#moras writing

[violettathepiratequeen]

Only Murders in the Building said in their second episode that the key to a successful crime drama is to make the audience care about the victim.

And by golly they've successfully done that for five damn seasons.

Yes I said five.

[crsssie]

baby, you can find me under the lights

word count: 9.1k

warnings: slow burn, mentions of drugs

summary: Ah, it feels good to be loved.

Hard. This is. Hard.

Jaime stumbles over his words as Khaji Da warns him for his spike in heartbeat, his head spinning as you stare up at him, blinking owlishly. You look pretty. Seriously, you look gorgeous. He's stumbling over his words just to ask you where his building was. It wasn't even as if he was asking for your number! Seriously, do people like you even exist—

You tilt your head at him, blinking.

asking you to repeat yourself.

nevermind. you do.

"Ah, uh, dios mio—" He pauses. "do you know where the school of biology is? It's my first day here, and—"

You point at the building on the other side, and Jaime sighs. "Oh my god. I'm stupid, so sorry—"

You wave your hand dismissively, smile on your face.

smile holds no menace. seeming to say 'me too'

"Thank you, but really—"

You raise a brow at him.

"Not you. Well, thank you, yes, but not the latter part." He sighs. "I've had a long morning."

You wave bye to him as you rush off into the building.

"Is she mute?"

no signs of vocal cord damage

"So she just." Jaime glances down at his watch, cursing as he realizes he's about to be late to class. "I'll ignore it. Put a tab on her."

got it. unusually high levels of dopamine and adrenaline detected in bloodstream.

"Ignore it." Jaime mumbles. "I just think she's cute."

In retrospect, Jaime has no idea why he would need to keep a tab on you, but he finds it especially helpful when he's met face to face with who the scarab calls you, except it's not really you, it's some person with flamboyant makeup drawn over their face, and Khaji Da insists it's you. All Jaime can notice is how you're a metahuman, a voice as honeyed as a siren's. He shakes his head to try and break free of your voice.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" You tilt your head at him, setting him down as you soar back to the supervillain. His jaw stays open before he closes it, realizing the situation.

"Khaji."

a metahuman

"Well, I can't have her fight alone, can I?" Jaime sighs as his armor clasps on, flying next to you, lending you a hand as he blocks a punch. "Having trouble?"

"Appreciate the help." You smile, landing a kick to the villain's face, stepping on it as you send him into the ground. The back of your heel causes a crack to ring and the man's face to cave in, and Jaime stares, eyes wide as Khaji Da tells him that the man's alive and has a high chance of survival. "Are you visiting? Does my city owe a member of the Justice League something?"

"No," Jaime shakes his head. "I... I live here now. I just moved."

"You... alright." You mumble. "For all I know, you could be moving here for retirement."

"Hey, I am not that old." Jaime gasps. "I'm—"

Khaji Da stops him before he can reveal his age. A smarter choice. Jaime really needs to fix his blurting problem.

You raise a brow at him, leaning closer, tilting your head. "You're...?"

"Uh, top secret information." He smiles, trying his best to focus on your face and not the way you were practically sticking on him. It was bad enough that he thought you were cute. He did not need another reason for being head over heels in love with you. Seriously, he's not the type for love at first sight, what kind of witchery do you have?!

You huff, leaning back. "Alright. You do you."

"Are there many villains here?"

"Not really. Just pigface here." You point at the man under you. "Though, you'll probably bring in your fair share of supervillains, huh?"

"I don't have that many."

"Still have some." You hum. "Alright. See you around, beetle boy. I wouldn't recommend sticking around. The police kinda hate us."

Jaime looks at the unconscious man as you fly. "Wait, do we—"

The police arrive as he's cut off, and he races off himself. He did not want a bullet shot at him, but he also did not want to deal with the police so early on in a new city. That could be saved for some time that wasn't right now.

Besides, he has his bio seminar to get to. Seriously, what is with him and arriving late to class?

Turns out, Jaime bumps into you much more than he thinks is coincidental.

First, the two of you bump into each other at the cafeteria, then the two of you meet at the library, then at the gym, and then you share a building at the dorms? Seriously, what is with the two of you and meeting? At this point he might as well call one of you a stalker, and it is most certainly not him. He doesn't think it's you either, especially with how unnerved you are while bumping into him. All you do is wave hello with a small smile and head the other way. Seriously, he was looking creepy. You were cute, he did NOT want to be scaring you off before he could even befriend you. Besides, it's not like his body is— it's... Khaji Da, isn't it.

"¿hermano, la estás acosando?" Jaime mumbles to the scarab. boy, are you stalking her?

I don't know what you're talking about

"'kay, can we cut it down? Seriously, I'd like to not see her every day."

I thought you liked her.

"Thinking someone is cute does not equate to liking them." He groans, swiping his student ID to get his lunch.

I am simply creating more opportunities for the two of you to meet

"Can you not control my body for something like this?" He takes his salad, running a hand through his hair as he crashes into someone. "Oh, I am sosorry—"

You blink up at him, shaking your head.

she says it's fine

"Are you sure? Let me know if I can do anything to make it up to you, really." Jaime nods.

You wave your hand, dismissing him as you head upstairs to find an empty table.

increased heart rate detected

"Oh, dios, please be quiet." Jaime rushes out of the cafeteria, embarrassment all over his face, cheeks flushed with blood.

As he reaches his dorm, he hears the sound of something going off almost comically, and he freezes. Didn't you mention that there weren't many supervillains other than the guy that was arrested recently? Come on.

The cafeteria you were just at. No signs of human damage. The girl is fighting.

Jaime sets his salad down, opening the window, and jumping out, his suit sending him straight to the cafeteria, blasting a piece of wood out of the way as your hand finds itself around the man's throat as Jaime sets down next to you.

"I thought you said there weren't many supervillains here?" Jaime's arm shifts into a taser as he presses it to the man, knocking him out.

"But plenty of frustrated college students." You smile at him. "this one tried bombing the building."

Jaime blinks.

heartbeat steady. Not lying.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, beetle boy." You roll your eyes.

"Do you not have a name?"

You tilt your head at him. "And if I do?"

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Who knows. Maybe you'll commit identity fraud." You smile, tapping his chest twice. "Though, you seem a little too tall to steal my identity."

"I won't, so could I please know the name of the partner I'll be working with to fight crime?" Jaime holds his hand out for you, leaning down slightly to stare at you.

"Kinda hard to tell sincerity through those gorgeous yellow eyes of yours, beetle." You give him your hand anyway, shaking it. "Unidentified. Though, the police like calling me Euterpe."

"Like the greek muse?"

"Yeah. In charge of music and stuff." You shrug. "You're just blue beetle because of the suit, huh?"

"Yeah." He pauses. "Are the police coming?"

"They always are." You hum. "Two minutes, maybe."

"How do they know when you don't call?"

"I don't need to." You tilt your head slightly. You point at the students outside the building that Jaime had passed. "They do."

"Are you the school mascot or something?"

"Time's up." You smile. "Alright beetle boy, time to get going."

You speed off into the air as Jaime chases after you. "You didn't answer my question!"

"You have a lot of questions for someone who's just arrived." You come to an abrupt stop as Jaime freezes into place.

"Seriously, how has the Justice League not cataloged you? They sent me a list of everyone in the city and—"

"God, B's just as crazy as I remember him being." You grimace. "I'm not on the catalog— too secretive for his liking. B would really rather not catalog me."

"Why's that."

You pause. "I have a handful of mutant genes instead of just one. Weird superpowers come with all of them. If you really want my file, go find Red Robin at the Titans' tower. He ran a whole sampling of my DNA and everything. The Titans Archive has my file."

"Why doesn't Batman have it?"

"Mm..." You pause. "No time?"

"That man is retired. You have to have a better explanation than just that."

"Can we take it to the dorms? I'm at the point where I think you know who I am anyway." You sigh. "You keep bumping into me on a campus this big. You're practically stalking me."

"I'm not—"

"You're going to have to prove that to me. I see you everywhere." You sigh. "I have a single complex, come on."

"Did you win the lottery?"

"You can do a lot with a voice like mine." You drop onto the roof, suit coming off as you do.

"How'd you get that off?"

"Illusion magic."

"Seriously, you're practically a green lantern." He grimaces. "Or a magician."

"Your suit just came off too, you know?" You raise a brow, swiping your ID. "Does the beetle do that? Can I see the beetle?"

"Next thing I know you'll be asking me to strip for you." Jaime jokes.

"Oh, well, not that I'd be against that, but—" You shut up when you pass a student.

"At least you have a filter." He mumbles.

"How old are you anyway? I was going to ask if you were a fourth year, but from the way you don't know where the bio building is, there's no way you are." You glance at the signs.

"First year."

"Oh, so like, fresh out of high school?"

"No, I took a gap year." he hums. "Now I'm trying to finish college and get into dental school."

"Oooh, big dreams." You mumble. "I'll let you practice on me when you're in dental school."

"It isn't cosmetology, you know?"

"Eh." You shrug. Your keys materialize in your hand as you unlock the door to your dorm. "The fake teeth can only last you for so long. Welcome to my dorm."

"What kind of luck do you have?"

"I told you. My voice." You smile. "Would you like to see it in action? Have the scarab read my lips for you. You'll need earplugs. What's your Starbucks order?"

"A cappuccino. Wh-what are you doing?" Jaime chases after you as you step out of your apartment again, knocking on the door across the hall. You toss him earplugs with a wink, knocking on your neighbor's door. Jaime puts them in as he watches you.

"What?" A guy opens the door, visibly annoyed.

Your lips part, sickly sweet words spilling down your tongue, and Khaji Da speaks.

"could you get me a grande cappuccino and sweetened peach green tea from the Starbucks downstairs? Set it by my door and knock when you finish, please?" You bat your lashes at him twice, and the guy blinks back.

Jaime watches in shock as something glazes over the guy's eyes and he nods at you, heading inside and coming out with his phone in hand, locking his door as he heads down the hall.

"That's one of my abilities." You smile. You reach for the plugs in his ears, and he flinches back slightly, pulling them out himself. "Sorry. Am I too much?"

"It's really hard to have a normal heartbeat around someone like you."

"Honored you would think of me as hot." You smile. "Do you want anything to eat? I cook."

"You got tamales?"

"Oh, I do! I just dropped by one of the cultural clubs' president's house, and she came back with a bag of them. I just don't know how to cook them. Care to help?" You rummage through your freezer, brows furrowed. "Here. Yeah?"

Jaime holds his hand out for you to hand it to him, and he hums. "You got a steamer?"

"Top cabinet on the left of the stove." You hum.

"Do they make you pay utilities here?"

"No." You hum. "Which is why I keep the lights and AC on the entire day. I only turn off the lights in my room when I sleep."

"How much... is it a year?"

You visibly freeze, closing the fridge. "I'd rather not discuss that."

"A lot?"

"I don't look at the bill when I send all of it as fake invoices to Wayne Enterprises." You laugh awkwardly, pulling the steamer out.

warning: rapid heart rate increase.

"Yes, Khaji, I know." He mumbles through his teeth.

"Hm?"

"No, not you." He smiles. "How do I put this? I have a scarab in my back."

"Oh, I know." You smile. "It's pretty... visible when you're at the gym. there's like a huge bump on your back."

"You look at me at the gym?!"

"Hard not to when your back muscles look like that. You got a routine I can follow?" You wiggle your brows jokingly.

"Um, lifting seven hundred pounds worth of metal when a skyscraper falls over."

"Oh, I don't need to do that." You shrug. "I just tell the metal to get out of the way."

"Your voice works on more than just humans?"

You puff your cheeks, looking to the side. "Yes?"

"Do you have like, some cosmic control over the universe or something?"

"I could pull a my little pony princess celestia and tell the sun to go down right now." You bat your lashes innocently.

Jaime blinks owlishly, fear in the back of his mind, confusion on his face. You can what. What in the Mary Sue self insert is that voice of yours? It was like God himself made you extra special, even down to the genetics. A metahuman could have powers that strong? Though, how did you even discover that you could make the sun set? Something else snaps at the thought of your voice being so powerful. Can you command... food to cook?

"Couldn't you just cook the tamales with your voice?"

"I've never really tried that." You pause. "I don't know what works and doesn't work, I just know that I can make the sun set and moon rise."

"YOU'VE TRIED!?"

You ignore him, pulling out a tamale. "Cook, please?"

You toss it in the air as it gets hot instantly, and before Jaime can react, Khaji Da is sending his body to grab a plate and catch the tamale. You blink as Jaime catches it (just barely) and the two of you exhale in relief as Jaime sets the plate down. You blink at the bag and then at the piping hot tamale on the plate, jaw-dropping.

"I never have to cook ever again." You mumble. "Oh my god... this is a revelation. This is so much easier than I ever thought it'd be."

"Though, it might be better to cook it on a plate next time." Jaime mumbles, setting the plate down.

burn detected on left hand.

Jaime grabs your wrist, unfolding your hand as he stares at the wound. "It's hurt."

"Oh, I can just—"

"Do you want me to wrap it for you?" Jaime stares at you, eyes gentle, and your heart soars. Holy fuck he's cute. Yeah, screw the voice thing, he's wrapping it up for you. You're gonna take advantage of this. God, you're going to combust. Holy shit, was someone allowed to look this cute? You need to go outside and touch grass, holy shit.

"Y-yeah! Sure!" You blink, eyes wide. "Please. Thank you. I'll uh, give me a second." You stare at the cabinet. "Open, please."

The cabinet door opens.

"First aid kit, land on the counter, please?"

The kit lands, and you call to close the cabinet as there's a knock on the door. Jaime lets go of your hand, turning to go to the door.

"I'll get i—" You place a hand on Jaime's shoulder, shaking your head.

"Stay, please."

Jaime finds himself stuck in place as you open the door, a smile on your face as you take the drinks.

"Do you need anything else?" It's the same guy as before.

"Nope." You smile. "Thank you."

Jaime watches as the man's eyes return to normal, a confused look on his face as he raises a brow at you.

"Should, I, uh, pay you back for the drinks? How much was it?" You blink prettily at him, and Jaime's heart stops when the guy waves you off.

heart rate quickened. indicated attraction to her.

Holy fuck, were you using pretty privilege on your flatmate?

He leaves eventually, and you place the drinks on the counter. "A hot cappuccino during summer?"

"There's AC in your dorm." Jaime mumbles. "Did you use pretty privilege on him?"

"Oh, silly boy." You laugh. "Everyone thinks I'm the most attractive person ever."

"How?" Jaime tries moving, realizing you had put him in place. "Can I be freed?"

"Thank you for staying still." You smile.

"You don't want a tamale?" He opens the first-aid kit, pulling out the bandages and gauze.

"After I burned myself? I'd rather not." You wince as Jaime disinfects the burn.

"How'd you manage to burn yourself?"

"Erm... not sure!" You hum. "but I cooked the tamale."

"Let's cook it the normal way next time." Jaime mumbles. "You want me to cook anything?"

"Can you cook?"

"Yes, most definitely." Jaime wraps your wound gently, brows pulled into a worried frown. "worked at my tía's diner over summer during my gap year."

"Wow, sounds fun." You hum.

"You ever worked?"

"No." You mumble. "My work is my superhero business. I have a gofundme to help. You'd be surprised at how long of a way a little fanservice goes. Can you just boil me some soft eggs?"

"Runny yolk?"

"Semi." You hum. "I have a sauce in the fridge to marinate the eggs in. Thank you."

"Do you enjoy cooking? You have every single sauce and spice I can imagine." Jaime rummages through your cabinet. "Also, what did you mean earlier by everyone thinks you're the most attractive person ever?"

"Beauty is subjective— yeah, I like cooking— so if I tell myself that I want to be the prettiest person in the world, then everyone sees me slightly differently. It's a little manipulative, but it gets the job done." You mumble.

"What about the creeps?"

"I can fight." You hum.

"Is there a reason you need to come off as that way?"

"Only when I'm in suit." You hum. "I look perfectly plain when I'm out of the superhero face."

"And what's this fanservice of yours?"

You smile, your cheeks pulling up but your eyes unchanged. "My onlyfans is linked on my twitter."

Jaime chokes as he turns off the sink, neck-snapping to look at you. "W-what?"

"That was a joke." You hum. "It's just a gofundme. I'm... I'm close with a good number of fans. It's like Superman, you catch my drift?"

"He does have a good relationship with the citizens of Metropolis."

"Yeah, and Batman's hated by all." You snort. "That's a joke. Gotham would kill for that man."

"They would?"

"Ask a Gothamite what they think about Batman and you get an annoyed grunt, but lasso them with the lasso of truth, and they'll admit that they're actually grateful for the man." You lean on the palm of your head. "Thank you for making me the most attractive person ever."

Nothing changes for Jaime as he blinks at you. He blinks a couple more times at you, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him, but you look the exact same. The realization causes a smile to break onto his face slowly, eyes warm and affectionate as he looks at you. You're already pretty to him. How beautiful.

"So? You like how I look?"

"You look the same." Jaime hums, jumping when the water nearly boils over, opening the cap as he places the eggs in. "shit."

You laugh, chest flushed with warmth, shy smile on your lips. Your chest feels overwhelmingly full, like a piece of it that had been lost was returned to you, making you whole again. God, he can't just say that to you and expect you to not fall for him. You grimace inwardly. Falling at the slight sign of affection. How classic of you. Though, your chest is warm, and that was always a good feeling to have. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He blinks at you.

increasing heart rate—

"Please, not now." He hisses.

"Does the beetle speak?"

"To me." Jaime mumbles. "He's like a voice in my head."

"Could I suggest putting an earbud in to pretend you're on the phone so you don't look insane?"

Jaime pauses. "Huh. I've never considered that."

"Yeah." You mumble. "It gets people off your ass."

"How come you don't speak when you're walking around?" He raises a brow. "I thought you were mute until the scarab identified you as the hero."

You shrug. "It's easier."

"Easier for what?"

You shrug. "People don't talk to you much when you don't speak."

"Do you want me to peel the eggs for you?" Jaime lifts the pot into the sink.

"Oh, no, it's fine. Thank you." You hum, getting out of the seat. You wave him off as you pour the water out, focusing on the eggs. "Peel the shell off cleanly, please."

The eggshells detach perfectly, and you open your fridge, pulling out the sauce.

"Are you in any clubs?"

"Acapella Choir and Writer's United." You mumble. "I also hang out with the kids in musical theater."

"I forgot that was a major here."

"We're a surprisingly art-oriented school for one with such a good stem program." You seal the container again, putting it in the fridge. "Clean yourselves, please."

The dishes turn clean with a swirl, and you place them in the dish machine to dry.

"What's the magic word?" Jaime raises a brow.

You smile. "Can't say it."

"Why not?"

"Then it'll come true." You hum. "I think you've listened enough times for it."

"How come you don't fight crime with it?" He hums. "Your voice would do wonders."

You hum. "It wears my voice out."

"Do you speak to your professors?"

"Yeah?" You raise a brow.

"But you don't speak to students?"

"I speak when necessary." You shrug.

"So telling me where the bio building wasn't necessary?"

"No." You sigh. "Of course not. Oh, right. I never learned your civilian name. I can't just keep calling you beetle boy."

"Jaime. Jaime Reyes." He holds his hand out for you, and you take it, your own name spilling past your lips.

Jaime finds that you're not as much of a red flag as you came off as. You bump into him every now and then, nodding as you do, and then you rush off for your classes. Jaime only ever gets to speak to you while on duty, wrestling the criminals to the ground as you knock them out. He doesn't get to speak to you very much— the police have gotten much faster with arriving at the scene of the crime. Usually, by the time he's chased after you, you've already detransformed and gone to class. Seriously, your schedule is appalling. How many units are you even taking?

"Alright, I know you're in there. Come on, open up." Jaime knocks on your door for the nth time, and you finally, finally open it, sighing at him.

"What do you want?"

"To hang out? Seriously, I haven't made any friends since coming here other than you, and that's only because you and I fight crime together!"

"That does not sound like a me problem." You deadpan.

"I brought tea."

"Oh, why didn't you start with that?" You open the door fully, letting Jaime in. "I'll let you chill for a bit, but I have somewhere to go in a little."

"Where? It's 7pm on a Tuesday." He sets the tea on the counter, raising a brow.

"Frat party starts at 8 but you're technically supposed to get there starting 9. No one ever goes on time." You hum. "Did you want to stay the night?"

"No. That'd be a little..." He pauses. "Mami raised a man better than that."

You bark out a laugh. "That's sweet. Thank your mom for that, please. Not many women end up with such sweethearts of children."

"Are you calling me a sweetheart?" Jaime grins.

"Mm, sure." You hum. "Much better than half of the men on campus, that's for sure."

"Why are you going to a frat party?"

"For the vibes." You hum. "I also got news that something was going to happen there, so you gotta be prepared, you know? It's halfway across campus."

"Should I go?"

"If you want." You hum. "Give me a sec, I'll move everything to the island."

"Do you need help?" He cranes his neck as you disappear into the corridor.

"I'll be fine." You call.

Jaime watches as you move a bag and mirror onto the table, and he watches in silence as you start your makeup.

spike of dopamine in bloodstream. hermano, do something. ask her out.

"No!" Jaime hisses. "she's going to think it's creepy!"

"What's creepy?" You raise a brow at him, amusement on your lips.

"Nothing! Khaji is speaking." Jaime avoids your eyes.

"Is that the beetle's name?" You go back to the makeup.

"Yes."

You hum back, finishing with your makeup, pausing.

"Couldn't you have the magic do it?"

"Yeah, but," You sigh. "it only knows how to do my hero look."

"It's taught?"

"I can make it copy images on a screen, but I dont have that many products to work off of." You hum. "You want me to do your makeup?"

"I'm good." Jaime mumbles. "Is a frat party even safe?"

"Depends on the person. Is it icky? Yes. Is it fun to feel individualization in a crowd of strangers? Also yes." You hum.

"Don't you get hit on if you..." He pauses. "no. you're not in costume."

"I sure am going to get hit on if I transform, though." You hum. "It's happened before. They like spiking poison or toxins in frat party drinks. Can Khaji Da scan water for toxins?"

yes.

"He said yes." Jaime mumbles.

"Then go with me?" You smile at him awkwardly. "Please? Maybe you'll make friends there too. Hm? Didn't you come in complaining about how you didn't know anyone here?"

Jaime sighs. "I'm not drinking, though."

"Oh, yeah. Your boundaries still matter, obviously." You pause. "Don't Mexican families throw huge parties and drink there?"

"Sorry, let me rephrase that. I'm not drinking frat house beverages." Jaime corrects himself. "Someone's saliva could be in it for all I know."

"'kay, yeah, that makes sense." You mumble. "Are you just going to go in that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Mm." You think for a moment, staring at Jaime. "You know what. Yeah. The shirt's fine. Unbutton two buttons and you'll be fine."

"Huh?"

"Do you need me to do it?" You raise a brow. "They won't let you in if you look too formal, but they also won't let you in if you look too casual. Well, that's a lie. They'd let you in if you were in a tank top, but since you can't... at least try and look like a frat boy."

"I'm hurt." Jaime scoffs as you step close to him.

"Can I?"

"Do what you must."

You reach a hand into his hair, messing it up first, blinking slowly at his face. Jaime holds his breath as you're practically stuck on him, chest pressed to his, and he swears his heartbeat is scarily quick right now. He stares down at your eyes as you stare at his hair, fingers pulling gently to mess it up more than it was. In fact, he should be—

warning: quickened heart beat.

There it is.

Jaime curses under his breath, and you stop, blinking up at him as he leans back.

"Hm?"

"That's the scarab. My heart's beating too fast." He avoids your gaze again, looking up at the ceiling.

"So like, a defense mechanism?" You tilt your head. "Can I... unbutton your shirt slightly?"

"Yeah, uh, sure." He holds his breath as you slide it open slightly, freezing in place when you stare at his chest for a little too long. "You alright?"

"Yeah." You mumble, pulling away, hiding your face. "Yeah. I'm fine. God."

detected increased heart rate.

"You sure?" He tilts his head to get a better look at you, noticing your skin has flushed darker. Ah. So you were flustered too.

"You wanna go?" You finally speak up. "We should get going. It's across town."

"We can fly there. Well, you can."

"I'm not flying for a frat party."

"And you'll walk?"

"At least I won't be drunk." You mumble. "Besides, I can just sleep on one of the benches here. At least we don't have anti-homeless architecture on this campus."

"What's with all the crime on campus anyway?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Everyone here is tied into crime in some way." You smile, opening your fridge. "there's correlation between creativity and sociopathic tendencies, after all."

Jaime blinks slowly. "What."

stable heart beat. Not lying.

"Heros end up desensitized too." You pull out the whipped cream, squirting it right into your mouth as you swallow. You lick your lips as you set the bottle back into the fridge."Come on."

The school is shaped more and more like a prison, Jaime thinks. The architecture is shooting proof, and all the windows are bulletproof. He wasn't sure if it was because of safety worries or the amount of crime. The school wasn't known for crime, so it was a little strange being told that petty crime was common in the school. Well, maybe it was. It's probably less than whatever's going on in Gotham anyway.

"Is... petty crime common here?" Jaime winces at how uncertain he sounds.

"It's..." You pause. "It's not that common, actually. It just seems that ever since you came, our crime rate has gone up."

"Pinning the blame on me?" Jaime fakes offense.

"Yeah." You joke. "Any plans on how to make friends?"

"Any tips?"

"Find the people who are in the corner." You mumble. "Or something. I don't know. Get to know people over drinks. Just have the beetle scan the drinks for anything bad for you."

"What should I not touch?"

"The punch. The beer is usually fine. The beer tends to be canned."

"And the vodka?"

"It's alright. I take a shot of punch for liquid confidence, though." You hum. "But today I can't. I'll just have to shoot straight vodka."

"Or you could just, not drink?"

You shrug, getting to the door of the house, a guy greeting you.

"Ay! You're back!" He grins.

You grin back. "I brought a friend today. That's alright, right?"

"For you, sugarlips? Always."

You lick your lips, winking as you step into the house, Jaime in tow, his hand in yours.

half of the people here's bloodstream have high concentration of alcohol already. beware.

"Got it." Jaime mumbles, following behind you as you squeeze through the crowd. He gets a couple of looks, raised brows in interest and flirty winks. He wonders if you get this often too. Well, if you came and went looking like that, then surely you would. Maybe that's why everyone calls you a nickname. Jaime grows frustrated as he thinks of it. Did you have someone else?

"Sugarlips!" A guy wraps an arm around your shoulder, smiling. "Come back for more?"

"Brought a friend today." You point at Jaime.

The guy doesn't even bother looking at Jaime. "Your boy?"

"Not quite." You smile. "Hands off of him, though. You wouldn't mind telling the girlies that, would you?"

"No worries." He gives you a wink. "Should I tell the boys to keep their hands off too?"

Jaime nods at you, squeezing your hand gently.

"Please." you lick your lips, a smile on your face.

"Watch the punch for me, will you? Don't want anyone drugging it."

"We'll watch the punch." You nod.

"Of course, sugar." He laughs, nodding at Jaime as he heads back into the crowd.

"Well?" You tilt your head at Jaime as he stares at the punch.

Stick your finger in it for more thorough analysis. I can't tell anything without contact.

"Need a cup."

You grab a red solo cup, scoop the drink without the ladle and hand it to him. Jaime blinks twice at the liquid before giving up. Oh well, it's a frat party. What can he do about it?

"Is it always this messy?" Jaime sticks his finger in, waiting for the analysis.

"Occasionally it's worse." You hum. "So? Did you find anything?"

Unknown aphrodisiac toxin detected. Rohypnol drug detected. Liquid alcohol content 37%.

"Rophynol and an unknown aphrodisiac." Jaime repeats. "Alcohol content is 37%."

"Remove the flunitrazepam from the punch, please." You mumble quietly, the water swirling slowly from people's drinks. The powder hangs in the air as you open a plastic bag. "put the flunitrazepam into the bag, please." The powder swirls into the bag, and Jaime watches as you tuck it into your pocket. The crowd of people with drinks don't notice at all, not even when something bubbles out of their drinks.

"Then?" He raises a brow.

"Go have fun." You hum, flicking the cap off of the vodka. "Or have Khaji Da scan the people to figure out who decided to put the date rape drug in the punch, but not my problem." You pour yourself a shot. "I already figured it out when I walked in."

You tilt your head as you watch the vodka pour into the glass, eyes glistening as you do, eyes gentle and tired, and Jaime finds something in your eyes. He's not quite sure what it is, the spotty lights in the living room painting your skin different colors, but there's something about you, he supposes. Even in the way he takes your outfit in, finally, staring too hard at your face. Reds and greens dance across it, leading down to your shoulder. Something glistening on your arm catches his attention.

"You have powder on your shoulder." He reaches to wipe it. "who was it?"

"It's fine." You brush him off, putting the vodka back on the table. "Want a shot?"

Jaime furrows his brows, your name slipping past his lips. "who was it?"

Your name sounds like honey coming from him as you down the shot. God, you were down bad.

"Seriously, who is it?" Jaime knows at this point, only one person had touched your shoulder, but he wants to hear it from your mouth.

"Guy who had his hand on my shoulder. That's why he asked me to guard the drinks. Be right back." You smile at him, slipping into the crowd, going to find the girl he had his hands on.

Jaime tries following after you but loses you in the crowd, grimacing. You were probably looking for the guy who drugged everyone. "Khaji. Find her."

upstairs bedroom second on the left.

Jaime squeezes past the crowd to try and find you. If the guy was capable of drugging the punch, then god knows what he was capable of doing to you if you went alone. Sure, you can fight, but what if something does happen? He didn't want you getting hurt, even if he knew you could fight without a problem.

sounds like you like the girl

"Khaji, can you please," He slams the door open, staring as you have the man on the ground, heel pressed on his windpipe, the girl still unconscious on the bed. Jaime lets out a breath in relief as he steps over to you, Spanish spilling past his lips before he can think too much. "gracias a dios. ¿mi vida, qué demonios estás haciendo? ¡No huyas solo!" thank god. my life, what are you doing? Don't run off by yourself!

You blink in surprise as he breaks into scolding in Spanish, grabbing you by the arms, tilting your head to get a proper look for any bruises that could have landed on you, cursing you out for running off on your own, and you blink trying to keeping up with his words. At some point you press a hand over his mouth, pointing down at the man under you. Jaime follows your finger, remembering that you're stepping on a man's neck. You... crazy. Only you. He hears Khaji Da laugh in his head.

"We've really got a knack for speaking when you have a man's throat under your foot, huh?" Jaime mumbles, furrowing his brows. "Let him go."

"You called me mi vida." You press your chest to his, staring at him, batting your lashes. The pet name sends blood rushing to your head, drunk on the way it sounded so sweet falling from his lips. Did he mean it? Did he mean it when he called you his life? "Did you mean it?"

"It slipped out."

from your unconscious maybe.

"Khaji, shut up." Jaime hisses, face impossibly flushed. "Get off the man before he dies."

You step off of him, the man long passed out.

"Is he still breathing?"

breathing: stable

Jaime exhales quietly.

"So? Mi vida?" You smile cheekily, pointing at yourself. "Am I tu vida?"

Jaime tries avoiding the topic. You're a little tipsy right now. "You literally had a single shot. How are you already–"

blood alcohol content from breath: .06

"Seriously?!" Jaime grimaces as you stare up at him, expecting an answer, cheeks puffed out and frown on his face. "Will you get off of me if I say yes?"

"Depends if you're being honest." You grin, pressing your ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "Push me off if you're uncomfortable."

"Seriously, you're drunk. You're probably not even conscious of half of the stuff you're doing." Jaime peels you from him, throwing you over his shoulder.

"EEK!! I'm being carried like a sack of potatoes!" You shriek, laughing. The alcohol is really messing with your brain. "I'll stay in the room. Go call for the guy at the door we greeted earlier. He'll know how to deal with this."

"I thought frathouses let things like this slide?" He sets you down on the bed next to the girl.

"Not this one. Especially not when he actually planned on doing something." You beam at him, eyes closed, lips quirked upward. "So, could you?"

"If you say the magic word." He tilts his head. He could have a little fun with you.

"That would make it a command." You mumble. "How about something I can give you? Go make a friend downstairs. Give him a friend, p—"

Jaime presses his hand to your mouth. "I don't need the help, thank you."

You blink slowly at him, licking his palm.

"Where'd you even learn that?!" He pulls his had away with a grimace.

"Go get the guy at the door." You groan. "I want to leave if you aren't going to make any friends."

"I'll take you home and then come back to make some friends if you really want me to." Jaime mumbles.

"It'll be too late by then. The police are coming soon."

"Huh?"

"Noise complaints." You shrug. "They break up around 1 or 2 am, so it'll be soon."

"It's been that long?!"

"Go get the guy from the door!" You land in the bed with a thud, sighing. "God, before I kiss you or something. Hurry up."

"Huh?" Jaime freezes in his tracts, turning around to stare at you.

"Don't you wanna know why they call me sugarlips?" You pout, resting your pinky on your bottom lip as you jut it out. You pull it down with a pop, blood rushing to Jaime's head as you do. He needs to leave before he does something to you. God, his self-control could only last him so long.

"That's definitely the alcohol talking." Jaime mumbles frantically, shutting the door behind him. His ears and face feel eerily warm despite being sober.

Ugh, you were a force to be reckoned with.

He hauls you out eventually, flying you to the dorm instead of walking, worried that you'd get hit on, even as he unlocks the door with his ID, you mumble quietly, half-asleep, half-conscious.

"Wake up. I don't know where your key is." Jaime shakes you gently. "Come on."

"Call me mi vida again." You whisper.

He complies, setting you down, a hand around your waist for support. "Mi vida, get your key, will you?"

You fish out the key, unlocking the dorm room. "Wanna stay the night?"

"I'm two floors down. It's fine." He mumbles.

key replication made

"What." Jaime freezes at Khaji's update. "excuse me?"

"Hm?" You raise a brow, door half-open.

"Not you. Shower and go to sleep when you get in." He sighs. "Yeah?"

"Can I have a goodbye ki—"

Jaime shoves you into your dorm, slamming the door closed as he holds it in place, heart racing, cheeks flushed, lips parted as he desperately tries to catch his breath. God. You are such a force to be reckoned with. He's going to get a heart attack with you around sometime. You're twice as bad when you're drunk. But hell did he want to kiss you. Too bad you were drunk. He couldn't think of taking advantage of you like that, even if you were the one who asked.

Jaime makes a mental note to keep you away from alcohol next time.

The next time you see Jaime, the two of you are actually fighting someone again. Your suit is on, your voice stopping the metal from slamming onto the civilians as you evacuate them. Jaime focuses on the man himself, hand transforming into a blaster as he shoots at the villain. Didn't you say most of the crime was minuscule in comparison with other cities? Well, this was minuscule compared to how many beetles he's fought because of who he was. At least there weren't other beetles in the city.

"I thought you said there weren't supervillains in this city!" He yells at you, voice coming out altered.

"They don't come often!" You yell, turning your attention to the metal. "Fall, please."

The metal slams down onto the ground as you tackle Jaime out of the way.

"Why did you let it fall?!"

"I can't hold things up for too long my throat hurts!" You shriek, turning to face the floating criminal." Pass out, right now, please!"

The supervillain drops on the ground with a thud, and you exhale, faceplanting into Jaime's suit with a sigh. You stay there for a couple of seconds, catching your breath, groaning as you finally sit up straight. Jaime can feel the plush of your skin despite the suit's barrier, and it is not something to feel while the adrenaline after a fight dissolves in his system.

"It was that easy!?" He rests on his arms, suit scanning the unconscious criminal.

"My throat hurts." You mumble, walking over to where the criminal was passed out. "Two minutes until police come."

"I'll fly you." He sits up with you, linking his arms behind your back and under your legs, wings fluttering as he soars into the sky. "Who pays reparation fees?"

"Taxes." You cough. "Ow."

"Stop talking!"

"Stop asking me questions— heUG." You reach to grab your throat, grimacing.

"Alright. Stop talking until we can figure out how to get your voice back without killing you." He groans. "At this point we might as well live on the dorm roof."

You grimace.

"Was your throat damaged when we met the first day?"

You shake your head.

"Oh, so you just hated me."

You lunge at him, annoyed.

initiating rough translation... "Are you crazy!? Do you know how much energy it takes to knock a supervillain out with my voice? You think I'm superman?! I didn't hate you the first day, I just didn't think it was worth the effort!"

"Don't lunge at me while I'm flying!" Jaime shrieks, nearly dropping you as he lands on the roof with a crash. "I didn't know! I can't analyze your entire genetic structure just from looking at you, you know?!"

"would you like to see me naked, then?"

"NO!" Jaime yells, leaning back as you shift on his lap. "Dios, now everyone's going to know that I landed on the roof. Hurry up on back to your place now."

"Jaime, pretty boy."

"What?" He tries to ignore the way the back of his head rushes with warmth at the pet name.

"I can't detransform without my voice."

Jaime freezes in place, blinking at you slowly as he lunges to grab you by the shoulders. "Speak. Detransform right now—"

"I CAN'T."

"You know," Jaime pauses. "I'm impressed that you can tell, Khaji. How are you reading her body language so well?"

unlike you, I have been observing her body language. she is a suitable person for you to date.

"WHAT." Jaime chokes, coughing to get the spit caught in his throat out. You jolt as he rests his head on your chest, coughing profusely.

Jaime, I need to see her in order to translate. Though, her heartbeat is abnormally fast.

Jaime looks up at you, where you're looking down at him, lips parted in embarrassment, eyes wide with confusion, skin flushed with warmth. Jaime probably doesn't look much better under the suit right now, his own heart fighting to break through his ribcage. You're just... so pretty. He stares at you a little too hard, eyes drinking in your figure, forgetting how close you are to him.

"Can I kiss you?"

That cuts Jaime out of his thoughts as he leans away from you. "I did not need to hear you ask if you could kiss me with the scarab's voice."

You blink at him owlishly, mischief dancing in your eyes.

"No." He answers. "Not with Khaji's voice asking me."

"will you go on a d—"

"NOT WITH HIS VOICE ASKING ME!" Jaime cries.

You grin at him cheekily, scooching close to press yourself to his chest again. You rest your cheek on his chest, lips curling upward as you bat your lashes. You like messing with him, he finds.

"Then my own?" Your lips pull further up, and Jaime swallows while staring at your lips.

"You didn't lose your voice?" He stumbles over himself as you blink.

"Not quite. It hurt for a bit, but my self-healing ability is quite impressive too. So?" You hum. "Can I?"

"Yeah, sure, mi vida," He mumbles, the helmet on his head coming off as he presses his lips to yours, lashes fluttering as your body arches to sink into him. His hand wraps around your wrist as he leans a little more in to get a better taste of your lips, another hand moving to the back of your head, tilting it as he stares at you through his lashes. He understands your nickname now, your lips do taste sweet, even when you haven't downed whipped cream. Ugh, he could spend eternity just making out with you, slowly, gently, without a care in the world. He pulls gently on your hair, leaning further in as he licks your bottom lip, exhaling more as his tongue darts past your pretty lips into your mouth. Your hand moves to press on his chest, whimpering as he tugs on your hair a little too hard.

You're just so pretty to him.

He lets out a sigh of satisfaction as you pull away for air, lips parted, eyes glazed over, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths.

Jaime reaches to wipe the saliva from your mouth with his thumb, smiling gently as he does.

God. Shit. He's in love with you.

unusually high levels of dopamine and adrenaline detected in bloodstream. quickened heartbeat warning.

"Can I kiss you again?" Jaime whispers.

"Yeah." You whisper back, smiling so hard your eyes crinkle.

Fingers in your hair and lips slotted against yours, Jaime thinks this is heaven for him. Even as the two of you have detransformed, still stuck on the roof of the dorms, your hands on his chest as he sinks further into your touch, smiling against your lips as you hum, the vibrations of your chest traveling to his as a pleasant buzz. Jaime closes his eyes all the way, and he only pulls away when you do, the gentle fondness still present in his eyes as he looks at you.

Yeah. That was what this is. Love.

The same love that was present in his mother's eyes, yet different from the love that was for his family. This love was newer— it made his skin crawl and his heart race, but it wasn't unpleasant. He felt giddy and boyish, falling for someone like this— he felt like it was having a first love, your cheeks flushed and ears red, shy glances stolen in a room full of people, only seeing you under the spotlight when other people existed. Jaime wanted to relish in this forever— the feeling of your skin pressed to his, he would stay with you forever if he could— If you'd let him.

"So?" You smile. "Know why now?"

Jaime pauses to stare at the way the sun shines through your hair and coats you in a glow of gold, his hands still on you as he looks up, a smile on his face. A laugh breaks past his lips at your smile, the happiness from finally having you in his arms sending blood through his body and genuine bliss through his system. Ah. Right. This was heaven to him— to have you in his arms and a smile on his face, the sun not even as bright as the way your eyes crinkle while looking at him, adoring him to the ends of the earth. Ah, it feels good to be loved.

"Mm..." Jaime hums playfully. "Maybe I'll know if you kiss me again."

"God, I think I just unleashed a monster."

"Your fault for being so irresistable, mi vida." He goes back to your lips, humming happily as he does.

Your relationship doesn't change much at first. The two of you are exclusive, yes, but neither of you have put a label on the relationship. Other than the making out in your dorm and occasionally while fighting, not much has really changed. You both have your classes, and you both have things that you are busy with. You wonder if you guys are just friends with benefits, then. Though, judging from the way Jaime looked at you, there was no way the guy thought you both were just friends.

Then, Jaime starts bringing food over to your dorm, clinging onto you while the two of you huddle on the couch with a movie playing in the background. You find yourself in his arms as you listen to his heartbeat at night, and suddenly the single dorm is a double, Jaime squished on your bed next to you, sprawled out with an arm around you lovingly as the two of you sleep. You're... definitely not friends with benefits. You're practically dating, huh?

"I'm here!" Jaime calls from the door, holding a bag of takeout with a bouquet in the other arm.

"What is it today?" You take the flowers from him with a smile.

"Bart visited today." He hums. "Said there was a good bagel place downtown he visited before."

"Ooh." You mumble. "Did you try it?"

"No, but I ordered something I figured you'd like." He takes out the boxes, sliding yours to you, smile on his face.

"Jaime, can I call you mi amor?" You tilt your head.

"You can call me whatever you want, mi vida." He hums. "Just you."

ew.

"Khaji, shush." He hisses at the beetle.

You open the takeout box, grinning at the bagel. "We should make this here."

"We should." He hums. "You'd probably make a better one too."

"Should have Bart judge it." You chew on the bagel, pausing. "Are we... dating?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't we be?" Jaime pauses. "Oh. I forgot to ask you out, huh? Wait, I can prepare something nice and then as—"

"Jaime, go out with me?" You tilt your head, smile crinkling your eyes, your cheeks pulled upward with a foolish grin.

"Yes." he breathes. "Yes, mi vida. Forever and always, it's a yes."

You hum, pulling a flower out of the bouquet and tucking it behind his ear. "There. Now we're actually dating."

"Mi vida." He spins your chair to face him, arms gripping both sides, smile on his face. "Can I have a kiss?"

"For you? Always yes." You set the bagel down, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Though, I probably taste like bagel right now."

"You always taste good." Jaime mumbles, pressing his lips to yours.

And it's gentle, the way that Jaime loves. He presses his fingers into your skin and wraps his arms around you, relishing in the warmth you give him, and to him, you can do no wrong. Even if you make mistakes, he's there for you, slowly, gently, always there to anchor and weigh you down. You'll do the same for him, fingers threading through his hair, skin warm on his, a smile and voice reserved for him.

and god did Jaime love you for it.

[skyrim-crossing]

No Matter Where You Are (TES Fanfiction)

Hey guys! I'm in the process of scouring my AO3 for things I want to keep, rewrite or give up on so I can post all of my new (and frankly better) pieces. I found one of my most recent fanfictions on there, and as such, it is the highest quality content I currently have uploaded to my account. Thought I would share it here!

I am still working on my overhauled introduction to Obsidian, so please be patient and I hope you can enjoy this with her old context lmao.

Going to tag some of my beloved mutuals, apologies if I'm being annoying here 😭🩵 @lady-iizsil @hircines-hunter @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @skyrim-forever @pocket-vvardvark @lucius-the-sinful @hadvarandralof @sulphuricgrin @arugullla

Thank you so much for anyone who decides to read! Stay hydrated, stay safe, have a great day and blessed be! <3 - Ash

The two moons loomed high in the night sky. The peaceful ambience of nocturnal creatures filled the air between the swaying of the grass and trees, creating a serene, mystical environment. These seemingly magical places were hidden by a blue mist and intangible barriers. Mortals lived amongst these structures of magnificence and mystery and were oblivious to their existence. The only ones who had access to them were the ones who knew where to find them...

Read here

[devout-of-the-elder-scrolls]

Positive Aspects of Daedric Princes and Things They Help With

This post is primarily UPG, and focuses exclusively on the positive aspects of these wonderful beings and what they can do for you, so while I acknowledge the negative aspects, it's not the point of the post. This is in no way an exhaustive list of everything. I use the term "follower" in here to refer to worshipers, deity workers, etc as a general catch-all. Sorry if it's not accurate to your relationship! /gen

Read more due to being a long post.

AZURA

A very calm, collected, loving individual who wants followers to love themselves the way She loves them.

Teaches divination and warns us mortals about upcoming events that may harm us. Focuses a lot on growth, healing, and progress within life. Blesses mortals with divinatory powers and prophetic dreams. She's really lenient and patient.

BOETHIAH

Generally protective and shares His wisdom to all who seek it. Is stated to be the patron of rebellious exiles in TES lore, and accepts those who have been exiled for one reason or another.

Teaches and preaches strength and personal power to a high degree. Getting vengeance and standing up against the cruel and those who wish to hurt you. Teaches a lot of baneful related magic.

CLAVICUS VILE

Very active in the lives of followers, and often works to help them achieve their goals and what they want. While deals with Clavicus tend to have you receive in a way you didn't quite expect, They usually work out in your highest good. Quite silly and goofy overall.

Doesn't sit by while followers are upset and enjoys cheering up followers into better moods. Spends time with followers when upset or hurting. Fulfills deals and grants wishes.

HERMAEUS MORA

Answers questions and delivers knowledge easily and quickly, and with just an offering in return. Calm, collected, and quite chatty when you get It going. Protects mortals from knowledge they're not meant to know that would genuinely harm them.

Teaches about pretty much anything. Generally calm and collected, making a good person to debate with, such as pros/cons on a situation, or anything else like that. Works hard to beat ignorance in all forms, and will educate followers in places their knowledge lacks even without being asked.

HIRCINE

Calm, collected, quiet, and acts as a pack leader. Cares a lot about followers, and is very clear about what They want. A very calm worship/working with/etc experience.

Brings in more people into a followers life that truly care for them and want their joy. Helps with achieving goals. Helps with anything life related, guiding to a better future.

JYGGALAG

Acts as a stern yet kind teacher. Will make it clear to a follower what they need to do for each thing.

A great god for the neurodivergent, especially ones stuck living in very neurotypical pushing lives. Puts things in your life in order, and makes sure you have a peaceful place to live within, or at least as close as They can get it.

MALACATH

Protective and strong-willed, and generally cares a lot about building people up in their circles and helping them regain themselves.

Regaining personal power, and establishing yourself within society. Helps with rebuilding from the worst of the worst, and with rebuilding your status/reputation after someone harmed it. Protects against abusers, and protects people who have been betrayed. Ensures followers keep their oaths and that those around them keep theirs to them. Helps with lying and deception for the sake of self-protection. Helps with curses and other baneful magic.

MEHRUNES DAGON

Has a lot of interest in making things better for people.

Helps with change and revolution. Aids with making plans for such changes. Helps with destruction of those who have wronged followers. Helps with big shows of power and greatness, helping a follower to assert themselves and their capabilities to others. Protection from natural disasters to followers.

MEPHALA

Watches over a followers life in every way, and often notices problems very quickly. Very sly and cunning, often using this to a followers benefit.

Teaches skills to avoid enemies and harm. Helps uncovering plots against followers, and rats out those who wish to harm them. Helps reveal secrets that are kept that don't help ones highest good. Helps with gender related things.

MERIDIA

Cares a lot about followers and their safety, wanting a better life for all of them.

Freeing followers from struggles and difficulties. Brings light onto situations that require of it. Helps re-find the joy in life and in living. Helps with surviving day to day and dealing with life matters.

MOLAG BAL

Very, very protective.

Protects against abuse and helps with vengeance. Fights back against bigotry and discrimination. Teaches to be strong and grand, and helps with facing fears. Provides guidance about how to be strong and with strength.

NAMIRA

Watches over a followers life, much like Mephala, to help notice when things go wrong.

Helps those in deep need, be it from poverty or anything else. Helps with that you can't discuss with everyone/anyone. Overcoming anxiety and fears. Finding beauty in things you didn't think you could before.

NOCTURNAL

Calm, collected, and generally kind to followers that listen to Them.

Revealing hidden things, and finding lost things. Being hidden from harm, cloaking during spells, and keeping cruel spirits from even noticing you. Uncovering mysteries and that which confuses you, bringing enlightenment.

PERYITE

Cares a lot about illness and healing in all sorts of ways.

Healing from illness, and managing chronic illness or physical disability. Accepting the above three things when they occur to you. Dealing with and finishing tasks, especially ones you don't want to be doing.

SANGUINE

Generally a kind and sweet person when in a good mood.

Succeeding in all forms of interpersonal endeavors. Managing addiction. Obtaining an lot of something you want.

SHEOGORATH

Very silly and goofy, doesn't take things too seriously unless it really calls for it.

Managing mental illness and neurodivergency, and accepting it too. Finding fun and having a good time. Cheering up during hard times.

VAERMINA

Rather friendly to followers, and enjoys helping them out.

Delivers messages through dreams and nightmares. Helps with dream/nightmare deciphering. Delivers omens and warnings to followers. Deals with corruption.

GENERIC THINGS TO NOTE

They all work to protect their followers in some way, in some way that relates to their sphere.

They'll all teach Daedric magic to those interested in it.

[thelurkershideout]

tes summerfest day 1

breath or forbidden

Notes: Brief description of weird and unnatural eyes. No other warnings I can think of.

Miraak had to die. Solsthiem was only the beginning. Hermaeus Mora could not be trusted, but she had little choice.

Staring at the dim candle before her, Adri reminded herself over and over. Miraak had to die. It was the only way. Exhaustion clung to her. Three days since the standing stone. Three days since she heard his voice echo through her mind. Her eyelids grew heavy. 

No! She could not sleep, not yet. Miraak had to die, and as Dragonborn she was the only one who could do it.

Adri returned her attention to the book of riddles in her lap, attempting to keep her mind occupied and alert. She slid her finger tips to the edge of the page, flicking slightly to turn it. The yellowed corner bit into her fingertip. Her eyes snapped shut at the sting.

Then, stillness. Her eyes opened slowly, to the sickly green glow of Apocrypha. Something was different this time. Mora's eyes did not speckle the swirling skies. There were no beastly librarians to greet her. No inky black pools. This chamber seemed far more like the libraries she was used to. Skeletal shelves filled with petrified books and well worn but readable tomes. All lining a pathway ending in a … desk?

Adri approached slowly. A single, low burning, candle was all that lit the space. The desk was covered in scrolls and scraps of paper, each covered in fragmented notes, scribbles, and sketches. Plans.

“You should not be here, Dragonborn.” 

She stumbled, steadying herself against the desk as she turned to face Miraak. He loomed at the edge of the candlelight, only a few feet away.

“Are you afraid I'll learn your secrets?” She asked, mimicking the arrogance in his voice from their first meeting. He did not respond, instead inspecting the skies.

“Afraid you might be replaced by someone more powerful?”

“You have no idea -”

“The true power a Dragonborn can wield? You know nothing about me.”

Miraak stepped forward, closing the gap between them in only a few steps. A gloved hand resting on the desk beside her as he leaned into her space, his mask inches from her face.

“You have no idea what Mora is capable of.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Nothing in Apocrypha remains unchanged by his will.”

His free hand pulled the golden mask from his face. Eyes eerily similar to Mora's, pupils elongated and scaleras blackened, stared into her. Ancient burns long since scarred over crept along pale cheeks that had forgotten the warmth of the sun. Black lips, as though permanently stained by ink, closed into a firm frown.

“Run while you still can, little dragon.”

Adri's hand raised to his cheek, stopping herself just short of touching him. Miraak had to… Fingertips brushed against his skin.

“ENOUGH!!” Hermaeus Mora’s voice shattered through Apocrypha as black tentacles wrapped around her wrist and waist. In an instant she and Miraak were ripped away and everything went black.

“Are you alright?” Talvas’ voice seemed muffled as she blinked awake. She waved him away as she pushed herself from the floor. 

“Neloth.” She said as she leaned against her reading table. The wizard did not look up from his enchanting table.

“I need you to help me defy the Prince of Fate.”

[maineshewrote]

My idea for Oliretta for seasons to come. It most definitely will not go this way in canon, but this was too little (or too much) to turn into an actual fanfic, so I’m just putting the draft out here.

Oliretta spend season 5 battling the cons of their long distance relationship (with some heart-warming moments, too, from time to time) and by the end of the season Loretta returns home. She either quits her show for Oliver (which would leave Oliver feeling guilty) or for some other reason (something unacceptable about the production, and Oliver remains guilt-free) or the show moves to New York because the algorithm has picked up that that city is hot right now.

The closer the trio get to solving Lester’s murder, the more there is half-concerned-half-joking talk about who the next body in the building will be, with Oliver getting increasingly irritated at the prospect of his wife being the one. By this time the fans would either be convinced that all this teasing could not possibly lead anywhere or that it’s a massive bad omen.

If the Arconia stalker is caught this season, too, then there should be a joke about the trio finally being able to live their lives without people watching/recording them and what would ever happen in their apartments that anyone would want to take another look at anyway. Which in hindsight is going to be poignant because, obviously, this is the murder building.

Right after the trio catches Lester’s killer, they want to retire to Oliver’s place to recap, record and celebrate, only when they get there the door is open and there’s blood. Oliver, immediately horrified and convinced that his wife has been killed, is petrified with fright while Charles and Mabel rush inside. They find Loretta all covered in blood, staggering towards them, looking equally terrified (cue a chance for Meryl to showcase her immaculate dramatic acting) but there’s another dead body behind her. (This theory does not include who the victim will be, for I haven’t decided yet. I’d like it to be someone less known this time around, because we’ve lost too many friends lately.)

Side note: This would be a great opportunity for the soundtrack to include a darker, dramatic version of Loretta’s theme, starting from the trio entering the elevator to ride to the 10th floor, so that the audience would get to experience some beforehand angst, and culminating at the end with the trio finding Loretta.

Anyway, this gruesome cliffhanger is explained at the start of season 6, after a year of fretting and frantic theorizing for the fans. Loretta found the victim dying in their apartment and tried to help them, but they died anyway. Loretta herself is physically completely unharmed, and she is not the killer either, although the trio pause on that theory for like half a minute.

Loretta spends the season battling the trauma that this experience has left her with and hiding the fact from Oliver, who she thinks has enough on his plate with the investigation. Also, she feels ridiculous for reacting so strongly when the podcast trio have seen so much more death and all seem relatively fine. She confides in Dickie, which strengthens her bond with her son, and Dickie tries relentlessly to encourage her to open up to Oliver about how much the Arconia has started to terrify her (so much so that she’s staying late at work to avoid spending time at the Arconia, which in turn unsettles Oliver). Mabel also tries to ask Loretta if she’s okay, knowing all too well what it’s like to have someone die, basically, in her arms, but Loretta easily brushes off her concern because confiding in Mabel would be guaranteed to get back to Oliver.

The trio include Loretta in the investigation as far as her moments with the victim call for and Loretta tries not to meddle too much, in the process distancing herself from Oliver, too.

By the end of the season Oliver opens up to Loretta about his concern for her safety at the Arconia and Loretta, in turn, finally reveals how much the case has been weighing on her. They end up promising each other to be more open with each other about their emotions, especially the negative ones that they have been trying to spare each other up to now.

Wholesome side detail: Loretta spends the season knitting little clothes for Oliver’s grandchildren, which helps her calm her nerves, prompts sweet family-themed conversations with Oliver and gets Loretta to bond with Mabel over their love for knitting.

[nomstellations]

Tales from the Isles- Payment

"...and then the next thing I knew, I woke up out at the crossroads outside town."

The bartender's face was hard to read behind his golden sunglasses- he simply listened, as it was his job to, to the sorry tale the newcomer regaled him with. Cardia Cove got many newcomers like this, and this Bounsweet girl was no different. "And I don't even know what's with these clothes! I'd never wear something like this....I feel like a doll someone's playing dressup with." To further express her dismay, she picked at the frilly pink and white dress she was wearing. She easily stood at under half his size- she was lucky she wasn't tiny like his baristas were.

"Guess nobody gave you the lowdown, huh? Welcome to Isle Devora, babe. You're a pokemon now, and there's no way out."

Mora's been over this more times than they can count now, but it's a job they don't mind doing outside of bartending. They remember what it's like to be the new kid on the block- they wished then someone would've explained it to them, so they're more than happy to pay it forward now. She looked upset, as expected. Anyone would be after learning that you were randomly abducted to an island in the middle of nowhere that nobody could leave, and also you got turned into some kind of poke-person.

"Aw, chin up doll...see, there's the Explorer's Guild about two streets over that's lookin' into finding a way to escape through the mystery dungeons. They always need helpin' hands- why don't you join 'em and look for a way home yourself? That can't hurt."

The woman looked a bit reluctant, but she nodded. She had no other options at the current, and a source of income that doubled as a chance to get home would be nice. "I'll...think about it, it does sound like a good idea. Staying at this hotel is free, right...? I didn't come here with any money..."

"No money? Well that won't do at all...see, you gotta pay for that drink, dig?" A few emotions flashed across her face. Horror, shame, and embarrassment at the situation at hand. "O-oh, I'm so sorry...! I wasn't even thinking, I was so distraught and...could I maybe help out around here and pay that off somehow?"

"Oh, sure sure. Think I know just the right job for you, too..." It was a good thing then, that she couldn't see the look in his golden eyes. He had carefully kept a major part of the island's culture from her- it was one she would experience sooner or later, and he was one of the safer options out there. Plus, it was nearing time for a lunch break...

He motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen, and she obliged with a soft "Thank you for this". With the door closed (and his tiny eavesdroppers mostly shooed out) he turned to her with a smile. "You can help with lunch, alright? Just sit tight and I'll guide you through it." With a shy nod, he approached her...and with a swift movement, hoisted her up and shoved her head into his maw.

Before she knew it, the only thing she was being guided through was his throat. A fresh, tropical flavor lingered on his tongue; these folk were known for their almost intoxicating flavor and he had always wanted to try one for himself. The dress was a bit annoying to get down, but ol' Mora's had way feistier meals than this. Hungry and quick gulps ushered the newcomer to their new resting place- a stomach that glittered like a hoard of treasure, with what seemed like liquid gold starting to seep into her dress.

"Oh yeah, forgot to tell you this sweetheart..." They paused to burp quietly, noting that the flavor still lingered in his mouth. "On this island here...it's eat or be eaten, literally. You won't really die, don't worry...but someone like you is gonna have to deal with this pretty often, I'd say."

Mora sauntered back to the bar while his prey kicked up a fuss, though the sounds of his stomach grumbling and sloshing muffled most of her protests. She'll be fine, he typically didn't digest...but she was in for a long shift, and the bulge she made was easily hidden beneath the bar counter.

[dragon-ascent]

Mora For Your Thoughts?

Zhongli is always interested in what you have to say, no matter what it is.

★彡penny for your thoughts, zhongli edition.

"Mora for your thoughts?"

You smile up at your husband, whose question has pulled you out of your midday reverie. Zhongli sets the tea tray he’s been holding on the table, settles beside you on the couch with a tender smile and kisses your cheek, eagerly awaiting your answer.

"Well," you begin, "I was wondering why cats get nine lives, but dogs don't."

Zhongli rubs his chin thoughtfully. "A fascinating question. In fact, I seem to recall a story from centuries past that tells the story of a cat and his dog companion, and how they once compete for immortality." He pauses, knowing that the story will take all evening to narrate - which he will only do if you're fine with it.

You rest your head on his shoulder, knowing full well that any story from Zhongli's internal archives is bound to be a treat. "Go on." There is tea, and there is time.

******

"Mora for your thoughts?"

Sitting by the windowsill, you keep your gaze upon the clear sapphire sky up above. "I was just wondering what it would feel like to soar in the sky, unfettered by the troubles of the world below."

Zhongli hums. "If I weren't living strictly as a mortal, I would love to let you ride on my back across the skies."

You turn to him, a big smile on your face. "Wow, really? In your dragon form?"

"Of course, dearest. Though I doubt that would be possible at present, but perhaps one day." He, too, now looks up into the blue, blue sky.

You shake your head. "It's the thought that counts! Just imagining it makes my heart race! I've always wanted to ride you - I...I mean ride on your back while you're in dragon form..."

Zhongli throws his head back and laughs, a pleasant, rumbling baritone that never fails to make butterflies erupt within you. With golden eyes full of mirth, he says, "For now, I shall regale you with descriptions of the sky and clouds from my own experiences. Would you like that?"

"Yes please! Tell me all there is to see and experience alongside the loftiest birds!"

And thus, your husband kisses your forehead and begins to narrate his skyward anecdotes, each description more vivid than the last, until it feels like you are up there in the skies atop a draconic Zhongli, feeling the wind race across your face and the clouds split into tendrils like cotton.

******

You narrow your eyes down at the book you're reading, utterly displeased with the direction the author's taking. Though you suppose it's to be expected of a run-of-the-mill romance... still, you sigh and look up from the novel, finding Zhongli's own inquisitive gaze upon you. He is reading a book as well, but for now chooses instead to focus on his beloved.

"Mora for your thoughts?"

You smile at the fondly familiar question. "I just find it frustrating how, in the novel I'm reading, the main character is more attracted to the man with anger issues and a drinking problem, rather than the level-headed and genuinely kind man."

"Ah, a case of second-lead syndrome, hm?"

"Yup," you affirm, and then sigh again, "it wouldn't be so bad if the romance scenes were at least well-written. None of them seem romantically-charged at all. It's frustrating. There's so many things the author could have done..."

"Is that so?" Zhongli sets aside his book, his eyes carefully trained on you. "Have you any suggestions?"

It's an innocuous question, so you answer without hesitating. "They could've had a scene where they were pressed together in a tight space, or had to share a single bed at a busy inn...and their kissing scenes are drier than the Desert of Hadramaveth! I would've liked it if their kisses had both passion and tenderness."

A soft chuckle, and Zhongli is now cupping your cheek. You lean into his touch contentedly as his thumb draws soothing circles along your cheek. "Shall we enact your romantic fantasies and make them a reality?"

Saying this, your husband kisses you, equal parts tender and passionate. What follows makes sure you know firsthand that what you two have is miles more powerful than words in the pages of a book.

[ican-bebrave]

As a DC Comics Wonder Woman stan, I'm hurt, here's why 😭💔

I don't know why,.. why is this happening? The current DC comics canon is a mess for Diana right now. At the current time, Tom King is the one who writes for Diana and handles her. But, I don't trust this guy at all with my girl, MY DIANA, who is my favourite character/bias in DC Comics. Wonder Woman is my only favourite character in DC, as her stan, seeing my Diana being treated like that, written like that, it just does not sit right with me.

Tom King said he uses the "clay origin" for his Diana run, it's not even CANON anymore. It cannot be seen as canon if it does not use the NEW 52 Zeus origin, but at the same time, he also still implies the new 52 origin (the canon origin, the one which is canon) in his run. He mixes the two origins A.K.A how Diana was born, which is so confusing. He mixes the two origins like a soup, FULL OF uncertainty.

Excuse me Mr. King, the canon origin of Wonder Woman is the New 52 Zeus origin, you cannot just deviate from that principle and blending the two origins like a soup. It's out of the principle! 😭

And he also completely mischaracterizes Diana by making her look weak. IF I'M NOT MISTAKEN, I forget the name of the comic, he, with other writers writes a Justice League comic and in the Justice League membership card.. Diana's powers are written BELOW superman? Like.. really? Her power level is 95 below the mortal alien superman? (No offense to superman btw, but it's a fact superman is an alien, a mortal)

Diana?? Below superman? Her power level is only 95??? FOR GODSAKE? I loathe it.

And the idea that Diana has a child? I'm against it, not every hero needs a child. For someone like Diana who is too divine and powerful, too overpowered, having a child is not suitable

*I'm against the idea of Diana having a child (Btw this is my PERSONAL TASTE btw, MY PERSONAL VIEW/TASTE, so, it's from myself. It's not like.. I would force my taste on other people). But for me personally, diana has a child? BIG NO ❌

Also, there is still another thing out there proving that the current DC Comics Canon, A.K.A Dawn of DC era, is such a mess for Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman's relationship with her hero friends is also being made to such chaos. Proof: when writer Kelly Thompson made The Birds of Prey and Oliver Queen betrayed Diana. Invading her home, Themyscira, and the disrespect for the amazons? Oh, it's horrible

I mean, especially Oliver + Dinah + Barda and Diana are friends; don't ruin their friendship like that!!! It's not a good way to write about a conflict between friends! Betrayal?? Oh my god, it's already lame, dear kelly thompson

Oliver, Dinah, and Barda always really admire, respect, and love Diana. They are basically in love with Diana but yeah of course platonically. And yeah, FYI, Oliver used to have romantic feelings for Diana in the past by the way.

And Kelly ruined Diana's friendship with them, they would never… UHH I HATE IT SO MUCH

[yansurnummu]

ok ok here's the Zerith/Drals fic I promised!

it's 2.4k words of sexual tension & smut. that's all :')

[vosh-rakh]

“What is that?” asked the visitor, one of his dangling arms pointing at Spoons-her-Sugar, who crouched in a corner he had hoped was shadowed enough to conceal him. “One of the Akaviri monkey-men? You really are an eccentric one, Tevethri.”

Sugar shivered, his fur pricking and his tail, which had already been swishing back and forth in the library-dust, straightening out in mild panic as he was acknowledged by the odd stranger. The visitor was supposedly a dark elf, although Sugar couldn’t see much of him beyond his shriveled arms hanging from the insectoid mass that surrounded him. Heavy chitinous plates enveloped him completely, like the armor on a giant kwama warrior. Sugar had heard whispers that this wizard rarely left his shell-carriage in his old age, and that his legs had atrophied as a result. The entire assemblage of shells floated about a foot in the air, suspended by faintly-glowing runes etched deep into the rims of the chitin. It had been a struggle for him to squeeze into the doors of the library. 

Master Tevethri chuckled, glancing at Sugar. “No, Moldayn. That’s just Sugar. She’s my library assistant. My brother-in-law – yes, Sevasi married a Dres for some reason – sold her to me when the Pact formed and outlawed the old tradition.”

All things considered, it had been a blessing and a curse. A blessing because Master Savethi was beyond cruel; a curse because, assuming Savethi hadn’t also sold the others to Telvanni, they had been freed by the Pact, either made citizens or sent home to Elsweyr or Black Marsh. Sugar missed most of them – especially Hears-No-Lies, an Argonian boy a few years his elder whom Sugar was very fond of – but things could be worse. Tending Master Tevethri’s library and fetching books for him wasn’t all bad, and Sugar was fed well enough, and Tevethri’s temper was much more manageable than Savethi’s.

“So it’s not a monkey-man?” Moldayn asked again, his weak, rattling voice magically amplified to be heard from within his shell.

“I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘Tang Mo.’ And no, she isn’t.” Tevethri waved Sugar over. “Come, Sugar. Out of the darkness, and by my side.” Sugar obeyed, slowly walking into the dim lamplight casting grotesque shadows across Moldayn’s shell. 

Tevethri laid a poorly-manicured hand on Sugar’s shoulder. “Savethi told me that she was a breed called…’dog,’ or something to that effect. Something about the moons, some astrological nonsense. She does favor an ape, though, doesn’t she? But rest assured, she is a cat. Smile for me, Sugar.”

Sugar obeyed, parting his lips wide and baring his fangs. No slave in Savethi’s plantation had good teeth, but Tevethri had different tastes. He had Sugar undergo more rigorous dental care and magical procedures to ensure healthy, white teeth.

“Impressive, impressive,” said Moldayn. “But you said she was your library assistant…how?”

“Well, you see, I taught her to read.”

Moldayn’s shell seemed to rattle in a terrible shiver. “What blasphemy, to teach a slave to read! Remember ye not of the Pocket Cabal and its wickedness?”

Tevethri scoffed. “You read too much Tribunal nonsense. There’s no harm in it. After all, she still bears a bracer. We as a race learned long ago to forbid magic to the enslaved.” He grabbed Sugar’s bracered wrist and held it high. “Besides, all she reads is book titles and authors. No harm in that.”

“Time will make a fool of you, Tevethri, I swear of it.”

“But see how useful she is! Sugar, fetch for me…hm…the ‘Compendium of Arcano-matrices,’ volume four, by Mistress Ghenima.”

Silently Sugar nodded and went about his work. With a long arm he reached up several rows of a nearby bookshelf and hoisted himself up. With simple fluid movements he shimmied across the arrayed books, stirring up dust as he scanned their spines. Dissatisfied, he lifted his tail to catch a horizontal rod hanging above the aisle, and swung backwards, letting go of the first bookshelf and catching the one behind. He followed the alphabet down to the geths and slowed down, hunting down his prey. Finally he found the set: an entire shelf lined with Ghenima’s Arcano-matrices, their dull-green leather spines etched with her name and the volume number. He plucked volume four from the row and hopped down to the soft fungal floor.

“Excellent!” said Tevethri as Sugar brought him the book. “Well done, Sugar.” Sugar, though not exactly pleased by the praise, smiled thinly with small satisfaction.

“Pah!” rattled out Moldayn from his floating shell. “Memorizing the arcano-matrices is child’s play, and Ghenima got half of them wrong.” He waved Sugar over. “Come, slave. Let’s test the limits of your master’s library, shall we?”

Sugar looked to Tevethri, the fur on his tail and neck standing on end. But Tevethri just smiled and nodded. So Sugar approached the levitating chitinous mass that was Moldayn and said, “Yes, muthsera?”

Moldayn clapped his frail hands together and chuckled. “She can speak! How delightful. See if you can find…Oh! This is a good one. ‘Daedron Field Fluctuations of the Lower Dragontails on the Second of Sun’s Dawn under Stormy Weather’ by Anonymous.”

Sugar paused to think, pressing his lips together. Had he seen that one before? Well, an order’s an order; he had to look.

The ayems were on the other side of the library, so Sugar scampered down an aisle a few shelves over before clambering up the shelves. There was an extensive section of books with anonymous authorship in the far corner of the room, stacked against the wall. He perused their spines, hoping such a lengthy title might stick out, but he struggled to find it. A rainbow of variously-dyed covers dazzled him as he shifted his eyes from volume to volume in his search, many faded from decades – no, centuries – from either constant use or simple abandonment.

One book struck him as odd. It was pitch black, the creases on its spine almost completely imperceptible in its darkness – and no letters were visible, either, neither title nor author. Sugar pulled it from the shelf to examine the front. No writing there, either. He flipped it over and found its black surface perfectly blank and unmarked. He hopped down for a moment, freeing up both hands so he could look inside for more information.

There seemed to be some mild resistance as Sugar tried to pull the pages apart, almost like it had been glued shut by its ink. Finally, he pried the papers apart and looked inside. He caught a brief glimpse of a densely-scrawled script he couldn’t recognize – no Cyrodiilic letters, no Daedric sigils. 

But then the runes started to glow a bright, garish green, sparking ever brighter, flooding the pages with a sickening vibrant light. Then tendrils of inky blackness swirled, flat on the pages at first, but then emerging into the third dimension and rising like smoke, like seaweed from the ocean floor, reaching upwards towards Sugar’s face until they completely blotted out all light and consciousness.

- - - - -

Sugar awoke standing upright, his eyes already open. Their pupils dilated immediately in the dim light, stretching from slits to wide circles. He was surrounded by books, but this wasn’t Master Tevethri’s library. The walls weren’t lined with bookshelves; the walls were books, bricked with tomes, running black ink their mortar, held down by the sheer weight of knowledge. They were crookedly assembled, the walls uneven and jutting with loose papers half-undone from their bindings. Some of the stacks reached upwards, tilting precariously as if to form a dome above his head, but never meeting in the middle. Yet somehow they didn’t collapse – something else stabilized them. Sugar couldn’t tell if the space above him was a distant, shadowed ceiling, or a dark sky, devoid of stars. 

Blast, she shouldn’t be taking that long. I was nearly certain I had that one. You win this time, Moldayn. Come back now, Sugar. No need to waste time searching.

On the floor – even this seemed to be made mostly of books – was a circular stone platform, ringed by a faintly-luminous green etching, surrounding complicated circuits of strange runes, each glowing and humming ominously. At the center stood a pedestal almost as tall as Sugar himself, and a single black-bound tome rested upon it…beckoning.

Sugar? I said you can come back now. Don’t keep us waiting overlong.

Strange, Sugar thought, that I’m not afraid. He began to approach the pedestal. 

Fine, I’ll just go and get her. She must have gotten distracted.

Just as his claws had almost captured the tome, there was a booming sound above, like a peal of thunder. Sugar looked up, expecting the half-arches of books to tumble down and drown him in paper. Instead he beheld dark masses undulating in the hollow above, barely visible against the blackness. They were moving, not just independently, but in a single direction collectively. Finally, the movement stopped. 

By the Three! She’s…Moldayn! It’s got her, the book, it…it’s in her eyes! It’s in her damn eyes!

Then an enormous eye, seemingly bigger than the world, opened, dull green but intense, its pupil dual-lobed. 

Don’t be silly, Tevethri. You can’t trick me. “In her eyes.” Come back now, you two.

The eye spoke directly into Sugar’s head. “Mortal. You have been summoned.” Sugar could feel something, like an inchworm, exploring the depths of his mind. “Yes…this curiosity without fear. A suitable trait for my purposes.”

Moldayn, for Mephala’s sake! This isn’t a game! I need her! It’s impossible to find good slaves anymore! Get out of that ridiculous thing and come help me! It’s in her…eyes, mouth, ears…By Azura…

“Who are you?” said Sugar.

“To your people I am Hermorah, the King of Tides…the Watcher.” A laugh reverberated throughout Sugar’s skull, like a hollow knocking at the gates. “But you know nothing of your people, of course. Wouldn’t you like to? To be free, to go home?”

You know I can’t leave this shell! Just…pull them out!

“I don’t have a home.” Sugar’s fingers still twitched in the air over the tome.

“Oh, but you could. A real home of your own. A people of your own. Wouldn’t you enjoy that? And more than that. Power. Dominion over those who seek to steal it. Wrath for the slavemasters.” A long black appendage descended, writhing in the air as it approached, until it rested above the tome under Sugar’s hands, pointing. “Within this tome is your freedom. Within it is your power. Within it…is a new service. Service to me.”

I’m trying…they’re too strong! What in Oblivion is this?

Sugar looked down at the black tome. He could see now that it wasn’t completely featureless – there was an implication of meaning, of runes etched for the sole purpose of each individual reading.

He looked back up to the eye. “Give me one more thing.”

The same laughter in his head, but there was a wicked angle to it. “You believe you have bargaining power. Interesting. But I shall entertain your request.”

“Make me a man.”

I think I almost have it…call the healer, Moldayn! She’ll need her!

Hermorah fell silent for a moment, the pointing tentacle stilling. The inchworm probed deeper. “You wish for a new body. One which suits your…disposition better.”

“Yes. I will serve you only as a man. Never a woman.”

“...Very well. When you awake, you shall be born anew in my service. Claim your tome, arcanist. Your new life begins now.”

Sugar’s fingers were aching to finally lay hands upon the book. He snatched it from the pedestal, and the darkness returned…

- - - - -

…and abated. Tevethri was looking up at Sugar, having fallen somehow. His eyes were wide as the moons.

“Sugar…Sugar, what has happened to you? Moldayn! Call the damn healer!”

Sugar looked at the book in his hands. It was no longer the book he had taken from Tevethri’s library, but the book he had claimed from Hermorah. He opened it again, and the runes on the page danced a moment before settling. Somehow, he knew their meaning.

He reached up an arm – larger and more muscular than before, he noticed – and pointed it towards Tevethri, uttering the incantation.

Sickly green eyes burst open across Sugar’s face, spreading down his neck and shoulder. Oily black growths rippled across his fur, surging down his arm until they came to his slave bracer. They pried underneath it until it shattered.

“Im…possible…” muttered Tevethri.

But the growths were hungry. They lurched forward as inky tentacles, and each impaled Tevethri, piercing through his feeble wizard’s body, and before he could so much as gasp, the light faded from his eyes.

“Tevethri!” called Moldayn from beyond the rows of shelves. “Tevethri, what in Oblivion is going on?”

Sugar emerged from the tangled aisles and confronted the chitinous monster. “Who…who in the blazes are you, cat?” bellowed Moldayn

Sugar smiled. “The cat who knows.”

The tentacles roiled forward again, tearing apart the floating shell piece by piece, until Moldayn, too slow in his old age to react, collapsed to the floor, helpless.

“Wait…wait…” Moldayn whispered, his voice no longer magically amplified. “I have…gold. Skooma. You like skooma, don’t you, Sugar?”

Sugar wrapped around Moldayn, straddling his decrepit form, and pulled his head up by his sparse white hairs. Without another word, he sliced Moldayn’s throat with a single extended claw.

[potterandpromises]

[x]

[eldritchborn]

The amount of times I've had to correct writing 'it' and not 'he' has been more than a handful at this point

[skyrim-crossing]

Hey everyone!

I wrote a prompt for a TES RP between me and my boyfriend @moffkyng , but decided to post it to AO3 as well as a drabble.

Tagging mutuals again because ya'll seemed so enthusastic of my writing before. Thank you 😭🩵

@bougainvillea-and-saltwater @hircines-hunter @pocket-vvardvark @lady-iizsil @hadvarandralof @lucius-the-sinful @sulphuricgrin @buonsai @aviel-the-trans-bucket @eldritch-bastard @skyrim-forever @salemelas @dirty-bosmer

"Obsidian Dovahkiin was a household name. Everyone had heard of the Dunmer giantess who had slain Alduin and continued to protect their frozen lands. Obsidian contemplates on the meaning of life, and ponders what adventures are left for someone like her. Is her time drawing to an end? Is she being kept around for a higher purpose?"

Read Here

The RP thread

[mor4l3]

Colette & Edgar HC

Author's note: This is the first time I put my writing out in the wild, hope you like it Words: 452

Colette and Edgar are siblings, many would say twins for being almost identical, with Colette being older (17-20) and Edgar younger (16-14).

They sometimes have some squabbles but they know that they have each other's backs.

Their family went to Starr park for holidays since they were little  and probably had a subscription.

So Colette starts as “normal” fangirl (for “normal” I mean boy band fangirl type of normal) about SP mascots and SP media in general, having watched every movie, listened to every song, games, ecc.

She especially likes to collect merchandise, but she still has touch with reality.

Edgar at first liked going to SP but when he started to grow up (and getting tired of Colette’s obsession) he saw SP as nothing but a childish place and he is so edgy and mature, so why should he go there?             

He is practically an adult now, he can stay home alone!

This boy really likes parkour but he is scared of heights, of course the only one that knows about this is Colette.

Another thing he enjoys making jokes about “S0cIEtY 🖤✊😔”, he also love mystery and writes poetry.

He watched fnaf lore as a kid.

 At school Edgar was bullied for being into “childish things”

His sister too but she didn't care, sometimes she didn't even understand the sarcasm, for this people found her funny and she became "The Weird Popolar Girl" mostly for her extroverted personality.

So with others he tries to be serious and mysterious but when he is with Colette (and friends) he can be himself and ramble about his interests.

It’s summer and their parents send them to a dear friend of theirs, Griff. 

Colette was overjoyed for the news, staying a whole summer working part-time in her favorite place in the world? A dream come true!

Edgar wasn’t so pleased like his sister, working all summer? He was supposed to be at home and getting his perfect gamer tan!

 (In reality he was very happy, like he had to work but he could go to Velocirapids or any other place for free)

  Griff was thrilled. He finally has workers who can help him out with the shop and for free too; well almost free he still had to feed them and make sure they live, wasting his precious time for business but it was free labor nonetheless.

There was only a problem: they were too similar.

Short black hair with brown eyes and the same height.   

How the heck should he remember who is who?

Colette had the perfect solution: dyeing her hair white!

Hope that in another universe we aren't two siblings who spend the summer with a greedy uncle in a place full of conspiracies

[anxiouspotatorants]

More Theobel fic/au ideas because the new episode was a whole three course meal:

Theo and Mabel CoBro date: Mabel never got into CoBro and Theo just has to fix that. But is it an explicit date or not? And will they even really be paying attention to the movies?

Teenage years where Theo catches the Hardy Boys sneaking into the Dimas apartment but nobody has the time to say anything because Mabel finds a CoBro dvd and oh my god is Theo a Ben Glenroy fan? has Theo seen Girl Cop? oh he hasn't? and then she drags him out of his apartment leaving her friends utterly confused while she leads him to her aunt's place to sit him down and force feed him the pilot episode. Let's just say Theo becomes a little smitten by that.

Roomies AU: Mabel needs to get out of her aunt's apartment. Theo needs someone to help him pay rent. Or maybe he doesn't and would like to have a roomate. Or at least extend some kindness after everything that's happened. Mabel accepts. It gets super domestic real quick.

The road to 3.07: How did Mabel and Theo get from that day on Coney Island to where they are now? I want awkward meet ups, talking their complicated feelings out, a crap ton of miscommunication of the linguistic and the emotional sort, finding common ground in being directionless and finding comfort in being directionless together.

Renovation AU: They've never met before. Theo is moving out of his father's grasp into his own place and has the money to renovate. He sees one of Mabel's murals on social media and decides to commission her with no idea what he even wants a mural of. Queue a bunch of meetings where they end up talking about their lives and interests instead of the job, and Mabel spending hours at his place, dragging out the process just to spend more time with him.

Ghost AU: Every death at the Arconia results in a new ghostly tennant. Mabel is the only one who can see them until the night of Zoe’s death. Theo starts with only her but gradually ends up seeing all the ghosts. Inevitably him and Mabel discover each other and the dead residents decide to place their bets on the match.

Fan meet: Mabel wants to meet Ben Glenroy and share her gratitude for Girl Cop. Theo wants his CoBro 2 copy signed. They bump into each other at a meet and greet line and leave the line to catch up. They never do meet Ben that day.

Mabel loses sleep over a case on her conspiracy board and invites Theo over for help. They end up talking about grief and guilt instead. It goes on for so long they both fall asleep on the couch and wouldn’t you know they wake up in a bundle of sweatered arms and legs.