#i’ll maybe color the left drawing eventually

[cowboyinternist]

been missing them

[nana-luvy]

. 𝐌𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

warnings: established relationship, fem!reader, suggestive content (i got a lil carried away sry) and dirty jokes (beware.), somewhat foul language

(also luke cosplaying nightwing which i need for my life-)

In which he's starting to understand why Halloween is cool.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

If camp half-blood was a training place dedicated to children of Greek gods, where believing in them was no question anymore, a pagan festival was still welcome once a year, because who doesn’t love Halloween ? Getting away from yourself for a night, partying and stuffing your face with candies and weirdly colored drinks, all dressed up in costume ranging from dinosaur to ballerina… maybe even upsetting a little the parents with a festivity not in their name, whatever they have to say about it.

You loved that atmosphere, the fire burning in the middle of the camp area getting bigger as the night came closer, turning almost purple with everyone’s excitement, the smell of sugar surrounding the place as bowls of candies were put everywhere, the enveloping warmth of the late Fall; it all brought the biggest smile on your face. After all, it was one of your favorite events of the year.

You were sat on your makeshift vanity, since Hecate children didn’t have the same kind of layout as Aphrodite ones, enjoying for now the silence in your cabin as you had left all of your half-siblings leave before you’d started getting ready. Eventually, you’d slipped out of bed, putting on your Starfire costume —the 2004 version, knowing Chiron would certainly give you a dirty look if you went for any other—, and now settled in front of the mirror to do the matching makeup. You didn’t turn to the door when someone knocked from outside.

“Can I come in ?”

“Sure ~” you simply answered with a little laugh.

From the corner of your eyes, you caught the movement of the door, dark figure stepping in, and you finally turned to face them.

“Wow.”

There he stood, awkwardly fixing his gelled curls, Luke Castellan suited up in the matching Nightwing costume you’d chosen for him, and you couldn’t have been more proud of your idea.

“Damn, am I making you that speechless, pumpkin ?” he asked, gaining back his usual confidence instantly as he caught your gaze, raising a cocky eyebrow.

A slight blush probably coated your cheeks under the foundation. “And how would you like that…” you replied, a smile in your voice as you rolled your eyes, adverting your gaze from Luke’s form before your brain started stuttering and going back to your makeup.

A smile was etched on your face as your mind kept replaying the view you just had, his hair gelled and curls tamed, the way the black spandex fit so well, following every dip and ridges along his toned body, and you had to mentally restrict yourself from throwing glances his way or you’d never hear the end of it. But you couldn’t help but pat yourself on the back for the matching costumes idea.

“You still on for drawing the mask, right ?” Luke asked after a few instant, now sitting cross-legged on your bed, mindlessly cradling one of your stuffed animals.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry.” You looked at him through the mirror, seeing him already doing the same. “I just have to finish up my makeup and I’ll do yours…”

So he stayed there for a short while, watching you skillfully draw a sharp wing of black eyeliner over the colored eye makeup, his gaze eventually trailing down your face to stay on your lips, slightly agape from the concentration, pale from not being finished yet, and he just had this urge tugging at the back of his mind…

He’d been in your cabin for about 5 minutes, and you’re surprised it even took him this much time to start nagging you, getting up from the bed and reaching for every and each item next to you, studying it all.

“How much does all of this even cost you? There’s like… a lot.”

“I don’t really know, most of this I got as a gift… Maybe about 200 ? Something like that ?” you replied, trying to get the placement of you fake lashes right.

“What ?!”

You laughed loudly at his reaction, head falling back to look at him as he stood behind your chair. “I just… I got a cousin that really likes me ~” you said with a small smile, shaking a lash band to dry off the glue.

“Damnit, I went for the wrong cousin…” he mumbled, sly grin dancing on his lips as he looked down at you. And whatever he was saying, his eyes were too full of adoration for you to believe anything.

You playfully smacked his arm, sitting back up straight to finish the last touches. “Shut up, nerd…”

Just as you started to put on lipstick, arms sneaking around your waist made butterflies erupt in your stomach, effectively resulting in loss of focus and a stray streak of pink on your skin.

“Luke…” you trailed, aiming to sound intimidating and probably just letting out a chuckle halfway through as he squeezed harder, head resting on top of yours.

“When are you done ?” he practically whines, pouting at your reflection in the mirror as he casually brushes off your attempt at a threat. “They’re all waiting outside already, I’m sure. Can’t we just… wrap it up ?”

You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder, face twisted in a mock scandalized expression. “Wow. If you really wanna make time cuts, I’m just gonna draw a straight line over your eyes and call it a day.”

The corner of his lips extended in a tight line, before he chose to hide his face in your hair, grumbling a small ‘Whatever, take your time, pumpkin’ against the top of your head, chest pressed to your back as he let you finish up.

You made your lips pop, evening your gloss, before getting Luke’s attention with a soft finger snap next to his ear. “Okay, birdie boy, your time to shine ~”

He didn’t necessarily like the excitement in your voice as you urged him to sit in the chair you sat in mere instants ago, but he obliged, knowing he couldn’t resist you anyway, and wanting to finally get this over with.

If he had to be honest, dressing up for Halloween wasn’t his strongest suit —pun not intended—, and since he was old enough to choose for himself, Luke had always went for whatever was simplest, whatever took barely a couple accessories over his everyday clothes. But since you’d arrived at camp, a few years back, you’d brought this spirit with you he couldn’t deny. And you’d made fun of him for ‘going as himself’ to a costumed event enough times for him to start to consider changing his beliefs. For you. So now that you two had finally started dating, after months and months of unresolved mutual pining, dressing up for Halloween didn’t sound so bad, if it put that smile that got his heart going on your face.

And he also happened to think he looked absolutely ripped in the black fitted suit.

“So… will whatever you’re gonna put on my face be easy to clean up ? Or will I have to come back and get it removed ? Like, tonight, when everyone’s too drunk to pay attention to where I went and-”

You quickly came back to his side as he rambled, his breath hitching through the smug facade when you tilted his head up to look at you, because even after this much time, you just had this effect on him… “Castellan,” you started, and boy did it make a shiver run through his spine, his last name spoken in that firm, bossy voice you sometimes took, “shut up before I forbid you from coming into this cabin tonight.”

Luke didn’t miss the way her lips quirked into a half-smile, and again, that sight just…

“Why do you wear that much makeup ? You don’t usually do.”

The way he stated it made you halt right before the kohl crayon touched his face to map out the mask, blinking in confusion at his question. You could see his eyes scrutinizing your face, his usual smile casually hanging on his lips, and you had no idea if you should be concerned by his comment or awfully upset by it after spending an hour and a half preparing.

“Yo, wow, I heard it, sorry,” he quickly said, taking back his awkward phrasing and mimicking a rewind motion with his fingers that made you chuckle. “I meant by that, it just… I can’t see when I fluster you, does that make sense ? Like, there’s this… skin-tone liquidy shit I don’t know the name of just blocking out your cheeks, can’t even tease you and reap the bright red laurels,” he explained, broad smile stretching on his face as this time he didn’t need to see any blush to guess your state.

“Shut-” You cleared your voice, embarrassed by his antics, knowing damn well it somewhat warmed your heart for a reason you wouldn’t know. “Shut up before I poke your eyes out…” you said, unconvinced as you puffed your cheeks, trying to escape the deep embarrassment

“Ah, the sweet mumbling of your inner demons, can never get enough of those, can I ?”

You chose to stay silent, not giving him material to broaden his smirk any further as you started to trace the outline of the mask in black pencil.

You quickly mapped it out, filling the shape with black face paint, fully focused on the task at hand as you made sure not to go over the edge or leave a single speck of skin visible around the eyes. Meanwhile, Luke didn’t utter a single word, simply looking at you with that face of adoration he carried everywhere you were, loving the focused look you sported, how your brows slightly furrowed and the tip of your tongue just slipped past your lips.

You sighed as you cracked your neck to release tension, the position you were in slightly uncomfortable, before standing right before him and tapping his knee with the tip of your fingers. “Spread your legs, pretty boy.”

“Wh- That’s my line ~” He smirked but immediately obliged, letting you get closer, hands obediently resting on his thighs. For a short while at least.

You had just begun the shadowing process, tilting your head to the side to ensure the design from another angle when his fingers tangled in your hair, a thumb gently grazing your cheekbone before pulling you on his lips the next moment. Your eyes instinctively fluttered close, giving in to follow his movements with your own mouth, hands clutching the back of the chair for stability as he kept you flush to him. But you snapped out when his tongue darted out to reach your lips.

You quickly pulled away, your brain registering your surroundings again and not just the feeling of his soft lips on yours. “I- what was that for ?” you asked with a little laugh, breathing already a little heavy from this little eyes trailing along his face. “I could've smudged your mask.”

Luke couldn’t help but smirk again, pride blooming in his chest, his hands gently combing through your hair. “I don’t know, do I need a rea-”

“Shit!” you whisper-yelled, taking in the sight of his mouth now covered in a mix of your lipstick and clear gloss. “I… my makeup is messed up, isn’t it ?”

His expression was all but guilty as he started tracing his fingers around the outline of your lips, way past where they should've been painted. “Just a little bit… here.”

“Luke!” you whined, pouting with your brows scrunched up as you swatted his arms in frustration, clearly upset by a situation that amused him deeply.

“But-” He cut himself off for a second, pushing towards you to press his lips on the side of your neck, and your legs felt like jello for a moment. “-you looked so pretty,” a kiss, “all focused and in your, by the way incredible, Starfire makeup,” another kiss, “and costume and it just makes me wanna have you close...” Luke tilted his head with an innocent smile, looking up at you with a glint of mischief dancing in his hazel orbs. The next moment, his hands left your nape to snake around your waist ad your thigh, effectively tugging you down to straddle his lap in the chair.

You closed your eyes, blowing air out of your noise like it would elongate your patience towards your boyfriend’s antics. Which it did not. But could you really be annoyed when he looked at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever lay a finger on, making your heartbeat increase and the butterflies in your stomach fly free ?

Still, you tried to hold your ground. “Luke-” You tried to warn him but it only turned into a whimper as he littered kisses up your neck to that spot behind your ear that made you sigh, your resolve weakening. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get this over with quickly ?” Your fingers curled in his hair, gently pulling him off your now really hot skin, feeling the blush creeping up and the blood pumping at your pulse points. “That we should go join the others at the campfire as soon as possible ?”

Looking down at him, one of the only thoughts in your mind was how little time you’d yet spent admiring how he looked in the costume, when really the look alone could make you insane.

His gaze crossed yours, puppy eyes paired with a pout that made your head spin, and he caught a glimpse of the pink lipstick marks he’d littered on your neck, pout morphing to a smirk quickly. “Oh, I said it. But then I thought ‘like hell’, and now we’re here in your cabin, and everyone’s out at the party…” he hinted, looking back up at you with a look far from innocent this time. His smile was warm and affectionate, but the passion burning in his eyes was unmistakable, and his thumb brushing over your thigh while his other hand crept up your side, teasing the hem of your purple and silver cropped top, was a mix that sent electricity shooting up your whole body.

You closed your eyes for a second, trying to gain back your composure. “You like your Starfire, don’t you ?” The moment he nodded, pulling you closer, was the moment you snapped your fingers to make a little pink fireball appear in your hand, twirling it around your fingers. “Do you like her alien powers too ?”You continued, nicely threatening him, like saying ‘let me the fuck go or I’ll burn a clearing in your hair’. “Luke, there are people, actual people, waiting for us at the party, mkay ?”

“Damn, always so dramatic… It does make you me burn for you even more though,” he said, swiping his tongue over his lip while looking longingly in your eyes. “Pun intended,” he quickly added, and you couldn’t contain a laugh at the unseriousness of this boy. “Okay, c’mon, pass me a cotton pad so I can wipe it off while you finish my mask. Or maybe you like the pink lip marks ?” He raised his eyebrows playfully and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head in amusement and faint disbelief. You turned around, going to stand back up, but he was quicker, hands shooting to tug you back down by the waist. “Nu-uh, where you going ? Stay close.” And you could’ve just melted right there and then as he laid a chaste kiss on your shoulder.

“You big lovesick baby..” you grumbled with a laugh, your annoyance fully dissipated as you twisted your body to reach for cotton pads and the makeup remover, sliding it over his mouth before handing it to him. “And no slick move, you get it all off, right ?”

“Wow, I can’t even show you off anymore, can I ?” he huffed out, still doing as you said, delicately rubbing the cotton over your skin while you added the finishing touches to his, by some miracle of the gods, still intact makeup. “May I even add, Kori and Dick are pretty activ-”

“Luke ?”

“Yeah ?” He looked up at you with big, expectant eyes, while your gaze was more one of bewilderment.

“If you say that in front of anyone else tonight, I’m cutting you precious hair in your sleep.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” But the deadpan of your voice had him almost doubting it.

“Try me,” you stated, challenge in your gaze, before it quickly went back to its usual soft state. “Anyway, you’re all set,” you said, blowing him a playful kiss as you stood back on your two feet, not wanting to ruin your makeup any further. You quickly turned back around, putting your combo back on while Luke stood up behind you, hugging your form from behind.

“Myeah, cool…”

“Oh come on, you were all happy about it 10 minutes ago! Just wait and see, I’m gonna make you love Halloween ~”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it…” he trailed, breathing in the soft sent of your shampoo he found so relaxing.

“Ok, let’s go,” you finally said, closing back your lip gloss and popping your lips in the mirror as he hurried to the door, insisting on opening it for you. “Simp.”

“You love it, though.”

“I, insanely so, do, I’ll admit,” you replied with a soft chuckle, taking in the vision of him next to the door, waiting for you. “But what’s really insane is how much you do Nightwing justice in this suit, fits you so well…” you trailed, shamelessly looking Luke up and down.

“Yeah ? Even the bakery ?” he replied cheekily, sly smile dancing on his still slightly swollen lips.

You instantly laughed at his words, passing him by as you exited through the door. “You wish, birdie.”

Ok I had a little (lot) fun writing this, don't even come at me for posting it on Christmas<3

Also, it's my birthday, yayy (I'm 19, not yay.)

Anygaysss hope you liked it, bubye ~

Love, Nana -

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for Halloween with Peter Parker

Peter Parker x reader

warnings:

a/n: FORGOT I WAS WRITIN THIS. LATE HALLOWEEN POST. I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY.

prompt:

you were spider-man for halloween (of course)

“really?” -peter

“there’s no better costume i could have picked” -you

peter was…iron man

“don’t tell mr. stark about this. ever” -peter

“too late” -you, taking a picture

you sent it straight to tony

and he called almost immediately

“you could have told me you were gonna be me, im flattered. i could have lent you an old suit of mine so you didn’t have to wear that cheap mask” -tony

“that’s so kind of you, but i dont know how safe it is to wear a military grade weapon to any halloween parties or like, on the street” -you

“well, you guys wouldn’t be on the street. you could fly!” -tony

“thank you, mr. stark. i just think i’ll fit it better with this stuff!” -peter

“well, suit yourself. cheaply.” -tony

you guys took so many pictures together

remaking all kinds of poses and such

(you colored a paper plate to look like captain america’s shield and did the spider pose on peter’s bed)

you both recreated the peter/tony picture together

“can i draw the goatee on your face” -you

“it’d be my greatest honor” -peter

it was sloppy but it was a fantastic addition

“‘FRIDAY, how many hours of sleep should the average human being get each night?’” -peter, mocking tony’s voice

“‘eight hours, mr. stark’” -you, mocking FRIDAY

“‘no, you’re wrong FRIDAY. the answer is two hours every two days’” -peter

fighting the urge to go trick or treating

“i mean—aren’t we a little too old for that?” -you

“i don’t really think there’s an age limit” -peter

“yeah, but like, i was thinking more of a party and some scary movies afterwards” -you

“…i have to call ned” -peter

ned showed up to peter’s house dressed as a spider

“we coordinated this. im the spider that bit you” -ned

may was basically babysitting you guys with a camera during all of this, too

constantly snapping candids

“guys, squeeze together so i can get a few more” -may

you guys ended up finding a party thrown by a midtown student and it was…

okay?

not exactly your speed, you know?

ned actually was kind of into it though

“shots! shots! shots!” -the crowd

ned did one shot

“UGHHHHHH” -ned, hating every second of it

“told you” -you and peter

okay, so maybe the party was a blow

(you guys stole a bunch of candy out of a bowl and left)

the neighborhood had really cool halloween lights, you were able to wander and check out the decor

“that’s so me” -you, every 60 seconds

“no, that’s me” -peter

“no, that’s you” -you, pointing at an inflatable spider that had been deflated

when you got back to peter’s, you found may obsessively baking “halloween treats”

“hi guys! okay, so i have witch finger pretzels, ghost marshmallows, pumpkin cookies—oh! and those tiny pumpkins with paint. go ahead, take some stuff!” -may

you all three squeezed together on the couch and turned on the halloween movie (og of course)

“no one draw any more spiders!” -peter

*you and ned freezing and trying to cover the spiders you just painted*

“oops” -you

cracking up the whole time

peter trying to poke you with the witch finger pretzel

then pretending to pick his nose with it and eat it

“ew, peter! stop!!” -you

“hey, did may just stick some sprinkles in this marshmallow and call it a ghost?” -ned

“yeah. it’s a ghost.” -peter

“yeah, ned. are you too good for it?” -you

*ned quietly eating the marshmallow*

every once in a while you’d start paying attention to the movie again

“gross. fake. dumbass. ew.” -you

eventually you guys all crashed (on the couches, of course) and may made sure to give each of you a blanket so you had a good night

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @ipurpleeyou // @nekoannie-chan // @punk-rock-raven // @evilcr0ne // @minxsblog // @v0idl1nq // @sydknee624 // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston //@multifandomfix // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

[jessiexcorner]

Heartbreak Highs

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader. 

"I met Ameire when I was five."

A little brown girl with blue overalls and a pink shirt walks over to two girls one blond hair and the other (h/c). The blond draws a crocodile while the (h/c) hands her green crayons as she makes her own painting. “What’s that?” The new girl asks,

“It's a crocodile.” The blond responds.

“It's shit.” The brown girl states. The blond drops her pencil to flip off the new girl, making her smile, while the (h/c) hair girl giggles.

"For a long time, it had just been me and Harper, but with Ameire we were unstoppable."

The three girls run as a teacher chases them through the hall, “Stop it!” The girls giggle and run faster.

"They were my ride or dies. Nobody could come between us. Well, that was until the incest map. Ameire and Harper were super into romance, not that I wasn’t, it's just they tended to watch people.”

(Y/n) takes out her books from her locker clutching onto them as her friends, Amire and Harper giggle holding their books while staring at a couple making out against the lockers. The (h/c) color girl tries to pull them away from the scene but they don't budge.

"In so a creepy way.”

The girls now older, still watch as a couple fights making fun and guessing what the couple could probably be saying. “Oh, I swear to god Jessica you know I'm good for it eh?” Harper makes her voice deeper playing the man.

“If you touch her again I’ll fuckin smash ya, ya cheatin’ dog.” Ameire uses a high pitch.

“No babe, I'm fuckin’—“

“Kiss me!” Both girls make kissing noises. (Y/n) watches the teens quietly shaking her head.

“I don’t exactly know when it started to happen, but somehow I ended up drifting apart from the two,”

Amerie and Harper giggle as they write on the Incest map while (y/n) stands in the corner watching quietly. “You’re obsessed,” Harper comments as Amerie draws a line with a gold marker across her name and dusty.

“Destined,” Amerie says with a smile, (Y/n) looks down playing with the small rock on the floor, kicking it around, bored.

“Harper tried to include me in their activities, Amerie on the other hand seems to forget me more often. Maybe it's because Harper knew me for longer. Eventually, Harper left me behind too. I used to miss them from time to time and the fun we used to have, but now when I look back at those times, I remember they mostly kept me around because their parents trusted me, and if they were around ‘(Y/n) the good kid who gets grades and doesn’t do drugs’, they thought maybe their kids wouldn’t either, which gave harper and Amerie more freedom to actually, go out and do drugs. I completely stopped talking to them after the fight.”

“Ugh, I can't wait for the festival,” Amerie states sitting down on (Y/n)’s floor while eating a bunch of junk candy. Home worksheets thrown on the floor, harper lays on (y/n)’s bed taking some junk food from Amerie.

“I know right, I even got Cash to come and sell us some drugs, we are going to get so wasted.” Harper boasts. (Y/n) sits on her desk trying to finish her homework, ignoring the girls.

“Ah, no way? I can't wait, I got the tickets too! Look,” Amerie says taking out the tickets from her backpack and holding them out for Harper to see. Harper takes the tickets to inspect them noticing something.

“Am, there are only two tickets,” Harper states sitting up now.

“What?” Amerie looks up.

“You only got two tickets, what about (Y/n)?” Harper asks confused.

“Oh, well, she didn't give me the money for it so,” Amerie says glancing at the (h/c) hair-colored girl who sighs.

“I'm not coming.”

“What? Why not?” Harper questions.

“Because I don't want to keep being your guy’s babysitter when you get high or drunk.”

“..well you can just, drink with us,” Amerie states as if it's the easiest solution in the world.

“No, I can't Amerie, because if you knew anything you would know I don't want to.” (Y/n) snaps a little putting her finished homework away.

“..why are you so pissed off? It's just—“ Amerie gets cut off.

“Why am I so pissed off? Amerie. It's like the only time you guys ever hang out with me is because you want something from me or when I have use to you!”

“That's not true.” Harper defends herself and Amerie.

“Yes, it is! You only hang out with me because your parents think that you wouldn't possibly be going out to get drunk with me, and you guys are literally here because you wanted to copy my homework answers. You never hang out with me anymore just doing things like normal, it's always watching the latest hook-up or gossip or getting high and drunk. You never even invite me out anymore.” (Y/n) says angrily shaking a little trying to keep calm. The other two girls are silent and look at each other before collecting their things ready to leave.

“We’ll talk when you've calmed down,” Amerie says picking up her back.

“Oh fuck you, Amerie, just leave, I don't wanna talk to you again.” (Y/n) snaps. The brown girl walks out leaving Harper.

“..I,” Harper starts but then pauses not knowing what to say, muttering an apology while she walks off following Amerie, leaving (Y/n) by herself.

“After that, Harper would occasionally text me, and ask to try to hang out and watch movies like old times, but it wasn't the same. There was always this weird tension. I made new friends though, better friends. Quinni and Darren. Those two are actual ride or dies. They made me feel like I didn't have to pretend or have to get high for them to like me, they treated me right. I had almost forgotten about Harper and Amerie for a while, well that was until that night..”

At school grounds early in the morning, (Y/n) walks up to Quinni and Darren who are talking before someone bumps in between the two, squealing, ‘Dusty spoke to me!’ And giggling. “‘Dusty spoke to me’ what a pick me bitch. Also rude.” Darren mocks the brown girl who bumped them. (Y/n) chuckles lightly, agreeing.

“Maybe she didn't see us,” Quinni says kindly giving Amerie the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh please, Check the material. We are beautiful, exquisite jellyfish.” Darren says linking arms with both girls, brushing Quinni’s hair lightly, “of course they saw us.” They all walk heading to the school building. (Y/n) looks at her phone, sending a quick message to a contact labeled ‘H.’, ‘you coming soon?’ There’s a pause before the person responds with ‘yea see you there.’ The trio walks towards the steps seeing a new face. “Fresh blood,” Darren whispers to the two girls, (Y/n) looks up from her phone noticing a boy in a yellow t-shirt and multi-colored striped pants, asking for directions. As they walk past him to the stairs, the boy makes eye contact with (Y/n) giving a small awkward smile. (Y/n) smiles back and walks with her friends up the stairs, “What was that?” Darren questions,

“What?”

“Were you trying to flirt with him? Oh, baby (Y/n), growing up so fast.” They say teasing.

“Shut up.” (Y/n) ignores the taller stylish kid. The three are about to head to class when someone shouts gaining everyone’s attention.

“Oi! There’s a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell. It's called the incest map!” The person shouts walking away, everyone intrigued follows, heading to the stairwell. (Y/n) looks over noticing Amerie stood still with a look of panic. Both girls rush to the stairwell, (Y/n) catching up with her friends. She looks over the map noticing it has grown much bigger than the last time she saw it, then again she stopped coming her long before the fight. She notices new names, including those of her friends Quinni and Darren, she looks over and notices her own name, not connected to anyone just having the words ‘Fish.’ In bold written in familiar handwriting. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. She notices Missy walking away from her girlfriend upset about what she saw on the map.

“Darren jerked you off? Nice bro, you into dudes now?” A kid, Spider, teases their friend Anthony, also named Ant.

“Little cheeky huh?” Dusty comments, making a crude hand gesture.

“Who says I'm a dude?” Darren retaliates.

“Oh! Look (Y/n)’s a fish!” A couple of boys laugh. “Awe, I can change that for you if you want (Y/n)” Spider says making kissy faces at the girl who clenches her jaw. Looking over at Amerie who looks panicked and avoiding the girl’s gaze. Quinni searches the wall for her name before finding it, labelled ‘lazy kebab’

“That’s not true, what’s a lazy kebab? Spider what's a lazy kebab?” Quinni calls the guy who is said to spread the rumor.

The kids are called for a school meeting and they all sit in the hall. “It's mostly kids from our level, it must be someone we know,” Quinni comments her observation to the other two, who sit down.

“It's probably Spider or one of those idiots. Most of its bullshit anyway,” Darren says sitting in the middle comforting the girls. (Y/n) sits quietly beside Darren, glaring at Amerie, and forcing the kid in the seat next to her to move, leaving an empty seat beside her.

“So crazy right?” Amerie comments. (Y/n), although sitting a couple of seats away, hears this and scoffs. A girl walks into the hall wearing a grey shirt and red pants and having a shaved head.

“Holy shit is that Harps? Oh my god her hair,” Sasha comments sitting next to Amerie, she throws a paper ball at Harper only to miss. Most kids turn to look at the girl. Harper walks towards (Y/n) and sits next to her in the empty seat quietly. 

Amerie notices and stands calling out, “Harper,” only to be ignored and told to sit down by the principal.

“Fish, really couldn’t think up anything more clever than that?” (Y/n) comments blankly not looking at the girl next to her, Harper turns to glance at (Y/n) and mutters an apology.

“I didn't write it.”

“I know but, you didn’t stop her either.” (Y/n) sighs as she looks over at Harper before turning away and focusing on the principal. Both sit quietly next to each other.

There is complete silence. “I am a woke woman.” The principal starts. “I enjoy sex as much as the next person.” She states, making a couple of kids laugh and snicker. “But reputation is everything and this map has jeopardised your reputations and the reputation of our school on the first day back. We are currently in the process of contacting all the parents of everyone on this map and have strongly suggested that there are to be no more parties, shindigs, or gathos.” The students erupt in protest, while Amerie continues to look at Harper and (Y/n), who are sitting quietly. “Hey, hey, unsupervised parties equals alcohol. Alcohol equals poor choices. The risk-taking behaviors outlined on this map are unacceptable. Hartley High prides itself on being a safe environment.” Darren laughs at this. “But clearly this is a wake-up call that we are not doing enough. Oh, and we will find out who did this.” Amerie gulps. “Get to class, go, go, go.” Students stand and head to their classes, (Y/n) and Harper stand and walk together while Darren and Quinni follow.

“Harper, (Y/n) oi!” Amerie calls out only to be ignored and stopped by the principal. “Miss Wadia. Come with me.”

Ameire sits in principal Stacy’s office. “Well, I’ve had quite the education this morning, Amerie. “Wristy? Oh, right.” She reads off her phone. “Doughy? Fish?” Her dog, Joan of Bark, whimpers sitting in his bed. “I think I can work out ‘tongue punch in the fart box.’” She sighs and puts her phone down, while Amerie sits smiling. “I know it was you, Amerie. One of our maintenance staff saw you in the stairwell multiple times. Who else was in on it? Your usual accomplice, Harper? Did you also force (Y/n) into it with you two?”

“Nobody else was in on it,” Amerie says confidently no longer smiling.

"Do you know who I just got off the phone with? The Guardian, Amerie. The Guardian."

"...Okay?"

"Were all of these acts consensual?"

"I guess." Amerie shrugs confused.

"Are your mates using protection?" The principal questions.

"I don't know."

"Well, how can you know that Alyssa scissored Nina, but not know if they're using contraception?" She asks suspiciously.

"I don't think you have to use contraception when you scissor someone, Miss." Amerie sarcastically retorts.

"I'd say that's a very dangerous assumption actually, Amerie. What do we have to do to get through to you? We've done the classes. We've watched the videos. We've had the police consultants in. And yet, here we are with this map." Miss Stacy scolds, "One foot out of line, one late slip, one phone infraction, and I will expel you. Understood?"

"Can I go to class now?"

"Yes, you may."

"Okay."

"Wait! You call this the Incest Map. I'm assuming that's just a play on words and not the actual..."

"Play on words, Miss." She quickly assures the principal.  

"Okay, good. Now, get out of my office before I do expel you, by the count of three. One, two, three!" She sighs.

Pt.2;  https://www.tumblr.com/jessiexcorner/716409910079913984/heartbreak-highs-pt-2?source=share

[vii-doodles]

He is my everything

Hey everyone, I just wanted to take a moment to share something personal with you all. There was a time when I felt completely lost, my passion for drawing buried under layers of doubt and darkness. Then, out of nowhere, this incredible green little musician Käärijä, came into my life. His music was like a lifeline, pulling me out of the shadows and filling my world with color again. His songs sparked something in me, reigniting my love for art. I started drawing again, inspired by him (and Joker Out) and the emotions he stirred in me. With this little messy artwork, I tried to capture everything I feel about his music. Free for interpretation but I have mine and maybe it comes across to some of you. Through his music, I didn’t just find my way back to art; I found a community. My followers and fellow artists, have been such an amazing support system. We’ve shared so much—joy, struggles, creativity. It’s been a journey and a rollercoaster, and I’m so grateful for each and every one of you.

That said, I need to be honest about something. While I still love Käärijä SO MUCH, I think I need to stop pushing myself to draw him. There’s this heavy guilt hanging over me for not creating Käärijä art for so long, and I feel obligated to keep drawing him for those who came here specifically for that. But the pressure is just too much. I want to feel free in what I draw, not tied down by what I think I have to create to keep everyone happy. I’ve been defining myself too much by numbers, and that needs to stop. Drawing is and always has been my passion. So, I’m stepping back from drawing Käärijä. Maybe not forever—I still want to do the DTIYS by Lemon.h4, for example—but for now, I think I’m good. To everyone who has followed my stuff, encouraged me, and stood by me—thank you. Your support means the world to me. It’s because of you that I’ve been able to keep going, to keep creating. I might be taking a step back, but this isn’t goodbye. I think I’ll be back eventually, and I hope when I return, we’ll pick up right where we left off. So… Thanks for being here, for believing in me, and for sharing this wild ride. We’ll meet again, maybe at a concert, maybe here who knows really. With all my love, Vii

[endofradio]

FRAGMENTS OF FEAR — CHAPTER 1: BLUE EYES

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

WARNINGS: n/a

NOTES: pinkie promise there will be longer chapters eventually it’s just my brain has been feeling kinda. Bleh.

SUMMARY: sylvie and frank meet again, but not in the way either of them would’ve expected.

WORD COUNT: 1,336

TAGS: @reclaimedbythesea @shawsfinalgirl @creelmalfoylaufeyson69 @witchy-weve-monbebe @atcarpenter @blackwolfstabs @simpingforclaudette @maggotssmichael

“I’m a human fly, and I don’t know why, I got 96 tears and 96 eyes.”

Sylvie sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, surrounded by a variety of drawing supplies. A Cramps record was spinning on her record player as she spent time with her sketchbook. On her bedroom wall, various drawings and paintings of hers were scattered around. For her, art was a form of therapy, along with writing.

Sylvie had spent the past few years trying to make an effort to rebuild her life, but some nights had been rougher than others, tonight being one of those nights. It started with waking up from a nightmare about her adoptive parents, and from that point on, she was stuck with the all-too-familiar process of dwelling on her past. If she could’ve gone back and changed things, she would’ve. Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve…

When Sylvie thought about her past, she often found herself thinking about Adam. It had been five years since she last saw his face, yet she remembered him very well. She could envision his cocky grin and his cold blue gaze that seemed to see through her soul. Sylvie was not one to forget people who had left an effect on her, and Adam was definitely one of those individuals.

She could just hear his voice — that smart-ass, smooth-talking Queens accent. Every word that came out of his mouth made her just want to punch him. He was a vulgar and perverted son of a bitch, flirting and teasing her even when he had a ring on his finger.

“I’ll let you out early if you give me a little kiss,” he had once said. Of course, Sylvie shot back with a “fuck off.”

As she sat there drawing, she was suddenly hit by a pang of loneliness. In a way, Adam had made her feel more alone than she already did. The attention he gave her — even though it was bad — was still attention, which was something she had never received. Adam was able to see right through her, pinpoint her weaknesses, and figure out how to trigger them. The more Sylvie thought about him, the more she realized that maybe she could’ve been attached to Adam in her confusing way. As miserable as he made her feel, at least he still gave her attention.

Stop thinking about him. Sylvie told herself. Neither of you two give a shit about each other.

As she tried to center her focus back on drawing, Sylvie could only continue to think about how pathetic her own life seemed to her. Here she was, sitting alone in her apartment with no friends and no family, just listening to music and drawing. She stared at what was the current state of her drawing — a shrieking cat with an arrow piercing through its heart. In her opinion, the cat represented her. That was why she drew it.

As Sylvie took out a black colored pencil, her head perked up as she heard a faint noise. Her eyes nervously darted around, only to see nothing. Maybe I’m just hearing things.

She started to color in her drawing, and that was when she started to hear faint footsteps. Why would someone be in her apartment, especially at this hour? There was nobody that wanted to visit her.

Confused, Sylvie slowly stood up and began to quietly walk out of her bedroom, peeking from around a corner. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a figure dressed in all-black. “Who… who’s there…?” She weakly asked.

Fuck. I shouldn’t have said anything.

Quickly, Sylvie retreated to her room, sitting with her back pressed up against the wall.

She looked up and saw the same figure standing in the doorway, but could only see part of the figure's face.

The figure spoke, and Sylvie felt as if she were trapped in another nightmare.

“Y’know, you should’ve left your door locked. Not too smart.”

Yeah, she’d recognize that snide voice from anywhere. She needed to see if she was right, though, as much as she didn’t want to believe it.

“Who… are you…?”

The man pulled down his mask, and Sylvie’s face turned to a whiter shade of pale. “A… Adam…?”

He pulled his mask back up. “Frank.” He corrected.

Sylvie couldn’t comprehend any of this. What happened to him being a detective? What was with the new name? Cop-turned-criminal… the irony.

“What the fuck…” She whispered, feeling her heart starting to race. “What… what do you want?”

“It’s simple,” Frank answered, his voice cold. He took a few steps closer to Sylvie, and that was when she could tell it was him. The blue eyes said it all.

“Don’t fight, and it’ll be over before you can even blink.”

Sylvie watched in terror as Frank reached into the pocket of his black slacks, pulling out a syringe containing a clear liquid. “What the fuck… is that…?” she asked, her voice shaking.

Frank shifted even closer to Sylvie. Standing right in front of her, he crouched down to her level, holding the syringe in front of her face. “Don’t worry. You’ll have a pleasant slumber.”

“You don't have to do this,” Sylvie whispered. She could feel her body shaking like a leaf as she stared at the syringe. “I won’t… I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, I have to do this,” Frank responded. “Just shut up, and let me do my job, yeah?”

Before she could say anything else, Frank covered Sylvie’s mouth with a gloved hand, muffling her screams. She tried to escape, but in response, he held her down. “Don’t make this difficult.” He hissed.

As Sylvie saw the syringe come closer to her neck, she quickly grabbed Frank’s arm in a frantic attempt to pull him away. His patience dwindling, Frank aggressively pulled his arm away. “Stop fuckin’ fighting!” He snapped. “I don’t wanna fuckin’ hurt you, Sylvie, but I might just have to if you don’t cut the bullshit.”

Sylvie. Jesus Christ, it really was him.

Then, in one quick motion, Frank stuck the needle into Sylvie’s neck, pushing down the plunger as the tranquilizer slowly entered her system. Slowly, she began to relax, and her breathing began to slow, her vision turning foggy.

Once Sylvie finally slipped out of consciousness, Frank picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, casually walking out of the apartment as though nothing had happened. Dean was waiting in the van, smoking a joint.

“How’d it go?” He asked, a smug grin on his face.

“Fine.” Frank curtly responded. “Open the door.”

Dean shuffled out of the van and headed over to the back, opening the door so Frank could place Sylvie in the back seat. Once she was completely taken care of, Frank went to get in the passenger’s seat, slamming the door shut.

“Start driving.” He muttered, coldly staring at Dean. “We got her.”

“Jesus, man. Are you always in a bad mood?”

Frank rolled his eyes. Yeah, he wasn’t the happiest person, but he also just simply loved telling people what to do.

Once the two arrived back at the mansion, Frank entered as if nothing had happened, carrying Sylvie in his arms to a bedroom where she could rest.

“Uh… who’s that?” Sammy asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion. “I thought it was just one person we were kidnapping…”

Dean shrugged. “Boss-man forgot somebody.”

“But…”

Once Frank found an available bedroom, he walked over to the bed and placed Sylvie down on it in a surprisingly gentle manner. He couldn’t help but look at her for perhaps a little too long, with a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts running through his mind. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't seen her in five years, but Sylvie didn't even seem real to Frank, even though she still looked the same.

What the fuck am I doing?

Sighing, Frank turned around and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

[sighs-deeply-and-dreadfully]

Lol, I can’t help but imagine how Wally would react to a gothic, kind of grungy, reader. Just someone who wears black and white all the time, maybe with hits of darker blues or reds. I just find the idea amusing since the neighborhood and characters are all bright, fun colors while there’s just this one gothic person wearing spikes or something.

 

Also, something I can picture is Wally painting them because they’re so different from everything else and the uniqueness of their style and makeup is so fun to draw and paint, and the reader feels the same way. I can just picture the two of them drawing each other or something.

(romantic or mutual crushes, please ^^ I've always been a sucker for opposite aesthetic couples)

HAHA!!! I’m also a sucker for opposite aesthetic couples HEHEHE… I’ll strike you a deal; I’ll write both (mutual crushes and romantic)! HAHA

The Raven and The Kingfisher

Wally Darling x GN!Goth/Grunge!Reader

Headcanons Format, Mutual Crushes -> Romantic Relationship

When you first moved in, to say Wally was interested would be an understatement.

He adored your style, he found it very!! Refreshing? He loves all his neighbours and he loves their town, but sometimes something new can be appreciated!! And you were something new, alright!! /pos

After just a few days of talking, he ended up asking if he could paint you— and he loves to paint all his neighbours! But he certainly wanted to give a shot at conveying your style.

All those darker coloured paints (ones that maybe only been slightly used to create new tones) could finally be used >:]

If you were to say no, he’d accept ! That’s alright ! But he’d probably still likely doodle something of your style in private— although not necessarily of you.

If you say yes? He’s over the moon.

He takes great care to make his paintings as accurate as he can!! He’d likely be on yours for a while, just because you introduce a lot of new colours he hasn’t worked with before— the closest reference he has had is Frank and the other things he’s doodled— so it might take a while longer than usual!! But it’s so delightfully fun to experiment and learn.

But the outcome is lovely, and he proudly hands the painting off to you.

He doesn’t make that the last time he’s drawn you, though, goodness no. It almost becomes a habit, to doodle you.

Which his friends begin to notice, when the litte sketchbook he drags around is practically filled with scribbles of you.

At some point, he is with Julie! She ends up glancing over, and giggles at seeing him doodle you yet again, with a soft “Oh, Wally..”

The two had just been sitting around lightly chatting and doing their own things— and Wally was drawing.

Confusedly, Wally would lift his head— what was funny? Had he done something funny with meaning to—?

“You’re drawing the new neighbour!”

He tilts his head. Why yes, he was? How is that funny—? Julie picks up and continues, though.

“You’ve been drawing them sooo mucchhh.. Do you like them, or something? I think you might like them— we all kinda do!“

He tilts his head again. “Of course.. I like them, they’re my friend..?”

But that interaction gets his brain spinning, and eventually— during a hangout with Frank— he just kind of. Pauses.

He mutters under his breathe, and soon whisks himself away with a rushed farewell to Frank— who is just left staring in confusion.

Ah, so maybe like is a loose term. Haha ooooops..

When he steps into Home, who creaks him a hello, the amount he’s been doodling you somewhat- hits him like a truck?

You’re in his sketchbooks, mainly, which— all of his friends were! But his sketchbooks were almost like a direct thread to his “subconscious”. He just doodles whatever comes to mind, or whatever he feels (and his true feelings have a tendency to alter how it presents itself— though really only in ways he can understand). He uses it very much as an outlet.

And you were, basically, on every single damn page of the thing.

.. whoopsie.

With the newfound knowledge that he, haha, maybe has developed a “teensy weensy itsy bitsy” crush—

Heee is now terrified to be around you.

If it was so obvious to everyone else, was it obvious to you?

Wuh-oh.

He doesn’t let this anxiety stop him from talking to you, though. The thoughts of it made him sad— and the thought of him withdrawing making you sad made him ever sadder.

But from beyond this point, he’s a lot.. less collected.

When you two hang out, there’s a small shift in the air— that he is hyper-aware of, and you might be, too.

Wally always did stare— he liked eye contact, and he didn’t really care to learn where else he should be looking during conversations—

So him avoiding your gaze was almost off-putting due to how foreign it was.

He’d glance to his hands, or to his supplies, or To the sky.

Anywhere but you when you looked at him— he couldn’t!! Really bare your reaction!!

He knew it’d be the same way you look at him all of the time, but the thought it might be negative made him.. antsy.

Because, again, if his little crush was obvious to everyone else before it was even obvious to him— was it obvious to you, too?

This keeps up for a few days, and eventually— you just.. ask him what’s been up. You note his change in behaviour, and you express you’re confused— maybe even a bit concerned.

And the dam just comes flooding.

He gives some garbled twist of a confession, nervously wringing his fingers the entire time (something he almost never did).

He expresses it’s okay if it isn’t mutual, and that he just had to get it off his chest before he “exploded” (Barnaby used that word a lot in his jokes— so maybe it’d be funny if he used it, too?)

He’s overjoyed to hear you return the affections though, and immediately just sort of de-tenses and instead starts.. kicking his legs. Very quickly. Stimming. Hehe.

From there, you two fall into a relationship. You had already sort of been recognized as a “thing” by everyone else in the neighbourhood— as you were often seen together.

Now, you were practically always seen together— making the opposites in your aesthetic very noticeable. Two halves of a pair!

When you aren’t together, Wally has a tendency to.. maaaybe.. gush about you, a lil..

Specifically to Barnaby! He knows Barnaby doesn’t mind to listen (especially while consuming his.. “lovely” hot dogs (/sar)).

While the two stand around, Wally cupping his normal hotdog in two hands and Barnaby chewing on his abomination lovely creation, he’ll just go onnn and ooonn about you, or what the two of you have been up to, or what you plan to do later. His words are kinda hummed as he does, and he seems to idly be wiggling his head side to side.

Barnaby is happy to lend an ear! He’s got two very big ones, after all.

.. plus, it’s easier to lull Wally into kind of just.. handing his hotdog to him.. hehe..

Not that he wasn’t going to already give it! He just gets to receive it faster, and Wally pays no mind.

Overall, that little man is head over heels for you— absolutely smitten. He finds your aesthetic very, very pretty— and you in turn just as much.

Expect sappy love letters and even more paintings of you, dear. :]

I FORGOT TO DO AN AUTHOR’S NOTE AT THE END IM SORROY I GOT DISTRACTED HWAHWA

THis was super cute to write and I hope it was satisfactory!!! :D

Have a lovely day!!!!!

[milks-thoughts]

absolutely loving the stim ones! would it be a bit odd to ask for maybe a donnie and mikey (separately) as well? we’re so sorry, we’re a huge sucker for the boys ;-;

KEEP SENDING THESE REQUESTS I LOVE THEM LIKE AUQHSJWSJSHNW (realizing my Donnie seems OOC because I love soft Donnie and I mean did you see the way he treated Atomic Lass he would absolutely be a softy)

I’ll be meshing Donnie and Mikey together for this one, I also have another fluffy hc coming with April included!

TW: none! just more food for your souls

Donnie

⚛︎ my man’s absolutely loves it

⚛︎ Donnie will never admit it but it’s what he looks forward too, cause like, you just get so excited

⚛︎ it’s cute can you blame him?

⚛︎ and his churring? it makes him think of like when a cat purrs, just all the endorphins. after a long day of building it’s just what he needs

Being a person was hard, no one seemed to talk about it enough. Once you made it to the base you sorta just flopped on Donnie’s bed, he turned and looked at you “ my sweet what’s the problem? “ you smiled at him and made grabby hands. He, in the two years you’ve been dating has learned to love your gentle touches. Collapsing into you Donnie smiled, petting your hair “ what’s wrong? “ he asked again, you looked at him with sad eyes “ Life’s hard “ was all you muttered out. Donnie hated seeing you sad, because you looked like a kicked puppy. So he did the one thing that always seemed to cheer you up, he started churring. Your eyes blinked and you hands started tapping the bed a bit before you started replaying his churrs, he smiled fondly at you and continued messing with your hair. Donnies inventions can wait a little while.

Mikey

☼ fucking ADORES you and your stims

☼ even if they weren’t about him, he just loves listening to them

☼ loves when you mimic his churrs.

☼ it’s super relaxing, now he knows why you like his churring so much

Mikey had decided to take you spray painting with him, it was in the sewers but you enjoyed the time spent with him. Watching Mikey paint the wall in vibrant colors, his green hand cupping you face as he stared at his work. You tapped your hands and started to stim, suppressing your vocal stims. You didn’t want to draw attention to yourselves incase people were doing work. Mikey’s hand eventually left your face as he started painting, pouting you got distracted and let go of the reigns in your mind the next thing you know you were blabbing Mikey’s name like a dunce. He turned and smiled at you “ mhm? “ was all you mustered out on your wash of embarrassment, he showed a toothy smile “ I just really like your stims! “ you were glad you didn’t reply in fear he’d go Dr. Feelings on you. He tilted his head “ is something wrong? “ you simply shook your head “ No, nothing dearest. You’re painting is really nice “ He gave you a toothy smile and continued. Mikey was really sweet to you, and sometimes you wondered what did you do to score him?

[inyri]

❛ it would have been better to die. ❜ for the sentence starters! I'd love to read some swtor but if another world speaks to you more then go for it ^^

(This may or may not show up in a future chapter in some form- this version is emphatically a draft and I’m still working out the dynamic between these two, so we’ll call this a character study.)

SWTOR. Nine and Satele.)

*

“-because of a lie?” Satele raises an eyebrow over the rim of her cup. “Forgive me, but I’d have thought Theron would be used to that.”

“Because you know him so well?” Void, she’s got to get out of here. When she tries to sit up, though, her head throbs ominously where it had slammed against the canyon wall and her nerves hum electric and she sighs, settling back onto the pillow. She could use another kolto syringe or even a few tablets of painkiller but she owes her too much already so she turns to her side instead, face toward the cabin wall. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she mutters, “particularly not with you. Look, I appreciate that you rescued me, but-”

If that registered there’s no sign of it in Satele’s voice, as even and unperturbed as ever. “You would have died there otherwise. The shade stalkers were already swarming when I found you.”

Nine sighs. “Or you’d have killed me. You told me that already.”

“Not once I was reasonably certain you were still you.”

“You ought to have left me.” With her eyes closed the pain quiets. “It would have been better if I’d died. At least with him inside my head he couldn’t hurt anyone else, or if I’d died here alone maybe I’d have dragged him down with me to the hells. Now he’s loose again and-” oh, stars- “we’ve got to warn them. If he tries here what he did on Ziost-” The cup clinks gently against the floor grate, the little crate scraping backward as the Jedi rises to press her hand against her forehead. It was meant to calm her, she thinks, but it reminds her for a moment of the restraining strap in the chair at the Intelligence Tower and she twists away abruptly- or tries to, her body hopelessly tangled in the thin blanket. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ciph-” Satele catches herself neatly; she barely heard the correction- “Commander, and he’s not going to hurt Odessen. Be calm.”

When she rolls onto her back she’s looking down at her and the color’s wrong but oh, her eyes look so much like Theron’s. “You can’t know that.”

“I do. He’s still tethered to you-” (but he said- she interrupts, and Satele raises a hand to quiet her)- “and he will be until he is destroyed or you die. If he wanted to leave you to claim another host or draw more power he’d have done so at the first possible opportunity, which would suggest that he’s incapable of it. So either he truly believes you’re the best option he has, which seems unlikely, or you’re the only option he has. Why did he hurt you?”

“Now you’ve hurt my feelings.”

Force, even her eyeroll’s just like his. “I only meant that you aren’t Force sensitive- or weren’t, though it’s difficult to separate you from how he’s changed you. It breaks a pattern he began a thousand years ago, that he deliberately bred into his heirs, and I cannot imagine it was intentional.” Satele shrugs, settling back down onto the crate. “I suspect he thought he could simply shunt you aside and assume control.”

She carefully unwinds the blanket from around her legs. “More fool he, then.” No one controls her. Never. Never again. “And to answer your question, he thinks that if he keeps hurting me that eventually I’ll give in and let him help. I said no.” Her belly twinges. “Again.”

“And yet you’re still alive. Still you.”

“Yes,” she says quietly. The light’s hurting her head again; she closes her eyes tight against it.  “For what little that’s worth.”

“It might be worth everything,” Satele murmurs. “It might be worth the galaxy.”

[honeymochibubbletea]

Could we have some Alt!Charlie x Alt!Phantasmo??

(sadly I can't upload photos but I think you know what i am talking about... Right?)

(Both drawings belong and were drawn by their respective artists:

Left drawing: @fluffffpillow

Right drawing: @jencilthepencil / @lemonlysunny)

You are referring to these two, right Anon? :3

I don’t know if you want me to draw these two together or write some headcanons about them sooo… i’ll do both because it’s Christmas and i’m feeling nice~ ;)

First of all, let’s just change a bit how these two appeared in the Telltown universe because these two were first created as an alternative “Player2” kind of thing to the cuphead universe… and since both artists don’t want their creations being related to the Cuphead premise anymore, i’ll just create an excuse to how they would exist on Telltown! XD

With that out of the way, let’s begin~: Basically Phantasmo was trying to create a clone more stronger than his arch nemesis but as always, Charlie came in to beat his ass and accidentally did something to his cloning machine that not only made a clone of her but also a clone of him! (She cut herself on the machine’s sharp edges when she was trying to punch him and he was electrocuted by the machine, which made the thing to malfunction and create alternates of them both)

Suddenly the whole lab glowed and disoriented them… when they woke up, in front of them were the alternates:

Alt!Charlie: Finally woke up you two…

Original Phantasmo: What the-!

Original Charlie: the hell?! Phantasmo! What’s the meaning of this?!? Why… there’s an almost identical me!?

Alt!Charlie: Uh, i dunno, maybe because there’s a literal CLONING machine? Duh…

Original Charlie: . . .okay… at least she’s not entirely identical to me… although she’s rude.

Original Phantasmo: and who are you? *points to Alt!Phantasmo*

Alt!Phantasmo: uhm… i… i think i am… y-y-you…

Original Phantasmo: Ah great… just what I needed: a coward version of me and… i didn’t knew this could be possible, an even more arrogant version of you…

Original Charlie and Alt!Charlie: you’re the only one to blame…

Original Phantasmo: now… how do we fix this…?

And then, Phantasmo and Charlie tried to seek for a way to get rid of their clones… but Alt!Charlie didn’t like that one bit and managed with her doubled strength (she’s even stronger than Charlie) to beat both of them and try to take over Charlie’s life… later i can write a story about that… (someday… i’m feeling lazy right now as i am writing this :v)

Alt!Charlie (who was named by her original counterpart as “Lily”) and Alt!Phantasmo (who was named by the original Phantasmo as “Victor”) certainly would be a very, very toxic couple at first… BUT:

After they were banished to an isolated island, they (or, in Lily’s case, only SHE would fight with Victor) would fight a lot and… eventually, would try to change their appearances and identities to not look like exactly the same as their original counterparts.

Even trying to change, their opposite personalities would still be there:

Lily is everything Charlie’s not: she’s cold, heartless, calculating, sophisticated, arrogant and basically very, very bitchy.

Victor is: kind, nervous wreck, polite, simple, empathetic and very caring about others… and also a coward.

Lily couldn’t change that much, as for Victor he definitely can because he’s a ghost and can change hair and color of his… soul…? (Idk, don’t ask) she’s definitely jealous of him because of that…

When they finally left the island, they started to live on a small town close to Telltown and built their own small house together… they started from zero. (I’m still thinking about how that could work, i am maaaaaybe thinking on reworking on their origins because there’s a lot of stuff i need to write to make things make sense hahaha… 🥲 and i am very tired because i am writing this instead of sleeping-)

Lily’s love language would be (for her, not her doing those but more like being on the receiving end): acts of service and receiving gifts.

Victor’s love language would be (he’s on the giving end): words of affirmation, quality time and physical touch.

They would still be like Charlie and Phantasmo but, like, ✨~be completely different~✨

Lily’s the top and Victor’s the bottom, end of discussion

Here’s a quick sketch I’ve made while i was thinking of what to write next on your ask Anon! :3

(Aaaand great… i forgor to draw her goddamn right arm… yay…)🫠😶🙃

Also, sorry it took another year to finish your ask Anon… it even looks like… it was last year i- ok, I’ll see myself out.

[cowboyinternist]

patches and stuff that i made (and didn’t!) for my wtnv jacket :3

little project Ive have that’s been in progress for a couple years :3 more details below the cut

glow cloud patch, this is just scrap fleece that i colored with old copic markers and hand sewed :) also tiny animals + beads that i stuck on there with fabric glue. the glitter is this holographic glitter paint that i love? i use it on everything.

(left) void patch is just canvas + paint marker and safety pins. the pin above it is from the attic tour, and the pin on the collar is from the haunting of night vale ^_^ the babydoll parts are earrings but i don’t usually wear earrings like that so i repurposed them

(right) eyeball pin is polymer clay and made by me, angel pin is from ultrainfinite on instagram :) little name tag is a repurposed gift card that i just painted and glued over :3 the cecil drawing is meant to resemble me a little more than the cecil i typically draw lol.

patch and sheriff badge are from the wtnv merch site, cowboy cat pin is from pinkgabbercat on instagram. the fake flower pins are technically for a different project but this is their home until i’m ready to use them for the other thing. the little eyeball emblems are made from a linocut stamp that i created a few years ago for a different project

patch for the back!! i rlly love how this came out, the dark purple is an old pillowcase and the moon is the same scrap fleece that i used for the glow cloud. my hand sewing ia kinda fuckass but it adds idk. plus glow in the dark stars!

i made the king city patch a while ago but it’s just canvas and paint pen too i think. plus fly pins that i also made!! little desert landscape button is magazine paper scraps. the cactus and house pins are from the tours i mentioned above, and unfortunately i cannot remember where i got the possum patch :( this is the back right panel of the jacket, for the back left panel i wanted to make a dark owl records patch eventually

i hope to have a little something from all the books on here at some point! something for each of the villains too (which u can see i’ve already kinda started with the beagle patch in the very first image)

this project is still super unfinished!! i have a desert bluffs jacket too that is also still in the works, so i’ll maybe post about that soon too!!

[vivispec]

Hello & Happy Friday! From the 'platonic prompts' list and for Viera and Iloniyen: "I am this close away from strangling you." Happy writing!

With how much they bickered as kids, it was really hard to just choose one scene :') here's Viera and Iloniyn preparing for the ball at the Winter Palace, featuring that godawful Inquisition getup.

@dadrunkwriting Viera & Iloniyn words: 660

“Wipe that smug look off your damn face, before I wipe it off for you.”

Viera lifted her hand to hide the offending expression, but Iloniyn could still see the laughter in her eyes. “I think it suits you,” she managed, barely able to contain the giggle seeping into her voice. “It’s…bold. Very…intriguing.”

“By the Creators, I will strangle you.”

“If you value your own life, I wouldn’t,” she warned, crossing arms clad in white satin up to the elbow, and drawing near. “Vivienne’s attendants spent the better part of an hour on my neck alone, and you should know from the lethallen who wove our plaits as da’len that there’s no wrath like that of an artist scorned.”

His scowl was broken by a scoff. “They powdered your neck?”

“Yes. My neck, and just about every other bare piece of skin on my body. It feels terrible, like I walked through a dust cloud on a dry day, and didn’t bother wiping it off.” She lifted a hand, running it along the blue sash cutting across his chest, stark against the bright red fabric behind it. “At least your tunic looks comfortable. I can barely breathe through all these layers.”

“You’d rather look like some exotic bird?”

“And you’d rather be swarmed by bored shem on the hunt for a little entertainment, courtesy of the Inquisitor’s elusive Shadow?” His ears ran red as his tunic at the suggestion, blinking away with a sour set to his brow—no different from when they were children, and she got the best of him. “I didn’t think so. They’d be no match for your good looks, at their full power. For the sake of the world, I’d much rather spare the both of you.”

“How shall I ever repay you,” he griped through his teeth, and she gave his sash a firm tug. “I can’t even begin to understand why you dragged me here. Barely three months since I left the clan, and you bring me to a ball? Really?” 

“You’ll be able to stomach it for a single evening.”

“This isn’t because I pushed you into the river, is it? Or said you looked like a bogfisher?”

“I need you here, Ilo,” she pressed, white-knuckled against his chest. Then, her fingers relaxed, lifting to smooth the cowlick at his hairline. “You won’t have to speak with anyone, but I’ll be too busy appeasing the nobles to see what’s roiling under the surface—if appeasing them is even something I can hope to do. If you can keep your eyes and ears open, look out for anything amiss…”

“Does Nightingale not have agents for that sort of thing?”

“She does. I don’t.” Her eyes rimmed by severe black, her features framed in gold, she was a far cry from the sun-touched hunter he’d ran the trails with; and yet, her touch at his temple was familiar, the curling of her fingers as she coaxed his stray hairs back into place as recognizable to him as his own. “And they don’t see the same things we do. I trust you, more than myself. Just this once, and I won’t let them dress you in something so garish ever again.”

“Swear it. By the All-Mother.”

Tilting her chin, Viera straightened, her voice growing grave. “In the name of Mythal, the Protector, I do swear to defend Iloniyn Sarethon—the blood at my back, my eyes beyond me—from any and all offending garments.”

Stifling the smirk that thinned his eyes, he chewed on his answer before, eventually, heaving a sigh. “Alright,” he relented, “just make sure, in no uncertain terms, that the tailors know red really isn’t my color. It washes me out.”

“I’ll make it very clear,” she promised, before turning to retrieve her mask, and make for the door. “A burnt orange, maybe, or a nice, neutral black?” 

“Over this monstrosity? I’d take magenta, were it paired just right.”

She snickered, and slipped away. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

[asterdisaster06]

dial drunk

simon "ghost" riley x john "soap" mactavish

Pt 1.

summary > “I’m tired of you disappearing for weeks and then waltzing back into my life like it’s nothing.”

“Better than me disappearing for good.”

“Is it?”

. . .

word count > 3.5k

warnings > angst, simon riley is a dick, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, soap POV, minimal simon riley involvement

a/n > you know the angst is good whenever you meant to wrap it up in two chapters and it’s turned into an entire fic

ao3

Ghost had always been a flighty person, and Soap couldn’t blame him. It’s a simple symptom of the ailment of a bad childhood. It had slowly gotten worse, progressively causing more and more heartbreak every time Soap had received a call through the grapevine from Price. Or maybe it was less, but Soap had honestly lost track of both the times and his emotions. On an occasional note it Gaz or Alejandro were the one to send a bolt of anxiety through Soap’s system. The one time it was Laswell had his heart drop to his stomach and caused him to curl up into a ball, bedridden until his lover - if he could even call him that at this point - returned home. Until he did, the dial tone was all Soap had, letting the pain metastasis to his very soul. 

It made Soap feel like a young soul in the 1940s waiting for their poor husband to return from saving the world. Except, Soap had been through the exact same battlefields on the exact same missions. And sure, one could argue that his childhood had raised him in this way to turn into someone that Soap no longer could say he knew, but it only took so many ‘I’ll do better’ claims to tear that small hope down. The small hope that maybe, just maybe, this time Simon would find that help in his life. He no longer wished for Simon to confide in him, knowing that was a lost cause, but he only wished that therapy was something he even considered. 

Simon had been gone for two and half weeks this time, the longest of all his run away trips to wherever he decided to let his heart guide him. Not like it mattered to Soap, it was all the same anyways. Once upon a time Simon’s sporadic nature had seemed charming, a challenge to Soap to weasel his way into the heart of the rugged soldier who had a broken look in his eyes. The window to his soul betraying cracks and rough edges despite the ever present silence that permeated most interactions between him and Ghost. 

Eventually Soap had lodged himself halfway through the walls that Ghost had put up around himself in an effort to keep everyone out and away. Planting C4 until he had blown his way into Ghost’s heart. In more ways than one. Those days of heartfelt dates that left Soap giggling and kicking his feet were long behind the couple. Some days he reminisces on the bar runs that left his cheeks flushed and soul kept warm in the embrace of his kind lover. The kind where they poked fun at each other and teased about their choices of drinks; although, Simon had always known his order by heart and had it ordered before he even sat down. Ever the gentleman. 

Now though? He wasn’t even sure if Simon could recall his favorite color let alone his birthday. He had untethered from the parts Soap could even begin to recognize, changing from charming to alarming in seconds. There were instances where Soap had been frozen with Ghost storming out of their shared apartment with venom still hanging in the air on a string of tension. One that snapped as soon as Soap found himself able to move, only to sit and draw his knees to his chest with a thousand mile stare imbued in his now dull eyes. The hundreds of bullet wounds didn’t compare to the anguish Simon leaving his side over and over again left him with. But that’s mourning, he’d forget it in the morning anyways. 

He took to drinking to quell his sorrows if only temporarily. Price was adamantly against it, but all of his attempts to help blew up in his face with Soap only rebutting that Price couldn’t say shit with his smoking habit. Soap had apologised the day after, but it was enough to get Price to stop trying. It hurt Soap more than Price could ever know that it felt like he had given up on him. Logically, Soap knew that it was well deserved, but his own self-hatred transferred over to his internal turmoil of Simon and his long lasting effects on the man’s own well-being. In the end, he said nothing for three whole days once his Ghost had returned, letting the doubts and resentment fester until he could no longer take it. It ended just how Soap had predicted, with Simon isolating himself until he eventually slipped out of the building they once called home to who knows where. 

The current day was overcast, it was raining and Soap was calling drunk to the number he had memorised. The number that was carved into his ribs and sounded out everytime his heart beat. The phone rang and rang and then beeped with Simon’s gravelly voicemail breaking the anticipation lined with hope that ran through Soap’s veins. He listened to it, despite knowing it wasn’t truly his love. It comforted him in a sick way, knowing that Simon’s continuity was something that he could always expect out of his boyfriend. Shit though, all he wanted was a simple response. A text beyond the ‘be back soon’ that he always sent when he ran away would suffice. He didn’t even need to hear Simon’s voice. He would settle for anything at this point more than the second hand calls that always instilled terror in him that this would be it. That they would be calling him to inform his poor soul that Simon had finally succumbed to his reckless nature. That he was lying dead in a ditch or found shot in an alleyway. It’s not like Soap had much to reassure him that Simon could be better than those circumstances. 

He sighed, stumbling his way over to the countertop where he opened the medicine cabinet. Besides the classic Ibuprofen or Advil everything in there belonged to Soap. Simon had continuously refused to get on meds, let alone take them. The one time that Soap had believed his love had actually started to try and get better, he soon found the still full pill bottle in the trashcan a week later. He thinks on this, deciding that that was when the cracks started to show and the burning train wreck that was their once fruitful relationship came into the light. It was long ago enough and paled in comparison to more recent events that it didn’t even affect Soap beyond a slight tinge of soreness surrounding his heart. 

He grabs an orange container, popping the white lid off and pouring out a small pill into his hand. Doing the same with another, Soap stuck them in his mouth and threw his head back with a swallow. His meds had been upped in the last month, anxiety and depression plaguing his very soul, infection spreading through his veins into his nervous system. He knew exactly who was to blame for this. Although he could never bring himself to mention it to him, aware that it would only bring about another fight that ended in Simon speeding past traffic lights into the ever present gap in space and time. Time and time again it had ended in exactly the same way, and yet Soap could never bring himself to end it completely. He wasn’t entirely sure which one of them would be more broken by that executive decision. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know

Staring out the window on the third floor of the apartment building with a cup of tea clutched in his hand; watching the raindrops race down the window and placing bets on which one would reach the end first. Simon, or himself? The bigger raindrop, or the faster one? There sat a lukewarm cup on the counter just how Simon liked it. He figured that if his beloved returned he would like a warm cup of tea to come home to. Or at least, that’s what he claimed to refute the allegations that he simply was too ingrained in the habit of making two. 

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts, and Soap simply sighed as he trudged over to the countertop where it was laid to rest. He no longer felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of the ringtone, knowing damn well that it wasn’t going to be anything of value being said to him. He truly had given up on what little hope he held for Simon Riley. 

He clicked the accept button, composing himself for whatever words were going to be spoken. He recognized the caller ID as Price and had a vague recollection of conversation long ago about everything revolving around their Ghost. Soap had chosen not to respond at that point, but maybe he would come around at some point. Unlikely, but considering he was still with Ghost, anything was possible. 

Price’s voice sounded out, reminding him that he did in fact agree to an obligatory run to the pub on this day to simply catch. Of course, that was when Ghost was currently living in the house for once in a blue moon and had agreed to social interaction. They both knew it was bullshit and he would likely be away whenever the monthly tradition had occurred, but they agreed for a sense of shaky normalcy. Soap was right though, and he was doomed to engage with his teammates in an awkward exchange without bringing up the one who was not to be named. He didn’t know what was worse. Sitting there with a stranger in all senses of the word or being alone and facing the pity looks sent his way. Despite knowing the latter is what today had in mind, he responded that he would be there soon over the phone to Price. The man over the phone gave his good wishes and hung up. 

Soap breathed out a shaky sigh, rubbing his face with his hands in an effort to wake up. It was already well into the afternoon, and he had barely eaten anything except the spirits that brought upon numbing from the thoughts of his Ghost. He could barely be called his though. Not with everything that’s going on. The alcohol was warming his chest in a way that Ghost hadn’t been able to do in a long time. He dragged himself to the bathroom, almost slipping on a puddle made from one of the leaky windows on the way there. Simon had promised to fix it sometime soon, but obviously he hadn’t gotten around to it. 

After brushing his teeth, rinsing his mouth of the sickening smell of booze, and fixing his grown out hair into something almost intentional looking, Soap stared at himself in the mirror. He splashed water on his face with the thought that maybe, just maybe, it would rinse off the dark circles around his eyes and the reddish tint his eyes held. He attempted to shave if only a little bit, faltering as he had to focus on what patches he had already gone over. It seemed to pass by quickly, his consciousness transporting him into his room to pick out some clothes. In the end, Soap threw on some jeans that only had minimal dirt and stain on them and pulled over the black hoodie that Simon had gifted him a while ago. Well, gifted was a subjective matter, but Soap had always protested his innocence of stealing it. That memory seemed so long ago. Years if not decades in the slow passing time with Soap stuck in the prison of his own mind. 

Nonetheless, Soap pushed forward, finding himself walking in the rain down to the pub on the corner of the street with his hood up and only his wallet and phone to his name. He staggered along the street, taking a moment to almost feel sorry for what he had become. All for the shame of being young, drunk, and alone. Soap came upon the small run-down establishment and entered, scanning the bar room for familiar faces. He had a feeling he was hallucinating it, but it almost seemed as if he found Simon in all of the faces he saw. At least, until his eyes hazily locked onto the friendly appearance of Price and Gaz sitting in a booth. 

“Hey,” Was all Gaz said.

Price simply looked on with what Soap interpreted as both sympathy and disgust at what he had become. It would’ve hurt less if it wasn’t exactly what Soap was expecting given the fact that he sees the same look in everyone’s eyes. Even his own mirrored back at him. Price offered Soap a seat next to him, scooting over. Soap all but collapsed into the cushioned booth, observing the already ordered drinks. He nodded a simple acknowledgement to Gaz, taking a sip of the water in front of him. It soothed his throat that was sore from crying late into the night, every night. 

“How’s it been?” 

Soap didn’t exactly know who asked that, too distracted to discern the differing voices through the hustle and bustle of the bar on top of it. Nevertheless, he stared down at the water droplets left from his glass on the table and took a moment before speaking, clearing his throat before he did so in anticipation of his larynx protesting. 

“I think you guys know already, we’re past this. Long past it,” Soap croaked out, coughing before taking another sip of his water. 

Gaz and Price shared a silent look full of worry; Soap caught it but chose to say nothing. He had been through this song and dance too many times before to care at this point. He was tired, tired of it all. 

“Son, why do you do this to yourself?” Price pauses before asking this, treating Soap like a wild animal. 

“The fuck do you mean, Price?” Soap spat out, a hiss lining his heavily-accented words. 

“Jesus, dude, look at yourself. You’re losing any semblance of who you really are without. . .” Gaz trailed off, unsure if the name was allowed to be uttered. 

“Without who, Gaz? Without who? Without Ghost? Without Simon? Without my boyfriend? Say the fucking name without it seeming like a taboo word that’ll just send me flying off my hinges. We’re long past that pal,” Soap snapped, eyes bloodshot and bleary. 

His raspy voice had caught the attention of a few patrons around the establishment. He didn’t care, not in the slightest. All meaning to his pitiful life had gone along with Simon the first time he had left, and it had never returned. He fiddled with the loose string on the sleeve that he had been slowly unravelling every time he was nervous ever since he was given the article of clothing. 

“Shit dude, you need help. You need to get away from him. You can’t keep living like this!” Gaz exclaimed, shaking off the harsh words Soap threw in his face.

“He’s right, we don’t like seeing you like this,” Price said in a low voice.

“Oh, so this was just an elaborate intervention, huh?” His Scottish tone was sneaking out as his voice rose with irritation. Whether it was at them, himself, or the whole situation overall was up for debate. 

“Don’t say it like that. You know damn well that Simon doesn’t deserve your forgiveness over and over again just to run off on you. This isn’t a healthy relationship. This is barely a relationship at all. God love that boy, but he has issues that need to be addressed by a proper therapist instead of taking it out on you. We want to help you,” Price said, coaxing Soap into a sense of false security. 

Soap frowned, his jaw tensing up at the very utterance of the truth. The truth that he knew damn well was something he needed to hear. He refused to believe it though; didn’t want to face the facts that his once charming boyfriend had turned his back on him. His narrow eyes focused on an interesting spot on the table as he crossed his arms in pure silence. He chewed at the side of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as his whole body tensed up. Soap had a vague idea of where this was going, and he didn’t like how it would end.

“Looking at you like this, it’s not right,” Gaz began. “I need to know you aren’t a danger to yourself.”

“I’m not going to off myself as soon as I go home,” Soap said, spite coating his every word. 

“That’s not what we mean. You’re drinking yourself to death, Soap. You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. That’s as much as killing yourself as you can get without tying a noose around your throat,” Price said, his voice echoing inside of Soap’s head, causing pain to evolve around his temple. He really should’ve taken an Advil today. Or maybe two. 

“I’m fine,” Soap says, tiredly. He truly was exhausted, borderline delirious; but if he could just make it through this interaction, he’d be home free to go home and pass out with a bottle in his hand. 

“Like hell you are, we’re getting you in therapy and you’re staying with one of us until you’re deemed okay,” Gaz shoots back.

“You are not seriously considering that? Babysitting me? Right Price?” Soap asks, turning his attention to Price. 

“We believe that it would be for the best; not letting you be alone going stir crazy,” Price explains softly.

“Fuck this, I’m going home. Leave me alone,” Soap brushes off Price’s hand, standing up and shuffling out to the exit. 

“Shit, Soap, wait up,” Gaz says, grabbing Soap’s arm in an attempt to make him stop. To make him actually think about it for a second in order to process it. Maybe if Soap had let him do so, he would’ve gotten help. He would’ve sat back down and listened to what his friends had to say and thrown up a bird to Simon and let that part of his life die away. These thoughts flashed through Soap’s mind for a split second, fading out to instincts as he swung back at Gaz - making sickening contact with Gaz’s nose. The second of silence seemed to never end, until it did. The sound of his own heart roaring in his ears faded as he saw the flash of pain and betrayal in Gaz’s eyes as he clutched his now bleeding face. Shit.

Soap didn’t know what to do except run, and so that’s what he did. It made his stomach turn as flashes of the night of Grave’s betrayal arose in his memories. A phantom pain plaguing his arm and side where bullet particles likely still laid. The environment around him flashed as rain pelted him and his- Simon’s hoodie. Shame bubbled up in his stomach, forcing him to double over in an alley and throw up the pure liquid in his gut despite his attempts to choke it down. That’s where he laid as he stared up at the grey sky. That’s where he laid as he was dragged into the police car by the cops that he presumed Price had sent to track down his pathetic ass. He was forced into handcuffs, something that wasn’t foreign to him. Soap wasn’t exactly surprised that he ended up here, he was only surprised that he didn’t end up in a cop car sooner. 

“Young man, how drunk are you?” A cop asked. Soap finally caught his question after three times of him asking.

Soap looked upon the man with his eyes tinged pink from crying and his throat destroyed from sobbing and mumbling to himself. 

“I beg you sir just let me call, I’ll give you my blood alcohol, I’ll rot with all the burnouts in the cell,” Soap babbled incoherently. He wasn’t even aware of what he was saying; his only thoughts being of hearing Simon’s voice to beg for forgiveness. Or maybe to yell at him for leaving him to end up here. Whatever Soap believed in, it brought good fortune to him and the officer let him pick up the phone to dial the number he knew by heart, even drunk out of his mind. It rang, and rang, and then the beep of the hangup tone rang out in the silence. 

“Just wait I swear he’ll call me back,” Soap cried out, tears of desperation beginning to stream down his face. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take you to the station now,” The officer was overly polite and gentle, able to see the fracturing of the broken man in front of him. His eyes expressed condolences for Soap being hung up on. Even the cops thought Ghost was wrong for hanging up.

“Fuck that, sir, just let me call,” Soap wailed, truly losing himself to the pure distress and anguish with his other half abandoning him in his time of need. 

He was met with silence as the car travelled through traffic lights, and the buzz of the transmitter radio was the only thing breaking through the heavy sobs Soap let out as he hung his head low.

[closingwaters]

PARTIES: @mortemoppetere @stainedglasstruth @closingwaters

TIMING: A few days ago

SUMMARY: Emilio ventures to the lake to see if he can find the fae that Rhett fought with. Teagan speeds up his search with a knife, and Arden reveals she is friends with a hunter.

WARNINGS: Mentions of sibling death and parental death.

He told Rhett he would check out the lake, but he’d never told him when he would do it. It was something Emilio had gotten good at — making promises that lacked in specificity so he could keep them without sacrificing more than he wanted to sacrifice. It was something he thought he’d earned with fatherhood. You never wanted to break a promise to your kid, after all, but there were always going to be some things you couldn’t give them. He was beginning to remember that adults were much the same.

So he’d been vague, with Rhett. I’ll go to the lake. I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. Things that he would do, technically… just not in the way Rhett would have done them. For Emilio, ‘taking care’ of whatever fae had laid Rhett up would only involve killing them if they were actually dangerous. (Or… maybe if Rhett had done too much damage to undo. He wasn’t going to leave anyone to die a slow death, if that was how Rhett had left them. He’d want someone to do the same for him.) 

Although, in all likelihood? He wouldn’t even find them to begin with. Emilio wasn’t a warden. He had no senses telling him when fae were near, no way of detecting something he wasn’t designed to fight. All he could do was walk along the shore of the river towards the lake, looking for blood trails or bodies. Selfishly, part of him almost hoped to find the latter. If the fae was dead from whatever injuries Rhett had doled out, Emilio wouldn’t have to worry about them coming after his brother again, but he also wouldn’t have to hurt them. He felt guilty for the thought almost immediately, then felt guilty for feeling guilty. It was a funny tightrope, this new dynamic to Rhett. Harder to balance when he was the only one who knew it was a balancing act at all. Rhett would figure it out eventually, but Emilio had no idea what would happen when he did. Part of him desperately didn’t want to know.

Sighing, he continued his trek along the riverbank, eyeing the water. Nothing floating, nothing laying on the shore. He needed something to tell Rhett to keep him from coming right back out here himself and making this whole trip obsolete. He needed…

Oh. A cabin? He might have missed it if not for his sharp eyes, might have overlooked it if he didn’t know he was looking for something. Cabin on the lake. Had to be someone inside. Whether they’d seen anything or not, it would at least give him something to tell Rhett. Dropping his hands to his sides, he made his way towards it. He was tense, but he didn’t draw any weapons. No need to make this a fight. If Emilio came home with any kind of injuries to speak of, it was only going to push his brother further down the damn warpath. He knew that. He had to tread lightly here. 

The last few days had been a blur, a painful one that had only recently turned pleasant. Arden’s presence made Teagan feel at ease, like the tension in her chest could finally loosen. “I have to go into the lake soon,” She muttered tiredly against her pillow, hand squeezing Arden’s as it draped over her good side. Despite Teagan’s resistance, Arden had been adamant about being the big spoon. Obviously, she had won the argument, though it hardly felt like an actual loss. 

She-Ra continued to play, colorful magic flowing and shiny swords swinging across the screen as another fight ensued. Teagan chuckled to herself, shaking her head. It seemed like Catra’s heart was being clouded by her doubt and grief. She was lost. It twisted the nix’s stomach to see it play out, but she was hopeful that it would all work out. If some random cartoon character could find happiness, then maybe Teagan could too, as silly as that logic sounded. 

“Do you want to join or just sit on the boulder? Vala may be up for some mingling.” With a kiss to Arden’s palm, Teagan reluctantly scooted over to drape her legs over the edge of bed. She slowly stood up, undressing and letting her glamour fall as she made her way to the door, figuring Arden would be following closely behind her. “Legs are still being chopsy with me. Ugh…” Her gait still had a bit of a limp, but that was the least of Teagan’s worries. Her stitched up wounds needed the most attention, and she was about to give it to them when she opened the door to find a strange man lurking around the lake. A hunter, mostly likely, but not the one who nearly killed her. 

“Psst…! Oi, cariad, stay inside. Trouble.” Teagan harshly whispered, grabbing a fully loaded leather garter and strapping it to her leg. She shut the door behind her, throwing-knife in hand. Her grip tightened around it, and she took aim, shooting it toward the ground in front of the hunter and barking out a threat. “Suggest you leave, dwt. ‘Less you’re looking for trouble.”

As much as Zack seemed to think Arden had shit figured out, she absolutely did not. Granted, he didn’t know Teagan was a nymph who’s true form looked like an axolotl or that she had gotten into a fight with a hunter and almost died or that she had apparently killed a lot of people– that one was hard to wrap her mind around, much less digest. 

She didn’t know what the fuck she was doing, but she cared about Teagan. Probably more than she should for only knowing the woman for a little over a month. The nix had rolled into her life like a sudden storm and crashed her way into Arden’s heart before she could see it coming, and it had happened far too easily for her liking. It scared her, how comfortable she felt around her, how much she really liked her. 

After years of pushing people away, years of overwhelming loneliness, she had been trying to let herself be more open again, trying to reconnect with the person she had once been before she had let the grief of losing Jo overwhelm her. Reconnecting with Leah had been a big help there, as had moving in with her roommates. She’d begun to grow some roots for the first time in so long, had started to feel at home again in her hometown despite all of it’s quirks. And then Teagan breezed in, all warm smiles and playful words, and had her feeling things she hadn’t felt in years, things she had actively avoided for so, so long. She felt like a disastrously gay eighteen-year-old again. 

So, she was just winging it, following her stupid gay heart and seeing what happened. Which had led to her rushing over to Darkling Lake and doing everything she could to make Teagan feel comfortable and safe after what had happened. It turned out that just meant a repeat of the other night– cuddling and watching gay cartoons– only this time she was big spoon because Teagan was hurt, okay? She blinked as Teagan began to speak, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Mmm,” Arden groaned, stretching out on the bed before pulling herself up. “I- I can join you for a bit.” She still wasn’t exactly comfortable in the water, but she could stand some slight discomfort if it would make the nix happy. “Careful,” she murmured, ghosting a hand over Teagan’s hip. The fucking hunter had done a number on her. 

At the abrupt change in tone, she looked over, suddenly alert. Teagan shut the door behind her before she could fully process the situation, but it didn’t take her long. Looking around, she spotted another knife nearby and went to peek out the window. Shit, was that– 

“Emilio?” Arden asked, quickly stepping out. 

The door to the cabin opened before he could make his way over to it, which wasn’t much of a surprise. If someone inside had seen the altercation between Rhett and whatever fae he’d been fighting, they were likely still on edge from it. Emilio knew firsthand how violent fights could get between hunters and the things they were hunting, and Rhett had come home in bad enough shape to let him know that this particular fight had carried a little extra intensity along with it.

A little more surprising, however, was the person who opened the door. Looking more fish than human and with enough visible injuries to make him wince, it was a pretty good bet that this was the nymph Rhett had gone up against. He’d said they were a water type, but for some reason, Emilio hadn’t imagined them living in a cabin on the lake. Maybe that was stupid on his part. It was a smart enough setup, for a nymph.

The knife embedding itself at his feet, given everything he knew about the situation, was perhaps the least surprising detail at all. He tried to quell his immediate defensive response, tried his best to stomp down the instincts that were screaming at him to reach for one of the iron knives Rhett had given him and throw it right back at her. He hadn’t come here for a fight. He couldn’t be here for a fight. Emilio knew his brother. He might not give much of a shit about his own life, but he cared about Rhett. And Ren, and maybe even Bridie. If he got himself seriously hurt by a fae — or worse still, if he let them kill him — Rhett wouldn’t rest until either every fae in town was dead or until he was. Neither option seemed great to Emilio. There was no need to start a war; that was exactly what he was trying to prevent. 

So he clenched his jaw, raising his hands with his palms facing the cabin to show that there was nothing in them and forcing himself to breathe through the quiet rage the position drew from him. Juliana told him once that he had anger issues. He’d always kind of hated it when she was right. “Not looking for trouble,” he said carefully. “Just looking to talk. I’m —”

Someone else peeked out from behind the door, and his name reached his ears a moment before he could attempt to introduce himself. Emilio stilled, surprise written all over his face. “Arden?” It was instinct, the way his hands dropped. That old hunter training of ‘protect humans at all cost’ overcame the logical conclusion his mind jumped to a second later, the one gathered by the way Arden was wearing pajamas and standing with a relaxed posture and clearly at ease with a nymph that she must have known well. His hands worked faster than his mind, sometimes. The left one dropped into his pocket to grip the handle of a knife the same way a child might rub at the edges of a security blanket; absently, mindlessly. Without thinking. 

Hadn’t that always been his biggest problem?

Lying was such a human thing. In one breath, the man had said one thing, quickly disproving every notion of peace he supposedly had. There was no mistaking it, he was a hunter. Teagan readied herself for another fight despite her injuries. She was in no condition to fight, but there was no other choice. Arden was inside and the lake needed its nix. She took a steadying breath, as she always did before a fight, and secured her fighting blade, but everything stopped the moment Teagan registered the way familiarity reached both Arden’s and apparently this Emilio’s tongues.

“W-what? You-you know him?!” She stammered, feeling the weight of betrayal crash into her shoulders. It wasn’t logical—some part of Teagan knew this, but she had always been so reactive. Her mother told her as much. It happened so instantly for her. At least Fate had the grace to make it so quick, to not let it linger like a tragedy in slow motion. Her heartbreak already began to shatter everything inside, and Teagan tightened her fist around her blade. How foolish it was, she thought, to believe the ending would be different that time. 

“Rhuwch!” Teagan beckoned the lake, the reaction as instant as her emotions. A large wave rose from the lake with tremendous force, crashing against Emilio. With him incapacitated for at least a minute or two, Teagan turned around to face Arden, eyes pleading. “Did you know he was coming here? And don’t-don’t lie to me.” She cupped the woman’s face, always so mindful of her claws. “Tell me my mind is wrong, that-that you wouldn’t hurt me like this.”

A feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach the moment Arden walked outside. Taking in the scene before her, the knife at Emilio’s feet, Teagan looking ready to pounce despite her copious injuries. The hunter had his hands raised, was speaking. It didn’t seem like he was about to do something terrible, but fuck. This was bad. 

Her friendship with the hunter had been weighing on her heavily since she’d learned of the fate of Teagan’s family, and now here he was at the lake where she’d been attacked. She had wanted to believe Emilio hadn’t been the one responsible, had been worried sick thinking about it since the moment the nymph had told her what had happened. As much as she didn’t want to know the truth– such a rarity for her– she’d been planning on confronting him about it, but… Arden was a fucking idiot, and she felt nauseous. 

Teagan’s shock crashed into her heart like the wave that toppled Emilio a moment later. Panic was building in her chest, far more than she could handle. She could feel it pressing up against her sternum, desperate to escape as the woman she had grown so fond of turned to her with hurt in her eyes. Despite the situation, Arden’s stupid fucking heart still calmed slightly at her touch, before her eyes widened in horror at her words.

“What?!” The words spilled out of her so quickly she was almost tripping over them. “No! Teagan, no! I would never– I wouldn’t– No!” God, she was going to be sick.  “I– He’s my neighbor, he’s– We’ve worked together, he’s a PI– He– he saved me from a vampire the other night. I–” Arden was shaking, and she needed to breathe, but she needed to explain. And she needed to know. “Teagan did he–” she raised a trembling hand toward the other’s cheek, hesitating before she could touch the injured skin. “Did he do this to you?” The hand clutching the knife balled into a fist. 

There was a moment where the world seemed to freeze. The nymph realized that Arden and Emilio knew one another, but it didn’t seem to calm her. If anything, she looked furious at the revelation. Emilio opened his mouth to say more — to explain himself to Arden, to the nymph, to himself, to some mixture of all three — but the nymph spoke before he could say anything. An unfamiliar word in an unfamiliar language. Part of him knew what would happen before it did.

“Wait —” He tried to protest, but the water crashed down on him before he could say more, knocking his feet out from under him. It rushed in through his mouth, his nose, leaving him sputtering and coughing. He tried to get his bearings about him, tried to remember which way was up and which way was down. It was a lot harder than it should have been.

Utterly unaware of the conversation happening at the entrance to the cabin, he gasped in a breath, shaking the water from his head. “Christ,” he snapped, “I’m not here to fight. Would you fucking listen to me?” The force of the wave had knocked the knife from his grip, and though he’d had no intention of using it, he still felt exposed as it settled in one of the puddles left by the wave. At least he hadn’t been knocked into the lake; as long as his feet (or his ass, really, since he’d been knocked over) remained on solid ground, he was probably fine. “Arden, what the hell are you doing here?”

Eyes never lied. When words were so finicky and unreliable in a human’s mouth, Teagan took to searching the depths of one’s eyes. Arden’s spoke of pleading, of yearning, of worry, and she couldn’t help but lean into Arden’s hand. It wasn’t that Teagan didn’t believe her, but she believed someone was at the lake to hurt her again, and she had to put a stop to it. “Quiet!” She turned, hissing at Emilio. The water reacted with another wave, sending him several feet away from the edge of the lake. She faced Arden again, ready to answer. 

“No. It wasn’t him.” A part of Teagan still ached at the possibility that Arden associated with a hunter, but she couldn’t exactly blame her. She’d only recently learned about the nix’s pursuit of vengeance. And even then, she only knew a small part. She needed confirmation. “Is he a hunter? Or was the vampire dumb luck on his end?” Teagan took a deep breath, readying her blade in case the answer was a yes. What did it matter if he saved Arden? He may still be a hunter. If that was the case, then he was doing his job in protecting humans from people like Teagan. People that were other. She would do the same. 

Tearing her gaze away from Teagan’s mismatched eyes, Arden could only watch as Emilio struggled to regain his balance, yelling out at them. Before she could say anything, the nymph snapped at him, sending him tumbling back. The panic clawed at her throat, seeing how easily she tossed the hunter around with her control over the water. She knew he was capable of taking a hit, but she could still remember the feeling of being a child, being pulled under the surface of the water, the panic that had filled her. 

The relief that ran through her as Teagan denied Emilio’s involvement was palpable. A tremendous amount of weight was lifted off of her, and suddenly she could breathe so much more easily than she had been able to a second ago. She could salvage this, she would get him to leave– But of course, she wasn’t that lucky. 

Is he a hunter? The anxiety swelled within her once more. She was a good liar, but the nix seemed to be able to read her so well that she was sure the answer was clear on her face before she could even open her mouth. 

At that moment, Arden couldn’t help but think that she wasn’t getting out of this situation without losing one of these people that she had somehow grown to care about. She didn’t even know if Emilio was a man worth saving, for all he talked about how awful he was, how she shouldn’t associate with him, how he deserved the punishment of a god she wasn’t sure either of them believed in. And, it was almost funny because the two were so similar in that way. Teagan had tried to push her away, told her she had blood on her hands and that Arden shouldn’t care about her, that she wouldn’t actually like her had she known everything the fae done. Maybe despite everything she told herself about how smart she was, how terrible of a person she was, she was too naive, too trusting, too kind like her father. 

It had never seemed like a flaw in her eyes, his kindness, but she had been a child. As much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she knew the world wasn’t black and white like the fairy tales he had gotten her obsessed with. There were no happily ever afters. Not everyone was redeemable, not everyone could be happy, be fixed. She’d been trying to let herself have hope, to try to find herself again after becoming someone she barely fucking recognized, but maybe she’d tried to course correct too hard. 

Arden wasn’t going to let Teagan kill Emilio or vice versa, not while she was here, not if she had any say in it. Lying would be pointless, though. Teagan saw her, she’d made that clear. “He’s not a bad man, Teagan,” she replied, instead. “Hear him out, at least, you’re not in any shape to fight right now, anyway.”

It was difficult to get his bearings. He’d barely gotten his feet under him again before another wave knocked him over, this time pushing him further from the water’s edge. And that was probably preferable, he knew — better to be forced away from the lake than to be dragged into it — but that dirty water still struck him like a force, still filled his lungs before he could stop it. He’d barely caught his breath from the last wave before the second hit, leaving his chest heaving.

Arden and the nymph were speaking on the porch. The results of the conversation might decide whether he lived or died. He should tune in. He knew that. He should use those damn hunter senses for what they were worth, should try to listen instead of spending every ounce of energy he had left on the futile task of getting to his feet again. But Emilio was nothing if not stubborn. And… Maybe it went a little deeper than that, too. If Arden was telling the nymph terrible things, if she was recounting the bad Emilio had shared with her, if she was agreeing that he deserved to die, he didn’t think he wanted to hear it. He wasn’t a good man. He’d always known as much. But knowing something and having it confirmed by someone you liked were two very different things.

Finally, with his chest heaving and his lungs aching, he managed to get to his feet again. He didn’t speak this time — he didn’t have enough breath in his lungs to form words just yet, and he wasn’t looking to give the nymph another excuse to try to drown him. He glanced from Arden to the nymph, shoving his wet hair away from his eyes with a glare as he waited to see how the nymph might react. Was whatever Arden was saying good enough to save him? Or was she confirming what they all already knew? Or was she fighting a losing battle, trying to convince someone who’d already made up their mind? He wasn’t sure which result he was hoping for anymore. Part of him just wanted the nymph to decide what she was going to do and do it instead of the half-measure of knocking him off his feet each time he got back to them. He’d never been a fan of games, and this felt like one he was destined to lose.

Had it been anyone else, someone that hadn’t proven to her they could be trusted, Teagan would’ve plunged her knife through them without hesitation. She didn’t need to confirm what the nix already knew, her eyes were enough, but so too was her plea. Arden had asked her to do the impossible, to listen to a man that hunted people because of a set of rules and traditions. It was kill or be killed in Teagan’s world, and she had worked hard to ensure she never missed, that she was never too slow. But now, she was finding herself hesitating. 

She looked into Arden’s eyes and saw her truth. She truly believed the hunter behind them wasn’t a bad man. What did she know, though? Under his set of rules, she was protected. Hell, Emilio had quickly drawn a weapon the moment he saw a human he knew behind something he deemed a monster. Teagan knew she was, but so what? She had painted her hands with blood for the last fifteen years in pursuit of vengeance, and that’s what made her a monster. Not what she was. 

“You expect me to listen? After what you know, you want that?” Arden was an unexpected factor then, but Fates, habits didn’t die so easily. Teagan wasn’t willing to delve into why the fire began to be smoked out at Arden’s expression, but they did. She looked intensely in her friend’s eyes and grimaced. She loosened her grip on her knife, taking a deep breath and leaning her forehead against Arden’s. The human had her trust, and that’s all she needed to give someone a chance. For now. 

“One wrong move, and I’ll kill him.” The breath Teagan had been holding released from her lungs and she turned to saunter toward Emilio. Her body ached from the effort, and it was all she could do to not let her discomfort show. “You.” Her knife was pointed right at him, a silent warning to not move. “You didn’t want to fight, yeah? Well, you sure went for a weapon pretty quickly, so forgive me for wanting to make sure you didn’t touch me or her.” Teagan jutted her head toward Arden, knife still at the ready. “As you can see, I’ve had a bit of trouble.” A pause, “ So tell me, why are you here?”

She knew it was a massive ask given everything that the other had told her, and, honestly, she hadn’t fully expected Teagan to listen to her. The fact that she did made Arden’s heart ache that much more. Somehow, she had earned enough of the woman’s trust that she was actually willing to listen, and it made her feel even worse than she already did. She was going to need a drink after this, if they all managed to make it out in one piece. Maybe a cigarette, too, shit. 

Again, her stupid heart calmed for a second at the brief contact, leaving Arden feeling like an utter fool. Clearly isolating herself for so long had been a mistake, her yearning for connection and touch hadn’t helped her irrational behavior. She bit her bit, everything in her wanting to follow Teagan, get herself in between the two of them, as fucking idiotic and irrational that would be, but no. She had to be smart about this, much smarter than she had been about all of this to begin with. 

As much as she could, she tried to catch Emilio’s eye, convey with a glance to not being fucking stupid about this either. If he’d managed to survive this long while actively fighting supernatural beings, she supposed he’d have the common sense to not piss off the fae coming at him with a knife, but they did seem to share a penchant for inappropriately timed quips, and Arden suspected Teagan wouldn’t exactly care for that right now. 

The nymph marched towards him and, for a moment, Emilio thought she was going to put the knife through his skull. Instead, she held it up only as a warning. Whatever Arden had said to her, it seemed to have calmed her down just enough to keep her from continuing in the endless cycle of drowning him, and he was grateful for that. He glanced past the nymph to meet Arden’s eye, offering her a nod of silent thanks. 

Of course, now that he wasn’t drowning, it occurred to him that he had no idea what he planned on saying to the fae. He’d never been particularly good at planning ahead; when he’d come here, he hadn’t thought there’d be an actual confrontation. He’d thought he might find the fae Rhett had gone toe to toe with dead, or that he might catch a glimpse of them and be on his way, or see someone who’d seen something. He hadn’t planned for this, though in retrospect, he should have. All he’d wanted was some half truth to deliver his brother to calm him down. Instead, there was an angry nymph with a knife in his face and a neighbor standing behind her in pajamas. 

Just his luck, really.

Raising his hands again, he eyed the knife with a half-interested expression, looking more like a man being shown a vaguely interesting stick rather than someone being threatened with a deadly blade. “If I wanted to fight, I don’t think I would have stood around and let you drop a lake on me twice,” he said dryly, letting his eyes travel up to meet hers. “Sorry to hear you’ve had a bad time. You know, I haven’t been having the best day myself. Didn’t think to dress for rain.” 

He could practically hear Juliana’s voice in the back of his mind scolding him. Not the time, Milio. There are better ways to get yourself killed than bad jokes. Probably decent advice. 

“Look,” he said, glancing back to Arden, “I heard someone had it out with a fae on the lake. Okay? I came to see who you were and if you were alive or not. That’s all. I didn’t come looking for trouble, I didn’t come for a fight. I have a friend who’s a nymph. A… someone I know who’s a… goat… thing. And…” Here was the risky play. “I have friends who are hunters.” A pause. Emilio swallowed, steeling himself before he continued. “I know the guy who attacked you. I came out here so he wouldn’t. I can tell him you’re dead. He won’t come after you again. But you have to agree not to go after him, either. That’s all I want. Him safe. You safe. Nobody dead. That’s all.”

Of course this stupid hunter was making jokes. He didn’t realize what kind of danger he was in, nor did he have any ounce of respect for the lake. Well, lucky for him, Teagan was good at jokes too. “Don’t think this,” She gestured to her wounds, “And that,” Just as before, the water roared, rising over six feet before crashing down onto both the nix and Emilio, but unlike him, Teagan didn’t budge. “Are the same thing!” The fire was stoking in Teagan’s chest again, and she managed to stay in place unlike the pathetic hunter in front of her. 

But enough of the theatrics. Apparently Emilio had a very good reason to show up at the lake. For once, Teagan listened. She watched as Emilio, who seemed more like a wet puppy than an actual hunter, began to explain. Her brows raised, expression swiftly changing from one of anger, to confusion, to disbelief, and then back to anger once more. Had he really expected Teagan to not go after the man who attempted to take her life? 

Sure, he had friends that were a nymph and a faun, but what if it was all a ruse? What if he just wanted to get close enough to savor the kill? Everything in his eyes pointed towards him speaking the truth, but that wasn’t exactly the answer Teagan felt like she could accept. A hunter being friends with the people they hunt? It sounded too far-fetched. “I don’t think you get it.” She finally broke the silence, anger forcing tears to burn her eyes. 

“He tried to kill me. You lot take and take, and you don’t care who it is! Do you even know what it’s like? To watch your family die in cold blood just for the simple fact that they exist?” The waves in the lake began to wade back and forth, the strength growing with the intensity of Teagan’s emotions. “I sat in their blood! Wee ones, dead! My family, dead! At the hands of you lot, at the hands of someone like your friend.” She began to choke on her words. “And you expect me to-to-to not go after him?!” 

Teagan told Arden she’d only attack if he tried anything, but Fates, it was difficult to keep her word. “Arden!” She called out, backing away before she changed her mind. “I’m going to—I don’t know! But I can’t promise to not go after him. What if he finds me again? Then what? I’m just supposed to sit there and wait to die?” It was mostly a rhetorical question, but given how sarcastic Emilio had already been, Teagan figured he’d answer. 

Arden gave a nod back to Emilio as she tried her best to breathe. She was shaking, the heavy weight of dread still making her feel sick to her stomach. There was still a knife in her hand and as much as she wanted to just drop the damn thing, her nerves were too shot. She was going to be smart, and the smart move was to not drop her only weapon as nauseous as it made her to think of having to use it right now. 

Seeing the hunter get drenched again, she could only assume he had decided to open his fucking mouth, and suppressed a shaky laugh. None of this was funny, but none of it felt real either. She was back in that space where everything felt so goddamn surreal. The axolotol nix she had a crush on was controlling the lake like a fucking waterbender and sort of waterboarding her friend, the vampire hunter. And Arden couldn’t even laugh about how fucking absurd it all was because Teagan and Emilio could kill each other at any moment. Though it was mostly the fae who seemed to be interested in doing any killing. Maybe her instincts were right about him, then. She really didn’t fucking know anymore. 

She tried not to give the man a look as he got back up on his feet and shot her a glance, were their positions swapped, she would probably be tempted to say some stupid shit, too. It wasn’t the smartest move, but it seemed the third time was the charm. He seemed to get the message and just talk, though whatever he said didn’t seem to help. Teagan began to raise her voice, and the panic that she had been trying to subdue just shot right back up. 

As the nymph began to back away, Arden stepped forward, putting herself between the two as she took Teagan’s hands into her own. She didn’t know what she could say that would convince Teagan, aside from maybe asking Emilio to promise to say away from the lake or not hurt her. But being bound by a fae was serious, and she didn’t want to pull him into a deal if it could be avoided. Almost as if proving her earlier thought, she couldn’t stop the joke from tumbling out of her mouth. “I mean, I know where he lives. If he doesn’t keep his word, I can help you kill him.” Yeah, she’d have gotten waterboarded, too. 

All right, Emilio thought, laying on his back once the water receded again, so she doesn’t like jokes. Despite the ‘lesson,’ he could feel a dozen more snide remarks bubbling to the surface as he got back to his feet. Arden’s look from behind the nymph was the only thing really stopping him. It was clear he wasn’t going to get anywhere with his sense of humor. Juliana always said it was shit, anyway. 

He met the nymph’s eyes as she spoke, the anger burning deep within them a painfully familiar thing. He might have laughed if he’d had the energy for it, but all he could manage was a wry smile. That was probably just as well. He had the feeling that one wrong move on his part would find him at the bottom of that lake, and that was a lot worse than a wave knocking him off his feet.

“Actually,” he said lowly, “I know exactly what that’s like.” His eyes flickered to Arden as she approached, his heart in his throat. It was stupid; he hadn’t been afraid when the nymph was tossing half the lake at him, hadn’t blinked at the knife she’d pointed towards his throat, but this? The idea of speaking something real aloud where someone he considered a friend might hear it? That had his hands trembling and his pulse pounding. “So does he, actually. I’m not saying you have to be friends with him. I’m just asking you not to kill him.”

He glanced to Arden as she spoke, a hint of amusement in his expression, though he was careful to quell it. The last thing he wanted was another tidal wave, and he got the feeling he was damn close to meeting one. “If you promise me you won’t go after him,” he said, looking back to the nymph, “I can promise you that I won’t let him come after you. I won’t lie to you, he won’t give a shit about your word. But he’ll care about mine.” He paused a moment, glancing back to Arden again. Maybe it was better that she was here; if she weren’t, he’d be a lot less confident. “He’s my brother. Only family I’ve got left. I owe him a lot more than I could ever explain to you, and he figures he owes me the same. You can kill me here and now, if you want to. It’d hurt him a hell of a lot. But I don’t think you’re going to do that.” He paused again, nodding towards Arden. “I don’t think she’d hang around here if you were the kind of person who’d do that. I’m trusting you here because of her. Because I trust her. So you give me your word, and I’ll give you mine. He’ll leave you alone, you’ll leave him alone. You don’t have to get hurt again, and I don’t have to worry about losing my brother. Or you can toss me in the lake and send him my corpse, I guess, and he’ll come back here and burn your cabin down, and you’ll both go down swinging. Your choice, I guess.”

Teagan couldn’t help but scoff at the joke, the brief moment of reprieve was enough to quell the blaze inside of her. The burning at her fingertips receded, and she watched Arden with a fondness that she’d never experienced before. She was so obviously human and incapable of really protecting Teagan or Emilio, yet she put herself in the middle. Tears began to form for a completely different reason, and she squeezed Arden’s hand. 

Without a single word, she told her I see you and I trust you. This, combined with the tumultuous confession of what Emilio had experienced himself, Teagan was at a loss. She stood there, swallowing as best she could past the ball in her throat, wishing she could return to what she had only minutes before. The bedroom was calling for her, but she couldn’t pick up. What a stupid thing her heart was sometimes. What would her mum think of her then? Speaking to a thing that existed to kill supernatural beings. Perhaps she’d want Teagan to let go, relate and see that there very well may be others like Emilio, but she wasn’t around to tell her that, was she?

“You’re shit at wording.” Teagan rolled her eyes, her breath stuttered and heavy. “As long as he doesn’t come after me, I won’t go after him. But the second he pulls out a knife or a gun at me—or even her, I won’t hesitate to attack. That seems fair, eh? No taking words or anything of the sort.” Teagan huffed from the anger and panic lacing together in her stomach, twisting and contorting in a way that made it difficult to function. 

It was a good thing she decided she was done with the conversation with the lake, Arden, and herself protected. “Is that all, mun?” Teagan flashed Emilio a glare, shifting her eyes to Arden with a softer stare. “I’m trusting you because I trust her, too. And…” She trailed off, worrying the inside of her cheek as she backed up toward the edge of the lake. “If what you say is true—about hunters killing your own—I’m sorry.” And she meant it. Having your family ripped away was an insurmountable pain, but to have experienced it through betrayal? It was both ironic and sad. 

She didn’t know what was going on in Teagan’s head, but the look the woman gave her made Arden’s breath catch in her throat. The mess of anxiety that had been plaguing her since stepping outside began to melt away, morph into a very different, much more pleasant kind of anxiety as Teagan squeezed her hand. She returned the gesture, lips curling up at the corners into a small smile as she tried to convey her gratitude along with an apology. 

There was no way she was entirely moving out of the way, but she moved, so she could see both of them as Emilio spoke. She tried to keep a neutral facade, but her eyes widened at the realization that the hunter that had nearly killed the nix was his brother, and before she could digest that, another wave of emotion washed over her as the man expressed his trust in her and her judgement. Arden knew the weight those words held, coming from him. Her gaze was soft as she flashed him a crooked smile. He could brush it off and roll his eyes if he wanted, and she wouldn’t even blame him for it, but she needed him to know how much she appreciated it. 

You’re shit at wording. Her mouth twitched at Teagan’s response, but she refrained from smirking. She gave the nix’s hand another squeeze as she tried to calm her breathing, and then she was turning to her, that soft look on her face again. The woman had been much more upfront about how she trusted Arden, but the fact that she still felt that way, even after everything that had just happened, was a hell of a relief. She had been convinced this was going to end poorly, but somehow, they had all made it through this night in one piece. 

She was watching the nymph as she walked backward toward the lake, but she quickly turned to face Emilio as her words sunk in. Hunters had killed his family? What? There was an attempt to temper her reaction, but the questions were clear on her face, as was a sad sort of understanding. Arden had thought her two friends were similar, but she hadn’t been prepared for this revelation. She held in the questions that ran through her head, though. She wouldn’t ask, couldn’t ask him to tell her. That was the kind of information he should share willingly, as unlikely as that seemed. Instead, she simply gave him another small, albeit sadder smile, hoping it didn’t read as pitying.

“Better at wording when I hit the ‘24 hours since last drowning’ mark,” Emilio replied dryly, wincing a little as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He really was bad at keeping his mouth shut when he needed to, wasn’t he? He swallowed as she agreed to the terms, nodding once. He would have preferred a promise — was even willing to make one of his own to ensure that both sides came out unscathed — but he’d take what he could get. If the nymph said she wasn’t going to hunt Rhett down, he had to accept that. Rhett wouldn’t accept it, but Emilio could lie to his brother a little if it meant keeping the peace, if it meant keeping him safe. If the nymph was willing to drown him a time or two just for walking around, she’d certainly be willing to do a lot worse to the guy who’d actually attacked her.

He sucked his teeth as she spoke again, and he wanted to argue. It wasn’t hunters that did it, he wanted to reply, but… That wasn’t entirely true, was it? It might have been vampires that tore his family apart, but it was his uncle who’d given them what they’d needed to do it. For Emilio, the truth wasn’t a clear cut thing. He couldn’t solely blame the undead, couldn’t solely blame Lucio, couldn’t even solely blame himself. There were so many moving parts, so much complexity. He wished it were simpler. If it were, maybe he wouldn’t be here now. Maybe he’d still be able to feel the way Rhett felt, or the way this nymph felt about hunters. Blaming a single group for your problems, placing yourself above them… It probably wasn’t a good solution, but it would have been an easier one than whatever it was he was stuck on now. This nymph would never run out of hunters to kill. Rhett would never run out of fae. But one day, one way or another, Emilio would run out of people who’d been involved in his daughter’s death. He’d be left with only himself.

He couldn’t think of anything scarier.

Looking away, he avoided Arden’s gaze as she heard the nymph’s statement, avoided the questions in her eyes. Even if the details he’d given were slim, even if he hadn’t told the nymph what family he’d lost, it was still more than he would have liked his neighbor to know. He shoved his left hand into the pocket of his jeans to keep his thumb from finding his wedding ring and fiddling with it in that old, bad habit he couldn’t break, shifted the leather band down on his right wrist so that the twisted letters of Flora’s name tattooed there wouldn’t peek out. Keeping his eyes on the nymph so he wouldn’t have to look at his friend, he offered her a nod. “Wouldn’t lie about that,” he told her. “Or what I said before. I’ll tell him you’re dead, and he won’t come looking for you. He shouldn’t have come at you. Not if you weren’t hurting anybody. I know that. And I’m sorry he did. But…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “He’s my brother. Good or bad, right or wrong. I can’t lose him.” He thought she probably understood that. When you loved someone, you loved them. That was all there was to it.

Finally, he looked back to Arden. He offered her some attempt at a smile, though he figured it looked pretty pathetic. Soaking wet, aching from the weight of that water knocking him off his feet, and breathing with a slight wheeze thanks to the muck he hadn’t yet hacked out of his lungs, he probably looked like a damn corpse. But he was breathing. He figured he probably had her to thank for that, even if he had no idea what she’d said to the nymph to stop the drowning. “Guess I’ll see you in the hall later,” he said, half a joke. “Do me a favor, don’t tell your roommates about this. My fridge can’t fit any more of Wynne’s cooking.” 

And then, with one last nod to them both, he departed. It wasn’t a perfect ending. He knew that. Sooner or later, something was going to give. Rhett would catch wind of the fact that Emilio was lying to him, would figure out that his brother’s views had shifted in the years since he’d seen him last. There’d be consequences for that, and he couldn’t be sure who would be the one to pay them. He hoped it was him. Rhett hating him would hurt, but it would be so much better than Rhett getting himself killed. Better than him hurting people who didn’t deserve to be hurt, too. 

So maybe this truce was a temporary one. So maybe all he’d done was add a longer fuse to a pile of explosives that was going to go up sooner or later anyway. But at least he’d done something. At least he had that. It was worth a drink, he figured… as long as at least one of the bars would let him in while he was still dripping. 

[delightfuldevin]

Hellooooooo!! Can I bother you for some headcanons on the Koopalings? I've been thinking about them a lot recently gkjhkgsf. Personality, Likes/Dislikes, Orientation, Ages, Koopa Breed, where they came from; anything you got think thonks about them on pretty please!!

Hello hello!! Ask and yee shall receive! I’ve written out a lot of stuff about them for my lore fic, but I haven’t polished it yet so that’s why it hasn’t been published with the rest of the fic! Under a cut this time since there’s seven of them and thus, this is gonna be looong

I’ll start with orientations since it’s pride month and I can’t bring myself to draw yet ;^; (also ages cause I should probably figure those out eventually lol).

(Added some headers to separate this so it’s a bit easier to navigate!)

Genders, Orientations, and Ages

Larry (he) - binary trans boy; straight (at least 12, maybe 13?)

Morton (he) - cis; aro-spec polyamorous (14-ish?)

Wendy (she/fae) - trans demigirl/genderfae/Idk some kind of girl-but-not-girl gender hdchjsxbjchjsx; lesbian polyamorous (15 or 16)

Iggy (he/they/ze) - genderqueer; gay (16 perhaps?)

Roy (he/they) - agender; bisexual polyamorous (17 or 18)

Lemmy (any pronouns) - genderfluid; panromantic asexual (18-ish)

Ludwig (he) - cis; aroace (18-20 Idk hdbcdcsjab)

Species/Biology

In terms of species, they’re the same as Bowser, which I call Dragon-Koopas! They are typically larger and physically stronger than most other types of Koopas, and they’re capable of breathing fire and using magic, though the latter depends on how much magical potential they have. All the past rulers of the Koopa Kingdom have been Dragon-Koopas. There are Dragon-Koopa families who aren’t royalty, though many are nobility in some way. Biological features include:

spiked shells, which come in many colors, that are unable to be separated from the body (unlike regular Koopas, who can remove their shells)

the flame pipe, an internal organ that produces fire and keeps the fire from burning other organs

very large and sharp teeth (Dragon-Koopas’ diet is primarily meat)

longer tails (for balance)

hair (only a few other types of Koopas are capable of growing hair)

“giant form”, a defense mechanism developed during puberty which causes Dragon-Koopas to grow many times their size when they have been mortally wounded (can also be affected by mental state)

Sorry to go on a biology rant hdbcjjds. Moving on!

Origins

Larry, Wendy, and Ludwig are the only ones related by blood. All the Koopalings arrived at Bowser’s Castle at different times (though all during childhood, perhaps within a year or so?), and eventually came to see each other as siblings.

Ludwig’s parents worked in Bowser’s Castle. When Larry was around 3 years old, their parents (died? Disappeared? Not sure yet dhbcjxcb). Bowser took them under his wing (he didn’t officially adopt them yet) and named Ludwig his heir (Idk how royalty works irl so I’m not sure if he can technically do that, but oh well, this is the Koopa Kingdom and Bowser makes the rules lol).

Next to arrive were Roy and Morton. They were both orphans and met each other on the streets and became like brothers. Roy, being the hot-headed and impulsive child that he was, decided it would be a good idea to break into the king’s castle. When they were caught and Bowser was asked what to do with them, he put them on cleaning duty under the guide of the castle’s cleaning crew. Roy protested at first, but Morton convinced him to suck it up since he thought the king would do worse if they didn’t. Morton was always scared of Bowser and only started to warm up to him after Bowser Jr was born.

Next was Lemmy! He was part of a traveling circus and was left behind when the circus came to the capital. Wendy found him and brought him back to the castle to play with and convinced Bowser to let him stay.

Now, Iggy was the last to show up and it happened randomly without anyone even noticing until he was already settled in. Lemmy was the first to notice Iggy was in the castle, and they just played in his room most of the time. Most of the castle attendants had gotten used to seeing Dragon-Koopa kids running through the castle, so none of them thought it unusual when they would see Iggy around.

It was around this time that Bowser started referring to them collectively as the Koopalings cause he got tired of calling them individually whenever he needed more than a couple at a time. Back then, he didn’t keep track of them so he didn’t know how many there were in total. When he finally called them in to get a final count, there were seven of them and he didn’t question it. No one knows where Iggy came from, and he deflects the question whenever it’s brought up to him.

The Koopalings were officially adopted not that long before the, uh, “current” time for lack of a better term. Bowser Jr was actually very surprised, not because they were being adopted, but because they weren’t already. Like, they’ve been living with Bowser for longer than Jr’s even been alive, so he (understandably) thought they were already his siblings to begin with hbscjsbcjd. Thing is, everyone thought they were Bowser’s kids all this time and they practically were in principle; he just never made it official until very recently.

Extra

I have sooooo many headcanons on these guys, but for the sake of not making this post a mile long, I put 4 points for each. The rest will be added to my lore fic, so look out for that!!

Larry:

Very shy and afraid as a toddler so he stuck to Ludwig like glue since he’s his older brother; very outgoing and sociable now, and doesn’t even remember being shy lol

Loves to play games; video games, sports games, card games, board games. Anything so long as it’s a game

Hates losing so he cheats in almost everything; Morton is the only one who plays with him cause Mort’s the only one who doesn’t mind his cheating and won’t call him out on it

Despite his cheery demeanor, he has a rather short fuse and is easily angered

Morton:

Terrible at telling lies, but good at keeping secrets

Likes to bake; enjoys making cakes and cookies the most

He talks a lot. Like a lot. He’s shy around strangers, so one might think he’s the quiet type, but once he’s comfortable he will never stop talking

He is magically strong and physically strong too, making him the perfect balance amongst his siblings. However, he is known to take things overboard when it comes to his strengths, which makes him very unpredictable and dangerous in battle

Wendy:

Likes typically “girly” things like bows, make up, jewelry, and high heels, but not above violence to get what she wants

Known as “the scary one” amongst her siblings and many of the minions; the other Koopalings may not listen to Ludwig sometimes, but they all know to listen to Wendy

Her necklace can be used as a weapon like her rings; it’s a chain/whip

Gets into petty arguments with Roy a lot, usually over small things like which shade of pink is the best

Iggy:

Ambidextrous

Has a deep fascination with nature and all kinds of plants and animals

His Chain Chomp is named Horace

Does all of his experiments and inventing in his room and he’s accidentally destroyed it multiple times; stays in Lemmy’s room whenever his has to be rebuilt or fumigated

Roy:

The weakest Koopaling in terms of magic, and the strongest physically (though he and Morton are almost evenly matched); relies on brute force most of the time and doesn’t care about improving his magic

Has heterochromatic eyes (his right eye is dark purple and his left is bright blue)

Wears sunglasses because his eyes are extremely sensitive to light and it can be very painful; his sunglasses were magically created by Bowser

Has an exceptional sense of smell and hearing since he relied on those senses mainly before he got his glasses

Lemmy:

Used to have a very overactive flame pipe when he was younger (sometimes he would just be trying to talk and then all of a sudden a bunch of fire would come out); has better control over his flame pipe now and his is the strongest of his siblings (meaning he can breathe the most fire at once)

Enjoys dancing and abstract painting

Always on his rubber ball; he’s even been known to sleep on it (how he manages to stay balanced on it seems like magic in and of itself)

Naturally blonde; dyes the rest of his hair

Ludwig:

The strongest Koopaling in terms of magic; according to Kamek, with enough training, he could be the strongest Dragon-Koopa in modern history

He curses a lot, which is unexpected due to his somewhat princely personality

Considers himself the leader of the Koopalings; the others usually follow him, but sometimes they don’t cause they think he’s too bossy (he kinda is lol); trusts Wendy the most and puts her in charge when he can’t be

With Bowser Jr’s birth, he is no longer Bowser’s heir, but he has no animosity about it; rather, he’s decided that it’s his responsibility to make sure Jr grows into a proper king (kinda like he’s living vicariously through Jr lol)

Sorry if this isn’t coherent I really gotta put this stuff together properly for the lore fic dhbcjsnbdcsjs

[papillonprisme]

In which Shogo & Toma are guardian foxes to a shrine deep in the mountains. When the head priest left and never returned, Toma decides to leave the shrine and look for him, leaving Shogo behind.

In my head, the head priest is Kei. And let's be real, there's no way Shogo will stay back. Eventually he'll follow Toma down the mountains and they'll look for Kei together.

This AU is pretty fun so I’ll be drawing more of it probably 🥲🥲 I’m planning to refine it further and maybe color so for now, these goes here.