#on top of that many of the trinkets now have strange powers

[doggywings]

i finally get to do some portfolio work today ! going to make a piece that can be edited to work as an example of my ref sheets, mini sketch pages, and small character designs. all in one piece ! it'll just have layers i can turn off and on to make the different versions.

i've been assigned to this piece (my alter Chris and i take on different pieces depending on who likes the colors or subject matter better) because it's my character, Shiloh ! she's a velociraptor merchant who finds and sells strange "artifacts", and used to be an imaginary friend. she doesnt have a real ref sheet yet and i have a bunch of new ideas for her.

here she is, but this design is technically "incomplete" because it is on a base, and she's supposed to have her own unique shape:

[zememerrramble]

The Ultimate Tumblr Sexyman

Hear me out for a second.

Now, you may be saying, that's a fucking Purple Coin from Super Mario Galaxy, what do you mean it's a Tumblr Sexyman?

A quick clarifier here. I'll be using "Tumblr Sexyman" as a blanket term. Coins of course, do not possess a boring binary gender. You can consider Purple Coin a Tumblr Sexyagender/Sexyenby/Sexyperson what have you instead.

Let's analyze Purple Coin in terms of some sexypedia terms, tropes, archetypes, all that jazz. I will also draw connections to some famous sexymen* to further Purple Coin's case.

Archetypes/Tropes

Androgyny

Doesn't get more androgynous than being perfectly round. Paired with the enticing neutrality of being a space object, Purple Coin is peak androgyny.

Blank Slate

A perfect canvas for one's desires, your only guide is the Purple Coin's iconic purple and an alluring star.

Capitalist

coin.

Chaoslord

The Purple Coin is a rather mysterious entity, only appearing in the inherently gimmicky Prankster Comets in the Mario Galaxy games. Where did they come from? What do they want? Why are they connected to 99 other Purple Coins (sometimes more?)

Chronokinesis

Mario Galaxy 1 Purple Comets are often timed; every Mario Galaxy 2 Purple Coment is timed. Once that timer reaches zero, Mario/Luigi succumb to the overwhelming power of the Purple Coins, having failed to collect them in their designated timely contract. That's textbook time control if you ask me.

Cosmic

Once again, you'll find these purple fellows exclusively in the Mario Galaxy duology. Their home turf is the distant stars.

Controversial

The Prankster Comics in general have been criticized as being content bloat for the Mario Galaxy games. In Mario Galaxy 1, timeless Purple Coin Stars such as the Beach Bowl Galaxy one have been criticized for being incredibly long stars; if you die in these, it's back to square one. If you want to 100% the Galaxy games, you'll have to do your fair share of Purple Coin collectathoning, which many don't find thrilling. What's a purple morally sound sexyperson, though? Wasting your time plays into the Purple Coin's mischief.

Dissonance

If an ancient triangle yearning for some old guy with six fingers and the number 4 can be a sexyman, so can a Purple Coin. Plenty of room for anthropomorphism and gjinkas too, too bad I've never seen one...

Distinctive Voice

This one is a bit of a stretch, but the Purple Coins are audibly characterized with one simple sound effect - a distortion of the usual coin sound effect. Again, distorted voices are peak sexyman material, your Bill Ciphers, your Alastors, what have you.

Fanon Splintering

Untapped potential here. There's no Fanon Splintering yet, but Purple Coin has some built-in AUs to play around with.

Absolute goldmine of possibilities with the Mario Odyssey Purple Coins. I mean, there's even a top hat one, it writes itself.

Intelligence

The Purple Coins are real sneaskters, you got to have some brain to work in a group of 100+ like that.

Mysterious

Purple postgame whimsical trinkets with distorted sound effects and a strange use of the Gusty Garden motif, that's a mystery waiting to happen. Lots of potential for an Ensemble Darkhorse with gjinkas and all that.

Nonspeaking

Again, only one sound effect, just an audio cue for when you collect them. For all intents and purposes, Purple Coins don't traditionally speak.

Nonstandard Character Design

One could argue Purple Coins are not a "character" but rather an object. To that I say, be the change I want you want to see. Blank Slate from earlier allows a lot of creative liberty with Purple Coin.

Obsessive

While underwater, in Flying Mario form, or in Bee Mario form, Mario can spin next to Purple Coins to attract them to him and automatically collect them.

Gee Purple Coins, you sure are excited to magnetize onto Mario whenever he spins. A bit clingy, wouldn't you say?

Power

Again, Purple Coins have implied time control powers, so they fit the bill of being powerful.

Royalty

Purple Coins are debatably royal. They're both purple and, in Galaxy 1, tied to Bowser, the infamous king of koopas, since you only unlock the Purple Comets after beating the game.

Theme Song

A classic, with that ever so mystifying touch of Gusty Garden's motif to top it all off.

Upper-Class

Shiny, rich purple, dapper.

Villain (Morally Grey/Technically Antagonists)

As previously mentioned, the Purple Comets in Mario Galaxy 1 are only unlocked after defeating the final Bowser battle, so they have some intrinsic tie to the big bad. Are they inherently evil? Maybe not, but the Purple Coins certainly have a sinister vibe to them.

Unofficial Archetypes/Tropes

The following are not official tropes per the Sexypedia, but I would like to mention two self-defined tropes as well.

Cloning/Duplication Powers

The Purple Coins always show up in packs of 100... or more. Could the extraneous Purple Coins perhaps be clones of the original 100? Or, all the the Purple Coins a projection of one supreme host Purple Coin?

Epilogue

Purple Coins are exclusive to the postgame of Mario Galaxy 1, since you need to complete Bowser's Galaxy Reactor to unlock Purple Comets (They're available for most of Galaxy 2.) Purple Coins being past the end of your adventure helps add to the allure of their mysteriousness.

Categories

Fine Wine

Again, let's be the change we want to see. Purple Coin debuted in 2007, well before the initial wave of sexymen, never too late. Potential NBPILF status?

Purple

Purple sexyman are a staple of the medium. Alador Blight, Antasma, Daddy Dearest, Dick Dastardly, TADC Jax, Jevil, King Dice, Professor Venomous, Purple Guy, etc. Purple Coin fits right in.

I rest my case. Purple Coin is the magnum opus of Tumblr Sexymen.

[xandrawasright]

Xandra Trick-or-Treat Bag

You find a book along with the bag!

This book seems to be a spiral notebook one would buy for school. However, it is fairly old. Many pages have been torn out, and the rest appear to be simple writing assignments for class. One page has been preserved with extra care.

I've been told to write about a friend. It can be anything I want: a true story about us or one where we interact in a fictional setting…but I don't know if I can do either. I don't have many friends here. Most of the other students seem to avoid me because I don't do so well in school. There is one girl who is nice to me from time to time, though, which is strange because she's the top student! Her name is Xandra. I don't know if I'd call her a friend yet, but I can still tell a story about us. Back when the disappearances were still happening. I was sitting alone at lunch like usual. We have lunch outside when the weather permits it, and that day, it was cloudy but overall nice. Looking back on it now, it seems reckless to have continued to have lunch outside, but the disappearances were few and far between and only seemed to happen at night. So life went on like normal. I was eating underneath a tree near the forest line when Xandra came and sat next to me. She didn't say much, then got up and walked into the forest, waving for me to follow. I shouldn't have followed, but I did. The forest was especially dark due to the cloudy weather, and it was hard to keep up with her, but eventually, we stopped. We had come upon a small open patch in the middle of the forest. Even with the lack of trees, the open area was still fairly dark. I watched as Xandra placed odd trinkets along its edge. I also stood off to the side and asked her what we were doing here, but she never responded. Eventually, she stood in the middle of the clearing, and her eyes began to glow. The trinkets lit up in the same bright light as Xandra's eyes. They were shining so much that the clearing had to have been visible for miles. I wanted to run, but I was unable to. All I could manage was moving my arms to cover my eyes, and that's when I noticed I was shining too, brighter than any of the trinkets around. Though we both were training in magic, none of this was under my control. It was my power but all her doing. Soon, I heard rustling all around us. The once quiet forest now echoed with noises that sounded far too large to be anything good. For a moment, I wondered if this was her magic as well, but then I saw it. A massive creature dripping an odd ooze with multiple eyes and rows upon rows of razor sharp teeth. It rose behind Xandra, its terrifying jaw wide open as it stared right at me. Xandra's arms rose and pointed at me at the same time the creature lunged forward. All I could do was scream and close my eyes, cursing myself for falling into her trap. Yet, when I opened my eyes, I was on the ground, unharmed. The glowing had stopped, and the terrifying creature lay off to the side, covered in the odd trinkets that were previously on the ground. They seemed to now form a sort of cage around the thing. Rendering it immobile. Xandra helped me up but I am uncertain what happened next because I fled as fast as I could. But after that, the disappearances stopped completely, and Xandra moved up in the school. I have the odd sensation that I had been used as bait, but I am not necessarily upset about it. Maybe I will ask her about it over tea sometime…I think Xandra will really be something special one day.

[senatushq]

NAME. Caradoc AGE & BIRTH DATE. 2,013 & September 16th, 10 AD GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Demon ( Familiar ) OCCUPATION. Unemployed FACE CLAIM. Douglas Booth

biography

( trigger warnings: death ) The harsh land of Ancient Britain was simply up for the taking when it came to the Romans. The Catuvellauni tribe had gained their own fame within Britain, the tribe of “war-chiefs” that pushed them to the top in the southeast of the island. This was the culture that Caradoc was born into. Friends of the druids who held mystical power, the tribes of Britain warred amongst themselves over the land that was provided to them, with the help of the druids that were stationed within each. Caradoc was born into freedom, in the midst of a Roman expansion. His brother was older, wiser – but brash and ambitious. Caradoc figured he must’ve got some cunning from his mother, a lowly woman who’d come to power beside his chieftain father. 

History was set to repeat itself as Caradoc grew up among the green hills and forests of Britain, fighting and learning what it meant to be diplomatic. The Romans began expanding, targeting the druids amongst the tribes of Britain to wipe out as many as possible. There was always speak of rebirth when it came to druids, but Caradoc knew what that meant – it was an excuse to be absent. War was beginning to rage on, and Caradoc simply wished to survive. His personal life was nothing to be excited about – he’d flitted amongst men and women within the tribe, never settling and claiming that it was the wild spirit within him. He prayed to the Morrigan for strength, to the All Mother for peace – but nothing was ever answered.

In time, Caradoc learned to take what he wanted. That’s what their tribe had done for centuries, anyway, and the only person standing in his way was his brother. Caradoc didn’t have to do much, not in the sense that some would think. He won the hearts of the tribe; of the men and women warriors who took up arms against the Romans. If anyone were to be victorious, it would’ve been him. Revenge, he’d whisper amongst the people. He’d speak of how his brother was too hardheaded, that he would never lead them well. It’s what caused the mantle of leadership to pass to Caradoc, a ruler once more, loved and revered by the tribes that he’d convinced to join them in their cause against the Romans. 

Even the death of his brother did not stop him. Caradoc could see his future – to gain enough glory that would get him to Rome, to leave the hills of Britain and the tribes that did not know gold, did not know power. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything he could to make his name known. The governor of Rome had it out for him, the barbarian that had fought back time and time again. During one of his last stands, Caradoc found himself in chains. His army was decimated, it would retreat into the hills of Britain, be taken over by Boudicca, but that’s where Caradoc’s story ended. 

At least, it ended in Britain. He’d thrown away who he’d used to be when he was carted to Rome, as the governor paraded him around in chains. A barbarian, he’d claimed, but while he knew what would happen to those he’d convinced to continue fighting in his homeland, there was something else for Caradoc in Rome: infamy. His wit was something to be envied, where his biting words of how he’d die a martyr like Vercingetorix convinced the Roman governor to show mercy. His chains were broken, and he was set free. Caradoc, however, was far too eager to remain in the city of stone – any kin left behind forgotten about immediately. His greatest vice was to want – he lusted for fame, for little gleaming trinkets that he could hold in his hand and covet. Every now and then he wanted to love and be loved, in some strange twist of fate that always ended poorly because of something he did wrong. 

His life was more or less whatever he wanted in Rome, where he got what he wanted and passed away among all his trinkets and fame. None of that was taken to the inferno with him, where the winds buffeted him at all times – storms cracked above him. It was a deep and meaningless place, muted and without color to someone who had always seen things in brilliant shades. It’s the want that drove Caradoc mad. There was nothing for those who pushed people for vengeance, who tainted hearts black like his own and sent them forward in a righteous quest when all Caradoc had ever wanted became his. The expense of others was something that he didn’t consider, never had. 

It’s why when he met another tortured soul, one who had felt the same aspirations as he had once before, they’d collided in mutual understanding. It was something ridiculous, to find love in a pit that could torture souls until there was nothing left. Not for Caradoc, not one like him who understood what it was like to get what he wanted in the most ridiculous of circumstances. He also knew what it was like to sweet talk, what it was like to understand someone in a place where there was nothing but dull emptiness. 

When the time came, when there was a witch calling for a familiar – it was the soul he’d fallen in love with that had gotten there first. Moments before exiting, moments before they were free – Caradoc a step behind. He called out to stop them, some ridiculous goodbye. He felt like the Caradoc of old, the one who’d loudly proclaimed and won the hearts of Roman citizens to procure his freedom instead of death. This was no different. Their defenses down, it was Caradoc who shoved them back and walked out victorious. 

A young witch was awaiting him on the other side. Dark curls and bright hazel eyes. There was no fight to be had – it was a pact of blood between witch and familiar. Caradoc would bide his time in the mortal realm, stand at Raffaele’s side when he needed him. Rome apparently was calling him back, little remorse for the soul he’d left behind. Caradoc was on his third chance at this point, and well, who was he not to live his life to the fullest once more? All things glitter and gleam, and he’d take what he wanted.

personality

+ witty, loyal, ambitious - dramatic, petty, violent

played by Lauren. est. she/her.

[blouisparadise]

We frequently get asked what our members favorite fics are, so for today’s rec list, we asked each member of BLP to choose FIVE favorite fics for this list - no repeats allowed. Please keep in mind that this is not a complete list of our favorites - there are so many amazing BL fics out there that we all have a lot more than this! Still, we hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.

Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it. Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.

4) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

5) No Good Unless It’s Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

6) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20593 words

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

7) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

9) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Hold Onto This Heaven (Of Yours) | Explicit | 25213 words

An ode to being too young, too sad, and too in love.

13) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25372 words

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

14) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

15) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

The one where Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

16) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding A/B/O fic.

17) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

18) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

19) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

20) What This World Is About | Explicit | 34472 words

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

21) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

24) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40580 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

25) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

26) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

27) Love’s Truest Language | Explicit | 48195 words

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

28) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

The one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

29) Latibule | Mature | 54322 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

30) Warming Up To You | Explicit | 56227 words

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

31) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

32) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68597 words

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU.

33) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words | Sequel

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

34) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

35) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

36) Where You Lay | Explicit | 86038 words

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles.  Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

37) And Down The Long And Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

38) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

39) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

40) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126057 words | Sequel (WIP)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[lavendermin]

if all stars fell at once (1) | xiao

pairing | xiao/reader

word count | 3k

genre | fluff, light angst, developing relationship, overall domestic

warning | eventual smut

The memory comes clear as the crystalline waters at the harbor. That day when rain poured mercilessly upon the land— the boy in a mask whose body trembled under an invisible burden. You remember the dark splotches on his body being washed away by downpour.

Blood.

Polearm supporting his body as it heaved, his face slowly turned to face you as an ominous dark mist accumulated around him. And when you blinked, it was as if he was never there; replaced by rain.

Whether it was the haze of sleepless nights getting to you or reality, you still had yet to know. Curiosity was fresh in your mind. His presence… though brief, held immense power and a tainted aura; enough to instill fear in the hearts of any who witnessed them. But you stood there, unwavering and eyes alight with awe and curiosity despite the rain that hailed mercilessly around you.

Weeks continued, and the image of the boy remained somewhere in your subconscious. Days came and went as your mind remained hazed, clouded with the fleeting memory.

The dark clouds overhead brought in strong winds; a sign of a storm rolling in. The laundry hanging outside would surely be swept away at this rate. Quick on your feet, you hurriedly pulled them off the clotheslines. Yet despite your efforts, a couple handkerchiefs you had embroidered were blown away by a harsh gust of wind.

“Ah…!” Despite your attempt, the wind plucked them out of reach. All you could do was helplessly watch as they were carried by devious winds further down the mountain.

Those were for… Ah, I guess I’ll have to redo those, you pondered anxiously. If they were all to be delivered in 3 days, you would have to stay up fairly late just to finish replacing them.

The candle light cracked and flickered as night crept over Liyue. No use stalling. With a sullen crack of your neck, you shut the windows and got to work. The relentless rain was your sole company as you worked through embroidering the replacements well into the night. Despite the nimbleness of experienced hands, numbness settled in after hours of working tirelessly to replace the delicately embroidered handkerchiefs. And with patterns and threads so intricate, they weren’t something you could rush.

The moon came and went that night, having accompanied you behind the storming clouds as it rained and ceased. Yet, late the next day when you returned from running errands, there upon your open windowsill were two neatly folded handkerchiefs safely held in place by a beautiful stone. You examined them— with no doubt, the ones that were swept away.

And as a breeze picked up once more, you didn’t dare look back but hoped the wind would carry your words to the deserving.

“Thank you.”

:

.

.

That was the first time in over a millennia that Xiao was thanked by a mortal for one of his many silent deeds.

———

Soft colors of fading blue and powdery orange iced the sky with the setting sun. You reminisced past memories fondly as you picked a few herbs from your personal garden. The day was slowly dwindling to a lethargic end, but the land ceased to fall into rest to savor most of what the day had to offer.

“Do you remember that, Adeptus Xiao?” you asked with a fond smile. It was met with silence for a moment before a voice spoke up from the roof of your house.

“So, you knew I was here. Mortals truly are something I cannot understand,” he clicked his tongue, shifting to get comfortable where he rested comfortably on your roof. “Or perhaps, it’s that our ties are too strong. Curious…” He pondered to himself, brows slightly furrowed as he contemplated.

With a stretch of your back you stood up, basket in hand. “I know my grandmother’s home is rather quiet here in Qingce Village, so I’ve noticed the roof has become a favorite spot of yours,” you observed with a small shrug he couldn’t see. “Call it a hunch.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, Xiao knew your guess was right. With your home tucked furthest away at the top of the village, there were seldom any onlookers in the tranquil area. A perfect, stress-free corner for him to visit.

With a huff and trained grace, he hopped off the roof on playful winds and followed you indoors. There was still a cautious air about him but never the same as when you first met him all those months ago.

It seemed like you understood him more than he understood you sometimes, and it puzzled him to no end. Mortals were usually more predictable; working in routine and habits as he had seen of the many centuries that passed. Or… at least he thought. It was no secret that he found mortals to be indecipherable.

In the small kitchen, he was presented with an enticing dish that you laid out; his favorite, no doubt. “Here. I’m heading out to the harbor to run some last minute errands, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like,” you reassured him with a smile. “Thank you for keeping me company today.”

At your genuine, radiant smile, Xiao couldn’t help but avert his gaze shyly. Truthfully, it always caught him off guard to be thanked for such trivial things that were somehow meaningful to you.

Before you reached the front door, Xiao called out after you. “If you are out late, summon me— call my name. I will guide you safely home.” With firm reassurance, he held your gaze under piercing amber. “Promise me this. Do not be reckless.”

There was no fighting the grin that lit up your face. “You worry for me, Adeptus?” you teasingly prodded, and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “How unexpectedly cute of you.”

At the gesture, his eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his composure returned. Pensively, he folded his arms across his chest, and you swore he could practically be pouting.

“The safety of Liyue is my duty as an adeptus. As a tool to be used, and nothing more.”

There was a brief sorrow reflected in your eyes, and before Xiao had a chance to address it, you were hurriedly giving your final goodbyes with your usual warm energy.

“I promise I’ll be safe.”

Left to himself, he accepted your gifted offering of almond tofu. I love the way your eyes practically sparkle when you take that first bite, you once teased.

The memory picked up the thrumming in his chest— uncertainty accompanied by rose-dusted cheeks.

With each delicate bite, his mind upheld more questions. The feelings that burst subtly in his chest— what were they? He searched his heart for answers to describe it. Peace of mind? Loneliness?

As many times as his mind decided to go through the same painful cycle of thoughts, ultimately he was left with more questions than when he started. There were no answers within him.

Such as the moon replaces the sun and the days dwindle into night, he too would let it be for now.

And as the sun slowly retreated more and more behind mountains and thin clouds, Xiao couldn’t help but wonder why he continued to keep near you. A tie foraged with a mortal that strangely did not instill the overwhelming need to leave.

Even the room he was in caused no discomfort or suffocation. The cycle started once again as he wondered, why? He often resided at Wangshu Inn, but never in a room. The rooftop high above any wandering souls was his claimed accommodation. The balcony just below that was seldom used by guests was the only other space he occupied there— eyes able to survey the land from a higher vantage point.

However, here in this small shelter you called home there was none of that, yet he stayed. Curiously, his eyes wandered the room to take in the oddities and trinkets that were used as decorum. The bookshelf across the room posed with great importance, and as he approached it he took in the vast collection of books and small items that decorated some empty sections.

Gloved fingers grazed over the elegant, gold-foil titles of some of the books. Some he has partially read before, or listened to you read aloud while he rested on your lap under the large tree outside.

He found himself plucking one out tentatively, flipping through some pages of a thick storybook with worn corners. Another book from the shelf— a thin book of floral poems and sonnets. His mind idly worked to put together what these books could possibly say about you.

After neatly putting another book away, a small glint caught his eyes. Toward the end of one of the shelf rows was a pile of three books with a precious stone sitting atop them.

Ah, the cor lapis stone he had used when he silently returned the two missing handkerchiefs to you many moons ago. An unknown feeling settled in his chest, warm & persistent. It flourished— euphoric, almost, and not too unpleasant. He wondered if it was somehow related to similar chest pains he’d dealt with. Could he really call it ‘pain’ if it wasn’t truly hurting him? The feeling was foreign and he was utterly clueless.

He moved the stone to check the book underneath, flipping through the pages curiously. Amber eyes indifferently skimmed through a page his finger landed on, curious to what contents the vague title held.

A romantic novel from the looks of it.

The words were needlessly descriptive, the dialogue a little confusing to understand. Such flowery language was a bit bold and the more he read, the more the imagery they tried to paint became vivid in his mind and—

Xiao quickly shut the book, his face warm as he neatly returned the book to its rightful place. Well, it was an interesting book to have in your possession, to say the least. He didn’t have much experience with what it described, but the erotic imagery the dialogue described still left his face a little flushed and brows furrowed as he huffed in indignance at his flustered state.

Mortals do such things? Well, he knew they did, but he was never one to look into it more since he had no reason to.

He had no experience in such intimate matters, nor did he pay much interest in them with his hands usually full on a daily basis. Yet, somehow the thought of you now caused a swirl of emotions inexperienced by him before. Or rather, if he did, he no longer remembered. New questions piled up in his mind.

He shook his head, practically wincing at the odd sensations that kicked him low in the gut as the heat rising high on his cheeks subsided.

“How bothersome,” Xiao muttered to himself with a sigh.

On that same train of thought, he glanced out the window. The sun was merely a whisper that remained as it tucked itself farther behind mountains and dipped below the horizon.

Gloved hands momentarily clenched by his sides, flexing to ease the small seed of doubt. Mortals were unpredictable and reckless, that much he was aware of. With a sigh he watched as the sky over Liyue settled into the tranquility of night.

Though night had fallen, there was still no sign of you returning.

And so, Xiao set off on his usual routine. Out he ventured to vanquish the scattered hotspots of evil activity that surfaced. Be it from subdued gods or his own karma, Xiao relentlessly made quick work of any and all evil.

It was his eternal duty, as bound by contract from the Geo Archon himself—this he knew. If anyone should have witnessed his swiftness as he worked solemnly, they would’ve noticed how he worked just a little harder to clear out any evil nearing your usual route home.

The moon rose high in the sky, a dusty blue as it cast soft light over Xiao’s masked form. His polearm jabbed into the ground and dissipated along with the yaksha mask he donned for battle. The roads that led back to Qingce Village were all cleared, yet still no sign of you.

Approaching the marsh under blue moonlight, his gloved hands created ripples in the calm surface. The reflection of his concerned eyes stared right back at him through the tumultuous ripples that distorted his reflection over playful waters.

Under the watchful eye of the moon, Xiao diligently washed away the impurities that remained on him from battle. Clear waters surrounding him became murky before clearing once again as the blood and grime was carried further down with the current. Xiao closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask under the moonlight, taking in the rare moment of tranquility.

And then it rang out, soft and clear like a wind chime dancing with the gentle breeze.

Adeptus Xiao.

Shrouded by darkness, he answered your summons. As the thin veil of dark entity surrounding him dispersed, he found himself next to a bridge. The waterfall behind him brought a refreshing breeze, and just beyond him he could see Bubu Pharmacy below as well as the harbor.

“You called,” Xiao inquired. “It’s fairly late.”

He wasn’t here to admonish you, though it sounded very much like it. With a playful grin, you smiled up at him from where you sat on the grass next to the bridge.

The way you carried yourself without a care in the world— it was almost endearing how you looked up at him with such fondness.

“Can I ask why you’re here of all places?”

Your nimble fingers continued their work on the flowers you had in your lap, and you almost looked away bashfully. “I wanted to gaze at the stars for a bit,” you admitted sheepishly. “I finished my errands earlier, but then I ran into Mister Zhongli from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and, well… The conversation went on for a while and we ended up here.”

Silently, Xiao took a seat next to you, eyeing the handful of glaze lilies that softly glowed on your lap.

“What did you talk about?” he inquired to fill the silence. He delicately twirled one of the glaze lilies between his gloved fingers.

“Oh… this and that,” you shrugged.

Xiao hummed in response, not wanting to pry into the conversation, until he felt the softness of petals brushing his forehead.

“Mister Zhongli… he showed me how to make this.” There was hesitation in your downcast eyes, and you peered up at him through your eyelashes. “Do you like it?”

“A crown of… glaze lilies,” Xiao noted slowly. Their soft fragrance was delicate and sweet, like the gentle presence of the moon. It reminded him of you. “I’m unfamiliar with mortal customs of exchanges. Is it an adeptal offering?”

You blinked, taken by surprise at the question before sputtering out in a fit of giggles.

“Oh– No, no! This is what we call a gift.”

Xiao furrowed his brows, taking in this vague description. “Hm… I see. What meaning does this gift have?”

You perched your chin on your finger, contemplating. The only ‘gifts’ adepti were familiar with were the offerings that few who went before them brought. Usually, an offering entailed the bargaining of a mortal’s wants and desires to come true. Selfish, wishes he was all too familiar with hearing often.

“Gifts are given to people you consider special,” you started. “To those people who are important to you, usually you put extra effort into the gift. Handmade gifts as well… embody special significance since they hold all the feelings poured into them to be given to your special person.”

The chirps of crickets and running water soothed over the momentary silence as he took in your explanation. Mortal customs were more emotionally driven than he once thought.

“I see. Then,” Xiao delicately tucked the glaze lily he held into your hair. “This is my small offering.”

The rose that dusted your cheeks as your grin lit up your features, it bloomed his chest with that foreign warmth. The weight of reciprocating the gesture without a second thought— he had just openly admitted to considering you a special person. It felt… right.

In the lateness of the cool night, you both sat side by side looking out at the display of glittering stars. He felt as your pulse would briefly quicken under his gloved hand whenever you stole a quick glance at him, and he would offer a gentle squeeze of reassurance in response. Curious, this human next to him— and yet he found himself enraptured by your simple presence.

Across the endless sky, you halted what you were idly chatting about as a speckle of light shot across the sky.

“A falling star… There’s rumors that making a wish on them will help it come true.” Xiao hummed in response, eyes closed in peaceful tranquility. “Hm…”

You pulled your knees closer to you as you contemplated your wish. Xiao watched you with one eye open, observing the way your features subtly scrunched up as you profoundly debated within you what your wish would be.

“So.”

“So?”

“What did you wish for?” Xiao asked quietly.

Mortal desires were usually the same. Wealth, power, lavish items— these wishes Xiao had heard of many times before. Yet—

“I wished…,” you scratched your cheek sheepishly. “I wished for a restful sleep.”

Your cheeks were quick to flush a deep crimson as you heard what sounded like a chuckle next to you. It dawned on you that you had never heard Xiao laugh until now. It was melodic, innocent.

“D-Don’t laugh!” you halfheartedly admonished with a playful huff. “Well, then— What’s your wish, Xiao?”

He pondered for a moment, closed his eyes and spoke soft as the flitting breeze.

“I wish to get to know you better.”

Perhaps he didn’t have all the right words at that moment, but he was bound to discover them sooner or later. Somehow, he was sure you would be the light that guided him the right way to go about these foreign feelings— feelings he was sure weren’t malignant, so he allowed them to persist.

These unsorted feelings for you... they weren’t getting in the way of anything. They were harmless, until proven otherwise.

[alderaani]

still i find you there

summary: after Rako Hardeen, there are several things that need fixing.

written for @codywanweek and the day 1 prompt fix-it. I fully intended to have more days completed for this, but given that it’s *checks notes* day 5, it’s probably not going to happen. this is very angsty and perhaps a bit melodramatic, but the heart wants what it wants. also catch me forgetting obi-wan was wearing his vambraces when he ‘died’ and having to stretch to make it work for me. warnings for grief, percieved death and all that good stuff.

-

He’s alive.

It seems impossible. It feels entirely predictable. And yet...Cody can’t make himself believe it. He saw Obi-Wan die, the grainy security-holo footage of slick Coruscant rooftops showing little more than a bolt of red and a lone figure reeling, falling. No sound, no clear faces, and yet...He knew that red hair. He knew that posture, how it could startle like that if timed very, very well.

It had been the only thing that made it real.

It had been a terrible idea to look at the footage, just like Rex (and Fox, and Wolffe, and Boil) had told him, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d needed something to help him break out of the stupor, the long silences, the staring at the door like Obi-Wan was going to walk right through it. The war didn’t stop just because someone had died, and the GAR hadn’t cared about the cataclysmic shockwave it had sent through Cody’s life.

They’d sent the 212th packing to Mimban within a day of the assassination, and Cody had nearly gotten his head blown off after leaving his left flank wide open, expecting the snap-hiss of a lightsaber to cover him. Instead Wooley had been his salvation, yanking him back at the last second and roaring that he needed to get it together. It had been like walking in a dream.

Watching the holo had worked. It had convinced some deep, desperate part of himself that Obi-Wan really wasn’t coming back. That somehow he was going to have to carry on alone, or worse, with another Jedi, whose differences would grate at him like a knife paring into bone.

And in the end, it had all been a lie.

Cody takes a deep breath and leans his forehead against one of the blaster racks in the armoury, the durasteel sharp and cool on his skin. His knees shake and he grips the shelf edges until his fingers hurt, just standing there, just breathing. 

His heart feels big and swollen in his chest, gluttoned with relief and anger, paired with a sharp, aching grief that now, more than ever, has nowhere to go. There’s no reason to harbour it; he should know better. 

He just can’t help it. 

He’d stood through the shuttle landing, through the torturous debrief, through strange, hairless Obi-Wan meeting his eyes and explaining earnestly that ‘if it hadn’t been classified of course he’d have said something…’ without so much as a twitch, but a great yawning chasm in his belly had opened and only kept getting wider the longer they kept making small talk about provisions, and reopening Obi-Wan’s quarters and a million other things that had happened since he’d - gone away. In the end he’d excused himself, planning to retrieve the personal effects he’d personally cleared out of Obi-Wan’s quarters because he’d needed to feel close to him, after, and there hadn’t been any other practical reason to go in there.

Except now he’s standing here, the relevant box at his feet, and he just can’t move. 

Eventually the trembling in his legs slows, and he lifts his head from the shelf, turning instead to slide down it, using it for balance until he hits the floor. His knee thunks against the crate as he collapses, the scant things inside clinking against each other. 

That had been one of the worst things; Obi-Wan always filled a room. His presence was a gentle, quiet, pervasive thing. Cody had held his small collection of two plants, a meditation mat, a few trinkets from planets visited and a lightsaber maintenance kit and felt nothing. 

He swipes ruthlessly at his face with one hand, thumbing under his eyes to scrub away the moisture. 

He needs to get moving. They’ll be looking for him soon. 

Instead, his knee has dislodged the thin fabric covering the crate, and his eyes catch on the vambrace stacked on top, the straps frayed and snapped. Cody had helped paint this one and its pair, had shown Obi-Wan how to get the colours to take properly to the unwieldy plastoid. 

He’d been the one to break it, too. Obi-Wan had just come out of the field medstation, bruised to shit but still smiling, and Cody had crowded him against a powered down holostation in the empty command tent and yanked at his clothes, just needing to feel his pulse under his skin, to feel the warmth of him safe and alive. It had been too much for the worn out armour to bear. 

Two cycles later Obi-Wan had been on his way to Coruscant again, and there had been no time to fix them. It’s stupid, but Cody had taken one look at them on the little desk, in the space that had once been Obi-Wan’s room, and all he’d been able to think was that he hadn’t been properly protected. Cody had broken his armour. Cody had left him vulnerable.

Obi-Wan’d taken his spare set, of course, but he’s always complained that they chafe, and if there’s one thing Cody knows, it’s that if your armour isn’t right you aren’t fighting at your best.

He reaches for the broken piece now, thumbing the frayed synthleather and the chipped paint, yellow and red and faint scuffed up grey. 

He knows now that it wouldn’t have made a difference to what happened, but he still heaves himself up to his feet after a moment and goes to the supply closet, pulls out a new strap, and sits back down again, committing to unpicking the stitching of the old before he can attach it.

He should’ve done this sooner. 

He should’ve been more careful. 

He should’ve been there.

He should’ve - 

He could have - 

He’s crying.

He’s crying, and he doesn’t realise it until the salt is heavy on his cheeks, until his neckline is wet, until his vision blurs so hard he can’t see. Cody makes a low, animal sound and curls over the vambrace, his fingers stilling against the threads. 

His throat aches, his face is swollen, his body hot. He feels sick, and disoriented, overwhelmed in a way he can’t name.

“Cody?” 

He flinches like he’s wounded, turning his face away from the door, like it will hide the evidence of his weakness. He knows he’s failed when Obi-Wan’s breath sucks in, so loud in the quiet. 

“Cody?” His voice comes again, much closer this time. “Will you...will you look at me?” 

Through the haze, Cody catches something that does make him turn. Obi-Wan sounds...hesitant, so uncharacteristically tentative that it cuts through the rest. 

He wipes quickly at his face, smearing the mess, and gets his eyes just clear enough to find Obi-Wan’s face, so foreign and smooth but so dear for all that. His eyes are still the same, glacier-heart blue, and worried, right now, focused on his face. 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan whispers at whatever he finds there, then reaches out, stutters halfway through, and drops his hand. His wrist is bare, and his robe sleeves flop backwards.

“I was trying to fix it,” Cody croaks, shifting to unveil the half-mended vambrace. “Before I brought it back. I broke it, and then you left without it and then you -”

It’s Obi-Wan’s turn to flinch back this time, while Cody greedily drinks him in, taking in the changes to his face, the way the lack of a beard makes his jaw look sharper, his features look younger. The stubbly fuzz of his hair is odd, true enough, but it’s still him.

“I - I never thought,” Obi-Wan says haltingly, and now Cody frowns, because it’s so unlike him to lose his words. Obi-Wan’s eyes flicker away, then back, like he’s steeling himself. Almost like he’s afraid. 

“I never imagined you’d feel responsible - Cody - I’m so sorry -” 

He reaches out, his fingers loosely catching Cody’s wrist this time. Cody feels it, the warmth of his hand sharp and electric. Tears spring to his eyes all over again; it’s the first time they’ve touched since he walked Obi-Wan to the hangar and he kissed him goodbye behind a LAAT/i. He’s replayed it so many times since, thinking he’d never get another, but the memory does the reality no justice, failing to preserve the way heat floods under his skin. 

Obi-Wan moves to take his hand back, and Cody traps it there, anchoring his fingers and dipping his head, just breathing through it.

“If I could have told you,” Obi-Wan continues. “I would have, I swear it, I -”

“I know,” Cody says instantly, because he does, he’d never doubt it. “I know you couldn’t.”

Their fingers curl more securely together, calluses and knuckles finding a home against their pair. 

“I didn’t know if you’d be angry,” Obi-Wan says. Cody shakes his head before he even thinks about it.

“It was your duty. I just -,” he squeezes his eyes shut again, voice breaking. The deception had made him angry. He can admit that, but it was never directed between them. The war stops for no-one, after all. “I can’t believe you’re still here.” 

“I promise, I always intend to stay,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

Cody’s smiling when he kisses him, so full his cheeks ache with it. It tastes of salt and bitter-sweet and just a hint of desperation, their hands clasped with the vambrace cradled between them. 

Then Obi-Wan draws him in, tucking his head under his chin. Cody presses his wet skin to the hollow of neck, listens to his heartbeat, and weeps.

[doctorslippery]

The Pillar of First Blood – A 15ft dark stone pillar that has engraved writing on each side ‘The spot where the first blood was split between a batch of common devils”.

The Drawing Moss – A smooth stone with a bunch of growing moss on it. Touching the stone with a bare hand results in the moss slowing moving to wherever was touched. On the stone are several handprints and doodles perfectly covered over with the moss.

Curci’s Crypt – A small white stone structure deep in the woods with carvings of trees on each side. Entering brings you into the hidden crypt of Curci.

The Crumbling Shack – Far away from any civilization lays what once was a small shack. The windows are broken, some walls have crumbled away, and parts of the roof are open and fallen in.

Trio of Faces – On the side of a rocky cliff are a well carved trio of protruding faces all looking the same direction

Cone Shaped Prison – In the middle of a grassy field stands an 8ft slim cone made of iron bars, in the middle of the structure lies a sun-bleached skeleton bound in iron shackles.

The Tree of Sacrifice – A abnormally large and oddly pale brown tree where the branches are twisted, and the leaves are a sickly saturated green color. At the base of the tree lies a blood stained alter that the roots of the tree have grown around it and now hold it in place. The base of the tree as well as the ground around the alter are permanently stained a deep red. If the tree is cut, a thick blood sap seeps out of wound. If a creature is sacrificed on the alter, the blood pools near where the roots touch the alter and are absorbed while what appear to be veins appear on the tree that go up into the branches.

The Bone Pit – In an open field there is a 10ft wide and 50ft deep pit with no life growing around it. The walls of this chasm are lined with dark cobblestone and going down there are three uneven sized holes that are covered by iron bars. At the bottom there are a large pile of bones.

The Odd Stone Slab – A big square stone slab rests hidden near the side of the road. Carved into the slab is a symbol and a riddle that upon answering correctly leads to a small dungeon.

The Copper Fox – A 4ft oxidized copper statute of a fox with a small locked box in its mouth and two ruby eyes.

The Pointing Eagle – On top of a large rock formation is a big iron statue of an eagle pointing its body to the east.

The Feasting Table – Out away from any kind of civilization sits a large gray solid stone table with ancient carvings on the sides. Upon its surface are newly lit candles and a banquet of food that seems to be warm, fresh, and untouched by its surroundings. If one where to eat or take anything from the table, the next day it would be completely restocked and replenished.

The Jeweled Bush – A seemingly average looking berry bush that happens to grow small jewels instead of berries. If one where to try and consume one of the jewels picked off of the bush within 24hrs, that person gains a temporary magical effect or bonus, otherwise it’s a normal jewel.

The Ice Blood Spot – Located on the cliff face of a large mound of ice there is one spot that is dark red instead of the pure blue that surrounds it.

Dragon’s Graveyard – in a valley, there are 8-10 adult dragon skeletons, half-buried.

Petunia, the Land Whale – A large whale skeleton surrounded by petunias. The whale is miles away from the sea and the petunias aren’t native to this location.

Wondrous Obelisk – an obelisk, comprised of rose quartz and decorated with sylvan runes, appears to be of fey origin. it is surrounded in a 120-foot field of wild magic.

The Old Folk Hero – A half erected statue of an old folk hero. Either under construction or half crumbled.

The Hope Tree – It’s an oak tree with the word hope carved into it in large letters. No one knows who did it or why, but it’s turned into a useful landmark for the local village.

The Moon’s Egg – It’s a massive dome-like stone formation that shines pearlescent in the moonlight. It lays in a bare outcropping of rock and is warm to the touch.

Hollering Pit – A 50ft deep sinkhole. Well-hidden at the bottom is the lair of an accomplished burglar who calls himself the Jeweler. He’s too old to do much in the way of harm, but the countless traps he installed are not.

The Painted Cliff Face – A cliff that has been entirely covered in paint from hundreds of people.

Threeshades Tower- A weathered, ivy-mantled square tower atop a small hill. Has three levels, and each is built from a different kind of stone. The longsword stuck in one of the bricks on the top level is +1 and can project the bearer’s voice up to 50’ away.

Pigeons’ Chest – an ornate, but empty, chest of silver and pearl sitting by the road. It will not move by any means yet discovered, material nor magical.

The Ol’ Inn – The ancient ruins of a strangely ‘modern-looking’ tavern located in the deepest patches of forest. No path leads to it, no other buildings or ruins are found besides it, but dozens of deformed footsteps can be found heading out of the site. At night, the faint, muffled sound of a single viol can be heard coming out of the muddy floor.

The Forgotten Emperor’s Statue – An incredibly detailed, broken bust of a young wood elf, bearing a red crown. Its nose and left ear are missing and where its left eye should be, the socket is destroyed, and a monstrously decomposed snake eye can be found. The base has a bronze plaque which reads (in broken Celestial): ‘The only one truly meant to rule’, followed by a name which seems scratched out.

The Candle Trees – deep in the woods, a small group of trees whose leaves are bright red. They contrast starkly with the normal trees around them. The Candle trees appear otherwise normal, but the dried leaves can be brewed into a tea that warms the bones even on the coldest nights.

Tale of a Desert’s Origin – A granite obelisk in the desert with glyphs on it. It seems to tell the tale of a very powerful magic user stealing all the life from this area, killing all the plants and turning it into a desert.

The Waning Waterfall – a small waterfall that appears to reverse direction on every night with a bright full moon, running up instead of down.

The Sandmount – There’s a strange dune of sand in the middle of this grassy field, covered in scorpions.

The Awoken Stones – three stone pillars at the top of a hill, each engraved with a different rune of no known language. The pillars appear to change positions, but how this is done is unknown.

Ghost village – There’s a half-buried village in the sand, with sandstone walls being the only remnants… except for one house, which has a simple roof and door carved into the stone.

Impossible Shipwreck – Dashed upon the rocks are the remains of a large merchant ship. Weathered and ancient, the skeletons of the crew still scattered around though most everything of value has long since been looted. The most peculiar thing about this is that the rocks, and ship, are in a cavern 100ft underground, miles from the nearest navigable waters.

Sapphire Beach – a small stretch of coastline hidden between two nigh-inaccessible cliff faces. The sand is particularly fine and a brilliant blue. Rumor has it that the sand was formed when giants destroyed the jewel horde of a local dragon. There are also rumors of a dragon being sighted in the oceans nearby. Digging deep into the sands turn up giant bones.

The Lovers’ Spring – a secluded hot spring, with the initials of many young lovers carved into nearby rocks. Discarded and forgotten undergarments can be found on tree branches in the area.

The Arms of the Last Bard – A broken but thick 15ft wide half-circle embedded to the ground made of quartz and intricately laced with gold strips. An assortment of precious gems are embedded in its surface. Any attempt to collect and/or destroy this construct will cause severe psychic damage and a loud high-pitched tone to play loudly. The half-circle aligns perfectly with sunset/sunrise and every time it does, the most beautiful flute melody plays that is sourceless.

The Iron Tree – A big, old tree which seems to be made of iron, but as far as anyone can tell, is alive and growing, if slowly.

Hades’ Hand – A 15ft tall stone hand stretches from the ground, reaching for the sky.

The Stone Toad – A gigantic stone carving of a toad’s head, crumbling, half-buried, and covered in moss.

The Wrecked Ship – The sun-bleached wreckage of a ship that ran aground long ago. Inside the hull is a massive cage with thick steel bars that appear to have been smashed outward from the inside.

The Three-Sided Tower – A half-collapsed stone tower with curious triangular architecture. The bones of a lonely watchman sitting in a chair lie atop it. The watchman wears a helmet shaped like a triangular pyramid. Several towers of this type can be found around the same area.

Giant’s Playground – this field is entirely stone, and many massive footprints can be seen stomped into it. There are boulders laying around, some cracked.

The Fallen Hero – The legs of a giant metal statue standing beside the top of a waterfall overlooking the valley below. At the bottom of the lake below the falls, the head and torso can be found. It appears to be the likeness of a famous ancient hero that a PC might recognize.

The Charity Cave – A cave with a chest that says, ‘if you take something, leave something.’ It’s unlocked and has several trinkets inside.

The Eye of the Moon – on top of this hill is a pool surrounded with stone. The water is always cool, and at night the full moon can always be seen in its reflection, regardless of clouds or moon cycle.

Bigfoot – A large tree in the forest that bends and splits in such a way that the bottom looks like a foot, with toes.

Goddess of Death Statue – A worn smooth but still recognizable ancient statue of a goddess of death. At her feet sets a black stone bowl filled with fresh rose petals. If you were to kneel down at the bowl and look up at her, you would see her eyes stare unwaveringly into yours.

The Red Altar – in the middle of a copse in a strange swamp lies a smooth altar made of red stone, with strange carvings of trees and water all around its base. Upon touching the altar, you will hear a voice in your mind ‘sacrifice”, and you will feel a strange primal urge to sacrifice a creature on top of it.

Timnar’s Beard – A copse of trees growing in a single spot on an otherwise barren mountain. Unbeknownst to the world, it is the burial place of a great wizard of earthen magics. It is watched over by a trio of stone golems and a handful of slumbering treants to guard the immense knowledge held within the tomb.

The Sundered Mount – a mountain that appears to have been cleaved in two and creating two crumbling peaks with a narrow cut of a valley between them. It does not appear naturally created.

The Mage Wastes – A region where fertile grassland suddenly stops and abruptly becomes a barren wasteland of decaying grass and reddish soil. It seems as if it was the sight of some magical battle. The ground is pocked with craters and scorch marks, yet it seems as if this battle was an ancient long finished, but the battlefield has remained a wasteland frozen in time.

The Dragons Maw – A series of jutting tooth like spires of black igneous rock which rise out from the sea. These “teeth” have proven to be an extreme hazard to sailors and shipping which pass too near to them. Tearing hulls and ripping sails.

The Gods Sacrament Statue -A old weathered statue of a god with beautiful gems inlaid and surrounded with wicker basket offerings of gold, flowers, food, and trinkets. Stealing from the statue result in a curse (permanent level of exhaustion) from the deity until either greater restoration is cast on the thief or they repent and make an offering of twice the amount stolen. Award inspiration for respectful offerings or prayers given to the statue.

The Dragonblood – A massive artwork carved into a boulder placed some ways away from the banks of a nearby river. The artwork seems to depict a struggle between giants and dragons, with the giants as the victors. The faintly red runes which line it are giantish, and anyone who can decipher them will read that it marks a momentous battle between giants and dragons, over which should decide the course of the river.

The Daughter of the Sun – An enormous stone of a singular soft yellow color. It is hot to the touch but by day it is warm and comfortable simply standing near it. By night however the stone begins to glow brightly, illuminating its surroundings in radiant golden light. Large chips of the same stone can be found in the foliage growing around it. With similar glowing properties.

Would you kindly -A sentient door in the side of a mountain that has short term memory loss. He has no idea of his name or how to open himself but enjoys talking with travelers none the less. Speaking the magic word “please” will cause the door to open revealing a shortcut through the mountain. No form of magic or otherwise can lead through or get around this door without speaking the magic word due to an ancient magical barrier.

The Bread Boy – a small statue in a park depicting a street urchin. In one hand he has what is left of a small loaf of bread. With the other hand he is spreading crumbs for the birds, so they do not go hungry too. A place where the street kids gather.

Sculpture Garden – a small clearing in a forest, near a cave mouth, contains dozens of statues of humanoid creatures, many armed & armored, all with looks of surprise & horror on their stone faces.

Saben’s Cauldron – a large, circular pool off of a main river which is geothermally heated.

The Teeth – a series of vaguely conic stone spires lined up along a gentle arc. Each is over 15ft tall and 5ft across at the base, and tapers to a narrow tip. Nobody knows the origin of this formation. Some say the teeth are all that remains from some colossal dragon skeleton, others think the stones were placed there by a dragon cult, or as a sign from Bahamut.

Mage-Crater – a 120ft diameter crater. Now filled with water and inhabited by pond creatures.

The Old Man – a natural rock formation that just happens to look like the face of an old man with a long beard. Ruins of temples from several ancient civilizations can be found in the valley below, apparently attracted there to worship the face, or perhaps just to be under his watchful gaze. Most humanoid races in the region are sure the old man looks like their race and have their own legend about him.

The Deino Flats -roughly 40 acres of salt flats. A long dried up saltwater marsh from ancient times.

Grand Defender – a large, symmetrical hill where the site of a great battle once was. Stone rubble and ruins barely peaks out from the top. Flowers are left there every so often.

The Adventurers Billiard Hall – A stone statue of a Local adventurer rests on a green glass dome in the center of a public lake. The dome is lit gently from beneath. Somewhere nearby lies a dilapidated entrance which runs through a small puzzle focused dungeon.

Turned-Inn – An inn that has been carefully constructed to appear as if it was turned upside-down.

The Signposts – A collection of several dozen poles each with a dozen or more signs mounted to them pointing towards various distant lands, nearby businesses, and bizarre joke locations. It started with travelers who erected a signpost pointing to their distant homelands which other travelers added to. Eventually it got out of hand.

Worm’s Desert – A small sandy desert only a couple hundred acres in size of so. A great desert-making worm arrived from another world and sought to covert the world into an ecosystem like its home but caught a local disease it was unresistant to and died before it made much progress. The residual poison from the worm’s body deters plants from overtaking the sand.

Lightning Lab – A bizarre building with a strange mushroom-shaped metal lattice on top. It was the lab of a researcher studying non-magical electricity who died from electrocution.

The Sandlot – A square of property with no building where children come to play. A greedy landlord raised the rent on a long-term elderly tenant when they purchased the property, driving the tenant into poverty and eventually death. The tenant cursed the land with dying breath that no-one would never profit from the property. Every future tenant was driven out by terrifying haunts, and eventually the building was burned down.

Dwarven Monument – An enormous high relief of six dwarven warriors cut from a cliff pointing the way along, commemorating their epic journey.

Atlas Boulders A series of differently sized large stone spheres far too large for a man to lift. The strongest giants would lift them to prove their strength. They sometimes move, so perhaps the giants still use them.

Ancient Battlefield – ramparts, high hills, and trenches filled with water that stretch for mile marking the location an ancient battlefield. It has grown over.

The Epicenter – A large swath of woods where all the trees in a massive circle have been bent at a 90-degree angle towards the center but continue to grow that way. There is nothing (currently) anomalous at the center, but a powerful coven of druids hold it as one of their holiest places and guards it closely.

Ol Demons Place – a once portal to the abyss, sealed by hero’s long ago, now just a crumbling arch with an unsettling aura.

The Broken Hill – a hill that you need to walk uphill to get to and walk uphill to get away from.

The Rooster of Mourning – An enormous statue of a rooster, made from a strange metal, finely detailed and colored. It is hollow, and when the first ray of sunrise strikes it, a great, sad-sounding crow arises from it. Legend says that it commemorates a great battle in the distant past.

The Angry Spot – a small stone platform on the top of a hill, standing on the platform makes a person irrationally angry. Barbarians may involuntarily rage as a result.

The Alter of a Thousand Arms. – At a crossroads sits an unusual statue, made of stone it stands over 10 feet tall and has arms sticking out in every direction with their palm turned upwards. In nearly every hand there is a candle, some still lit but most are fully melted. Placing a candle in one of the hands and lighting it will give the player the blessing of ‘A helping hand.’ When a player next fails a roll, they may roll an additional d6 and add it to their total.

The Weeping Sister – A fifteen-foot statue of a girl unmarred by time. Next to her are the shattered remains of another statue, close enough that the body may have once held her outstretched hand. The feet of this larger statue are all that remain affixed to the earth – the rest is scattered throughout the clearing. Water, clean and pure, travels down her face in steady rivulets but leaves no erosion there.

The Sensible Stone Head -a large stone head protruding from the surface of a glacier. It is the head of an earth elemental and if you get his attention, he is friendly. If asked what he is doing their he replies ”swimming in the river”, given he exists at a geological place the slow flow of the glacier is like a river to him.

Glass Tree – A fairly tall an elaborate tree made entirely out of glass raises from the earth, at its base there is a plaque written in dwarven, it’s to commemorate a dwarf leader who fell in battle.

The Titan’s Blade – A 50 ft rust covered sword driven into the earth. The whole area has a magical aura and no wildlife lingers within a quarter mile of the sword.

The Well of Good Tidings – A well by the side of the road that is a base in a local hafling tradition that if one where to lose a tooth, that it is to be tossed in the well with a tip of the hat. When doing so, good fortune is sure to come. Characters that throw in teeth later find small amounts of wet coins in various locations on their person. Characters that throw rubbish, or are otherwise disrespectful of the well, find their respective objects on their person once more soaking wet and covered in bite marks.

Skilltown – A small but clearly once-bustling town lays abandoned inside of a titan’s skull. The skull is half buried in the sand; its eye sockets and mouth aim up at an angle. Walking through its mouth is the only way to enter the town. The skull looks to be that of an enormous version of whatever scariest creature lives in that area. It provides ample shade during most of the day.

Best Rest Graveyard – A cleric once prayed over a graveyard that all within would ‘rest well.’ Now anyone who falls asleep in that graveyard has the best night of sleep they’ve ever had.

Bird Hill – a grassy hill of noticeable height rises from the otherwise flat plains. On the hill are several lines of cobblestone that do not grow grass and have no discernible pattern from the surface. If flying, however, you see the cobblestone lines form the shape of a bird, along with some arcane symbols. If you happen to look up during the spring or fall, you’ll see migratory birds alter their course to fly over this hill.

Stairway to Nowhere – All that remains of an ancient fortress, the remarkably well constructed staircase rises for 3 stories out of the ground at the end of an ancient road, and then just abruptly stops.

The Crossroads – This is the place where four kingdoms meet. The main road for each lead to a massive stone pillar. Many years ago, all four kingdoms were at war, and a pillar was placed there as a symbol that none from neighboring kingdoms would be allowed to cross. It is now an annual meeting place for the four to discuss their continued amnesty.

Cloudland Canyon – It’s a canyon nestled in a northern mountain range that’s so high even the base of the canyon is a higher elevation than most of the other mountains in this world. Wondrously magical things occur here.

Stone Tree Garden – It was a garden from a former ancient culture, which vanished out of unknown reasons. One of the only things found was this tree garden. Are the trees made of stone or turned to, no one knows.

‘The Circle’ -There once was a meteorite which crashed into the land. The first to arrive found weird writing in a (Insert required size) diameter circle. No one could read what was written. In the center of the circle, where the meteor should have been, there was nothing, not even a small crater.

The Well – A seemingly normal well on the top of a hill. Anything that is placed into it is immediately tossed out of it.

The Pariah’s Mountain -One mountain among an otherwise unimpressive range, its only defining feature is its completely upside down. The base measures about 60ft across, but the peak 3,000ft up is easily a mile across. Stairs may have been carved into the side, but the climb down to the summit (or is it up to the base? The locals aren’t quite sure) is precarious at times. The locals are also similarly vague when asked about what’s on top…

Worried stones – A group of 3 standing stones with anxiety. When encountered in their clearing, they will disappear once all eyes are off them. Careful inspection will reveal them to hiding nearby – peeking from behind a nearby tree, bottom of a lake, hidden by bushes, behind where the party is now looking, etc. If discovered, they disappear again if not observed. The stones are not malicious, and do not harm the party. They would just rather you all left them to it, thank you.

The Quiet Creek – An otherwise ordinary creek that runs through a forest. It is abnormally quiet near the stream, in such that there is almost no echo around it, and it is surprisingly hard to hear from a distance. All along its course stand small boulders, almost fully grown over with moss.

The Shifting Hills – A large field of hills, dotted with rocks, grasses, and flowers. Careful study has found the hills are constantly moving, as though old creatures crawl along under a carpet of earth. Magics which call upon the earth always seem to produce unexpected results when among them.

The Devil’s Wager – A large disc shaped stone at the base of a long dormant volcano. Visitors toss a copper at it for good luck. There are a couple hundred copper around it. It is considered extraordinarily bad luck to take the coppers.

The Swordleaf Trees – there is a patch of trees here with a non-stop turbulent wind rustling the leaves and branches violently. The leaves’ edges appear to be razor sharp.

Beacon Mountain – A mountain that, on some nights, has a bright ball of light form over it which slowly dissipates over several hours. Local religion strictly forbids climbing the mountain.

Mist Valley – a short pathway of stone carved into a mountain, roughly five feet wide with names of couples and graffiti on the stone walls. The pathway always has a thick fog settled over it, making it seem eerie.

Ancient Battleground – Deep in a forest, trees are marred with years old axe and sword marks. Hundreds of skeletons dressed in rusted armor and weapons lie in this area. Taking a trinket, or even loitering may be unwise.

True Clarity Bridge – A bridge between two high places that, for many people, while staring off the side, provides answers for their most troubling issue or deep question, whether they were looking for the answer or not.

Lover’s Glade – Two sequoia trees whose bases are over a hundred feet apart have grown together and connect about 160 to 180 feet off the ground. The branches and leaves of these giant trees create a pleasantly shaded area below which is often used by the local populace as sites of wedding ceremonies.

Round Rock – A mysterious perfectly round rock that stands nearly 20ft tall. It is too heavy to roll and never seems to chip. It is the center of many local legends, varying wildly on their truthfulness.

[funtimebunnyblog]

Pillar men during their heat?

What will their s/o do?

Me: *opens my ask box and sees this*

My brain: *CARELESS WHISPER BLARES*

You got it Anon! 😘🥰😇 Big stronk Himbos feeling the big feelings coming right up!

Pillarmen (separate) in heat and their s/o's reaction...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• On the norm, Kars wasn't overly affectionate with you.

• Sure, he had his times; like when he would put an arm around you when sitting on the couch or when he held you in his lap on occasion while he worked.

• You'd also get rewarded with some sweet little kisses during your daily routines.

• But really, he wasn't really a clingy creature...

• Well... not until his heat strikes, that is.

• When undergoing heat, oh boy, this hulking Pillarman's cold and collected demeanor practically melts away to reveal a cuddly, purring kitten.

• The first time he underwent his heat cycle around you, you knew something was definitely different... yet you couldn't place what.

• "Kars, I have to get ready for wooork..." you whined softly, squirming in his hold under the covers.

• Normally, when you woke up he would already have left to do some work of his own or you two would exchange some loving words and kisses for a brief moment before getting up to start the day.

• But this morning you were pleasantly surprised to wake up to him clinging to you, humming and peppering your face and shoulders with soft kisses.

• You honestly didn't want to ruin such a moment, most especially when it was such a sweet cuddly moment with Kars, but you had been laying here with him for over an hour and you really had to go or else you'd be late!

• The Pillarman only held you tighter in his arms, curling around you almost protectively and nuzzling into your neck; your protests and pushing were helpless against him.

• "Hmmm, no need." He hummed, a tendril of curly violet hair tickled your nose as he snuggled you in his vice-like embrace. "I already called in for you, dear one."

• Needless to say, he wasn't letting you go anywhere anytime soon.

• Another thing; Kars wasn't a man to beg (for anything at all really) most especially attention.

• From ANYONE.

• Usually, he was the one laying back with a smirk; lavishing in any and all of your pleas to have him hold YOU and him give YOU attention.

• He just found it absolutely delicious when someone became needy over him; being not only a gorgeous man but a ruler and Ultimate lifeform as well; your pleas for his touch only fed his ego.

• However, when Kars was in heat, he almost became a completely different person.

• "Kars, please, I just need to get these dishes done first..." you sighed, trying to focus as you were elbow deep in dishware and suds.

• The gargantuan Pillarman clinging to your back and nuzzling you did nothing to help as you tried to complete the task.

• "Oh come now, please? Please, can we snuggle on the couch? I'll put on your favourite show~" he whined, the vibrations of his chest sent trembles down your spine as he begged.

• "After dishes," You told him, trying to be firm but crumbling. "Pleeeeease, beloved one? I haven't seen you all day, my sunshine, and I've missed you so~ We can finish them later, together~" Kars hummed, digging his nose deeper into your neck.

• You were honesty starting to fear he had been replaced with an imposter of some kind.

• KARS SUS

• It becomes obvious to him that you're not understanding what'sgoing on and it's not long after when Kars follows his natural urges and gets to building a suitable nest.

• If you didn't understand his madness before, he fully intended to make you with this.

• You come Home from work one afternoon to find the Livingroom essentially turned into one giant blanket fort; pillows laid strewn about across the cushioned floor.

• The most notable thing about it all was the Pillarmen laying in the midst of all of it... in all his glory.

• "Come and join me, dearest~" he purred, gazing at you through hungry crimson eyes as you stood there gawking in the doorway. "I've been waiting~"

• Even though you still don't understand, this time you find you can't refuse him. Definitely not while he's licking his lips like that...

• You'll have to call in to work again tomorrow ;)

Esidisi:

• When Esidisi undergoes one of his heat cycles, it's best described that he becomes a hot mess.

• Even more of a hot mess than usual that is...

• The man was already a very emotional person but somehow, he became even more emotional when in heat.

• You started to suspect something was wrong with him when you came downstairs one morning only to be immediately met with a spine cracking embrace and a flood of tears.

• He was going on a sobbing rant about how he was so happy to spend his mornings with you, his Mate, and that you were wonderful in every way and the very light of his life.

• Normally, he only got this emotional when watching Cat videos.

• You also couldn't help but notice that he's burning even hotter than his usual warmth.

• Normally, he just felt like one big muscular electric blanket; radiating a comfortable warmth. But now he felt something akin to the scalding blast of heat that hits you in the face when opening the door to an oven.

• You practically had to wear oven mitts to lay hands on him now.

• You couldn't shake the feeling something was definitely off about him when he started leaving you little gifts lying around.

• The things he left ranged from clothing to food to trinkets and just general things you liked; all for you!

• Not to mention the fact he was being extra sweet, going out of his way to give you lots of kisses and loving, and even cooking you more meals and doing all of the chores.

• You appreciated the sentiment of it all but really, you were quite puzzled as to why he was putting so much investment in you. It wasn't a Holiday or your Birthday or anything...

• Little did you know you were also puzzling him.

• You were supposed to be taking interest in him!

• In his eyes, he was dropping obvious hints to his cycle; he took your confusion and lack of response to all of his offerings as somewhat of a rejectment and that actually hurt him enough to make him cry a little...

• He decides then that there's only one more thing he can do... he'll put together a most excellent nest for you! The best nest you'd ever seen!

• "Esidisi?" "Hmm?" He turned to look at you, doe-eyed, arms suspended in the air as he laid out another blanket on top of the growing pile.

• You were Home from work early and he still had much work to do yet!

• "What are you doing?" You questioned with a raised eyebrow. Not only was he rearranging your whole room, he had covered the entire space with blankets and pillows.

• He had even gone so far as to thoroughly douse the area in the perfume/cologne you always wore.

• "I'm making us a nest." He says, almost matter of factly. When you ask him why he's doing that, it floors him.

• Did you seriously not understand?! This entire time?!

• After he sits you down and explains himself, everything clicks with you and you actually feel terrible for not understanding sooner.

• You didn't realize his kind underwent natural cycles like this...

• You ask him if you can finish building the nest together, if this had to be done you wanted to help and have it be done right.

• His heart absolutely soars at your offer, making him teary eyed as he nods eagerly.

• However, you barely get the chance to finish it before you're both putting it to good use ;)

Wamuu:

• Throughout his many years living, Wamuu had always viewed his heat cycle as more of a distraction than anything; even though it was a completely natural phenomenon for the Pillarmen race.

• He had much difficulty focusing on training or fighting at all when it happened, making him feel quite useless.

• He always felt too mushy and needy during this time; things he viewed as shameful to see in him when he was supposed to be presenting himself to peers and enemies as a powerful foe.

• When heat struck, the Pillarman would simply hole himself up in his chamber, enduring the entirety of the cycle alone until it was over and done with.

• Eventually, when it passed and he was feeling his normal self he could go out again.

• However... things had changed now that you, his Mate, were thrown into the equation.

• You definitely knew something was different about him when it all started.

• On the norm, Wamuu was strong and he was a man to stand his ground as any proud, battle-hardened Warrior should.

• But when his heat struck... Wamuu became quite flighty.

• It seemed like the littlest of things would have him fleeing from the room; often in a blushing mess.

• He couldn't even sit through a simple kissing scene in a movie you two had been watching the other night.

• "Wamuu, what--" You blinked owlishly as a HUGE bouquet of red roses was pushed into your arms suddenly. It was as if he had picked you an entire field of them!

• "Flowers for you!" He said quickly, practically yelling, before taking off; out of the room and up the stairs. You couldn't see the flaming red in his face from over the massive bundle of flowers he had dumped on you.

• You couldn't help but realize he had a hard time to look you in the eye anymore. In fact, he seemed to break into a sweat if you even did something as little as touch him.

• You were seriously starting to worry that something was wrong with him.

• He on the other hand wasn't sure whether you wanted him or not during his heat and he was scared to act on his primal impulses.

• Usually, he liked to spend his free time with you watching TV or helping you around the household but he was spending more time upstairs, away from you; specifically in the spare room.

• You also took notice that there were a lot of blankets and pillows around the house missing but you didn't really focus on that as you were more worried about Wamuu and his strange behavior.

• After a few days of this, you decided to confront him.

• However, he got to you first; coming downstairs and sheepishly taking your hand, asking you to follow him.

• Wamuu had given into his primal instincts and had spent the last few days perfecting a nest for you both up in the spare room.

• You thought it was an impressive feat; he had turned the entire room into one big cushy and comfy heaven... but you didn't really understand why he had done this.

• Wamuu's eyes go huge when you ask him why. Did... Did Humans do such things for their Mates?

• HAD HE BEEN GOING ABOUT THIS ALL WRONG?!

• Poor Wamuu has to sit down and explain it all to you; his off behavior, most importantly the matter of you, the meaning of creating a nest and the cyles of his race behind it all...

• To his relief; you're very understanding and, even more to his relief, intrigued.

• Needless to say however, you and Wamuu don't leave the nest for a good little while afterward ;)

Santana:

• Much like Wamuu, Santana had often spent his years enduring his heat cycles in isolation.

• Nobody would see hide or hair of Santana from before it happened until the very end.

• The day before it struck he would simply pack up and leave to God-knows-where and stay there; sometimes he wouldn't even tell the others he was leaving.

• That being said; nobody (not even the other Pillarmen) knew what exactly Santana was like during the time of his heat cycle.

• Until you came along that was.

• You were Santana's Mate; the only proper reason for him to stay put when undergoing his heat.

• You'll begin to notice subtle changes, like the fact that Santana seems just a little more alert; attentive even.

• He brings you things before you even know that you want them; like snacks when you're starting to feel hungry or the cup of coffee you enjoy at noon.

• Somehow, he just seems to know.

• You'll also notice his fascination with your clothes or specifically the scent you leave on them.

• "Are you cold, Santana?" You question with a frown. Not only was he wearing your favorite hoodie, he was also wearing the baggy old T-Shirt you wore yesterday.

• Which was strange, as you knew Santana didn't really like clothing aside from the loincloth he wore.

• They were almost comically small on him, despite them being big clothes for you.

• He hummed, burying his face in the baggy neck of the hoodie; he felt as if he was surrounded by a Heavanly warm cloud of just you. "Hmmm, no."

• Surprisngly, it doesn't take long into the cycle for him to start constructing a nest.

• He takes things from all over the house; blankets, pillows, cushions, any stuffed animals or huggable plushies you have lying about, etc.

• Even if you happen to be sitting on them the moment he wants to add them to the growing pile upstairs, he just walks up and wordlessly takes them and then squirrels them away.

• If you happen to confront him on it, don't expect him to give you a detailed answer.

• "Santana, why are you taking the couch cushions?" "Because." "Because why?" "Because I have need of them." "Ok. Why do you need them?" "Because." "Because...?" "Just because." "Just because?" "Yes."

• Once his nest is all made up and deemed fit for you he goes looking for you.

• If you happen to be busy doing anything in the moment where he finds you, too bad.

• He just simply walks up and picks you up, squirreling you away to the nest like everything else as you were the most important thing to go in it.

• The explanation of everything can come later, much MUCH later; now was the time for action ;)

[genshin-impacted]

empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy. 

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family. 

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

.

.

.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident. 

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

.

.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them. 

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate. 

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her. 

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one. 

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around. 

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former. 

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is. 

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see. 

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

.

.

.

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

[hellcaster901]

Man Without Sin

Sherlock Holmes x Female reader

Summary: With your little brother missing, your father decides they need the best Detective on the job.

Word Count: 3,890

Warning(s): SMUT! (please be aware this is a fanfiction, be safe please), creampie, FLUFF

A/N: After watching Enola Holmes, I could not get this man out of my mind, so I just wanted to give it a try and write a oneshot for him, and this is what I got! Hopefully you guys like it, and you enjoy it. I just wanna say a big thank you to my good friend @13dead-ends​ mostly because she was so cool with letting me write for her man and for being my proof reader. Hope you guys enjoy!

Sherlock Holmes was a cocky bastard. Too smart for his own good sort of cocky bastard, and you did everything in your power to remind him that he wasn’t one of a kind.

It all started when your brother mysteriously vanished, leaving you and your father alone in the house, wondering why or where he left. You asked your father to trust in you that you could solve it, figure out why he ever left in the first place and where you could find him, but he didn’t have any faith in you, rather all his faith was in the one and famous Sherlock Holmes, the one true detective that could solve any mystery and any puzzle, and you’d be damn if you’d let this man solve your brother's case, without you. 

When Sherlock first came into your life, your father did everything he could to make the investigation easier for him, offering the spare room in the house, giving him any information that he could about your brother, paying the detective in any way he can. You could not handle it. Especially since Sherlock’s first suspect… was you. 

 “It's a bit strange that a boy of his age would just up and vanish. What was his age, 16?”

“He is 16.” You corrected the detective. You couldn’t help the tone in your voice as you answered.  You put your hands on your hips as you watched him pace around your brother’s room, looking at all of the trinkets and books the young boy collected throughout the years. Watching as he picked up said items, studying each and every one of them. “He wouldn’t have just left.” You stated, voice a little softer, looking at everything in his room. “That isn’t like him.”

“You never truly know someone, even if they are a sibling.”

“Are you suggesting you know my own brother better than I do?” You snapped, head whipping around to look at Mr. Holmes. You could see that he had a shocked look on his face at your little outburst, but quickly was able to shake it off. “Just because you’re a hot-shot detective doesn’t mean you instantly know a person by their possessions.” 

“I’m suggesting that it’s strange a young man of his age disappeared and there’s no witnesses.” He stared. You could see the look on his face, the way his eyes search yours, trying to find any hint of doubt or lies that hide, yet there was none, and you knew what he was doing.

“Mr. Holmes,” You coldly smiled, taking a step into the room, “Are you accusing me of being involved with my brother’s disappearance?” He chuckled lightly, shaking his head, the black curls atop of his head shaking with his movement as he smirked. 

“Everyone’s a suspect until I say they aren’t.”

You may have been a little emotional, and you may have been a bit unfair. He was helping, giving his time to search for your brother, but accusing you was the last straw. Not only could you not stand the man, he apparently had a way with making it the most difficult week of your life for you. Constantly in the way, constantly underestimating you as you tried to help, and constantly giving you that bloody smirk of his that made your blood boil, and your knees weak. No matter how hard you tried to push the thought to the back of your mind, he was attractive, but that didn’t help his giant ego. 

Sadly, that’s how you ended up in this situation, lost in an abandoned building all because your leads all ended up here, and somehow, your own ego to find your brother and not trust the actual detective, ended you up here, walking the empty, decaying walls, looking for clues. You didn’t even tell your father where you were, trusting that this could be your chance to show that you were just as capable. And you knew you were, each lead, each witness said that they saw a disheveled man, close to the image of your brother on the missing person’s posters, come here around this time, everyday. 

You trusted your gut as you walked through the halls, the floorboards creaking beneath you as you took were timid steps. As you walked, you noticed the many supplies and boxes laying around, what was in them you didn’t care for, you just knew that your brother was in this building. 

As you walked through the first floor, you soon began hearing boards creaking above you, heavy footsteps walking around, and muffled voices. You felt your heart race in your chest, hearing more than one voice, and hearing more than one set of footsteps. You didn’t expect to be more than your brother just here, and that made you nervous. 

You grabbed at your skirts, lifting them and walking up the steps, the boards groaning at each movement. You took it slow, the muffled voices becoming a bit more clearer as you walked, and as you got closer, you could distinctly make out your brother’s voice. Shaky and panicky.  You stayed calm besides the rush of confidence and nervousness washed over you. Taking a step onto the landing, you looked up and over the railing. You noticed one of the doors was cracked open, exposing the well lit room, men walking past the cracked door. They were older men, a rugged look to them as they stood there, yelling about shipments and the impact it could make on their business

You took a small step forward, the floorboards moaning beneath you at your weight, a few of the boards cracking beneath, trying to get a better look at your brother. You held your breath as you watched, eyes watching the door frantically as the men walked passed. When finally, the sight of your brother, disheveled and scared stepped into your view. A sense of relief and proudness washed over you. A relief that your brother was alive, and proud that you were able to do this by yourself. 

He stood there, eyes wide, undershirt and trousers wrinkled and covered in dirt. You wanted to yell for him, to scream for him to follow you, to get out of here. But you knew this was more than just him running away. You took another step, wanting to get a closer look, when the board beneath you cracked loudly, before it finally snapped. 

You screamed as your leg broke through the board, the wood scratching against your leg, pulling and tearing at your undergarments and skirts. 

“Who the hell are you?” You looked up, seeing a large man standing at the tops of the stairs, some other men standing behind you, your brother staring down at you with wide eyes. He shook his head at you, a look on his face you’ve never seen before. It was pure fear. You watched as the man opened his mouth again, ready to demand my name, when the boards creaked beneath you again, cracking under your weight. 

“Y/N!” You looked down at the bottom of the stairs, seeing Sherlock standing there. And that's when you fell.

***

Your eyelids fluttered open, your eyes focusing on the paintings that covered the wall. Paintings of you as a child, your mother and father. You smiled softly at the painting, seeing how happy they were, you bundled in your mother’s arms. Your eyes shifted to the large painting hanging next to it, one of you, older now, probably 10, standing behind your father as he held your little brother. 

Your brother @@

With a gasp you jerked from where you laid, yelling your brother’s name, knowing you saw him. You stood up, wincing at the slight pain in your legs and hips, falling back onto the couch you once were. 

You stared down at your skirts, touching the dirty, torn fabric, everything coming back. Seeing him with those men, standing there on the landing, falling through the boards, seeing Sherlock.

“Y/N.” you were torn from your trance, looking up at the doorway to see Sherlock standing there. You wondered what you looked like after seeing him, standing there, dirty and debris covering his vest and white undershirt, his hair was no longer put together and neat, more as disheveled, almost like he was constantly running a hand through it. 

“I saw him.” You whispered, looking down at the state you were in. “I found him.” You took a shaky breath in, looking back up at the detective. “We need to go find him.” You shook your head, standing up, ignoring the pain that shot up your leg. 

“Y/N.” He spoke again, coming towards you, placing a hand on your upper arm. “You need to rest, you’ve-”

“No.” You snapped, pulling your arm away from his, shaking your head. You felt your hair brush against your shoulders. You looked down, noticing that your blouse was torn from the neck down, exposing your chest and your corset. You were a mess, but for the moment, all you wanted was your baby brother home. “I saw him. I found him.” You snapped again, waving a hand at Sherlock, everything that happened in the last couple hours rushing over you. “I can find him again, I just need to-”

“Stop.” Sherlock barked, grabbing your arms. He turned you, shaking you lightly as you stood there before him, eyes wide and lips parted as you looked over his features. He was upset, either at losing your brother after looking for so long, or you were just annoying him. 

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do.” You scoffed, trying to tug yourself from his hands, but to no prevail, he held on, keeping you in your place. “Let go.” You huffed, wiggling around to get out of his grasp. But he had a tight hold on you, not letting you go, not letting you go back out and getting yourself hurt. “I need to find him.”

“You did.” He yelled, making you flinch in his hands, stopping your wiggling around. “You found him,” He repeated again, but his tone was much softer than before, his blue eyes searching yours, trying to calm you down. “But this is more than either of us thought it was.” He explained, his hands feeling like fire on your arms as you listened. “He’s dealing with something illegal, something that could get him, and everyone one involved hurt.”

“He’s not.” You shook your head, not believing that your brother would put himself into a situation like that. “You’re lying.” You whispered, pulling from his hands, and this time he let you go. “Why are you lying?” 

“Why would I lie to you?” He cooly spoke. 

“You are.” You scoffed. “I’m looking for him.” You pushed past the large man, gasping as you felt one of his hands on your wrist, tugging you back. “Don’t you dare.” You gasped, turning on your heels and lifting a hand. Before you could even smack him, your hand slapping his chiseled face, he caught your wrist, tugging you to him. 

You huffed as you fell against his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist, fingers hooking onto the bottom of your corset, keeping you close, the other hand still holding onto your wrist. You moved against him, but he kept you tight, not letting you move.

“You a stubborn girl.” he grunted, his eyes shifting down to see your bosom rubbing against his chest, the corset scratching against the vest. “Stop moving.” He held you tighter, arm keeping you against him. You looked up, ready to scream and kick and cry, but everything was washed away when you realized how close the two of you have become. “Being upset isn’t going to save him.” He whispered, slowly letting go of your wrist. But by this point, you weren’t freaking out, whatever he was doing, held you in a trance. “Let me save him.” And just like that, that trance was gone. 

“You save him?” You whispered, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not doing anything without me.” You fumed, getting heated up once again. “What makes you think that I’m not capable of saving my own-”

Sherlock was fed up with listening to you talk. 

And to shut you up, he cupped the back of your head, and kissed you. 

You were shocked when his lips met yours, stealing the breath from your lungs as he crushed you against him, shutting you up with his lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, melting into him as everything from today was erased from your mind the second his lips touched yours. He smelt like sweat, like an old house, which you were sure was from the abandoned home you were just in. 

Sherlock draped both his arms around your waist,your own hands making their way up his large arms before resting on his back, lips moving together, nose bumping as he inhaled you. You felt as if your knees were going to give out on you, but you knew that he was going to catch you if they did. It must’ve been a sight to see the two of you, one covered in dirt and grime, while the other barely had a blouse on with a torn skirt and exposed corset. 

It was as if the adrenaline from today was finally catching up for the two of you, your arms tugging him impossibly closer, lips sliding against one another. Soon what was a hesitant kiss, turned into one filled with passion. He lifted you up, walking you towards the table that sat in the middle of the room, placing you on top. He was gentle, still minding the bruise and cuts that you once just obtained. “You need to let me find your brother.” He mumbled against your lips, hands making their way up your back, fingers dragging along the bumps of the tight lace of your corset.

You pulled away, furrowed eyebrows at the man.

“You must be joking.” You tried to ignore the way his flushed cheeks, the newly red and plumpness to his lips made those butterflies that were once in your stomach travel down south. “You’re not looking for him without me.” 

“Y/N.” He huffed, fingers playing with the tight lace at the bottom of your corset, it was distracting, and he knew that it was. “It’s not safe for a lady-”

“Don’t you dare.” You groaned, shoving at his chest. “Either I’m looking with you, or I’m looking without you.” You pointed, watching the way his eyebrows scrunched together. “That’s final.” You could see that he was thinking about it before he finally huffed.

He tugged you back, soft lips meeting yours as his hands grabbed at your skirts lifting them to around your waist. “Strong Headed girl.” He groaned, settling himself between your thighs. You gasped as you felt him rut against you, his length rubbing against your most sensitive parts. “Most difficult girl.” 

You smirked against his lips, a strong sense of pride as you realized that you were able to frustrate this man to the point of taking you on the table. And if that wasn’t a boost to your ego, frustrating England’s most profound detective, you weren’t sure what was. 

There was no time to waste as the two of you frantic pulled at one another’s clothes. Your hands slipping between your bodies as you unbutton his pants, hearing the small gasps that left his lips when you shoved the barrier down, exposing him to your curious eyes. You pulled away from him, nervously looking down. 

This was the most unlady like situation you’ve ever been in, but Sherlock Holmes was the exception for acting in such a manner. 

You grew hot at the sight, unknowing licking your lips as you looked back at Sherlock. No words were spoken as he leaned down, kissing you as his hands worked at your own undergarments, shoving them to your ankles, hanging on one foot while he tugged you close to the edge of the table. 

You winced at the slight pull from your legs, the newly fresh wounds pulling against your skin as he lifted a leg up, hooking it around his hip.

From the past couple weeks of pent up anger and frustration at one another, this was bound to happen, the passing looks, the arguments, all of it, was leading up to this single moment. 

“Sherlock.” You gasped, finger digging into his arms as he nudged against you, his length slipping between your lips, smearing your juices over your throbbing sex and down his cock. 

“Do you realize how long I’ve wanted to shut you up with this?” He groaned against your ear, both of you looking down, one hand holding up your thigh around his waist, while the other held your skirts up, exposing the intoxicating sight to you both. You reached down, grabbing more of the skirts as you pulled them up, more light being exposed to the obscene sight. “Such a stubborn girl should know her place.” He whispered, thrusting against you, the tip of his cock bumping against your clit, making you jerk against the table. 

“Sherlock, please.” You begged. Even though his words were enough to make your blood boil any other time, this time, you wanted to hear more and more of his filthy words. 

He grabbed the back of your neck, lifting his head to look at you, keeping you in place as he rested his forehead against yours. “You better be quiet.” He warned. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. Neither of you wanted your father walking in to see his daughter being used by the detective he idolized. 

He reached between your heaving bodies, wrapping a large hand around his length as he lined himself up with you, slowly pushing against your entrance, squeezing between your tight walls. You gasped loudly, hiding your head in the crook of his neck, hearing the soft moans of this wonderous man. 

“Sherlock!” You croaked out, a hand clenching your skirts while the other grabbed at his vest. Pushing him or tugging him closer, you weren’t sure. The way this man was barely in you, and you were already a whimpering mess was uncalled for. He stretched you out deliciously, the slight burn of your walls opening for him made you cry against his neck. He left soft kisses against your shoulder, shushing you as you cried out a little too loud when he filled you to the hilt. 

“Look at you, stubborn girl.” He whispered against your ear, chills running down your back at the thickness of his voice, his cock and the stupid pet name he gave you. 

He slowly pulled out of you, snapping his hips against yours. You bit down on the fabric of his vest, trying to cover the sounds this man was pulling from you. He wasn’t gentle, showing you that if you were going to be a part of the hunt for your brother, that he was in charge. 

You tried to keep quiet, but it was no use as he fucked you, the edge of the table digging into the back of your thighs. You moans were choked and intertwined with quiet sobs against his shirt, tears filling your eyes as he took you.

“Such a smart girl,” he grunted, weaving a hand into your hair, tugging your head back to look at him. You gasped at the sudden movement, his hands moving down to grasp your chin in his hand, making you look at him, fingers digging into your skin. “But I finally left you speechless.” He smirked. You opened your mouth to make a smart comment to him, but was met with a hard thrust, making whatever sarcastic comment you were going to say, not worth it at that moment.  

Sherlock was a sight for sore eyes. Face was scrunched up in pure pleasure, eyes looking over your face as his lips parted when he gave you another hard thrust. He was enjoying this just as much as you were, it was a stress reliever for the two of you. You reached up, cupping the side of his face, tugging him down and kissed his pink lips, drinking down his grunts as he chased his high.

“I’m close Sherlock.” You mumbled against his lips, his hand that grasped your chin fell to your bosom, fingers digging into the corset, locking you in place as he bucked into you. “Let me feel you.” You whispered, licking his bottom lip. You were so desperately close, almost like a tornado was happening within your stomach, your walls fluttering around his cock as you desperately wanted to reach your own climax.

Sherlock’s hand that was wrapped around your thigh tightened, lifting the leg even higher around his hip, his cock splitting you open even more. “Sherlock!” You cried against his lips, feeling his cock bump against your g-spot with each hard stroke. “Yes, right there.” You no longer cared if you sounded like a whore in a brothel, all you wanted was this man to make you feel like you were on a cloud.

“Let go Y/N.” He grunted, his hand that was once grabbing your corset wrapping around your body, tugging you right to the edge of the table. “Let me feel you sweet girl.”

It was as if your whole body locked up around him, your thighs clenching together in a tight embrace around his hips, your walls squeezing his cock like a vice. His name left your lips like a prayer, your orgasm taking a hold of your body as held onto him for dear life. 

Sherlock growled into your neck as he came, desperately bucking into your tight walls as he emptied himself, crushing you against him. He rutted against you, a few final thrusts as he came, his seed filling you, his cock twitching as he slowly came to a stop. 

You dropped your head onto his shoulder, trying to catch your breath after such an intense moment, your hand shakily reaching for his hair, playing with the few strands at the nape of his neck. He moaned softly, a smile spreading on your face that you realized that this man liked his hair being played with. He pulled away from you, his softened cock slipping from your swollen walls. You whimpered as he did so, feeling the mixture of cum already leaking from you. You blushed as you looked up at him, lowering your skirt. He only smirked up at you as he tucked himself back into his pants. 

You reached for your undergarments, pulling them up your bruised legs, trying to ignore the sticky liquid between your thighs as you fixed what was left of your skirts. Before you could even try to jump off the table, Sherlock was there, hands on your hips as he helped you down.

“Thank you.” You whispered, looking up at him. He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before on this man on his face. “I trust you.” You spoke, placing your hands on top of his. “I trust that you can find my brother.” The corner of his lip turned up.

“I trust that we can find your brother.” He corrected you.

Taglist: @thereisa8ella​

[frankendykes-monster]

Space Jam: A New Legacy is content to be content.

The original Space Jam was a calculated marketing exercise. Michael Jordan was the biggest sports star of the nineties, and Space Jam capitalised on Jordan’s brand potential while also allowing the athlete to refashion his own narrative into a family-friendly mythology. Space Jam packaged Jordan for a generation, smoothing the wrinkles out of his story by presenting a wholesome family man making an earnest transition from basketball to baseball.

It also helped Warner Bros. to figure out what to do with their Looney Tunes characters, which had largely laid dormant within the company’s intellectual property vaults. There had been a conscious effort to revitalised the company’s animation with shows like Tiny Toon Adventures and even Animaniacs, but those classic and beloved cartoons were a merchandising opportunity waiting to happen. So the logic of the original Space Jam was clear, it was an excuse to tie together two potentially profitable strands of intellectual property.

Space Jam itself was something of an afterthought. The movie struggles to reach its ninety-minute runtime. It often feels like the production team have to utilise every scrap of film to reach that target, with extended riffs focusing on Bill Murray and Michael Jordan on the golf course and with a lot of the improvisation from the voice cast included in the finished film. The movie’s ending comes out of nowhere, and Space Jam struggles to hit many of the basic plot beats of a scrappy sports movie.

The movie itself was immaterial to the success of Space Jam as a concept. After all, the film only grossed $250m at the global box office, enough to scrape into the end of year top ten behind The Nutty Professor and Jerry Maguire. However, the film’s real success lay in merchandising, with the film generating between $4bn and $6bn in licensing and merchandising. Key to this was the success of the six-time platinum-certified soundtrack which remains the ninth highest-grossing soundtrack of all-time.

In some to trace a lot of modern Hollywood back to the original Space Jam. So much of how companies package and release modern media feels like an extension of that approach, the reduction of the actual film itself to nothing more than “content” that exists as a larger pool of marketable material. After all, the unspoken assumption underlying AT&T’s disastrous decision to send all of their blockbusters to HBO Max was the understanding that HBO Max itself was often packaged free with company’s internet. Movies would no longer be their own things, but just perks to be packaged and sold as part of larger deals.

In the decades since the release of Space Jam, the industry has become increasingly focused on the idea of packaging and repackaging intellectual property. It has become increasingly common for films to showcase multiple intellectual properties housed at the same studios. Simple crossovers like Alien vs. Predators or The Avengers now seem positively humble when compared to the smorgasbord of brand synergy on display in projects like The Emoji Movie or Ralph Breaks the Internet.

Interestingly, as Disney have steadily securing their intellectual property portfolio with additions like Pixar and Lucasfilm and Marvel Studios and 20th Century Fox, Warner Bros. have becoming increasingly bullish about showcasing the depth and breadth of their bench. The LEGO Movie imagines a wide range of properties consolidated under one brand. Ready Player One depicted a pop culture user space lost in nostalgia for properties and trinkets. However, those movies also managed to tell their own stories, even as they grappled with the weight of brand synergy pushing down on top of them.

Space Jam: A New Legacy has no such delusions. It understands that it does not exist as a story or as a feature film. Instead, it has distilled cinema down to a content-delivery mechanism. The plot of the movie finds basketball star LeBron James sucked into the “Serververse” and forced to ally with the Looney Tunes in order to play a basketball game with the fate of the world in the balance. However, while the original Space Jam ran a brisk and unfocused ninety minutes, A New Legacy extends itself to almost two hours. There is always more content to repackage and sell, after all.

A New Legacy slathers its cynicism in nostalgia, directly appealing to a generation of audiences who have convinced themselves that Space Jam was a good movie and a beloved childhood classic. A New Legacy is built around the understanding that the original Space Jam walked so that it might run, counting on the audience’s nostalgia for the original film to excuse a lot of its indulgences. After all, it would be a betrayal of the franchise if A New Legacy wasn’t a crash and vulgar cash-in. In many ways, A New Legacy does what most sequels aspire to do, scaling the original film’s ambitions aggressively upwards.

As with the original Space Jam, there is layer of irony to distract from the film’s clear purpose. In the original Space Jam, the villainous Swackhammer planned to abduct the Looney Tunes and force them to play at his themeparks. The implication was that the characters did not want to be sold into corporate servitude, stripped of their own identity and rendered as crass tools of unchecked capitalism. The irony of Space Jam lay in the fact that the entire movie was a variant on Swackhammer’s themepark and the Looney Tunes were dancing to that theme anyway as Daffy puckers up and kisses the Warner Bros. stamp on his own ass.

In A New Legacy, a sentient algorithm – Al G. Rhythm – is cast as the movie’s primary antagonist. The film gestures broadly at a satirical criticism of the modern film industry, with Al G. Rhythm shaping and warping the future of movie-making by suggesting things like computer-generating movie stars and producing a constant array of recycled intellectual property. A New Legacy recognises the machinations of Al G. Rhythm as unsettling and horrifying, with throwaway jokes about the theft of ideas and the violation of privacy, but the villain largely serves as a smokescreen to let the movie have its cake and eat it.

After all, A New Legacy revels in Al G. Rhythm’s plans. LeBron James is turned into an animated figure and dumped into classic Looney Tunes shorts like Rabbit Season and The Rabbit of Seville. The film understands that while the audience might be afraid of the algorithm, they also yearn for it. After all, it isn’t Al G. Rhythm who structures A New Legacy so that the film spends an extended sequence touring the company’s beloved intellectual properties.

A New Legacy is really just an investors’ day presentation that celebrates the sheer amount of content that Warner Bros. own. It’s not too difficult to imagine the film screened investors before the Discovery deal, as proof of just how many viable franchising opportunities existed within the copyright of the company itself. It’s a weird and unsettling showcase, in large part because it feels like that warning from Jurassic Park. The studio were so obsessed with whether they could do a thing that they never stopped to consider whether they should.

The film’s middle section includes a whirlwind tour of the properties owned by Warner Bros. After Bugs “plays the hits” with James, the two set off on an adventure to recover the other Looney Tunes from other beloved Warner Bros. properties. Some of these advertisements make sense: Daffy and Porky are living in the world of Superman: The Animated Series, while Lola seems to have found the Wonder Woman from the Bloodlines animated films. Others make much less sense in a movie aimed at kids, like the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote hiding in Mad Max: Fury Road or Yosemite Sam living in Casablanca.

Of course, it’s debatable how much of A New Legacy is aimed at kids, as compared to the kids of the nineties. Its target market seems to be kids in the late nineties who never grew up, because they never had to. Elmer Fudd and Sylvester are hiding out in Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me. Granny and Speedy have taken refuge in the opening scenes of The Matrix. While the original Space Jam featured odd pop cultural shoutouts to things like Pulp Fiction, at least that was somewhat contemporaneous.

To be fair, there is no art driving these choices. Many of these references serve to point the audience towards established properties. It is a sentient recommendation algorithm for HBO Max and a handy way of stoking audience interest in upcoming projects like The Matrix 4 (December 2021) or Furiosa (June 2023). It is a helpful reminder that Superman: The Animated Series has been remastered in high definition to stream on HBO Max. Foghorn Leghorn even rides a dragon from Game of Thrones to remind viewers that the show is streaming on HBO Max and that there are prequels coming.

It’s all very bizarre, but also strangely lifeless. The climax of the film finds the inevitable basketball game played in front of a crowd of familiar pop culture icons drawn from a wide range of sources: King Kong, The Iron Giant, Batman ’66, The Wizard of Oz, The Mask and many more. It feels very much like a surreal power play, a company showcasing the depth of its own vaults at a turbulent time in the industry. It leads to weird moments, like Al G. Rhythm even quoting Training Day, perhaps the film’s most unlikely draw from the “Warner Bros. Intellectual Property Vault.”

The most revealing aspect of the movie is its central conflict, with Al G. Rhythm cynically manipulating LeBron’s son Dom. Dom is convinced that his father doesn’t understand him, that his father is unable to see that his skill lies in video game coding rather than old-fashioned basketball. Rhythm is able to create a schism between father and son, using Dom’s code and his anger to attack and undermine LeBron James and the Looney Tunes. It’s a very broad and very archetypal story. There are no points for realising that Dom eventually comes around to his father and accepts that Rhythm is a villain.

However, it signals an interesting shift in these sorts of narratives. Traditionally, these sorts of generational conflicts played out between fathers and sons, with fathers presented as antagonistic and sons presented as heroic. The original Star Wars saga is built around Luke Skywalker trying to wrestle and grapple with his father Darth Vader. In Superman II, the eponymous superhero is forced to confront Zod, a representative of his father’s generation and the old world. Even in Batman Begins, Bruce Wayne is set against his surrogate father figure Ra’s Al Ghul.

The metaphor driving these sorts of stories was fairly simple and straightforward. Every generation needs to come into their own and take control of their own agency within the world. Star Wars: Episode VI – Return of the Jedi ends with Darth Vader dead and Luke staring out into the wider universe. Times change, and each generation has an obligation to try to create a better world than the one left to them by their parents. In the conflict between parents and children, it has generally been children who have prevailed.

However, in recent years, the trend has swung back sharply. It’s notable that the villain in Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens is an errant child who doesn’t properly respect his parents, and that Star Wars: Episode IX – The Rise of Skywalker ends with order restored when the protagonist takes the name of the beloved heroes of the older films. Shows like Star Trek: Picard are built around the idea that kids need their older generation of parents to swoop in and tell them how to properly live their lives.

A New Legacy is an interesting illustration of this trend. The movie ends with a reconciliation between LeBron and Dom, but it is very clearly on LeBron’s terms. Dom is manipulated and misled by sinister forces, and his father has to save him while realigning his moral compass. Father knows best. It demonstrates how the underlying logic of these stories has shifted in recent years, perhaps reflecting the understanding that perhaps the older generation won’t surrender the floor gracefully.

As with Ready Player One, there’s a monstrous Peter Pan quality to A New Legacy. It is a film about how the culture doesn’t have to change. It can be recycled and repurposed forever and ever and ever. At the end of Space Jam, Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny parted ways. There was an understanding that the two worlds existed apart from one another. However, A New Legacy ends with the collapse of these worlds into one another; the “Serververse” manifesting itself in the real world. As LeBron walks home, Bugs asks if he can move in.

Of course, with HBO Max subscription, the audience can take Bugs home anytime they want

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 2 - A Friend

[Thank you to everyone that has read my story so far. I really hope that you enjoy it. My apologies for the slow burn, but all good things come to those that wait… <3]

Masterlist

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg. [18+]

Summary: Awoken by the clang of metal another strange dream haunts you as you make your journey towards the ominous ‘village’, searching for your life-long friend, Leon.

Trigger Warnings: Supernatural violence.

Song Suggestion: ‘Keep Me Alive’ by All We Are.

[Photos are my own] The next 24 hours were a blur; bagel, taxi, airport, flight, layover in airport, Frankfurter infused pretzel, flight to worryingly small airport, ride in the back of a 1980s Toyota pick-up truck (with cages full of chickens and feathers flying about), which took you to the smallest train station you’d ever seen (one platform), two steam trains later, a weakened moment of purchasing unidentified brand of cigarettes with picture of a goat on the front from a man that smells profusely like garlic, and then a moment of mildly suppressed panic at being in a completely unknown to you part of the world with not a word of Romanian to your repertoire.

Standing at what kind of looked like maybe the side of a road-ish, you pulled out the badly printed map, co-ordinates and a compass. You looked up at the sky, despite it being overcast the clouds were still thin enough to be able to see roughly where the sun was sat. It was 2pm, your phone no longer had a hope in hell of working out here signal wise, but at least for now, it could tell you the time, after that it would just be you and the sun.

You couldn’t deny as the treck took you further away from the already very small towns and villages, and further into the countryside and wilderness, that the landscape was incredibly beautiful. Snow-capped mountains, like you’d never seen anywhere but the movies graced the horizon, leafless tree branches began to out-number their more lustrous looking sisters, and yet, dotted amongst the white, a spattering of green, forests and woodlands a-like, untouched by the torrents of snow, as if by some magic. The fresh air in your lungs made you feel powerful somehow, like you were on a path leading to destiny, something inside you was being fulfilled. Even during the time sat alone on the steam train, staring at the hillsides and woodlands as they flew past, catching your own reflection in the glass here and there, you’d felt as if you were heading towards something exciting yet familiar.

The day seemed to go much faster than you’d imagined, but then it was late into the year, the days much shorter. Grateful for the fact that you’d chosen to wear a zip up hoodie under your usual work jacket, you still had to give the tops of your arms a rub with your gloved hands. You’d also prepared with thin leggings under your black combat trousers and worn hiking socks under your military boots. There was still more than enough light to see, but the Village was still not yet in sight. The hike had been challenging, your knee was now starting to protest, both with an ache and with a sharpness too it. Just a little further, you thought, wincing against it.

You stopped dead in your tracks. There was a noise nearby but not anything that you were used to. What was that? A train? There were no train tracks running through this part of the wilderness as far as you knew, you’d hoped not at least, else you’d be kicking yourself in the ass if you could have saved yourself from the pain that you were in after all this time. A rumbling, chundering, rickety sound, drawing closer and closer. A light in the distance, a lantern, two of them, swinging wildly now on the front of a carriage and a man’s face, crazed with panic, and what a man, at least two times the size in both height and girth of anyone that you’d ever met before.

“Run my darling adventurer, run, for it is not safe for you here!” He yelled towards you. But you couldn’t, you were frozen solid, seeing now what he was trying to escape; and you’d thought this man was larger than life. What approached behind him… was unearthly. The wind was thrown out of you as you were yanked by the collar and swung onto the back of the carriage. The man had tossed you up to at least temporary safety, although how stable this thing was you did not know. You stared back towards the rear of the carriage, eyes narrowing on what you now identified as your target. In short, you could see some kind of humanoid being, roughly 8 foot tall, muscles rippling, pale, sallow skin, with patches of thick hair covering various parts of its body, a loin cloth, beady, mean cold gold eyes, pointed ears and a mouth full of needle sharp teeth. Hurtling along in front of it, in its grasp were two humungous beasts, covered in shaggy hair, almost like two huge dogs or bears, but with some of the most nightmarish faces that you’d ever seen. All you could see was that fact that they wanted nothing more than to tear you limb from limb.

You didn’t mess around for shit and your pistol was in your hand before you could say ‘boulder punching bastard’. You fired one, two, three times, each shot tearing through the shoulders of the front two beasts.

“You really think that thing is going to take them down?” Yelled the driver, craning his head around to take a quick glance at you. You grimaced, thrown down to the roof by a sudden jolt, and quickly tore your glance back at your enemies. They were closing the gap.

“Make a quick turn, here, around that rock!” You yelled, pointing ahead. The man began his manoeuvre as you’d instructed, and without question, for which you were grateful, you only had a couple of seconds to act and one shot at this. You pulled the aerosol from your pocket. This wasn’t just any can, this was something that you’d created yourself. Looked like a normal deodorant or spray can for sure except for two minor differences; it was re-fillable, and it had a range of up to 15 feet. You swiped the lighter back from your cap and took aim, lighter in your left hand in front, aerosol in your right hand, the U-turn took your right back past the trio as they came tearing down the slope. The noise wasn’t quite deafening, but it was loud enough, and you’d succeeded. The two hairy beasts were covered in flames and yelping, running frantically and tore off into the forest. HAHA! You laughed, another bump and you were back on the roof, stealing a glance at the man steering who had a grin on his face too. “Trick shot!” You called back.

The wolven giant roared in fury, for he was scorched, but his rage burned savagely more so than any flame that you could create.

“Very good little moth, but we need something bigger for that one. In the carriage, the room below you there is something that will help, you will know it when you see it, retrieve it now.” You nodded, not noticing for a moment what he’d called you, but you didn’t have time to think and ask. You slid down through the small hatch in the roof, just wide enough for your body, some kind of sky light you guessed and fell to the floor. The dwindling sun light now blazing red over the horizon and through the silhouettes of the trees lit the inner carriage just enough for you to take in what was around you; a lot of meat for one thing. You were never any good at hiding your thoughts on your face, but no one was here to see that right now. There were a couple of larger crates, a globe, typewriter, trinket boxes. Parts rolled and rattled, but you knew what you were here for, right in front of you on the bed. You pulled yourself back up through the hatch.

“This it?” You called to him, holding up a hefty and yet ornate bow. It seemed to be built in the way that somewhat resembled a modern-day compound bow but had a more traditional look to its materials and smaller details. “That’s the one’” he called back. “Here, take these.” He went to pass a bundle of arrows without quiver, but as he did so the beast threw itself at the back of the carriage. You yelled, the impact threw you into the arrows, your blood now over a few of the heads, and all at once you were thrown into darkness, your back slamming against the floor of the inside of the carriage. Shaking your head, you realised what had happened, scrambling on the floor and grabbing as many of the spilled arrows up as you could. Blood began to soak the garments covering your right hip. It was just a flesh wound, but deep enough to sting, reminding you of a time in your childhood when you’d crawled through brambles and the thorns had left 12 longs scars down your torso.

Back on your feet, you booted the doors open, throwing them into the beast’s face, both his clawed hands firmly sunk into the wood either side of the carriage, half running, half being dragged along. He reared his head and roared at you, and you roared back, raising the first arrow and taking aim. “FUCK YOU!” You cried out, the arrow sliced through his cheek but this only made him angrier, throwing one arm into the carriage now, half in, the other arm pulled him further, you realised quickly with terror that you were very quickly being pinned against the bed at the back. It grabbed you around your waist, yanking you down onto the floor, roaring madly once again, into your face, the foulest smelling breath hot and slick with spittle. Something crashed off the shelf above you and onto its head, almost like it shot out of place of its own accord, against the natural trajectory of the way of which the carriage was now turning. It threw the beast back out of the carriage and you only had a moment to grab onto a fixture on the wall which held tools in place before you felt the carriage begin to topple and hurtle.

You lost count of how many rolls it took, but when it stopped it was deathly silent, like a veil had been pulled over this part of the woods. Rain began to fall on the deathly branches above in the would-be canopy. You pulled yourself out, scathed and bleeding, but you weren’t done. Good job you’d thought to throw on your light armour mid hike. You looked around at the driver, he didn’t say anything, but he was breathing. “Are you ok, friend?” You asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. He brought his head up and looked up at you. “Yes.” He replied, placing one of his hands over yours. You nodded and started walking to the hulking heap of hair, blood and muscle only meters away. With each step you took you felt the presence of something growing behind you, like a shadow. The sound of metal scraping. “He’s here.” You heard your companion breathe. You had no idea who or what he meant, but right now you had one thing on your mind and that was your kill.

Still closing the gap without a falter, you took three arrows that you had clipped to your bag only moments ago, set their heads ablaze with the fluid and lighter. You set them against the nock, the flames burning bright now in your eyes, and a shower of metal, knives, bullets, scraps came flying down from around you and into the flesh of the beast. They didn’t just stop upon impact, they kept going, embedding themselves further and further into its flesh. It bellowed and swung its arms in pain, standing tall above you, arching it’s back, but still you stood your ground, unblinking, until it fell back down to the ground, writhing now. You leapt up onto its twisting shoulder, taking aim with the bow and let the trio of burning arrows do their work, shattering through the skull, two ending it all at once, and one at an angle coming back halfway out of its blood shot eye.

You stayed there for what seemed like an eternity. Staring and waiting. No thoughts going through your mind, the darkness in you waning back to the parts of your mind where it usually hid, flowing away like black smoke or the tide going out.

Something was calling. Not out loud, but in your head, your heart, something was calling just for you, but without any sound. You looked up towards the carriage, which strangely was now upright again, though in a bit of a mess, your friend there besides it, a little worse for wear, and a glint of light, the reflection of the flames that had begun to grow around you in the darkness just beyond, the crunch of the undergrowth, and whatever it was, was gone.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 29

First time reader click here

Feels like this story is flopping. Is it flopping? Idk. This chapter is 100% plot and it is spooky. Cursed demon box. Helpful Stephen Strange and grumpy Wong. Hovering Bruce and Tony. Loki being a honorary Gen-Z. Found family but make it ✨superheroes✨.

"That's a lot to unpack," Peter stated once I had given him the bare bones report of the situation at hand. "Uh, are you okay?" The boy was obviously upset at my predicament, placing a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Kinda?" I offered, making space for Wanda and Pietro who decided to join me and Peter, away from the arguing adults. The mission discussion - an absolute disaster - started as soon as Peter had walked in. Evidently experienced in such matters, the boy ignored the bickering and came over to steal me from Bruce's clutches to peacefully finish his egg sandwich in the company of his peers.

"I wanted to ask if I could see your memory of that time," Wanda meekly offered me a piece of candy. I accepted it - sugar sweet sugar, how I love thee so! The witch continued with a smile: "I think it would be helpful to see what we're dealing with, magic-wise."

"Sure," I trusted her. "Just don't scramble what's left of my sanity, please," All of us laughed at my remark as I laid down on the cold floor with my head in Wanda's lap. Her powers felt like small brain zaps, tingles that began at the front of my forehead and ran down into my spine. I followed her instructions and thought about the times I remembered, finding the box, placing it into my closet, the nightmares. I had a mild headache by the time she was done; no grudges against her - Wanda tactfully avoided my private moments and looked only at the ones containing the artifact.

"You've gotten really good," I complimented her with pure adoration.

"Thank you," She blushed, smoothing back my stray hairs. "That stuff is really strong. I don't think you should go near the box," She admitted. "And Doc should take a look at you. You have a residue left. I don't think that's good either."

"Well, fuck," I said in muted resignation.

"Press F to pay respects," Pietro joked in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"Your luck is almost as bad as mine," Peter pointed out.

I scoffed. "Well, if I see any spiders around, I'll be sure to stay away in case they happen to be radioactive OsCorp runaways."

All of us laughed. Despite the grim situation, I didn't feel doomed. I was surrounded by friends and my boyfriends and my bestie who happened to be a mythical omnipotent god- welp, once again, I was getting too emotional. Once the adults were done arguing, we could start making sense of this mess and hopefully clean it up before the monster is out of the box.

"Mortals," I heard Loki scoff. The next moment, the Asgardian sat down noisily next to me, pout on full display. "This house is a nightmare."

His expression - or the accidental use of a meme - sent me completely, tension leaving my body via copious amounts of nearly hysterical laughter. Through tears and hiccups, I saw Wanda cackle with me and Peter show the meme in question to Loki, noting that he had been once sent to time-out on top of the fridge by Tony himself. Soon, all of us were laughing, much to the displeasure of the adults.

"Children, what is the issue?" Thor asked, irritated.

"We're just waiting for you to be done with arguing," I spoke before Loki could start bitching about Thor calling him a child. "Then I can show Steve and Loki where exactly have I buried the box so Stephen can take me to the healers and get this thing out of me or whatever," I pointed out the most logical plan of action.

Two long strides and the sorcerer was standing over me, boom-boom-whooshing and generally making very pretty golden patterns to appear and land on top of me. Tony and Bruce anxiously hovered behind him, both of my boys concerned and ready to mother-hen me. Ugh, so disgustingly adorable. Wanda's hand encompassed mine - she was nervous.

Stephen took a solid five-minute silence break before coming to a final conclusion. "Wong can get rid of the residual traces of the artifact's influence," The sorcerer announced curtly. "It's good you got rid of the artifact, a few more months and you would have started slipping into insanity if the magic within it was not released," He explained, slowly reaching out a hand to place it on top of my head. I wasn't sure if it was a gesture meant to bring comfort or another diagnostic test but leaned into the touch nonetheless. "Tell me, did you have any behavioral... Disturbances after...?" He trailed off.

I chewed on my lip, evaluating. "I honestly don't know. I've always been kind of an asshole," Honesty was the best policy. "Nothing seems out of order, sleepwalking aside."

"I see," Strange gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Perhaps, it was your stubborn nature that forbade the artifact from corrupting your mind completely. As evidenced by Captain Rogers, even undesirable character traits bring good into this world now and then."

That seemed a little bit hostile. I frowned, giving a questioning look to a frowning Loki.

"Speaking from experience?" Not the one to hold back upon witnessing first-grade bullshit, I withdrew from Stephen's touch, raising a sarcastic eyebrow.

Surprising everyone, the man laughed soundly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I most certainly do," Shooting me a positively mischievous wink. I felt like I was missing something.

The room's inhabitants slowly ticked out in pairs and threes, eager to complete their assigned tasks. Loki had insisted on coming along to the sanctum with me, even almost getting up in Stephen's face, but Bruce - out of all people - managed to calm the Asgardian down, and together we convinced him his magic would be considerably more useful during the retrieval of the cursed box. Loki was worried - everyone with a pair of functional eyes could see that the spiky attitude was his way of showing he cared about me, which made my insides briefly turn to mush. I didn't expect him to take the title of my best friend so seriously and I definitely was not complaining.

Tony was the last to leave, jittery and shaky, clutching me like it was his last time seeing me, kissing me hungrily in front of everyone. The joke or two he made were weak ghosts of his usual sharp snark.

"I love you and I'll be back soon," I whispered into his ear, feeling him freeze and his fingertips dig almost painfully into my sides. Louder, I repeated: "Not planning on dying any time soon, y'all gotta chill. Let's go, doc?" I addressed the tall sorcerer who was tactfully pretending to be busy with his smartphone.

Wanda pressed a duffle bag into my hands mouthing "clean clothes" a split second before Stephen opened a portal and with a great deal of curiosity, I stepped through it, eyes immediately drawn to the dimly lit space filled with books and antiques. So many books, so many unusual trinkets. The chandelier that hung over our heads rivaled the ones I'd seen in million-dollar-homes of dad's friends.

"Follow me," Stephen extended an arm in the direction of a smaller door, "Please do not touch anything."

I walked a pace behind him, satisfying my curiosity by looking around like a child in a candy store. The air smelled different in the Sanctum, almost as familiar as Loki's magic but less frosty... Warmer. A dash of red fabric swished from somewhere towards me; I giggled. The Cloak of Levitation liked me - not nearly as much as it liked Peter though - so I brushed my fingertips along the fabric, greeting it quietly. Talking loudly in this building was out of the question. I felt like any moment, a disgruntled librarian would appear to chastise me for making noise.

"Strange," A short Asian man appeared, book in hand and looking none too happy. Guess that's the librarian... "I got your text. The room next to yours is prepared for the ritual," The man I assumed to be Wong gave me a curt nod in the way of greeting, doing a quick 180° and walking us back to a small but tastefully decorated room with a single cot in the middle. It was pleasantly warm, a small fire lit in the fireplace, willowy smoke of incense rising from a few strategically placed sticks.

"The bathroom is that way. I'm afraid you'll have to be fully nude for the procedure," Strange declared apologetically, pointing to a door hidden behind the divide.

I snorted, but of course, the weird voodoo shit would require me to be naked. Not that I was embarrassed or anything but still. Tony would have a field day. Locating a chair, I dumped my duffle bag on it, flying out of my hoodie and sweatpants in record time. My underwear and socks followed, feet unpleasantly chilly despite the carpeted floor. I ran a hand over the faint bruises on my hips, evidence of last night, fondly - either Tony or Stephen had left marks on my body and that was... It was great. I loved it, drugs or not.

I heard someone clear their throat and turned around, nearly cracking up at the way both men suddenly averted their gazes, blush riding high on their cheeks. I snorted: "I'm hot, what else is new?"

Wong shook his head, busying himself with some sort of a book; Stephen lingered, eyes fixated on the very same bruises. His tongue darted out, wetting the plush of his bottom lip, and damn, this wasn't the time to get horny. I shook my head and with that, the sorcerer caught himself too, mutely motioning me to lay down on the cot.

"Whenever you're done eye-fucking each other," Wong piped up sarcastically - wow, I liked this man already. Stephen grumbled something quiet and rude, provoking another snort from me.

I followed their instructions - shortly after the Asian man began reading - or rather singing - something in a language I didn't know, I felt myself fall into a deep sleep. Or, I thought I was falling asleep. At one point, my eyes opened to an empty room, a thin sheet covering my bare body, and a silence that made chills run down my spine.

"Stephen?" I called out. I sounded like I was underwater to my own ears. "Wong?"

I was met with silence so deafening, I had no choice but to sit up and look around. The fire was burning strong in the fireplace, several logs blackened from it as sparks flew. It took a second for me to realize it made no sound - there was no crackling. Something was very wrong, the dread was creeping up on me.

Very familiar dread.

With the sheet firmly wrapped around me, I hopped off the cot, suddenly noticing the drawings on my arms, my legs. I was covered in runes similar to the ones I had seen on the cursed box - and my memories weren't missing. As clear as day, I recalled messing around with the box, debating on opening it, taking it out of my room only to find it back on my desk in the morning, some serious Anabelle shit.

I jumped as the floorboards cracked somewhere in the house. Every logical thought I had, backed up by every horror movie I had ever watched, screamed at me to NOT go towards the creepy noise; like moth to a flame, I was drawn in and couldn't resist the unnatural urge to investigate it. On silent feet, I padded out of the room, desperately trying not to think about the lonely, dark hallways filled with strange ancient objects. My steps made no noise.

On the couch, in the main room we'd arrived, sitting lazily, was Tony. I'd recognize his hair anywhere - and the Led Zep tee, old, frayed edges and loose threads. "Tony?" I asked hopefully, trying to make sense of this...

He turned around.

It wasn't Tony. Whatever it was, it wore Tony's face, it held his brown eyes and crow's feet around them - it wasn't him. Wrong, like the lack of sound in this place, misplaced and unnatural. The doe browns didn't sparkle, lifeless, dull color of dried mud. As much as I wanted to go and bury my face in his chest, my limbs filled with lead, my whole body screaming "DANGER".

The impostor kept quiet which only solidified my suspicions. Real Tony would be running his mouth already, poking fun at my impression of a sheet ghost.

"Princess?" The... Thing asked in Tony's voice, but it fell flat and monotone.

"Whatever you are, you sure as Hell ain't Tony," I stated firmly, hoping for some answers. "What the fuck?"

Not-Tony's face changed, familiar features twisting into something sinister, the malice making me sick to my stomach. The creature stood up, causing my feet to take an involuntary step back as he advanced slowly.

"You have no choice but to submit," The Thing replied calmly. "You're not getting out of here. Not even your little Asgardian pet god can save you," Its tone was absolutely flat. I would have thought the thing was a robot if not for the obvious involvement of magic in this situation. Its words filled me with dread as thick as molten lava; unfortunately for the creature, unlocking my memories gave me enough rational balance to be acutely aware of it and therefore, able to fight it.

I could fight it. I didn't know how exactly, but I could resist it. "That's a really bold thing to say for something that... What even are you? Magical STD?" As my brain desperately focused on finding a solution to a problem I didn't know all the details of, my mouth had a mind of its own.

The creature growled, a far more primal noise than a human could make. "You don't know what you're up against, child. I am one for we are many," Suddenly, the room was filled with shadows as if someone had turned off all the lights and cranked up the moon to be the brightest it ever was. The shadows moved, oozed, motion sinister without any light to back it up.

I had no choice but to pucker up. Nobody was coming to rescue me; in fact, I always have taken pride in being a self-saving princess. Damsel in distress wasn't really my style. The hunch in my shoulders disappeared, giving way to a stubborn and stiff expectation of the upcoming altercation, hands bailed in fists.

"I mean, like Legion the demon from the Bible?" I recalled what little I knew from Wikipedia. "I mean, I'm agnostic myself, but if you feel like identifying with that, you should probably see a therapist."

The entity growled, shadows gathering around it like fabric on a string, and lunged. Paralyzed by sudden blinding, deafening fear, I turned tail and ran.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[circuscarnage]

Birthday Escapade.

A Malleus Draconia and reader birthday fic.

Words: 2488.

Coloured banners were strung up on the walls, decorating the Diasomnia dorm in an almost welcoming glow. Black and green lines of fabric, embroidered with the inviting message of celebration. What had once been a room of polite gathering, had transformed into a much liver scene. Purple vines stuck out from the ground, acting more as decoration to the party, mimicking the witches of thorns power. Tables covered with delectable food as far as the eye could see. Edible works of art displayed for anyone to reach out and take. The most lavished of cakes being saved for the main table. The centrepiece of the room, almost impossible to miss, was a black sign coated in thorns, spindling a twisted birthday wish. Lilia had wasted no expense making sure everything was perfect. He had planned the entire thing. After all, this wasn't just anyone's birthday. It certainly was a change of pace for the normally dark and dreary castle.  

The entire Diasomnia dorm seemed more colourful than usual, and not just aesthetic wise. The sombre atmosphere was lifted with the sounds of delightful laughter and idle celebration. Students of the dorm gathered in the main foyer, enjoying themselves as they chatted away to their fellow classmates without a care in the world. However, the most important aspect of this celebration was missing.

Malleus Draconia was no where to be found. 

His guards, Sebek and Silver, had been scouting the dorm trying to find their lost master. They had checked down every hallway and searched all the rooms. Not a single stone was left unturned nor a speck of dust lingered in the process. They were at their wits end. Sebek's voice boomed throughout the dorm, ricocheting off the stone castle walls. Malleus's name sounded akin to thunder as it stormed every inch of the perimeter. It was uncertain which would give out first. His voice or the other students eardrums. 

You, however, knew better than to waste time on searching Diasomnia. If Malleus had fled, there was no way he would stick to the confines of the dorm. That was just too simple. Begrudgingly you left the Diasomnia dorm and headed back towards the hall of mirrors. When thinking of a safe heaven, there was only one place that came to mind. You knew exactly where he would be.

Ramshackle. It was very different compared to the other dorms. A shabby and old building that was as creepy as it was comforting. An uneven fence carved from iron surrounded the perimeter, acting more like a cage, warning those who pass by not to trespass. The vacant space and lack of activity made people wonder if it was simply just unfinished or abandoned. It certainly looked run down, even more so before Azul had it refurbished to extend his business. Luckily for you, that plan never came to fruition, so you could keep the haunted mansion you called home. 

As you approached, you could see the last remnants of winter still holding onto the Ramshackle dorm. Snow melted into the ground, slowly decaying into the soil as the seasons begin to change. The sugar coated season sluggishly torn away to be replaced with another. It wasn't hard to miss him. His raven black hair and pointed horns stuck out among the crisp white scenery. He stood against the decaying tree, leaning into the wood as if he was trying to merge himself into the plant. He was looking across the garden, but turned his head around when hearing your approach. "Ah, human." He greeted you casually, giving an affirmative nod of his head. "To what honour do I owe you this visit?" 

"Where have you been?" You questioned him, finally making your way up the steps and standing in front of him. He seemed taken aback at your forceful question. Why, he had just greeted you with a polite hello and you were already interrogating him. "The party has already started, and you're not even there!"  

Malleus quirked his head to the side. "Oh, was that today?" There was something different about his voice. The way his words lingered in the air, laced with a playful tone that spelled mischief. You looked down at his attire. Black dress shirt with a white suit jacket over the top. Black and green sash. There was no way he dressed up like that on a whim. This surely couldn't have been a coincidence. Malleus noticed your stare, lingering on his outfit for a little longer than necessary. "Must have slipped my mind." 

"Please don't tell me someone forgot to invite you to your own birthday." You hated to think he was acting like this because of some kind of petty vendetta against you. It wasn't anything new that people often forgot to invite him to events, whether that be the dorm leader meeting or social gatherings, but his own birthday? That must have cut deep.

Malleus chuckled. "Fuhuhuhu. That would be quite entertaining, wouldn't it? Forgetting to invite me to my own birthday. How quaint." He waved his hand. "No, I received an invite. I was even enjoying myself. And I appreciate how much effort Lilia put into the décor. I've just never been the one to enjoy these types of parties. It just feels so... Strange." Malleus looked down at his attire, emerald eyes observing the trinkets that decorated the white jacket. The handmade broach that resembled the curved horns that stuck out from his head. The black and green coloured badge that all to obviously drew attention to the date. Reminding everyone within a mile radius just who the special birthday boy was. He was used to being adored in lavished clothing, being of royal decent, so having an outfit that was traditional for many others was relieving. 

"The concept of birthdays... Forgive me but I've never embraced them fully, never needed to." You gave Malleus a quizzitive look, tilting your head a little to the side, imploring him to elaborate. He understood your plight and began to explain. "Compared to humans, fae live for an unnaturally long time. Our lifespans far surpass your own. Why, generations from now I'll still be alive. Wise with time and knowledge. Watching over the world behind the thicket of thorns. And you'll-" He stopped mid sentence. There was no need to continue. You both knew where you would be generations from now. Malleus blinked, the slightest glint of sadness present in his eyes. Possessing the power of longevity was something that many craved to have, but needless to say it did come with its consequences. The burden weighed on the back of his mind like an oncoming storm. 

Malleus cleared his throat, "Very strange indeed. You humans celebrate yearly the date of your birth, yet to us fae it is nothing more than a number. Even though I wish I could feel the same connection to it that you do. Maybe then I wouldn't feel such like an outcast..." Malleus blinked as he felt something touch his head. Unconsciously his hand had reached up towards his horns, bringing attention one of the many aspects about him that was different to humans. He was proud of his fae heritage, but always felt like it held him back when trying to forge connections. "Tell me, human." He brought his hand back down. "Am I forever cursed to be an outcast from a gathering? Even one of my own terms? I'm always one to be vacant, not on my own accord. My invitation being left blank while others have been sealed. So forgive my absence when for once I'm expected to be there."

"Tsunotarou-" You had to stop yourself, almost biting down on your tongue. Now possessing the knowledge of his name, it seemed needless to try and use the old nickname you gave him. It was sentimental, in a way. A name that only you could call him. A name made up on the spot yet seemed to fit a little too well. It always made your heart flutter whenever you used it. The way Malleus's eyes would light up in amusement, entertained by the fact anyone would ever consider calling him something so simple. Sometimes it was hard to conceal the corners of his mouth twinging upward in delight. You apologised and corrected yourself, "I mean, Malleus." It was an easy mistake to make. The way his actual name slipped off your tongue somehow sounded wrong. You had gotten a little too comfortable with that nickname. You hoped Malleus wouldn't mind.

To your surprise, Malleus grinned. A slight chuckle slipped between his lips. He was more taken aback by the fact that had felt the need to correct yourself then the use of his nickname. He was aware of your caution, and reassured you. "You may address me however you wish, child of man." Malleus turned his head to the side, looking off into the distance, and placed an hand thoughtfully on his chin. "I must admit, I have grown quite fond of that little nickname you call me. I do not mind being called that name," His attention was brought back to you, dazzling green eyes locking with your own. He huffed out a small laugh. "If you are the one to address me, that is."

You nodded your head, secretly gracious that he was allowing you to continue using that name. But you needed to address his previous statement. "It's understandable that you would feel this way. Being ostracized from a group can be quite intimidating." You sighed. "Trust me, I've been there. And sometimes it feels like you'll never truly belong." Malleus raised his brow. Were you trying to help him feel better or worse?

"But believe me when I say that the people there want you to be there too. They want you to enjoy yourself just as they have. And..." Your words trailed off. Your own voice getting quieter and quieter until even you couldn't hear it anymore. Words did not fail you at that moment. It was clear what you wanted to say. Whether or not you had the strength to say it was a different matter. Your eyes were in agreement, preferring to look at the ground below you rather than the person in front. Was it really that difficult to show your own emotions? You did genuinely enjoy your time together, and wanted it to last longer. Yet somehow whenever you tried to express this fact to him, something always stopped you. A defence mechanism that instinctively held you back. You looked back at Malleus. He stood still, patiently waiting for you to continue. You were thankful for his tolerance. Giving a curt nod of your head, you took a deep breath in, and exhaled. "...I want you to be there. I want you to be happy, on your special day." 

You braced yourself, ready for any sort of negative response. But as you waited in anticipation for a verbal reply, Malleus gave none. Instead he began to laugh. A slight chuckle that started out as a growl, but then gradually grew into a light laugh. He brought his hand up to his mouth, trying to cover it up, but he would have to try harder than that to stifle this laugh. You were confused. Was it something you said? Did it sound condescending? Needy? Selfish? That wasn't your intention at all! You just wanted to give him some reassurance.

His laughter eventually died down, allowing him to breathe steadily again. "Child of man, how presumptuous of you." A light titter escaped from his lips again. Whatever he had found entertaining about your statement, he clearly wasn't done. You furrowed your brow in suspicion as Malleus calmed himself yet again. "I do not need a celebration or to be surrounded by guests to be happy." He took another step closer, towering over you like a gargoyle, but it was not intimidating. The soft look on his face quelled any fears of threatening nature. It was actually quite surprising how peaceful he looked. "With you, I already am."

You had to turn your head away at that, letting out a small squeak that sounded more attune to a quack. Hearing such a genuine sentiment from him felt like wildfire had struck your heart, and it felt like it wasn't going to subside anytime soon. It was wishful thinking, but you hoped you didn't make your answer too evident. However, giving such an obvious expression meant it was easy for him to pick up. Malleus smirked at your reaction. Instinctively he placed his hand upon your head, smoothing his thumb gently over the grooves in your hair. He thought it was cute. Like a docile pet receiving praise.

You waved his hand off of you, not needing to feel anything more at the moment. You had wasted enough time standing here. It would be best to return the birthday boy back to his dorm. "I think we had better get back, your guards are in a frenzy over your disappearance." Malleus let out a small sigh. It was time to return to the party. After all, he wouldn't be considered a very good host if he was missing for the entire event. How else was he suppose to show he was worthy of peoples trust if he did not throw a good party? He was ready to return to the dorm, with you accompanying him. "Yes, I think I've troubled them for long enough."

You laughed, thinking about Sebek and Silver stumbling over themselves trying to find their dorm leader. Lilia wouldn't be too bothered, you thought, if you returned Malleus in time for his celebration. Turning around on your heels, you lead the way back towards the gate, eager to return to the party. At last, you could finally have a piece of that delectable looking cake. It had been on your mind the second you stepped into the dorm.

Before you could place a hand on the gate, Malleus called from behind. "And human?" You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. He stood still, refusing to move unless he spoke. His face bore the same amused express, but this time it was different. It was gentle. His eyes holding nothing but appreciation for the human that stood before him. Someone who didn't see him as the terrifying figurehead of the Draconia family that so many made him out to be. Someone who wasn't afraid around him. Someone he was very thankful to have met. "Thank you, for seeking me out." He stepped forward, now walking by your side. It felt good for him to have someone beside him that didn't cower in fear nor turn away in intimidation. It made him feel accepted. "And for escorting me back."

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, Necklaces, 3: Whether they’re pendants, amulets, periapts, chokers, beaded strings, chains, charms, lockets or torques, “Neck Slot” type jewelry is a very common item in fiction and roleplaying. These ornaments give an immediate glance into the bearer’s personality, wealth, rank or social class and  often serves as an iconic part of that character’s look. Ranging in obviousness from a soldiers dog tags, cleric’s holy symbol or police detectives badges worn front and center over clothing, immediately visible on their chest as a clear indication of who they are, to the cliché locket containing pictures of family or lost lovers that’s worn against the skin, just over the heart. Outgoing character’s such as Phoebe Bouffette compliment their natural charisma with loud colorful costume jewelry while more reserved examples often go without, though what little ornamentation they do have is meaningful or of good quality like Katara’s heirloom choker or Annie’s half-a-locket. A locked metal torque can instantly mark the bearer a penniless slave, while a string of lustrous pearls mark their owner a flauntingly wealthy noble. Magical necklaces in fiction are powerful and mysterious from Inuyasha’s Beads of Subjugation, Dr Strange’s Eye of Agamotto or Yugi’s Millennium Puzzle. None of these necklaces are intensely magical in their own right but can serve as basis for a magical or plot relevant amulet. When a DM rolls a d100, the bog standard amulet of protection +1 they were going to give out now has a unique look and personality rather than just a mechanical benefit.

An ornate necklace with a star made of obsidian sparkling with a multitude of tiny diamonds embedded in it. The star is impressively cut; its six rays reached right around the polished hemisphere, and their intersection floats just above the surface.

A small, crudely made vine necklace with a locket made of hardened mushroom. Within the locket rests a glowing green seal made of soft moss that represents a proud guardian of the natural cycle or one who has sold her soul to darkness for eternal life, depending on the observer’s point of view. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that the symbol belongs to an influential guild known as the Golgari Swarm. The guild is the embodiment of life and death and the teeming masses of the Swarm believe that both are natural and equally essential too. To them, life and death are natural elements of a cycle with no intermediary break. A locket like this is usually given to those who have performed amazing feats for the Swarm.

An amber disk carved in deep relief on one side, its edge guarded by a hoop of gold, the whole thing strung on a golden chain. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the object as the official seal of the abbess of a remote convent of militant nuns.

A uniquely designed onyx amulet with a pattern of raised curving line on the front surrounding a central dome. On the back of the object have been inscribed a few calligraphed lines that form either a poem or a warning. “Mindless rage will shake the world, Cunning lies will bend it. Reckless haste will break the world, And into darkness send it.”

A misshapen amulet that appears to represent some sort of weird... thing. It's impossible to get a good grasp of its exact shape or dimensions, and its geometry may not be entirely euclidean. Attempting prolonged gazes at the eldritch object or studying it in detail produces headaches, fleeting visions of alien hellscapes and temporary short term memory loss.

A pretty necklace consisting of a sapphire strung on a silver chain. On close inspection, an observer can tell the gemstone has a pocked of air trapped within it. Knowledgeable PC's will know that this phenomenon is known as an inclusion and is used in some circles as a ward against curses. The pendant smells of juniper, broom and aspen.

A hexagonal, purple crystalline stick with an indent at the bottom that hides a pattern of raised notches. The top has an enclosing eye-hook with a string, making it a decorative necklace that may double as a key.

A boar shaped amulet, made from the tusk of a wild pig.

An amulet fashioned from a piece of stone the size of a human fist, held by a worn leather thong. It is all that remains of the cairn of Saint Placys, a herald for an ancient and forgotten God of Death.

A small locket designed for a noblewoman, with small painted portraits of her and her husband on the inside… and an even smaller portrait of her secret lover, in a hidden compartment positioned closest to her own heart.

—Keep reading for 90 more necklaces.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

An ornate necklace with a star made of obsidian sparkling with a multitude of tiny diamonds embedded in it. The star is impressively cut; its six rays reached right around the polished hemisphere, and their intersection floats just above the surface.

A small, crudely made vine necklace with a locket made of hardened mushroom. Within the locket rests a glowing green seal made of soft moss that represents a proud guardian of the natural cycle or one who has sold her soul to darkness for eternal life, depending on the observer’s point of view. Knowledgeable PC’s will know that the symbol belongs to an influential guild known as the Golgari Swarm. The guild is the embodiment of life and death and the teeming masses of the Swarm believe that both are natural and equally essential too. To them, life and death are natural elements of a cycle with no intermediary break. A locket like this is usually given to those who have performed amazing feats for the Swarm.

An amber disk carved in deep relief on one side, its edge guarded by a hoop of gold, the whole thing strung on a golden chain. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the object as the official seal of the abbess of a remote convent of militant nuns.

A uniquely designed onyx amulet with a pattern of raised curving line on the front surrounding a central dome. On the back of the object have been inscribed a few calligraphed lines that form either a poem or a warning. “Mindless rage will shake the world, Cunning lies will bend it. Reckless haste will break the world, And into darkness send it.”

A misshapen amulet that appears to represent some sort of weird... thing. It's impossible to get a good grasp of its exact shape or dimensions, and its geometry may not be entirely euclidean. Attempting prolonged gazes at the eldritch object or studying it in detail produces headaches, fleeting visions of alien hellscapes and temporary short term memory loss.

A pretty necklace consisting of a sapphire strung on a silver chain. On close inspection, an observer can tell the gemstone has a pocked of air trapped within it. Knowledgeable PC's will know that this phenomenon is known as an inclusion and is used in some circles as a ward against curses. The pendant smells of juniper, broom and aspen.

A hexagonal, purple crystalline stick with an indent at the bottom that hides a pattern of raised notches. The top has an enclosing eye-hook with a string, making it a decorative necklace that may double as a key.

A boar shaped amulet, made from the tusk of a wild pig.

An amulet fashioned from a piece of stone the size of a human fist, held by a worn leather thong. It is all that remains of the cairn of Saint Placys, a herald for an ancient and forgotten God of Death.

A small locket designed for a noblewoman, with small painted portraits of her and her husband on the inside… and an even smaller portrait of her secret lover, in a hidden compartment positioned closest to her own heart.

A mundane piece of tribal jewelry which incorporates small amounts of animal fur, teeth, claws, and bones into the design. It sports carvings of predators etched into the side and can be worn as a heavy necklace.

A sculpted oak pendant inset with a stone of teardrop-shaped marble.

A medallion that appears to be made of barely  contained, pure magic. The wild arcane energy is old and must have been caged in times of legend when Primordials and Gods roamed the land fighting for control of the future. When touched the magic surges and the bearer can feel the ancient wards strengthen in response, preventing the medallion from exploding.

An orcish necklace consisting of the teeth of a legendary berserker strung on a leather cord.

A necklace made from pewter chain with a lead pendant that depicts the image of the minor God of a Random Evil Domain.

An amulet consisting of a tangle of vines around a smooth amber core. When viewed from the proper angle it takes the shape of a dragon's eye.

A silver chain from which hangs a marvelous, bright blue gem the size of a human palm. In the center of the jewel rests a clear liquid.

A decorative gorget made of painted porcupine quills. A single bear claw hangs down from the center of the front.

A fine chain necklace fashioned from links of some strange red metal. The chain retains body heat for an unusually long time.

A chain necklace with a small painting decorating its oval pendant. The painting is extremely detailed and displays what appears to be a king on a throne. While wearing the pendant, the bearer occasionally experiences the vague feeling of not being where they are supposed to be.

A wooden necklace in the shape of an inverted pentagram that becomes extremely warm to the touch when exposed to fresh blood.

A necklace bearing a small pendant made from 1000 year bog oak. The jewelry serves as a literal shard of history, as the wood was naturally pickled and preserved over many centuries. The oak has compressed and darkened, becoming as hard as a stone as it's slowly been fossilized. Traces of silver have grown into the cracks and crevices, contrasting with the now blackened wood and accentuates its aged surface detail. The silvery, stony wood is set on a base plate of copper.

A large bone medallion in which is carved the image of a black cat standing silhouetted on a droughted grass hilltop, staring up at swarms of blood-red crows undulating in an ever-darkening sky. A creature who stares directly at the grisly scene feels a sense of dread overcome them and sees the world as a dimmer and scarier place until they break eye contact with the carving.

A fine, unassuming silver chain, bearing a single arrowhead shaped jewel. While worn, it stirs thoughts of legendary battles and heroic deeds.

A heavy silver heart shaped locket, engraved with a pattern of thorns. Although it has visible hinges, the pendant refuses to unfasten despite all attempts to pry or coax it open.

A necklace of iron shaped into a pattern of thorns.

A small charm on a leather cord. The charm looks to be of an ever shifting blue grey material, but it is solid to the touch.

A pendant consisting of a small glass vial containing a human tooth, carved into the shape of a heart.

A necklace with five interlocking golden rings integrated into the chain. Each ring is surrounded by tiny semi-precious gemstones.

A necklace with a pendant on it that has an arrow engraved into it. No matter how it is held, the arrow always points to the sky.

A slate grey locket that has unreadable script on the outside. The locket is sealed shut and it sounds like there's something lightly scraping against the inside...

A pendent with a red spider lily embedded in resin. It starts to glow when someone close to the bearer will never be seen again.

An amulet of amber with a tiny forget-me-not flower stuck inside of it. It glows orange when the bearer thinks of someone they lost.

A gold rimmed, silver amulet with a four-leafed clover etched into one side.

A step-cut ruby in a silver setting, suspended on a fine cord.

A pendant consisting of a clear crystal like a large drop of water, strung on a complex, thin gold chain.

A thick necklace made of polished copper supporting a dozen carefully matched and cut pieces of hematite stones.

A druid’s necklace consisting of four acorns carved from amber, strung together with a cord that resembles interwoven roots. Each acorn contains a small piece of elemental matter, one for each of the four elements: air, earth, fire, and water.

A small green and square emerald strung on a simple pewter necklace.

A hand carved heart pendant that's warm to the touch. If placed close to one's ear they can hear a soft but steady heartbeat.

A narwhal shaped pendent, made from whale horn.

A bejeweled pendant in the shape of a desert scarab. The gemstones twinkle in dim lighting, inviting its bearer to dream of higher ambitions.

A coral cameo pendant on a string of river pearls.

A silver pendant, sans chain, shaped like a cone snail's shell. There is a hole beside the chain loop, but no stopper within. Inside, the shell is hollow. Close inspection reveals that the shell culminates in a very sharp, short needle. Fluids placed in the shell well at the needle's vicious end.

An operculum pendant on a fragment of silver chain. The whorl of the operculum is filled with bright leading. The reverse side is carved with a knot of engraved text in block letters; a language unknown.

A toadstone, brown, nearly circular, wrapped in dull lead wire. A loop is spun into the wire, and a new leather thong is tied through the loop, allowing it to be worn as a pendant. A symbol is carved on the stone's bottom; that of a curled, bat-winged serpent.

An amulet of invocation made of copper, stamped with the symbol of the ancient druidic rune for winter. Knowledgeable PC’s will recognize the pendant as proof of membership of The Pale Brotherhood of Eternal Winter a sinister organization that once invoking the presence of Laphela, the Marchioness of Cursed, the Dread Succubus to further their goal of cold misery across the world.

A malevolent amulet made of demon horn, carved into the holy symbol of the God of Random Evil Domain

A necklace of carved golden birch pieces on a thong that is made to wrap around the bearer's neck several times.

A silver medallion that bears the image of an hourglass, each grain of sand a tiny encrusted chip of topaz.

A silver pendant that hangs off a silver chain that houses a tiny cabochon ruby that has been pierced by an even smaller dagger.

A simple necklace consisting of a copper chain with six coin-sized copper dragon scales affixed to it.

A necklace that’s little more than seven brightly polished coils of copper wire strung together.

A bronze necklace formed in the shape of a roaring draconic head embedded with sparkling ruby eyes.

A pendant consisting of a faintly glowing rough stone suspended in a filigree cage hanging from a thin golden chain.

An amulet carved from old ivory polished to a silky finish. It has been carved to resemble a boar suckling a human babe, a bear cub, and a hound. It used to be a cloak pin, but the spur of bone that acted as a pin is broken off and a hole has been bored through the boar’s spine. Its hollow eyes once held gems, and one of the tusks is broken off, but the boar’s hooves are still rimmed in gold.

A scratched and dented locket which, when opened, appears to contain a much larger space.

A tarnished tin pendant with a constellation marked on it that dangles from woven a horsehair necklace.

A necklace of human toe bones all pierced through a necklace of dried intestines.

A gold pendant with an ivory mosaic depicting a kobold beneath a halo.

A turquoise and silver pendant depicting a medusa looking in a mirror. Making eye contact with the medusa’s image makes an observer’s muscles feel stiff and cramped.

An onyx cameo depicting three lambs being eaten by wolves.

A copper medallion in the form of an ankh cross set with zircon.

A rusted iron medallion, on which is displayed a burning star inside a triangle.

A medallion consisting of a golden oval, enameled with a blue dolphin nageant, strung on a chain.

A moonstone of unusual size and translucency set in an amulet. When the night sky is viewed through the stone, the constellations may be seen in sharp relief and are instantly recognizable even to someone unfamiliar with astronomy or astrology.  

A silver medallion with dwarven heraldry bearing a frothy mug, a hammer, and the symbol of a dwarven god. A PC well versed in religion or history can tell that this medallion once belonged to Thoradrim, a legendary paladin imprisoned by angels after falling into disfavor with his god.

A worn, roughhewn oak pendant of unknown origin is carved in the image of a snake eating its tail, surrounding an egg. About a fourth of the pendant is covered with a band of many small green sprouts working their way out of the cracks in the old wood, while the rest is warped, dry, and remarkably aged. The pendant hangs from a wooden chain necklace that loops from a gap in the snake’s mouth. If observed over the course of a lunar month, the sprouts continually shrink back and grow anew, the band revolving slowly around the pendant’s surface.

A disk wrought from reddish metal and embossed with a skull-like visage on the front, the medallion hangs from a rusty chain that catches and pulls the hairs from the neck of anyone wearing it. When inspected in moonlight, the medallion gleams with baleful light.

A bone necklace with teeth upon it that chatter randomly. The bearer can hear a mix of languages and animal sounds emanating from it, but never quite makes out what specific creatures or even a single clear word.

A wiry necklace with one red pearl attached to a metal ring, two identical rings hang empty as if the pearls were taken.

A copper colored amulet, with a reflective diamond inlaid. The diamond is perfectly split into four parts, looking as if it has been broken. In Elvish, the words "Break, lest you be broken" are carved around the gem.

A bronze necklace with a sparkling blue crescent moon and overlapping bronze dragon pendant.

A pendant composed of a thin string holding a steel clasp which holds a small glossy black and green pearl.

An amulet bearing an ornate eye-in-pyramid sigil surrounded by mathematical formulae. After the amulet has been worn for a week, the bearer's eyes will become yellowed and reptilian, and remain so even if the amulet is lost or removed. After a month of wear, the bearer may start to notice scuttling red creatures at the corners of their vision...

A faux bronze medallion bearing a stylized sunburst design and an image of a runner on the sun. Engraved on the back is the phrase "Thank you for Participating!"

A miniature human skull encased in amber, roughly the size of a coin, on a chain to be worn about the neck. The bearer suffers nightmares that he doesn't remember, and in his sleep whispers the secrets of anyone near.

An amulet with two charms hanging from its chain, one a white open palm and the other a red closed fist.

An engraved bronze amulet caging a strange, forgotten spirit.

An ornate amulet composed of dozens of overlaid golden plates which resemble scales. A single red coral gem, two inches long, is set in the collar and almost seems to smolder with an intense heat.

A golden amulet stamped with the coat of arms of a major trading guild.

A piece of jewelery that appears to be a delicate diamond-shaped piece of polished copper, engraved with a design of three closed, long-lashed human eyes set in a triangle, hung around a small-linked necklace chain.

A ring-shaped amulet made of a milky blue gemstone. A thin gold chain loops through the hole in the center. The chain emerging from the front of the amulet is twice as thick as the chain entering the hole in the back of it.

A large, pearly-white conch shell that has a light seaweed core attached to it so that it can be worn around the neck.

A cheap necklace made of what appears to be brass. From it hang three gems, a moss agate, a blue quartz and a piece of malachite. Each gem is actually worth a fair bit if removed from their mounts. The necklace is of such poor quality that it actually makes the gems look cheaper than they are.

A ram shaped medallion, made from the horn of the animal that it resembles.

A teardrop shaped pendant composed of snowy white quartz shot through with delicate veins of pale rose.

A crystal pendant that refracts the light strangely and has an odd dark deposit at its center.

A visually impressive amulet consisting of jasper and jade with a leather strap. Even a non-wizard who dons the item can feel a tingling sensation of its power when worn.

A pendant composed of a thin string holding a steel clasp which holds a small glossy black and green pearl. If inspected the bearer can see a small figure inside the pearl but not what it is.

A small figurine of an elephant carved from a sharp cornered square of jade. Where the eyes of the elephant would be a hole has been drilled all the way through allowing the figurine to dangle from a piece of twine.

A priest's necklace made of woven leather straps, with semiprecious stone beads forming the holy symbol of the God of Random Domain.

An amber pendant, carved to resemble an anchor.

A beautiful, glittering emerald is set within the center of a silver chain necklace that hums with power and possibility.

An enlarged, floating snowflake magically held in place on a silver chain. The crystalline amulet is cold to the touch, its shape shimmering and slowly reforming in a fractal kaleidoscope of patterns.

A necklace with rough cut stones and glass strung on it. It causes the bearer to feel comfortable in all social situations regardless how awkward.

A small copper locket which when opened reveals a small insignia made of bolts of electricity arcing in the open space. The locket can be opened from either side.

A golden pendant bearing a precisely carved leaf design that holds a large sapphire. On the back is inscribed the name “Skrotkinrun”.

A small golden locket, delicately engraved with elven designs. The bearer is randomly filled with unexpected sadness while holding the object. Popping open the small clasp causes the bearer to be overcome with grief at the sight of the portrait inside; a youthful blonde woman with a hopeful smile.

A simple silver chain decorated with an aquamarine in an elegant teardrop setting. When worn, it transforms into an ornament that complements whatever outfit you are currently wearing. Although the amulet always takes the form of a neck adornment, it can appear as simple or glamorous as required by the bearer’s outfit.