#in my experience its less likely to be a custom hawke and i just really hate..the fanon default f!hawke characterization

[princehendir]

This is. An Ashland problematic moment probably, but I'm less likely to read something if it's f!Hawke.

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 726

So apparently the Steam Next Fest is back, and I’m not sure when that happened. I could have sworn there was one during the summer, or maybe it was the other game fests hawking their wares at me during the summer.

Oh well, time hasn’t gained back its meaning since 2020.

I certainly couldn’t say no to a few (or more than a few) game demos. Not only because it allows me to know what I’m wishlisting, but it allows me to experience the things other people have made, whereas, even if I wishlist it I might never get around to it. There is a reason why it has taken me… over a decade to play Cult Simulator. 

Here are the games I’ve played so far…

Trash Goblin

Trash Goblin is where you’re a goblin who cleans up, fixes trash found and re-sells it in their shop. There doesn’t seem to be much of a story at the current moment, but the mini games that allow you to discover your treasures among the detritus and clean them up work very well, are satisfying to play and I like discovering all the items you can find in this game. I will say, for myself, beyond discovering what items I can uncover, there isn’t much driving the game. There is a potential game loop in the ability to buy visual upgrades to your shop and living space, but it’s very small at the moment.

I still have this one on my wishlist, because it’s a very adorable idea and I’m rooting for it.

Pairs and Perils

Pairs and Perils is fascinating, because it’s taking the concept of the memory game where you find cards in pairs and turning it into a combat mechanic. The idea is that the game board has pairs of cards, adventurers and their weapons. You have three tries to pair up the right adventurer with the weapon to defeat the monster. Failing three times will allow the monster to attack you. Adding a bit of complication to this, is sometimes the board will have traps, and you have to remember where the traps are to avoid them. There are also power ups for your player character to help as you do a dungeon so you’re not completely left to the whims of your memory. 

I tried this one because the idea was fascinating. Though I will admit, unless you naturally have a very good memory, this is the kind of game you want to play in the right headspace. If you’re not in the right mindset while playing or having a bad run, this game can get frustrating. This idea is really neat, I don’t know if it’s for everyone.

Lost But Found

It’s rare I get to play hidden object games that are not just point and click narratives, or where I’m looking at a complex picture to find objects hidden within. In Lost But Found, you’re playing the role of a person who mans the Lost and Found of an airport, and it’s your job to reunite passengers with their lost items. Items arrive on a conveyor belt, which you then put onto your table, and wait for people to come claim them. 

While it has some time management to it, it becomes a hidden object game, because as you progress, more and more items are piled onto your table, forcing you to rearrange those items so you can find them easier when someone comes calling. Complicating matters is that sometimes people will come, the object isn’t there (as far as you can tell) and you have to tell them. They’ll leave their number for you to call them back once you find the object.

It was a lot of fun to play. As much as I hate to admit it though, I think this game could use a fail state. There isn’t really any repercussions for not servicing a customer (only you just get less money at the end of the day to buy upgrades). Because this is a game dependent on the player to be effective in how they arrange their items as they learn what these items are, a fail state can drive a player to be better and last longer next time.

The fail state doesn’t have to be not servicing a customer, it could also just be reaching a certain amount of money at the end of each day.

Those are a few (but not all of the games) I’ve played so far. I also still have more demo games, but I have other things to do…

[jadequeen88]

Crimson Canopy

The last thing you thought you’d be doing that day was seducing a god-like, mythical creature... 

PAIRING: Harpy!Hawks x Female!Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: oral/penetrative sex, praise kink (if you squint), wing kink, (it’s all pretty vanilla)

AS WITH ALL MY WORK THIS IS NSFW. ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS PLS

This is an AU with no quirks. Humans live a long side mythical races and creatures that they abuse for the most part. You’re part of a secret organization that saves and protects them. 

**************************************************************

Sweat dripped into your eyes as you reached the top of the trail. Panting, you wiped it away with the back of your hand. Wishing (not for the first time today) you’d gotten your ass out of bed earlier so you’d be out of the afternoon heat, you take a long drink from your insulated water bottle. You knew you had patrol duty today, but you still thought it was a good idea to stay up trying to drown your depression with bourbon.

As your breathing slowed, you pull out your phone to see a new message.

Bre: “Done yet? It’s really hot out! Did you find anyone/thing that was injured?”

You: “Not done yet. Got a late start. No sign of any traps set off so far. I’ll text when I’m done.”

Bre: “Good news! Stay safe :)”

You slide your phone back into the pocket of your cargo pants and sit on a nearby stump. From this vantage point, you could use your binoculars to scan the wooded valley below for anyone who needed help.

As you scanned the area, a thought you’d had a million times before flirted through your brain. “I really am disgusted by my own species most days.” If humans weren’t so ruthless, greedy, and arrogant, you wouldn’t have to be out here in the first place.

You were part of a secret rescue agency that saved endangered mythical creatures and races of humanoids from poachers. Whether it was unicorns murdered for their horns and blood, wood elves captured for horrific genetic experiments, or griffins murdered just for existing, humans were relentless. Although, most of the human population grouped elves and other intelligent humanoids into basically being animals themselves. Despite the fact that these races had their own languages, customs, art, and social hierarchy just like humans. The lack of empathy on the part of your race made your stomach turn and your blood boil.

It didn’t take long to spot your first victim. But this seemed... different. The cries were not fully human, not fully animal, but completely full of rage. And the wind! It was as if a small cyclone had suddenly rose from the ground and threatened to swallow the small patch of forest in the valley. You had no idea what could be causing the commotion, but you did know it was caught and needed help. It needed help fast. A lot of poachers had cameras or alarm systems to alert them when a trap was set off. You knew you had a small window or time before things got dire.

You expertly navigated your way down the hillside, having made a crude path over time on your patrols. Within a couple of minutes, you approached the ring of trees that were being violently shaken by the forceful wind.

When you looked into the chaos, you could see enormous, crimson feathers beating wildly into the air. Your eyes widened in wonder and horror when realization washed over you.

“Holy shit.... A Harpy....”

They were so rare and so removed from human society that many believed them to be fairy tales. But what you saw in front of you was definitely real. The creature beat their wings so furiously you couldn’t even make out the rest of their body. The growls and cries of rage still pierced the air as the wretched creature thrashed against its metal wire trappings.

It never got easier seeing just how brutal these traps were. A simple bear trap would be a mercy in some cases.

Not knowing a better way to get the creature’s attention, you let out a loud, high whistle.

The massive wings froze and you were able to see flesh between them. The harpy’s skin was crisscrossed with thin, metal wires that began to dig angry, bleeding cuts all over. A pang of despair rang through your chest. You noticed a golden blonde head slowly turn to face you.

For the second time today, you were absolutely astounded by what you saw in front of you.

A MALE Harpy! You knew enough about the creatures to know that only about 1 in 20 babies born were male. You’d never in a million years expect to come face to face with a Harpy. Let alone a male.

Once the shock wore off, another realization fell over you. He was absolutely, drop dead, gorgeous.

His long golden tresses hung wild around his face and his amber colored eyes burned through you. He had the chiseled jaw line of a Greek god and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

You quickly snapped out of it when you realized why you were there. You had to save him.

You slowly circled around to face him, palms out showing you weren’t a threat to him. He wasn’t buying it, though. You knew if he wasn’t bound by metal wires, he’d be eating away at your throat right this second.

Once you were face to face with him, you were able to appreciate the full extent of his terrifying beauty.

His perfectly sculpted chest was bare and bleeding from struggling against the wires of the trap. His mouth was pulled into a snarl, baring sharp canines and you were absolutely sure they could slice through you in a second. The only article of clothing he wore were a pair of woven cropped pants. They were made in an intricate pattern. The anthropologist in you wanted to ask what the material was made of and how it was woven... until a half growl, half whimper brought you back to the reality of the situation.

Your eyes trailed back up to meet the Harpy’s honey-golden irises. The pain in them made your chest ache.

“H-help.... p-pl-please...”

You froze, shocked that this mythical creature was actually able to communicate with you. Most elves you came in contact didn’t speak English. How could a Harpy, an even rarer species, speak it?

You didn’t have time right now. Questions could wait until later. You quickly swung your bag off your shoulder and pulled out your wire cutters.

The closer you got to the creature, you could notice tremors through his body. Especially at the base of his large wings. His right one was bound in what looked like a very uncomfortable position.

You held the wire cutters out in front of you and made eye contact with him.

“These will cut the wires. Okay? This will help.”

You made sure to use the word “help” since he seemed to understand that.

You received a curt nod, his golden, feathery hair flopping into his eyes a bit more.

After snapping ten of the vicious wires loose, he was able to remove himself from the rest. You noticed his hands had long, black nails that were reminiscent of talons. You looked curiously at his feet to see if he had talons. You always heard that Harpy’s had long, nasty talons for feet that they’d gut their prey with. You were slightly (pleasantly) surprised to see perfectly normal feet wearing plain, deerskin moccasins.

You heard a deep, rumbling chuckle and looked up to see him laughing at you while rubbing at his sore biceps.

“You expected horrible talons that I’d use to gut you with, no?” His eyes widened and he exposed his sharp canines when he said “gut you”. Something stirred in the pit of your stomach and you stiffened with surprise.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry! I’ve just... I’ve never met a Harpy, much less a MALE Harpy and you know, we hear so many rumors. I’m just fascinated by your species and culture and-“ you were silenced when he clasped one of his large hands over your mouth. He looked around, obviously sensing something you couldn’t.

He pulled you into a bear hug. You barely had time to register what was happening when the Harpy growled “Hold” into your ear.

With one thrust of his powerful, crimson wings, you were above the tree line. That’s when you heard a gunshot. The Harpy shot forward with incredible speed and didn’t slow down his speed until you were over the next mountain. When you were well away from the danger of the poachers, his wings flapped a little lazier and you were gliding along the air currents at a more relaxing speed.

After the initial shock wore off, you became more aware of your surroundings. You clung to the male like a koala hanging onto a tree. Your arms wrapped around his back tightly and legs around his waist, linking your ankles so you wouldn’t fall.

You immediately blushed as you noticed how hot the flesh of his arms were around you. One arm was positioned under you grabbing your outer right thigh. The other arm gripped your upper back, his strong fingers digging into your ribs right under your breast. You stiffened, embarrassed at the warmth growing between your legs. It’s not like you could really pull away.

You shift your hips nervously, hoping to make your position less awkward. The Harpy caught on to this subtle gesture and you felt his chest rumble against yours. Was he... laughing at you?!

“Excuse me... umm, Harpy... sir. Is something funny?” you ask, growing redder in the face by the second.

“Hawks” he purred in your ear. This did not help the growing heat your body was producing.

“What?”

“Name. Call me by Hawks. It is easier for a human to say than my birth name.” his voice was deep and he spoke with a musical lilt to his voice that was hypnotizing to you.

“Oh...” you trailed off, losing the train of thought you’d had.

There was a long pause before he continued speaking, as if he were pondering the right way to frame his thought.

“Amusing... it is.. amusing to me how easily a human female is....” he trailed off, searching for the right word. “Aroused” the last word was purred directly into your ear.

A shudder went through you and just as you were about to unleash a flurry of curses on him, you felt a jolt as his feet landed on wooden planks.

Hawks leaned forward and let you down gently. You could see you were on a balcony in the top of a massive tree. Branches concealed any evidence that there was a structure built into the tree. You followed the Harpy (or “Hawks” as you now knew him) into a small cabin like structure. Inside was one open room set up like a studio loft. You were amazed at how human everything felt. One wall was lined with bookshelves (guess that’s how he can speak English). There was a small kitchen area and on the opposite wall, a neatly made bed. You didn’t know what to expect a Harpy’s home to look like, but it wasn’t this.

You had so many questions to ask, but didn’t know where to start.

Any questions you had fell silent as the angelic Hawks turned to face you. Two slow steps forward and he was inches away from your face. You froze as his inquisitive eyes trailed your face. From your hairline down to your collarbone. He looked very serious; like he was studying a text book.

Hawks held up one of his hands and gently ran the tip of his index finger down the bridge of your nose. His soft touch ghosted over your lips causing you to involuntarily part them slightly. This caught his attention and his head cocked slightly to the right. He leaned in and you thought he would kiss you, but his face found the crook of your neck and he buried his nose into your warm flesh. You felt him breathe your scent in and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“You do not stink, human.” Hawks spoke into your skin.

“Umm. Thank you?” You questioned, not knowing if you should be offended or not.

“As children... we learn that humans are vile and evil. But you...” hawks trailed off, nuzzling his nose into your neck. "You are my savior”

Warmth spread through your chest and without thinking, you tangled your hands into his golden mop of hair and massaged his scalp. You felt his hands gently touch your hips and his beautiful wings encircle you both.

“Most of us are vile and evil, Hawks,” you whisper into his hair, breathing in his woodsy scent. “But some of us try to do better.”

As you continued to massage his scalp, you could feel a humming against your neck and a slight vibration running through his chest. Was he... purring?

Now was your turn to giggle. His face met yours with an embarrassed expression this time. He pulled away and his wings drooped slightly.

You cupped his face in your hands and touched his forehead to yours to ease his discomfort.

“That was a beautiful sound...” you whisper against his lips.

His liquid gold eyes met yours and you froze wondering what would come next.

Slowly, Hawks nuzzled his cheek against yours in a tender gesture. The purring noise quietly started back up and you returned his soft nuzzling gesture.

The earthy, warm smell of his skin was hypnotic. You sighed, wondering what his lips would taste like under your tongue. As your thoughts started spiraling further into your fantasies, Hawks froze.

“Taste...” he whispered, “May I taste you, human?”

Your eyes met again.

“Yes...” you whispered, mere centimeters from his face.

Hawks planted his lips onto your collarbone. After a soft kiss, you felt a long, languid lick trail all the way up to your shoulder. You bit your lip to stifle a moan.

Hawks was obviously not concerned with you hearing his reactions, because a low growl/moan escaped his lips as contact broke and he licked up your neck just as slowly.

The second lick made you shudder and your voice escaped before you could bite it back.

The purring sound got louder and he nuzzled your ear with his nose. The grip he held on your hips tightened and he pulled you in to meet his body. You gasped as you felt the bulge rubbing against your thigh.

“CHRIST he’s huge...”

“Hawks...” you choked out his name in a whisper.

He met your gaze. He was smiling sweetly and his eyes were wide with excitement. You paused and looked from his bookshelf to his face. Then, your eyes traveled around his walls. They were littered with paintings of humans (mostly women) and a lightbulb clicked on.

You grinned slyly and he looked confused.

“You have a human fetish....” you growled seductively.

His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red. His embarrassment only turned you on more. Realizing you had an advantage over the god-like being gave you an abundance of confidence.

“Please sit,” you gesture towards his bed. Slightly confused, he follows your direction.

You walk over and stand in front of him. You hold his hands and look into his eyes.

“First thing’s first. My name is Y/N. You should probably know my name before we begin.” He returns your soft smile.

“Y/N.... I like it.” Hawks says softly.

You melt hearing your name on his lips. Still holding his hands, you place them at the hem of your shirt.

You tremble slightly, in complete disbelief. Seducing a rare, mythical being wasn’t even close to on your mind when you awoke this morning.

“You can undress me if you’d like” your voice cracks and he senses the nervousness in your voice.

Hawks grabs you around the waist and gives you a reassuring hug, burying his face in your stomach.

He pulls away and stands to face you. You raise your arms to make it easier for him to remove your shirt. First your shirt, then bra, then pants are removed. You’re standing face to face with Hawks in nothing but your panties.

He sits back on the bed studying you then kneels in front of you on the floor. Your heart does a somersault in your chest as he grabs your ass.

Hawks plunges his face between your thighs and breathes in deeply. You shudder and moan as you feel his sharp nails dig in to your flesh.

He looks up at you, pupils so dilated you barely see the gold irises.

“I will try to be gentle... human” he pauses and smiles showing canines “Y/N”

Hearing him growl your name causes your knees to weaken and Hawks is quick to hold you up in his firm grasp.

With speed and precision, he takes your panties in his mouth and rips them off, tossing them to the side. Before you register what happened, you’re tossed onto the bed and have you legs draped over Hawk’s broad shoulders.

The Harpy’s wings fly open blocking almost all the light in the small room then slowly descend to tuck behind his back. You watch, hypnotized by the beauty of them. He notices and sports a prideful smile.

“Maybe this is part of their mating ritual? Remember to ask him later...”

Your inquisitive thoughts were ripped from your mind as you felt Hawks’ tongue enter your sopping wet hole. Your hips bucked into his face as a guttural moan escaped your throat.

He begins lapping at you gently, drinking you in. Then he pulls away meeting your gaze.

He takes a finger and experimentally rubs your swollen clit. You throw your head back and nearly scream out with pleasure.

“This... is a human female’s pleasure point. Yes?” He smiles, knowing the answer by your reaction.

“Shit, FUCK, yes... ahh, yes it is. But it’s very sensitive and has to be handled gently” you try to talk while he’s still rubbing small circles around your clit.

“Mmmm...” he hums removing his finger. You feel his arms wrap around your thighs then his soft lips wrapping around the sensitive nub.

Your body rolls upward to meet his mouth. This causes Hawks to resume the involuntary purring from earlier. Feeling the vibrations from it nearly sends you over the edge. His speed gradually increases as you reach your climax.

“Hawks!” You scream out his name as you come, tightening your thighs around his face.

He looks up at you, your slick glistening all over the lower half of his face. A wide grin showing sharp canines spreads across his face.

“That was.. orgasm?” He asked, massaging your thighs.

“Yes. Oh fuck yes it was...” you pant.

Hawks licks his lips proudly then pounces on top of you enveloping you in a strong embrace. You bury your hands in his hair and giggle as he peppers your neck with kisses.

You gently grind your thigh into his his crotch eliciting an animalistic growl.

“When a human female orgasms,” you purr into his ear, “it means her body is ready to take the male,” another slow grind into his bulge, “inside her...”

This sent Hawks completely over the edge. His pants were off with lightning speed and you felt the head of his swollen member at your entrance. His wings flex out again in another impressive display. As he slowly enters you, his wings draped over your bodies forming a cocoon of crimson feathers.

You writhe and moan as he plunges into you, inch by delicious inch. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you. This awakens something in Hawks. He growls and plunges into you.

As he ruts into you mercilessly, you feel sharp canines begin to bite into your shoulder. The mixture of pleasure and pain causes you to cry out.

“OH FUCK, Hawks... yes!” You scream, clawing into his shoulders.

This causes him to bite hard enough to draw blood and his pace quickens. Without thinking, your hands trail inward to pet the downy feathers at the base of his wings. This set Hawks over the edge.

Throwing his head back, he growls and you notice a trickle of blood dripping down his chin. You take it as a good sign and begin massaging the base of his wings. A shudder runs through his body and his eyes roll back into his head.

Feathers trembling, Hawks cries out as he releases inside of you. Your hips roll into his as you ride the wave of your second orgasm. Your walls clamping around his cock causes him to whimper and sink into your chest.

Once you both even out your breath, you wrap your arms tenderly around his waist and massage his muscles.

“So...” you pant looking into Hawk’s golden gaze, “ your wings?”

He turns red and grins sheepishly.

“A Harpy’s pleasure point.” he whispers, gently touching his lips to yours. You realize this it the first time you actually kissed him and close your eyes relishing his velvety, plump lips.

“Mmm...” he hums before breaking the kiss, “Y/N... you are the most...” he stops to run his tongue along your lower lip, “delicious creature...”

Your smile widens as you kiss him again. This time, your mouths part and tongues touch gently.

“Hawks, you’re amazing,” you whisper, relishing the taste of him lingering on your lips.

Hawks nuzzles back into the crook of your neck and resumes his hypnotic purring.

“My... savior...” he breathes. Your hand strokes his golden locks as you feel him drift off to sleep.

A smile lingers on your lips as you drift into sleep under a canopy of crimson feathers

[indiavolojones]

anon it’s like you’re LOOKING at my diary ヽ(｀Д´)ﾉ

2.5kish, gen, dia/luci.

“Before you do anything stupid that involves my permanent work on your body," the distaste radiating off of Lucifer is palpable, "Try an ear piercing first. It's plenty shocking to you business types, and a helluva lot less painful.”

“So, what do you say, Lucifer?"

SPECIAL THANKS TO @canonlucidia​ FOR BEING THE LUCIFER TRANSLATOR WE ALL NEED TO ELEVATE OUR FICS

~

“Huh,” Diavolo tilts his head, “I would have never guessed you were over eighteen.” 

Lucifer's ID shows none of the telltale signs of forgery, nor does the man look like a teenager. Diavolo just likes to have fun with people that seem too serious for their own good. 

Besides, it would be impossible for Diavolo to misjudge the man in front of him as a child—there are no children with eyes as hard-edged as Lucifer’s. Lucifer’s drenched coat is slung over his arm, the layers beneath thankfully still dry.  His long hair is twisted up in a messy, haphazard bun—something about this man makes Diavolo think this is unusual. 

Probably the impeccably tailored, expensive-looking vest and suit jacket. The watch peeking out from underneath his shirt sleeve is worth at least a couple hundred dollars, if Diavolo’s instincts are right. Minutes within meeting Lucifer and he already knows that this is a man that takes an incredible amount of pride into his appearance. 

Lucifer narrows his eyes, but the effect is less than intimidating to Diavolo, who has faced far worse than severe looks. Besides, the dark, exaggerated bags under his eyes can’t lie. The proud jut of his chin and squaring of his shoulders be damned; Diavolo can sense his bluff a mile away. Lucifer is more likely to pass out from exhaustion than start a brawl. 

“What an interesting business model, insulting your potential clients like this.” Lucifer retorts, and Diavolo thinks he’s probably terrifying when he’s had at least eight hours of sleep.

“There are plenty of other tattoo parlors around town,” Diavolo offers with another disarming smile, his arms crossing. An asshole customer is an asshole customer, no matter how pretty their mouth is. 

“No,” Lucifer insists, “It has to be this one.” 

“Okay… Then you’re going to need to relax a little, because it’s not often that I have people come in during a storm demanding a full back tattoo out of nowhere,” Diavolo shrugs, passing Lucifer’s ID back to him. 

"I wouldn't do any work on you today anyway. You haven't paid the deposit and we haven't had a consultation meeting. Sorry, it's my policy." Diavolo shrugs, not very sorry all and Lucifer can tell. Lucifer looks like he's about to spin on his heel and march out the door, and Diavolo, damn his soft heart, holds up his hands.

"But… if you'd like, we can set you up for a piercing session. We've got an open slot and I'll give you a returning customer’s discount." 

"I want the tattoo." Lucifer says, like Diavolo's stupid for offering anything else and he has to stamp down his own mild tinge of annoyance. 

"And I get that. If you can afford my rates, I'm willing to discuss." Damn it, Diavolo knows the man is trouble, but Lucifer's mouth is so pretty when it frowns, as if affronted at the possibility of him not being able to pay. "But I can tell this is some kind of act of rebellion. I see types like you all the time."

"Types like me—" Lucifer repeats, suddenly furious, and Diavolo holds his hands up placatingly. 

"Hear me out." He says, and Lucifer's mouth snaps shut at the interruption. 

"You’d have to be blind to not see that this is part of some… bigger thing for you," Diavolo gestures at all of Lucifer, "And you're an adult that can make your own decisions. But for now, before you do anything stupid that involves my permanent work on your body," the distaste radiating off of Lucifer is palpable, "Try an ear piercing first. It's plenty shocking to you business types, and a helluva lot less painful. So, what do you say, Lucifer?"

Lucifer doesn't look keen on it, but he at least seems to be seriously mulling over Diavolo's offer. 

More time passes where Diavolo grows more and more convinced that Lucifer is about to tell him to fuck off and walk out of his life. At this point, it would probably be for the best. Diavolo is a sucker for sullen, gorgeous businessmen with obvious emotional baggage—not that he'd realized that until a scant ten minutes ago, but Diavolo's always been a bit of a masochist. 

As if the day's events have finally, truly weighed down on him, with a barely visible slump to his shoulders, Diavolo sees when Lucifer relents before he hears it. 

"Fine."

-

-

Barbatos' workstation is immaculate as ever, and the other works with maximum efficiency to prep his required instruments. 

“You’re the one that pierced my brother, Mammon,” Lucifer says, and something in Diavolo’s brain clicks. Mammon. Lucifer’s brother is Mammon—the very thought almost makes Diavolo burst into laughter. 

Barbatos is nothing if not polite as he tips his head to the side, as if trying to remember Mammon. He snaps his gloved fingers, and nods. 

“Ah, yes! He’s the one that passed out, I believe.” Lucifer looks strangely… delighted by that. 

“I’ll be over there, then,” Diavolo says, leaning against the door frame and gesturing back behind him at the front office. Diavolo almost laughs again when he sees the clear alarm in Lucifer’s eyes, can hear the silent why aren’t you doing it before it’s said out loud. 

“Barbatos is one of the best piercers I’ve ever worked with, you’re in expert hands,” Diavolo hums, soothing. 

It somehow works, because Lucifer is lowering himself into Barbatos’ chair. Not a word escapes from Lucifer as Barbatos finishes prepping the earrings, two black studs that Lucifer had chosen from Diavolo’s display case. Lucifer actually looks a little pale, and Diavolo thinks it’s adorable.

“Unless… you’d like me to hold your hand, if you’re scared?” He teases, and Lucifer’s eyes narrow in purposefully unconcealed fury for one beautiful, brief moment. It shutters away as fast as it comes, and Lucifer is staring impassively at the wall before him. 

“You may leave.” Lucifer dismisses Diavolo.

Diavolo hangs out, just to be a dick. Lucifer does not flinch, or sway in his resolve past that one moment of weakness. Barbatos finishes one ear—Lucifer does not react in the slightest—and moves to the next. He tilts Lucifer’s head gently to get better access, and it makes Lucifer have to look at Diavolo in the doorway. Diavolo gives him a brilliant smile, but Lucifer glares at him the entire time. 

Diavolo loves it. 

-

-

Diavolo doesn’t see Lucifer for one week; but he hasn’t received any terrible reviews on Yelp, and no department official has come knocking down his door with a surprise audit, so he thinks he’s in the clear. All in all, he chalks the experience up to some kind of weird twist of fate. He’s perched on a stool behind the register at the display case when the automatic doorbell chimes. Diavolo’s lips part to welcome the guest even before he looks up. 

“Hey, how’s it—oh,” Diavolo says, finally glancing up from his newspaper, “You got bangs.” 

Gone is the messy, windswept bun that Lucifer had his long hair tossed into, and instead, a short, layered cut has replaced it. It makes him look younger, somehow. Or maybe he’s just gotten more sleep. Lucifer reaches up to card a hand through his hair, pushing the now loose strands out of his face.

Diavolo spares a moment of silence to mourn that he never got to see how long Lucifer’s hair was in person, “It looks nice.” 

He places his cheek in one palm, grinning at his client. It would be easy to miss the light blush on Lucifer’s cheeks at his comments, but Diavolo is more perceptive than most. 

The blush on Lucifer’s cheeks intensifies, and he coughs into his fist. “Thank you. The hair was a nuisance, so I cut it off.”  

Silence passes, and Lucifer blinks, as if he’s not quite sure why he overshared. Diavolo takes pity on him, and tries to continue the conversation.

“How are your ears healing, then? Are you—”

“I’d like to set up a consultation meeting.” Lucifer breathes, and Diavolo blinks at him. Then he sighs. 

“Before that… I suppose I should apologize for my impudence the other day, Mr. Morningstar.” Diavolo says, finally, elbows propped up on the glass counter. He watches for Lucifer’s reaction like a hawk. 

“How did you—” Lucifer’s lips remain tight, before realization dawns behind his eyes. "You saw my ID the other day." 

He glares, no doubt wondering if Diavolo gone to the press with information of his spontaneous request. It would be like dumping chum into shark infested waters for them to hear how the otherwise resolutely tight-lipped eldest brother is doing. Too many people are already trying to pick at the man’s psyche for more garbage to feed the greedy masses. 

“I barely even noticed your last name," Diavolo waves his hand in the air dismissively, "However… it's a little hard to ignore a face like yours when it’s been plastered all over the news,” Diavolo spins the newspaper around, sliding it across to show the grainy picture of Lucifer and three of his younger brothers at the last company gala. Lucifer's proud, intimidating stare is unmistakable in its intensity. 

The headline ‘FALL FROM GRACE: Lucifer Morningstar Leaves Celestial Industries over Disinheritance Scandal with Brothers’ stretches across the page in blocky, damning font. 

"I didn’t reach out to any media outlets. You can relax,” Diavolo huffs, “But really? Your first move after all this is to go and get a tattoo?" 

“Do all of your consultations feel like interrogations?” Lucifer shoots back, lips turned down in a frown. He does not look down at the article, his gaze keeping level with Diavolo's.

Diavolo laughs, and holds his hands up, “No, not really. I only try to make sure my clients understand that this is too permanent and expensive of a decision to make on an emotional bender. Tattoo removal is possible, but it’s costly.” Diavolo lets his own eyes narrow in the slightest, “Considering you don’t have the fortune of a multi-billion dollar corporation to fund your whims anymore, I doubt you’d have the money to spare if this is something you regret.” 

“Why are you antagonizing me over this,” Lucifer grits out, hands fisted at his sides. 

“I take pride in my work, Morningstar.” Diavolo stands, inherently pleased to see that Lucifer’s furious gaze has to tilt up in the slightest to continue meeting his eyes, “I have no desire to see someone else's terrible work slapped over something I created." 

"If you get paid, what does it matter?" Lucifer spits, clearly reaching his wit's end. Diavolo stares at him, silent, and Lucifer shuts his eyes. He exhales through his nose for strength, and cards a hand through his hair again, clearly unused to it still. When he speaks, his tone is genuine, and he sounds tired. 

"I apologize," Diavolo blinks, not expecting the other to deflate as they have. When his eyes open again, they are alight with a fervor that Diavolo's breath catches at. “I have had…. An interesting week.” His smile is wry, too tangled up with hidden meanings that Diavolo isn’t sure if he should consider it a smile at all. 

“I understand that this is permanent. As permanent as being disinherited publicly.” Lucifer’s stare is unflinching, his resolve ironclad and as spirited as Diavolo’s own, “Which is why I have come to request a consultation appointment, rather than demand you do it today. You are the only one who I want for this.”

Why rests on the tip of his tongue, but Diavolo knows the hard look in Lucifer's eyes, the kind of determination that refuses to be ignored, denied. It's entirely possible that Lucifer himself does not know why, only that he must. Diavolo keeps his gaze for another moment longer, fingers suddenly twitching for a habit that he quit long ago. Barbatos would kill him if he started smoking cigarettes again anyway.

Another moment, and Diavolo allows himself to smile. 

"You could have scheduled a consultation online, you know," Diavolo laughs, and moves from around the counter towards his small side office. 

"Come on," Diavolo says, but Lucifer does not move, still staring Diavolo down from his place in Diavolo's front desk area. Diavolo looks up at the heavens, exhaling ruefully, "I'm assuming you have an idea of what you want." 

Lucifer only takes a moment to shake himself out of his stupor, the cool, almost snobbish expression back on his face. 

"Of course."

--

--

Diavolo's laugh shakes the walls of the small office, and Lucifer's face is, amazingly, deep red. Diavolo is hunched over, hands gently sifting through the sketches. 

"You're insane. Your first tattoo and you want a fully detailed back piece? Not to mention it's huge." 

"We’re looking at somewhere between twenty and thirty hours of work. What if you can't handle the pain? Back tattoos can be rather painful, depending on where I'm working at the time."

"That won’t be an issue." Lucifer sniffs, back straight as he sits across from Diavolo.

“It’s going to cost you,” Diavolo warns. He knows what his work and experience is worth, and charges appropriately. 

“Everything does,” he says, simply. He catches the quick glance Lucifer tosses at his now bare wrist, and remembers something about Lucifer wearing one of those fancy watches last time he’d seen the other. Had he sold it?

Diavolo hums, before looking back down at the sketches in front of him.

"Did you draw these?" Diavolo asks, impressed with the amount of detail. It'll be a challenge for sure, but if Lucifer wants to keep the tattoo exactly like the source drawing, Diavolo's confident he can do it justice. However… if Lucifer allows him to add his own touch... it'll be spectacular.

"My sister," he hesitates on the word, and Diavolo knows there's a lot to unpack behind that, and immediately labels that as 'definitely do not touch', "She was the artist of our family." 

Ah, was. Lucifer's gaze darkens as he stares down at the papers, and Diavolo sighs. He runs a hand through his short hair, and leans back on the couch. Crossing his arms, he huffs when he looks at Lucifer again.

"Alright, you're crazy, but it's your money." 

-

Other assorted headcanons/thoughts:

Not exactly sure what Lu’s desired tattoo is but it’s something like this pic

Lilith has like, Just Died. Is v sad. 

Getting his ears pierced felt like absolute nothing to Lucifer, but having no point of reference he’s allowed to be a lil apprehensive. (“It’s like a shot, just… really close to your face!”  Thanks, Mammon.)

Mammon has awful tattoos from different artists, but ever since he discovered this Diavolo fellow, they've all been coming out beautifully. Asmo has also gone! Lu doesn't trust online reviews, and while he takes what Mammon and Asmo say with a grain of salt, he can’t deny the quality he's seen of Diavolo's is phenomenal. 

Diavolo's art style is similar to Lilith's.

All the brothers are around in this lil universe. for certain Reasons, it's just Luci/Mams/Levi/Asmo that have all been disinherited for now. 

It's been several years since I got a tattoo so I pulled details out of my ass sorry for the inaccuracies 

as always ty for reading (ノ°∀°)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

[ezekielbhandarivalleros]

Cooking

Pairing: Luke Harper and Leah Ironfurnace

Summary: Leah tries to cook a Meal for Luke

Rating - Appropriate for all ages

Taglist - @princess-geek @secretaryunpaid @schnitzelbutterfingers @cts-tj1@daddytyrilstarfury @choicesficwriterscreations

Within the swirling vortex of moving, meetings, and matrimony, the newly dubbed Leah Iron had very little time or even inclination to consider the mundane particulars of her soon-to-be-life. Upon arriving in Harper Manor , her primary energies had been spent on winning over the dour, suspicious faces of her beloved’s kinfolk, and, once achieved, had moved on to planning and preparing for her nuptials.

But several weeks into wedded bliss, after the church bells had faded into far-off echoes and the soft, pink petals of her bouquet had withered to brown, crunchy flakes, she knew it was time to get down to brass tacks: grocery shopping, laundering, sweeping floors, and cooking quaint, home-style dinners for Four.

Luke was quick to contest the final point. Rather vehemently.

“I didn’t marry you so you could become my servant!” he exclaimed. “I don’t need a maid, or a cook. Especially not a cook,” he said with a small shudder.

Leah looked confused. “Then what shall we eat? Shall you cook? Are we to hire a cook? Will we just go out for all our meals?” She frowned. “Won’t that get rather expensive?”

Her protestations rambled innocently along as Luke stood mute, struggling for answers. Little could his dear wife have known that the bulk of his modernity concerning the allotment of household tasks had little to do with progressive ideals and much with his unfortunate experience with her suspect and far from esculent cooking abilities. But at the moment, with Leah’s severe eyes demanding explanation, he knew the truth would never answer, and decided this clash of wills would best be resolved by flight. With one quick kiss to Leah’s cheek he fled hastily out the door, a weak “I’ll see you after I take care of some things, love!” issuing from his wake.

Leah huffed about as she cleared away the breakfast things, disregarding her husband’s concern and strange behavior. After all, he was just being silly! Almost insulting, really, thinking she, Leah Iron, could not get her hands good and dirtied. Stopping mid-scrub, she set the mug in her hand into the basin of sudsy water, gazing soulfully out the window with a rather bold profile. She was no longer the dainty miss of her youth, oh no! She was empowered. She was free. She Was Woman.

It was with this slogan in mind that she made her way to the local market that morning, traversing the loud and crowded lanes by herself for the very first time. Looped about her arm rested an adorable wicker basket with which she would carry home her purchases, much like the butcher’s wife or baker’s daughter she recalled from her adolescence, those capable woman who strode about Grantham village with aplomb.

Her first stop was at the vegetable stand, where with great care and little acumen she picked out a batch of semi-wilted green beans. Surely their lack of vibrancy must mean some kind of reduced cooking time, and it seemed perfectly acceptable to her mind to consider them as practically cooked already. Settling the bundle into her basket, she applauded herself for her foresight. Efficiency, yes, that was the key to being successful in this new life!

With considerable pluck she next elbowed her way through the roving masses towards the distinct sound of clucking. A half-lidded lady missing roughly three-quarters of her teeth stood behind a makeshift counter with several rows of caged birds squawking behind her.

“I’d like a chicken, please!” Leah sweetly requested, but with the authority of command hanging in her voice.

The purveyor dispelled a grunt and moved to fulfill the order. Sybil stood patiently by, expecting to be handed several pieces of neatly butchered and precisely trimmed meat, perhaps even already cooked – that would have been quite the bargain! – but with visible shock outlining her face was instead presented with an actual chicken.

Alive.

Not dead.

“Heavens!” Leah cried. “What ever am I supposed to do with this?”

The reply was as succinct as it was helpful:

“Kill it. Cook it. Eat it.”

Leah doled out the payment and hesitantly accepted her purchase, uncertainty clinging to her brow. She held the writhing beast aloft as far off from her person as her arms would enable her as it flapped furiously and its talons plunged painfully into the fleshy meat of her palm. Biting her lip, she worried over the first point of instruction.

Kill it.

“What do you mean kill it?” she tremulously asked. “Do you mean right here, right now? Am I to throw it against the wall? Crush it under my foot?” A less apathetic shopkeeper might have laughed or scoffed at such naivety, but the lady simply gave a sleepy smile as she retrieved the chicken from her confused customer. Leah leaned in, curious, when a sharp thwack sent her careening back, narrowly avoiding a direct hit with the lobbed off chicken head now sailing through the periphery of her vision.

The decapitated bird was promptly handed back to Leah, whose mouth hung open in a word of silent horror. A delayed spurt of blood erupted from the severed neck clenched in her fist, and over the gurgling sounds of gore and her own belated screams of dismay she could just discern a toothless, “That’ll cost you extra!”

The senior Mrs. Daly was known around the neighborhood for her small yet tightly run seamstress business which she operated out of her little house on Edgewater Estate. Punctuality was key to her success, and what kept her customers coming back time and time again. With only herself and her ten tired fingers to keep things running on schedule, she had little margin for error, and even less time to spend on a  dopey-headed daughter and her husband who serendipitously just happened to live a mere three blocks away – a perfect distance for dropping in whenever the bread refused to rise or lighting the stove became too much to bear.

She heard several petit knocks in the middle of bustling a wedding train, and opened the front door to see Leah bearing a sheepish look, a plethora of feathers sticking out of her lustrous, aristocratic hair.

Mrs. Daly pointed to a limp object weeping with blood.

“Dearie, is that a chicken you’ve got there?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Sybil nodded seriously and lifted the pathetic beast to eye level. “You see I wanted…well, that is to say….I’m not quite sure…”

Mrs. Branson heaved a sigh.

“Come on inside, dearie, and we’ll get it cleaned up.”

There were feathers everywhere.

Peppering her hair, tickling her nose, troubling her tongue, and she was fairly certain that downy feeling beneath her stays had not been present five minutes ago. Indeed, the only area in which feathers could not be found was the now naked, glistening chicken corpse.

“Well that’s that,” Ms.Day declared. Leah sighed with relief. The ordeal was finally over. “Now for the butchering!”

A half hour later Leah’s apron was markedly more blood-splattered. Her face was splattered as well, though with a different substance: fat dollops of tears stained her face, rimming her eyes with the telltale signs of sorrow.

“I’m a healer, not a killer!” she wailed into the gizzards.

Mrs. Daly sighed – “You’re being dramatic again…” – and continued wrapping up the chicken portions in paper and placing them neatly into her  wicker basket. She shooed Leah out the door, and on her way back home Leah pondered the macabre turn of her day. If she’d known part of the requirements for living a common life would be becoming adept at portioning recently slain animal products she might have….

Leah stopped and took a mighty sniff, glancing down to the band on her left hand, the chain that would forever gird her to a life as a slaughterer. Well. It was far to late to consider that. She would just have to prove them and herself wrong. Yes, she would prove them all wrong!

And prove them wrong she did, six hours later and leaving behind her a path of destruction in what had once been called the kitchen. Piles of pots wobbled, brown splotches of grease speckled every vacant surface, and she prayed that the hazy layer of smoke circling above would dissipate by the time her husband arrived home. But despite all these drawbacks, there on the table sat a steaming hot supper, freshly prepared by her own hands with ingredients she purchased herself.

Now all she needed to do was wait. Wait and listen.

In due time she heard the familiar jangling of keys and jumped to her feet, assaulting her husband with vigor before he was barely through the door.

“Darling, look, look! Look what I’ve done!” Luke was immediately accosted by the sight of his wife, filthy, frantic-eyed and with trickles of dried blood adorning her once spotless frock.

With a crash the contents of his arms landed on the floor and he rushed forward, pulling her unwillingly into a chair.

“Are you all right?” he asked. Luke nodded.

“Yes.”

He placed a concerned hand over her brow.

“Are you feverish?”

“No.”

He stared intently into her eyes.

“Did someone attack you?”

“No, no, no! Don’t be silly, !” She shoved him away and rose again, gesturing to the chaotic splendor of their kitchen. “I’ve just been cooking dinner!”

Luke immediately relaxed – that explained everything – but was soon beset with a consuming dread. If she’d been cooking that meant soon they would be eating. The food she’d been cooking.

Luckily Luke had seen this scenario impending for some time, and had spent a good amount of his break time in front of the washroom mirror of his office, trying on new and hopefully sincere-looking expressions for the moment when a forkful of her hideous creations entered his mouth.

That moment was now nigh, and husband watched in trepidation as his portion was meticulously laid on a dish and set carefully before him, a pair of hawk like eyes trained expectantly on his face as he took his first, painful bite.

His fears were justified.

Leah’s “chicken” (he rather generously dubbed it) left much to be desired, such as seasoning, moisture, and the ability to be digested. Although the practice sessions had been helpful, Luke’s expressions were naturally incapable of displaying anything but the perfect truth of his feelings, and at the moment they spoke plainly of thorough disgust.

His mouth attempted to speak otherwise:

“It's…it’s really good.”

“Really?” she asked, aflutter.

He grimaced. “Really.” A few beats of silence passed wherein Luke stared anxiously at the plate, no other bites forthcoming. Leah’s joyous features began to wane.

“I’m not sure,” she said, her tone distrustful. “It seems as though you don’t really like it.”

“Well. You know. Chicken.”

“But I thought you loved chicken. Your mother went on and on about how it was your favorite and if I had any intention of being a good wife then I had best remember what you liked and –”

“Leah, please. That’s not what I meant. I only mean that…well…”

“You think it’s terrible, don’t you?” she asked quietly. Leah appeared petrified.

“I think you worked very, very hard.”

“And yet…and yet all my work was for nothing?” At this point she quickly shoveled a portion of her masterpiece into her mouth, only to instantly spit it out with a strangled noise. That noise was quickly followed by another, a hollow, dispiriting wail as the strong, the brave, the indomitable Leah Iron burst into an uncontrollable bout of tears.

“It’s terrible!” she wailed. “It tastes like old dishwater and it’s as dry as sand! Mrs. Daly said I’d never amount to much in the kitchen and she was right, she was absolutely right!”

What words could soothe such pitiful outpourings of melancholy? None that Luke could think of, and he found himself inexplicably in want for words, substituting vocal comfort with a sure hand that stroked fondly down her shaking back. Presently she mastered her emotions enough to look back up to him with a rueful smile, her kind eyes shining.

“I’m a failure, aren’t I?” she asked in surrender. Luke had never before seen his Leah look so defeated, and this time was fully capable of summoning a defense.

“Of course you’re not! I’m not going to sugar coat things. You did fail, quite grandly, at cooking dinner.” He cupped her chin and smiled. “But it doesn’t make you a failure.”

“I know you’re right.” She wrestled away from his grasp and smeared the last of the drops in her eyes against her sleeve. “And of course I won’t get everything just so right away…but I’m not ignorant. I know what they must be saying about me back home, and what they’re saying about me here, and I wanted so desperately to show them…I don’t even know what, but I wanted to show them something.”

“You’re here, with me. You went to the market and bought food and butchered a chicken. That’s so much more than anyone would think you capable. And maybe it’s not perfect, but you’ll get there in time. And in the meantime we’ll just have to make do.”

She shook her head. “But how?”

Luke patted her hand and rose from his chair with that familiar, infuriating smirk.

“I’ve been a bachelor for most of my life. I don’t promise to be a whizz in the kitchen but I’m not completely useless, either.” And a fair sight more useful than you, he added, but with the foresight to do so silently. Rummaging through the icebox for a few moments, he emerged with several white, oval shaped objects, and grinned.

“How would you like some eggs?”

[unmanageable-day]

Good Night

Pairing : Young K x OC

Genre : fluff

Words : around 1k

Please enjoy~~~

Night club was never on the list of Hwari's destination. It was dark, loud, and crowded. Sometimes she just didn't get it why people go to club when they can just enjoy music and relax at home. But tonight was exception. Jaehyung and Wonpil picked her up after office, which didn't end as early as she thought despite it was Friday. "Hwari, do us a favor, will you?" "What is it?" Jaehyung didn't answer but kept on driving. Wonpil only gave a weird laugh when he made eye contact with Hwari. She rolled her eyes. Not the first time those guys were being annoying. "Hwari is here, everyone!" Jae exclaimed as he entered a private room in the club. "Bring me Brian, please." "Why are you making a fuss?" said Brian aka Younghyun as he stepped out. "Oh, shut it. Hwari will take you home." Jaehyung dramatically turned his head to face Hwari. "Right, Hwari?" Younghyun shook a few times. "No, I'm fine, really." Hwari approached him and naturally checked up on him by putting her hand on his forehead. "Are you sick?" "I'm fine," he said, smiling at Hwari. Honestly he liked it to see her up close when he needed to tilt down his neck a bit. "Well, no fever though," told her to the other guys as she pulled back her hand off of Younghyun's forehead. Jaehyung lightly smacked Younghyun's shoulder. "What's with you right now? Just a while ago you kept saying your head hurt." "Just have a good rest for today, Younghyun hyung," Dowoon added. Hwari once again turned to face Younghyun, waiting for his final decision to go home or to stay late in the night club with the others. Meanwhile it was not the first time for Kang Younghyun to experience headache due to less than 4 hour sleep yet still go party hard. He would survive as long as he had enough either beer or americano. This time, he melted at the sight of Hwari looking at him deeply with her softest expression. "Let's just go home," Hwari finally spoke up. Younghyun flashed a warm smile, nodding. Before both of them left, even Jaehyung ordered for a chauffeur so Younghyun didn't have to drive. In which Younghyun used this opportunity well: sitting in the back row, linking his arm with Hwari's, resting his head fully on her shoulder with his eyes shut, and sometimes letting his forehead and nose slightly brush against Hwari's neck. He couldn't resist his lips from smiling ear-to-ear. In contrast, Hwari sometimes was busy with her phone, either texting or having phone call with seemingly her colleagues, or just trying to get some sleep as well. Or when she was awake, she took one time or two to check on the sleeping fox, and sometimes softly carresed him or gave him a gentle pat on the cheek. Hwari was about to leave as soon as they reached Younghyun's apartment. If only Younghyun wasn't being clingy and needy. "Don't leave me alone. Tomorrow is Saturday, right?" he whined. Younghyun was still maintaining his position on Hwari's shoulder, but now he had his arms around Hwari's waist as if he was hugging a pillow. In return, she also embraced him, putting her arm around his neck. "How about I'll just wait for you until you're asleep?" "But it's late already." He got the point. Hwari almost never went home late alone by herself. It wasn't her first time to stay over at Younghyun's. But there were others, the boys, and even Jiwoo. Never had she been stayed when it was only her. "I'll just take a power nap for 10," Younghyun mumbled. "I still have some work to do." "But it's late already," Hwari parroted Younghyun's words. Once again, Hwari looked at the time which was almost 1 AM. "Why don't you go to sleep first? You can take my sweatshirt from the drawer and change your clothes," he mumbled as he fixed his position, releasing Hwari from his embrace then crossing his arms, and went back to nap. It instantly made her blushed. Somewhat she recalled his pretty wild performance on the other day, specifically the one with bold rap lyric.

When in the midst of many people, I notice you You know oh you know I get excited immediately There’s no way I could lose you If I see a shy smile You know you’ll be mine Girl I can make you feel alive oh yeah

I stare at you without a single word You can also feel it inwardly You know you want me too Accept it now Baby you are mine

One more time after I have found you Nobody apart from you, no one else catches my eye The only one I see is you, you, you Don’t think of running away I hunt you, I will hunt you

Sorry, but just by standing in front of you I turn into a dog Right before I snatch you, I glare like a hawk I drool like an animal watching its prey I didn’t think of sending you home on purpose Wow, let’s take a breather here It’s hot, let’s take the jacket off Missed the bus already This is crazy I’m having a vision, oh my Jesus Yes, good morning So sexy even with disheveled hair Baby don’t think of going anywhere Don’t think of running away

Hwari froze still beside the sleeping fox. Now she was really thinking about going home. She scrolled fast on her contact list, trying to look for someone who can accompany her going home at that hour. Zero. With this situation, her last hope was actually the one and only Park Jaehyung. But she knew his answer even before she dialed his number to ask him. Hwari loosened up a bit as she rested her back against the couch. she turned to Younghyun who seemingly was really sleeping soundly. Without any prior notice, Younghyun suddenly opened his eyes, which successfully startled Hwari as she almost jumped off her seat. She wasn't sure if it already past 10 minutes. "Still here?" Younghyun yawned and stretched his body. He dragged his feet towards his drawer and managed to pull a pink sweatshirt along with sweatpants. "Here, you can wear these." Looking at her own daily outfit—knee-length dress, she knew she needed that pair of sweatshirt. When she finished changing her clothes, Younghyun was already in his specially customized working space located next to the bedroom. His eyes were focused on his computer that showed an odd appearance, most likely something about music arrangement. Hwari pulled a chair and sat next to her boyfriend. "You need a clock so you can tell what time it is now," she spoke as she noticed the only gadgets that showed time were only his smartphone, computer, and wristwatch. Without losing focus on his hands typing on the keyboard, Younghyun turned to her, smiling without words. "New songs?" "No, just some rearrangement." "What time—" "I will go to bed soon. Very soon. Okay?" he said before Hwari finished talking. "The sooner, the better," Hwari muttered as she pat Younghyun's shoulder gently. She was about to go back to the living room, preparing herself to go to sleep. "Hey, you know I have a nice, comfy, large bed, right?" He snapped once he recognized how Hwari bent her knees and hugged them, which was a sign that she was about to go to her dreamland. "But this is comfy already," she mumbled. Her eyes were already shut. Younghyun smiled warmly. He quickly finished his work and then shut his computer down. Tiptoeing on his steps, he approached his loved one and spent a moment watching her sleep soundly. The smile on his face stayed for a long time. Until Hwari suddenly opened her eyes, making him startled and blushed, before stretching her folded body. "What time is it?" Hwari asked as she yawned. "Let's sleep on the bed properly, okay?" Without further talking, Younghyun lifted Hwari in bridal style and took her to his bedroom. Hwari couldn't hide her embarrassment that she buried her face on Younghyun's chest without words. It was hard for her too to release herself from his cradle until he put her gently on the mattress. Basically Younghyun kinda secured and somewhat locked her in his arms that she couldn't go anywhere. So what Hwari can do was just securely holding on to him, and once on the mattress, she would just hug him back as if he was a pillow. A giant pillow. She comfortably snuggled her face against Younghyun's broad chest. He silently enjoyed the moment while gently stroking her hair. This moment was basically their very first intimate moment they shared together. "Say, Hwari, I've been wondering why you finally accept me. What you see in me. And... what you like about me." Hwari lifted her face and stretched her neck to look at the boyfriend. "Younghyun, it is 2AM. Do you really have to talk about this right now?" Him starting this pillow talk made her feel awake again after being so sleepy earlier. "Yes, we do." He tried to look serious but failed because Hwari kept laughing quietly. "Well, I'm not sure." Hwari took her time staring Younghyun's face and sometimes cupping his cheek with her hand. "What about you? What do you think of me?" "Hey. Don't change the topic," he snapped. "I can write 50 songs and they will be all about you, just in case you forget you're Kang Younghyun's girlfriend." Hwari giggled. "Now, answer me." "First of all..." Hwari's hand still covered Younghyun's cheek, and she let her thumb trace his facial features, particularly his nose bridge. "I like your nose. Especially when you scrunch your nose when you smile." He tried hard not to blush although he was happy to death getting compliments from her. "And?" he demanded, pretending to stay cool. "And... I don't know. Is there more?" she teased. "Seriously?" Another chuckle was let out. "Really, I'm not good at this," she muttered as she rested her forehead on his neck. Younghyun finally chuckled too. "Okay, okay. It's time to sleep. But before that, let me look at you for a moment." "What?" She stretched up again. Younghyun gave the warmest beam as he locked his eyes to hers. He leaned in, but Hwari automatically lowered her head that Younghyun ended up kissed Hwari's nose. "Hwari, come on.." Again, Hwari just snuggled her face to hide her blushing. "Time to sleep. Good night," she mumbled. Smiling ear to ear, Younghyun tightened his embrace before closing his eyes.

Hello, there. I have a longer version of this and you can find it here : https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1365753/a-new-story-to-write

Feel free to stop by there and have a good time, or even give comments. Thank you~

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke modern AU: Damned Spot

@schoute and I were innocently discussing what careers our OTPs would have in modern times and SUDDENLY I WAS WRITING A FUCKING CRACK MODERN AU WHILE SHE PLANS TO DRAW THEM. Here, have this dumpster fire of garbage for @dadrunkwriting​ Friday.

In which Varric owns the Hanged Man, Hawke and @schoute​’s Piper Lavellan are bartenders, Fenris is the bouncer with a shady fucking past, and Cullen (not seen in this chapter) is a Good Guy Lawyer™. Oh my god I didn’t mean to start planning this into a longfic but it might become one

Read on AO3 instead, since Tumblr text posts on mobile now look like shit.

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“Hey, Hawke! The new bouncer is here,” Varric called.

Rynne looked up from her extremely fascinating task of wiping down the bar, and her eyebrows jumped so high they almost flew off her face.

The first thing she noticed about the new bouncer was the hair. The last time she’d seen hair that white was in the episode of Inuyasha she and Piper had been watching that morning.

The second thing she noticed was that the bouncer was probably the hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on.

Varric patted the bouncer on the elbow. “Hawke, this is Fenris. Fenris, Hawke.”

Fenris gave her a curt unsmiling nod. Which naturally meant that Rynne couldn’t help but smile at him like a fool. She waved an expansive arm at the pub. “Welcome to the Hanged Man,” she announced. “Kirkwall’s finest alcohol-serving dump.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Varric protested. “You’re the one who begged me to hire you at this alcohol-serving dump.”

She leaned her elbows on the bar and winked at Varric. “Of course I did. This is the only alcohol-serving dump in the city that has karaoke.”

“Karaoke?” Fenris said.

Rynne stopped breathing for a split second. His voice. His voice. Maker’s balls, she’d never heard a voice that deep and growly and dripping with suspicion.

“Yeah, karaoke,” she said. She smirked at him. “Do you sing?”

He huffed in disdain and looked away from her. “Absolutely not.”

Ooh, he’s so cranky, she thought, with yet another surge of (probably ill-advised) interest. And so gorgeous, and with such a gorgeous voice…

She needed to hear him talk some more. She straightened up and jerked her head at the storeroom. “Piper is in the back room,” she told Varric. “She’ll want to meet our handsome new bouncer too, right?”

“Yeah, she will,” Varric said. He raised his eyebrows pointedly at her.

She shot him a wheedling smile and didn’t budge.

Varric stared at her for a moment longer, then sighed and headed toward the storeroom to fetch Piper. “You do know that I’m the boss of this place, right?” he called over his shoulder.

“Of course!” Rynne yelled after him. “The best boss in all of Thedas!”

Varric ruefully shook his head as he disappeared into the storeroom, and Rynne turned back to Fenris with a smile. “He really is a good boss,” she informed him. “Stick around for two months and you’ll get healthcare benefits. Best of all, he lets us try the really classy spirits and wine when the new shipments come in.”

Fenris met her eyes. “You carry wine at this bar?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Of course. How lowbrow do you think this place is?”

He glanced around the pub, with its low ceilings and its quirky decor of framed mugshots of celebrity criminals from across Thedas. The walls were painted a dark red, and the ceiling was black and the lighting was dim and warm, and Rynne loved it.

Fenris turned back to her and shrugged. “It’s… difficult for me to judge such things. I am not from Kirkwall.”

She leaned her elbows on the bar again. “I figured. That’s an interesting accent you’ve got there.” Not to mention an interestingly… cultivated way of speaking. It was unexpected in a bouncer, at least in Rynne’s experience.

“Mm,” he confirmed. He looked away again and said nothing more.

Rynne watched him curiously for a minute, then returned to wiping down the bar. She studied him surreptitiously as she worked, her curiosity only growing with every moment. Not only did he not sound like a bouncer, but he didn’t look like one either; he was of average height, less than half a foot taller than her, and his build was quite slim from what she could see through his plain black jacket and T-shirt. He held himself in a way that suggested he didn’t want to be looked at, which was odd as well, especially given his bright white hair and his striking tattoos.

At least Rynne thought they were tattoos. She couldn’t imagine what else those trailing white lines on his chin and neck could be.

Suddenly he looked at her and frowned. “What?”

She hastily shifted her gaze from his throat back to his eyes. “Nothing,” she said brightly. “Want a drink?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You would drink on the job?”

She huffed in amusement. “It’s just one drink. And there are no customers here yet.” She took down a bottle of tequila and poured herself a shot, then raised her eyebrows. “Besides, why do you care? Are you a policeman in disguise or something?”

He snorted. “I most certainly am not,” he said, much to Rynne’s interest. He paused and eyed the bottle of tequila, then nodded graciously. “I will have one. A small one. Thank you.”

“Such fine manners,” she purred as she poured him a scant shot. “I like that in a man.”

He shook his head and chuckled - the first sound of mirth she’d yet heard him make. “You speak your mind, I’ll give you that.”

I’ll give you a lot more than that, Rynne thought salaciously; her belly was buzzing with heat at the mere sound of his laugh. Then she bit her lip before the errant thought could slip out of her mouth. That might be a little too much for a first meeting, perhaps.

She raised her shot. “Cheers,” she said.

He raised his drink as well. “Benefaris,” he said, and he downed it smoothly.

Rynne swallowed her shot and raised her eyebrows with fresh surprise. “Was that Tevene I just heard?”

Fenris frowned again - very briefly this time, as though he was annoyed at himself instead of at her. “Yes,” he said reluctantly, and he folded his arms.

That was it. She had to know more. Carver was always telling her not to be so nosy, but this strange and handsome elf was just too intriguing.

She leaned her elbows on the bar again. “Come on, Fenris. What’s your story?” she asked.

He frowned more deeply, then glanced toward the storeroom. “There is no story,” he grunted.

Rynne settled her weight comfortably on one hip. “Of course there is. Everyone has a story. Some are just more interesting than others.” She lifted her chin in challenge. “I suspect yours is very interesting indeed.”

He eyed her in silence for a while, and she waited with bated breath for his reply.

Finally he spoke. “What about you, Hawke? What sort of a name is that?”

“Oh,” she said, then gave a little laugh as she straightened up. “It’s my family name. My first name is Rynne, but everyone calls me Hawke. Much to my brother’s chagrin, I can tell you. He would love to be ‘the’ Hawke in Kirkwall.” She placed her empty shot glass in the sink, then held out her hand for his. “What about you?”

He handed her the shot glass. “What about me?”

She shot him a chiding look. “What’s your family name?” she asked.

He suddenly shot her a piercing glare, and Rynne actually froze for a moment at the intensity of his expression.

His mild-and-surly manner was gone. There was an odd, dangerous kind of stillness about him now, almost as though he could lash out at the slightest provocation, and now Rynne understood how a man of his height and stature could be a bouncer. A person didn’t need to be packed with muscle to be terrifying.

They stared at each other for a loaded moment. When Fenris finally relaxed, Rynne exhaled as well.

He rested his palms on the bar, and Rynne noticed that those unusual white tattoos extended along the backs of his hands to the edge of his fingernails. “I don’t have a family name,” he said quietly.

“Sorry,” she said automatically. She wasn’t sure why she was apologizing; it wasn’t that odd to not have a family name, after all, especially for city elves. But for some reason, she felt like she should.

Or maybe she shouldn’t have. Fenris scowled at her, then looked away once more. “Don’t apologize. There’s nothing to feel sorry for.”

She swallowed hard. Then she smiled winningly at him. “Got it. I’ll never apologize to you again,” she said cheerfully. “Not even when I spit in your drinks by accident.”

He raised one eyebrow at her, and her heart gave a hopeful little thump at the slight smirk that curled the corner of his lips. “I did not realize it was possible to spit in a drink by accident.”

She shrugged casually. “You’ve got me. It’s not. Best make sure you don’t piss me off.” She tapped his knuckle playfully.

He instantly pulled his hands away and tucked them in his jacket pockets. Then Piper’s voice broke in. “Hey there! Is this our new recruit?” she asked brightly.

Rynne straightened and smiled at her best friend and roommate. “Pipes, this is Fenris. Fenris, this is Piper Lavellan, the second best bartender in all of Kirkwall.”

Piper gave her a rough shove. “Fuck off. You know I can pour faster than you.”

“I didn’t say ‘faster’. I said ‘better’,” Rynne corrected cockily, then cackled as Piper pinched her arm.

Fenris eyed them in silence until they settled down, then took a step back from the bar. “I should find Varric,” he said quietly. “Get oriented to my… role.” He nodded politely to Piper. “It is nice to meet you,” he said. Then he slid his eyes to Rynne.

He gazed at her in silence for a moment, and a funny little jolt of excitement trickled down her throat as she stared back at him. His irises were so fucking green. It was like a forest had come to life in his eyes. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen such beautiful eyes.

He nodded once more, jolting her from her reverie. “Hawke,” he said. “Thank you for the drink.” He turned and made his way toward the storeroom.

Rynne watched him as he walked away. Then Piper whistled softly. “Well, he’s hot.”

“I saw him first,” Rynne said quickly.

Piper laughed. “He’s yours, lethallan. I don’t date men whose hair is nicer than mine.” She ran a hand across her long silvery braid and tilted her head. “How do you think he got his hair such a pure shade of white?”

Rynne leaned thoughtfully against the bar. “I don’t think it’s dyed.”

Piper’s eyes widened. “You mean you think that hair colour is natural? There’s no fucking way.”

Rynne smirked. “You should ask him if he dyes it. I bet he’d love that.”

Piper chuckled, then shot Rynne a knowing look. “Or maybe you should ask him. Get to know him better. Maybe ask him if the carpet matches the drapes.”

Rynne barked out a laugh and shoved her friend. “Come on, I know you elves don’t have any pubes to speak of. Fucking unfair is what I call that.”

“Oh, let’s not talk about your gross human pubes again,” Piper groaned. She turned away to unpack the dishwasher.

“Bitch,” Rynne laughed, then returned to wiping down the poor neglected bar. But as she and Piper fell into their usual pre-opening hours routine, her thoughts drifted back to their mysterious new bouncer.

There was definitely a story there. His little comment about the city guard, and his weird furtive manner, and that very weird danger she’d sensed from him… He was probably a criminal. Or an ex-con. But he was so well-spoken and polite. And those odd tattoos on his chin and neck and hands…

I wonder if they’re all over his body, she thought idly. Then she smirked at herself. She was such an idiot. Everything about this Fenris character screamed trouble. The last thing she should be doing was trying to weasel herself into his good graces.

But when had Rynne Hawke ever been able to stay out of trouble?

[gamersonthego]

Chase Koeneke’s Top 10 Handheld Games of 2018

2018 could’ve been a bummer of a year. The game I was most excited about – Fire Emblem: Three Houses – got pushed to 2019. We were getting a new Pokemon game...but it was based on a mobile game and was fundamentally changing the formula I loved. And outside of Smash Bros., there was little left I was anticipating.

And yet, 2018 turned out to be a fantastic year in handheld gaming. I got a turn-based strategy game that’s up there with any Fire Emblem game I’ve ever played. That Pokemon game ended up being pretty great! And there were a bevy of unexpected indies that kept me entertained all year long. Here are my top 10 handheld games from 2018 (as well as a few honorable mentions).

Honorable Mentions: Mark of the Ninja Remastered, Gris, Kingdom Rush Vengeance, Donut County, West of Loathing

10. Minit (Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)

I like to take my time in games – fully exploring worlds, talking to NPCs, reading item descriptions. In that sense, Minit, a top-down Zelda-style game that only allows you to play in one-minute sessions should be my nightmare. But it’s not. In fact, I really liked it. Minit’s limitations freed me from my thinking and made me engage with the game on its level. In a world dominated by GPS and a games’ landscape dominated by easily accessible maps, there’s something refreshingly challenging having to commit the area to memory and make plans on not only what to do next, but how to make it there in time.

9. Golf Peaks (iOS, PC)

I’m bad at real golf, but golf video games, especially the ones that don’t try to meticulously recreate the sport, are my jam. Mario Golf on the Game Boy Color is one of my favorite games ever. Golf Story was one of my favorite games last year. And Golf Peaks takes that crown in 2018. Golf Peaks expertly mixes golf, card and puzzle mechanics to make for a uniquely pleasing combination. New obstacles are layered in world by world and get increasingly bizarre, until what you’re playing is barely recognizable as golf. Golf Peaks feels meticulously crafted, and it makes for a difficult, but rewarding experience. Unfortunately, because it’s so bespoke, it’s a finite experience, and once you’ve completed it, there’s little reason to revisit it. A new world has been added since the game’s release, but after completing it in less than an hour, I’m back to waiting for more.

8. Alto’s Odyssey (iOS, Android)

Alto’s Adventure was one of my favorite games of 2015, a gorgeous and fun take on the infinite runner genre. Alto’s Odyssey further refines the formula by adding in even more things to do. The silky-smooth jumps, grinds and backflips return, along with the sublime wingsuit power-up, but they are joined by Tony Hawk-style wall rides that add a new dimension to the game. With uniquely skilled characters to unlock and upgrades to literally and figuratively grind for, Odyssey will keep you busy for a long time. It’s one of those rare phone games that’s good for play sessions both long and short, and its action never gets old.

7. Final Fantasy XV: Pocket Edition (iOS, Android, Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)

I was intrigued by Final Fantasy XV on the PS4, but ultimately bounced off its combat and general milling about. Pocket Edition fixes both of those issues and lets me enjoy what I really like about the game: its story and its characters. The miniaturized version of FFXV has turned it into a linear game with simplified controls (touch controls if you’re playing the phone version). The way it retains quite a bit of the themes and depth (and voice acting) of the original game despite streamlining it never ceased to impress me. And weirdly, playing Pocket Edition has actually reawakened my desire to play the original game. I want to see this treatment given to other Final Fantasy games.

6. Florence (iOS, Android)

Florence is not a game I would traditionally play on a phone. It’s not an infinitely replayable, puzzling experience like Threes or Drop7 or even a Kingdom Rush. But it is an experience, and one I deeply appreciated. Florence made me feel more than any other game this year, and it did it in a game that takes only about a half hour. It tells a mundane, yet impactful story about relationships. It’s beautiful. It’s funny. It’s tragic. But most of all, it’s real, and it uses its touchscreen controls to great effect to make you feel like you are an active participant in the story. It’s somehow simultaneously abstract and extremely specific, and I think it’s something everyone should witness.

5. Pokemon Let’s Go Pikachu/Eevee (Switch)

This is the Metal Gear Solid 2 of Pokemon. Let me explain. In MGS2, you play as Raiden, and you learn that you are being put through a similar adversity to the original MGS’ Shadow Moses Island in the hopes of turning you into another legendary hero like Solid Snake.

In Pokemon Let’s Go, things start familiar enough to anyone who’s played the first generation of Pokemon games (particularly, Yellow). You get a starter, you battle your rival, you face Brock and Misty and the other gym leaders and you stumble into and interrupt a nefarious Team Rocket plot. It’s all there. Except then you run into Blue, who is the real rival from the first generation of Pokemon. Which means your rival isn’t your rival. And you aren’t you. It’s fascinating and I ended up loving it.

Mechanically, it’s a weird mix of adding from more recent games while also stripping away complexity. Mega Evolutions are in. Held items are out. HMs are out. Steel, dark and fairy types are in. And there are some brand-new mechanics like catch combos that are a fun and new way to engage with Pokemon. It’s not all rainbows (I’m still not sold on the GO-style catching system,) but I hope the next mainline Pokemon game takes a little inspiration from these games. And I hope they remake Gold and Silver in this style too.

4. Holedown (iOS/Android)

Holedown became my go-to phone game for most of 2018. While you can beat it in a manner of hours, the game is so addictively fun and replayable with its final, seemingly endless level that you’ll be happy to dive back in again and again to improve your score. Holedown is satisfying in every sense of the word. Endorphins rush when you see and hear massive streams of balls ping-ponging off walls. Hitting the perfect angle to keep the combo going higher and higher is intensely gratifying. It’s so easy to play and understand, and yet you’ll be learning new tricks after your hundredth attempt. Holedown rules. Play Holedown.

3. Super Robot Wars X (Vita, PS4)

OK, this one’s a bit of a stretch. Super Robot Wars is not available in the US last I checked (though it is available in English.) Also, I did not play its handheld Vita version. Instead I played it on the PS4. So, on one hand, this game doesn’t really belong on this list. On the other hand, I love Super Robot Wars X so much, so it’s staying.

This was my first dip into the series and immediately found it to be an incredibly dense and confusing experience. It’s a turn-based strategy game like Fire Emblem, which sounds right up my alley, but the number of things to account for is staggering. To list all its mechanics would be a daunting exercise. Slowly, but surely, I learned to engage with more and more systems until finally, I felt like I could see the code, that I had entered the Matrix. I suddenly knew strategy game kung-fu. The game would set up almost impossible odds and, sometimes after an insane amount of consideration, I’d find a solution. I could boost the range on one weapon for the one turn I need it. Or maybe that shield I’ve never used would actually come in handy here. Oh wait, this pilot has a special skill I could utilize. The solutions are always there, you just have to look for them. It’s a beast of a game, but one I became utterly mesmerized with.

2. Dead Cells (Switch, PS4, Xbox One, PC)

I jealously watched early access PC players make run after run on Dead Cells. I heard people extol the game’s virtues on countless podcasts, and then, finally, the game released on Switch and I too could experience its splendor. And boy, did it deliver. Dead Cells bends over backwards to tailor the game experience to you. It allows you to choose what and when to unlock new skills, letting you further customize your arsenal as you play. It accounts for novice players who need to take their time getting through its sprawling levels while also providing options for crafty veterans who are able to speed through its content. And yet, as much as it caters, you’ll inevitably get to a point in your run where the game says “OK, now we’re going to test you.” I have failed that test every time. I have not beaten Dead Cells. But I am damn sure ready to try again.

1. Into The Breach (Switch, PC)

Where Super Robot Wars X is a turn-based mech strategy game on a macro scale, with an inconceivable amount of systems and options to deal with for your double-digit army of robotic fighters, Into The Breach stuffs all the same intensity into a comparably tiny grid and only a trio of battlers. It maintains the perfect amount of complexity, making every unit, every weapon, every move and every choice matter. It’s the ultimate chess game. And just when you think you’ve wrapped your head around its mechanics, it hands you a new team of mechs that plays completely differently. Runs are short, but meaningful, and the optional challenges (that let you unlock more new teams) push you out of your comfort zone to learn new strategies. Not only is it my favorite game of the year by a country mile, it might be one of the best games of all time.