of a single talisman vibrated in place.

“You know the drill, Exorcist. Just try moving a muscle.”

Link knew. Move, and it would trigger a massive release of energy. A psychic cannon ball to the gut.

“Why are you here?” asked Link, still staring straight ahead.

“We heard that the black priests are always searching for Innocence. So we…’made’ some. A copy. Close enough that it brought the Order sniffing around.” Tokusa stepped into view, head cocked as he did when he was amused.  “And it brought you, dear brother.” His smile pulled at wrong edges.

“We heard nothing about you in the area. Or Akuma,” Link said carefully. Even though he’d read the reports, even though Walker had told him about the confrontation at the North American branch...Link hoped there was something still human about the Third Exorcists. The Akuma cells had taken over, it didn’t mean that they had embraced becoming the Earl’s minions.

Looking at Tokusa now, Link’s heart was sinking. Tokusa had a certain streak of self-destruction, he was fascinated with watching others suffer. Now that streak had been given voice, and just so happened to wear Tokusa’s form as a costume.