#really no other head is better suited for a crown

[gellertalbus]

King Arthur Jamie every frame challenge (4/?)

[deadsetobsessions]

I just really like the trope of Danny getting summoned, alright?

——

After he shoved Pariah Dark in his coffin shaped locker what what Danny hoped to be for all of eternity, the half unfortunately inherited all of Pariah’s responsibilities.

“What was it again? With great powers comes great responsibilities?” Danny let his head hit the table with an audible thunk. He’s in his “office,” the ghost zone’s approximation of where he might be able to do work seriously. The house- the extension of his haunt- had added the room right next to his bedroom. Danny had to lift all of the paperwork from Pariah’s castle (that’s now also a part of what’s considered Danny’s but he doesn’t think about that) and move it to his main haunt.

He prayed to the universe at large to let him off. Danny hated doing homework- science not withstanding because at least he understood that- let alone an asshole’s centuries worth of work. Danny bemoaned the fact that he was elected the King. He didn’t even defeat Pariah all by himself, so why couldn’t the others do it?!

Like a wave of merciful fate, the beginning tugs of a summoning pulled at his core.

“Thank Ancients!”

Danny scrambled to grab a sticky note, unfortunately glowing green as things tended to in the Ghost Zone, and scribbled down that he’s been summoned and to not look for him until his vacation work was done.

With that note done, Danny decided to bring his A game to the summoning. Allowing his secondary form to wash over him, Danny quickly checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable. A bright glowing ice crown- not the crown of fire, because it was essentially useless without the ring and Danny wasn’t keen on being a king, let alone a near infinitely powerful one- settled across his brow showed his status. A cape, this form’s best feature, made of an expanse of galaxies, nebulae, and frost cling at the end was swept over his shoulders and pinned together with a cloak pin made of clusters of black holes.

A couple of additions to his normal hazmat suit and his trusty thermos at his side, Danny all but dove into the summoning magic with an excited whoop of glee.

As Danny got closer to the magic-made portal, he could hear the whispers of the living presences beyond it.

His summoners! Hopefully it’s not a cult again, even if he thought they were pretty funny trying to summon the king of the dead to kill more people. Not funny “haha,” funny weird.

How should he do this…? Scary? Funny? Oh! Or maybe he should ditch the crown!

Danny grinned, waving his hand to dispel the crown of ice. It was nice, but he was in a dungeon critter mood today.

“Oh, this is going to be gooood.”

Danny cracked his knuckles and put on the most dead-inside-and-outside expression he could manage, modeling it off of the Nasty Burger workers during closing shift. The halfa stepped through the portal.

——

“The ritual is completed! You will all face the might of Pariah Dark, the eternal king of the dead!” The villain of the week cackled as his cult cheered. Wonder Woman, scuffed and injured from the magical bolts these magic users had shot at her earlier, grimaced and raised her sword.

“We will defeat Pariah Dark,” she proclaimed. Her allies rallied at her proclamation and readied themselves for another fight. “This world will not bow to the likes of you!”

“We are all but mere ants before the king of the dead! Pariah Dark will bring forth the reckoning this shitty world deserves!”

“Actually, Pariah Dark’s kind of busy, so you’re gonna have to leave a message.”

Green Arrow’s arrow jerked towards the new voice. Batman paused, hand holding batarangs at the ready. He, out of all of them, knew better than to underestimate a young voice.

A gloved hand shoved through the green portal, using the edges like a door frame to heave itself through. A humanoid shape, with sharp ears all but crawled out of the Lazarus green portal. Batman wondered if this was what Jason saw when he came back to life.

"Lord Pariah Dark is busy?!"

The figure- a boyish not-human- heaved a sigh. "Do you people seriously think that the High King of the Infinite Realms isn't swamped with work?"

"And who are you supposed to be? His secretary?" Hal asked, Ring glowing and at the ready. Wonder Woman tensed and mentally struck Hal away from the list of people to consider for diplomatic missions.

"Me? I'm a glorified paper pusher." The being turned back to the cultists, his cape containing the universe swished behind him. "Did you have a message for Pariah Dark?"

"He was meant to rain down death and destruction!"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like you guys are missing a really important point." The being pointed at the cult leader. “It’s not called the King of the Dead for no reason, you know. Death comes for everyone eventually. Also, I have to do a seriously giant amount of paperwork every time one of you fruitloops gets the bright idea to cause an influx of deaths.”

Danny stomped across the circle, grabbed the collar of the cultist leader’s cloak and yanked him down. He shook him. “Do you people have any idea how annoying it is?! Huh?! Do you know how long the A-354 Form is?! Stop trying to get Pariah to kill people! I’m sick of the paperwork, dammit!”

"How- how did you get out of the circle?!"

The cultists and the heroes squared up, ready to fight the possible common enemy: Danny.

Danny is having the best time of his half life. Screw kingly dignity, Danny’s gotta de-stress somehow! He had a whole bag of complaints!

"You wrote the circle wrong, idiots! Ancients, are you people even literate? What even are those scribbles?" Danny kept shaking the cultist. Wow, what an amazing stress ball!

“Uh- hey, he looks kind of sick…” The Flash said, trying to be a good hero and mediate before escalating. Danny snarled and Flash held up his hands, gulping in fear as Danny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did I… do something?”

“You,” Danny hissed. “You mother- fruitloop! Stop screwing with the timeline, you giant red-! Do you know how annoying it is to readjust the death count every time one of you little merry red jesters takes a jaunt through time and space?! Do you even know how many complaints I had to field?! Oh, boy you’re all going to regret summoning me today, because I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d do to everyone who made me work overtime!”

Danny bared his teeth, eyes sparkling with mirth as he froze the cultists.

"We're not letting you take over the world," Hawk-Woman said, raising her mace that pulsed with electricity.

Danny snorted to hide his wince. "I'm not interested. Just let me punch him once. Just once." Danny pointed at the Flash.

"Honestly, I can't even blame you," Black Canary muttered, fists raised.

"Wha-! Canary! That's so rude! You traitor!"

"Shouldn't have put skittles in my shoes then. Those hurt, Flash."

"Enough." Everyone shut up at the sound of Batman's command. "What do you mean they wrote the circle wrong."

Danny, who was watching the byplay with interest, shrugged. "They wanted to summon the Ghost King, right? We've had a... change of leaders recently."

"Who is the leader now?"

Danny waggled a finger at Batman. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna collect my over-time compensation, which is punching the Flash, and then we can negotiate for information."

"Flash."

"I don't want to get punched, Bats!"

"The alternative is that I let the current Ghost King have a go at you."

"Flash."

"Oh my god, just get punched, Barry!" Danny heard Green Lantern Hal Jordan whisper.

"Ugh, fine. No one video this."

Immediately, three phones go up to record the Flash getting decked by a teenage looking ghost. Danny floated closer and wound his fist back, letting loose some of the ghost strength he normally keeps restrained. "This is for my overtime and for Clockwork, you jerk."

The halfa slammed his fist straight into the Flash's face, knocking him clear into the air. Superman catches him but Danny no longer paid attention to the Flash, petty vengeance enacted.

"Honestly, I don't have a problem with you as a person. You're kind of cool. Break the timeline again in the next three months, though, and you're on my shit-list."

"What do you want in exchange for information?"

Danny hummed. "Depending on the level of information, and I reserve the right to not answer any questions. For the name of the current Ghost King..."

He did want that new gaming console. And Jazz could use some help with her rent.

"I want $5,000 and a plate of really good spaghetti."

"I have cash."

Danny nodded at the Dark Knight. "You just carry $5,000 in cash on you? Who does that?"

"I like to be prepared."

"And he's rich," Superman chimed in.

The Flash reappeared with a plate of spaghetti from an Italian place he teleported to. "Here you go. Fresh, and pleasedon'tscrewwithmyafterlife."

Danny shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth, jaw unhinging like a particularly disturbing snake right before he dumped the whole thing- plate and all- down his throat. "Thanks! The food didn't even try to kill me this time! You're good."

"Does your food try to kill you all of the time?!" The Flash- Barry, apparently- asked.

Danny nodded as he took the cash from Batman's gloved hands. "Totally. It sucks."

"Identity." Batman demanded.

"Oh, yeah. The current ghost king is me."

"...What."

"You have been swindled. Bamboozled. Outwitted and outsmarted," Danny snickered, shoving the bundle of cash in his chest. "But seriously, I'm the king. We got rid of Pariah a while ago."

The crown of ice materialized.

"You said you were a glorified paper pusher!" Hawk-Woman chortled.

"I am! I'm pushing so many papers across my desk, it's unending, I swear!"

Batman growled. "You tricked us."

Danny smirked, "You got tricked." Red Robin, in the corner, snorted quietly. "Anyways, if you've got more interesting things around here, I'll considering busying myself with that instead of sentencing you to an afterlife of paperwork."

The adults straightened, grimacing. "Beast Boy is green," Hal offered up.

"Hey!" Beast Boy shouted, offended at the easy way Hal offered him up. He turned to Danny. "But have you ever seen a green chinchilla? Super cute. Watch!"

"Woah!" Danny clapped. Yes, he'll hang out with them before dragging himself back.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Believe Me [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Home from a mission in the dead of night, Loki requires absolution (w/c 1.4k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smutty. Avenger!Loki. Established relationship. Mild sub!loki, non-toxic jealously, 'authorised' mild infidelity (missions, innit).

You had dozed, slipping between the fleeting embrace of slumber. Snatches came and went, the cool of your pillow turning hot before you turned it again.

Fat feathers crisped as you lowered your head. The finest Asgardian goose. Loki insisted. With each wave of consciousness, you tried not to think of your lover destructively flirting his way through a honeytrap mission tonight. The poor mark didn’t stand a chance. You checked the clock. 03.23.

But something feels different.

Sitting up, you squinted beyond the darkness.

On the far side of the room, a wing-back chair rose in the gloom. The draped silk of your discarded robe still hung over the armrest, but it shimmered. It was moving. Black became grey as your eyes adjusted, seeing pale fingers weaving silk between them.

You saw him now.

Legs crossed, back straight and chin dipped as he watched you sleep while he bathed in shadow. Curls sat effortlessly back from his face, slices of cheekbone protruding from blackest night.

The shade of his suit was at one with the leather behind, but Loki’s bright eyes smouldered; embers of starlight and dying galaxies deep in the darkness. “I didn’t wish to wake you, love” he murmured, pulling the silk hem through his fingers a final time before letting it fall.

One long leg unfurled over the other, the click of his heel meeting the floor making you clench beneath the bed-covers. You were wet already. So wet. Like your body could sense his presence, if not yet your mind. She always could.

Like a dream, you cast the duvet back and rose; bare feet padding across the boards towards him. Cool air sent gooseflesh rippling up your thighs, your arms; the curves of your body protected only by a flimsy camisole. Only a few more steps. The leather of the chair squeaked as his thighs spread against the sides. “Loki,” you breathed, cupping his face.

No sooner had the name left your lips than a row of candles flickered to life, illuminating him from behind. They floated in the air, rivulets of wax already spilling soft rolls down the sides. “Hel-lo,” he purred teasingly. One eyebrow cocked. And the threat of a smirk pressing against his cheeks.

For the first time, you noticed his unusual attire. A three piece suit, with its crowning glory the drip of starched ruffles cascading down his chest to the high waist of his trousers. He shifted in the chair, the pad of a fingertip brushing a close-lipped smile.

“Steve really went Ken-doll on you tonight, huh?” you teased, mirth ebbing to renewed desire as he drew the fingers to the bow-tie fastened at his neck.

He shrugged, tugging it slowly, letting the silk unfurl. It hung perfectly around his collar. You wondered if he would tie you up with it. You hoped he would.

In a flash, two large hands cupped your ass, pulling you down to his lap. With a gasp you managed to straddle him, slotting your knees on either side of his thick trunk. You kissed him deeply, savouring the softness of his tongue as it welled and licked and loved you. The ceremony was about to begin. His fingers spread against your cheeks, pulling and massaging as he groaned into your throat.

He tasted like jealousy. Traces of expensive perfume lingering on his skin and the faint hang of some rich whisky doing its best to conceal it. A thrill flooded through you, imagining the mark's desire roaring through her blood as she felt his muscle ripple beneath her touch. But Loki would never betray you, not beyond the emotionless tactics his position required.

Your thumb skated up his cheek, catching a patch of forgotten lipstick near his ear. Forgotten? No. You knew better than that. Whenever Loki came home from ensnaring a target with his wiles, he never missed the chance to make sure you knew who he belonged to. It was a mission. It was nothing. But ceremony must be upheld. His lips waxed and waned deeper, firing passion setting you alight. Every swallow was harsher and deeper than the last. Like he might lose you in the darkness. Loki grunted wetly as you scooted closer on his lap, chest flush to your colossus of a lover while his fingers wound in your hair. Your digits slid down his chest, feeling the ropes of muscle bound beneath starched folds. You broke apart just long enough to whisper the question he was waiting for. "You had to kiss this one?" You let the playful mist of a snarl hang on the air. Loki growled in response while you began working down his chin, along the long blade of his jawline. Letting the tip of your tongue run over the angle of his bone structure.

“Yes,” he rasped while you dropped lower, fastening to the slender muscle of his neck. You took a moment to appreciate his Adam’s apple work as he swallowed hard, ragged breaths ripping the air. His head fell back. “Only for a minute,” he panted to the ceiling. “It was perfunctory.”

Honestly from the god of lies, you’d found, was the greatest aphrodisiac of all.

“Where?” you asked, closing your eyes against his skin. “Against the wall,” he choked. His breaths were short. Loki’s fingernails grazed down the exposed skin between your shoulder-blades while you began to gently gyrate in circles. The god’s thick cock snaked down his thigh, ferociously hard against the tight fabric. At the mercy of your movements.

His brow creased as you slid back and forth, wetted lips parting with a needy gasp. “Did she want you?” you goaded, sliding the heel of your palm over one of his cheekbones. It raked through his hair. "Of course," he strummed, thighs beginning to tremble beneath your hips. Loki's hands ran in worship up the curve of your waist. "And did you want her?" you asked coyly. Loki pouted before a gentle tug of the camisole made your breasts spilled into his waiting hands. “Never,” he breathed; eyes flashing dangerously as he lifted them to meet yours. “Never.” You slid a hand down his torso, through the mass of white foliage ruffles which lapped against your palm in flickering candlelight. They were hard, and yet soft. Just like him. And stiff. That too, was a common attribute.

Slowly, you reached the button of his trousers. Loki thrust into the touch, biting his lip with a flinch. His brows knitted together.

One button popped beneath your fingers. Then two.

He leant forward, pushing your cleavage together and burying his face deep. The god’s nose slotted perfectly between the mounds of flesh he sought, drowning himself in the scent of you. The feel of you. His muffled moans of anticipation made you squirm on his lap, rubbing your bare pussy against his sprung manhood.

Pants and wet grunts of desire filled the air before Loki surfaced, kissing manically up the path to your lips. He consumed you again, his palm skating up the nape of your neck in a violent embrace. Waves of stiff ruffles grazed your nipples, sending electric shocks of pleasure to your dripping core. Had you ever needed him more than this? You were certain you had. But you couldn’t remember when.

Loki’s hands massaged your ass, pulling you deeper against his face. His shirt ruffles scratched your inner thighs, the tender caress making you mewl his name to the ceiling.

“Say you believe me,” he gasped in desperation.

It was a dark prayer. And a desperate one, at that. A ring of saliva was smeared across his lower face. The words chanted on repeat as your searching fingers lined him up between your slick thighs.

“Say you believe me,” he pleaded, slurring. His throat clung to the final syllable, rasping it through a torturous exhale.

The tip of his cock jarred against your slit, a sticky mess of pre-cum and arousal webbing with each slow buck. He was trembling with the effort of resistance.

He would not. Not until the ceremony of his forgiveness was complete.

You looked down at him, head resting against the back of the chair. Carefully coiffured hair now hung around his cheekbones, jutting at mussed angles. Half-lidded eyes observed you with reverence, submission. A pilgrim awaiting absolution. You smiled. Leaning in, you traced the taut vein popping in his neck. Felt every bob and tighten as he swallowed on your ascent. The little mewls from his pretty lips. And all the while, his hips rocked; cock licking and caressing your glistening sex.

The swirl of your tongue tasted bitter. Remnants of perfume from her wrists as she wound her arms around his neck, perhaps. But it would be gone soon. It always was. They always were. And you? You remained. You always did.

You reached the soft skin beneath his ear, humming a little before sucking his delicate lobe between your lips. “I believe you, baby” you whispered.

It was no more than a breath. The truth needs no more than a breath, you’d found. And with a broken sob of gratitude, Loki felt you sink deep onto his leaking cock.

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

[twstowo]

They End Up In a Universe Where The Two Of You Hate Each Other [Twst]

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: The two of you are happily dating and he couldn’t have asked for anything else, however, one day he finds himself in a strange place only to find that here the two of you are enemies.

♡︎Enemies to lovers????

♡︎Includes: Riddle and Leona

[AU Masterlist]

[Here] ☆[Azul and Jamil] ☆[Vil and Idia] ☆[Malleus]

⋆⋅☆Riddle

The fate of this Riddle had been written. He would ascend to the position of the King of the Queendom of Roses as his mother passed away, and he would transform into a worse tyrant than her. Eventually, everyone he thought he could trust would turn against him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Riddle was dumbfounded when he opened his eyes, only to find himself in front of thousands of people, a crown on top of his head, proclaiming him as the King of this strange land. The people in front of him bowed in fear of his rules, as he was nothing more than a tyrant in this unfamiliar place.

Days passed as he tried to comprehend how he ended up in such a peculiar setting – one where Night Raven College didn't exist, and his mother, once the queen, had just died, making him the King of the Queendom of Roses. Along the way, he encountered some of his friends such as Trey and Che’nya, but none of them seemed to enjoy his company, only interacting with him out of fear, just like anyone else. For Riddle, this didn’t make any sense. He knew that his past actions in his universe had been that of a tyrant, but he had changed with your help and that of his friends who were here by his side. Seeing himself in a similar situation again, he decided to alter the course of history that dictated he be betrayed by his own people.

“Stay still, or I will cut your throat.” Finally, you entered the picture. Riddle had questioned when you would show up since he arrived. At first, he thought that maybe you would be one of the party members seeking his hand in marriage, but he felt that wouldn’t entirely suit you. He knew that when you showed up, you would turn his world upside down because that was the impact you had in his universe. You stood in front of him, a knife dangerously close to his throat, ready to cut it if he made any stupid moves. If this had been someone else, he would have been ready to fight, ready to call the guards and collar you. However, deep down, even with a knife next to his neck, he knew that he could trust you.

You were an assassin, meant to kill the tyrant king, driven with only this purpose. It had been one of your group that had murdered the Queen, and now it only lasted for you to finish the job of ending the tyrant's bloodline. However, strangely after the king’s coronation, you started seeing a strange change in his actions. The once tyrant man who collared everyone in the city came back to uncollar them. He hosted tea parties for the people in the city and abolished some of the laws his mother had created. Did you really have to kill someone like that? Was he as bad as everyone made him seem? You decided to check for yourself, and with that, you found that Riddle was, in fact, someone with a gentle heart.

“I wish to undo what my mother started,” you heard his docile words, a questionable expression on your face. Did he really mean that? He could be trying to lower your guard to call the guards, but within his eyes, you saw no sign of lies. He meant what he had said, he truly wanted to better the Queendom. You decided to give him one chance, for if he failed, you would come back to take his life.

⋆⋅☆Leona

The fate of this Leona had been written. He would kill his brother out of jealousy for ascending to the throne, and over time, he would be overthrown by his own nephew, left to be alone and mocked.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

A story that Leona deemed fitting for him, as he once again witnessed his brother achieving what he had desired, becoming even here the shadow of his own brother. Most of his days were spent lazing around, knowing that no good would come from trying to follow the predetermined path laid out for him. Unless he did things differently.

The sweet taste of power was intoxicating, and he planned everything with immense detail, confident that everything would turn out perfectly. That was until he saw you. You, hailing from another land, sought to establish a peaceful connection between the realms. Upon seeing him, you strolled towards him with a fiery look, as if commanding him to behave. If it had been anyone else, he might have lost his composure, making sure you would regret ever looking at him disrespectfully. But he could never do that to you. He almost found the expression amusing, almost as if you had turned into his lucky angel, advising him to halt his plans before he could end up as fate had written for him here.

“Why are you always lazing around?” The sweet melody of your voice captured his attention, but there was nothing sweet about it. Your hands rested on your hips as you looked down at his figure. To anyone hearing you speak, it would seem as if you hated him, and to a point, you actually did. The fact that you saw so much potential in Leona, and yet the only thing he seemed to do was sleep, made you furious beyond belief. You had come from a family that demanded perfection, and perfection you had to become. Working day and night to fulfill their expectations, you aimed to continue their bloodline. Seeing someone like Leona, who appeared to have been born with everything you had to work so hard for, made you mad.

“Why not join me for once?” He asked, tapping the grass next to him, a mocking tone present in his voice as he checked if you could lower your guard to fulfill his wish. In truth, he just missed the moments back in his universe where he would lay his head on your lap as you talked about your day. Yet, the you from this universe wasn’t so thrilled with that idea, and he watched as you turned around with a roll of your eyes.

Your encounters were filled with glares, as you didn't seem to enjoy his company and spoke ill of him. However, somehow, even if mean, he found himself enjoying the time spent with you, albeit fleetingly. While he glanced at your departing figure, wishing to spend more time with you, he knew that, just like in his universe, you were meant to be by his side.

[the-main-daine]

Life Series Character Renders:

Featuring Martyn, Mumbo and Pearl

(I actually have quite a lot to say about two of these this time.)

Martyn:

Human.... ish. Hear me out on this one:

So Martyn has this fascinating background lore to the Life Series called Watcher/Eyes and Ears Lore. I'm quietly obsessed with this.

I love watching his lore streams after every series, and have come up with a few theories on my own: His thumbnails are always fully illustrated, so his character has a canon 'look' for every season, which I think is just, deeply cool.

But in his lore, there's also this space between SMPs, where the Watchers kind of... hold people until they can be used again. And since Martyn is the protagonist of the very cool story he's writing, I got it in my head that in this space between, Martyn isn't QUITE human. Maybe he was at one point.

Maybe he never was, I don't know.

But alongside all the cracks and stuff that have started to show up on his body; there's seams along the joints, and light shining within, as he starts to become more befitting as a vessel.

A vessel for what? No idea. I probably won't be drawing all those seams in any fanart comics of the series themselves - I imagine they get covered up when he's sent out into the world to interact with others in various SMPs - but I thought the idea was too cool not to draw at least once.

As a past winner, he gets his crown, and the burning eye of Mars by his name.

Mumbo:

Vampire Mumbo!

I know he doesn't have the grey streak in his life series skin but I love it too much I'm keeping it forever.

It makes him look so much more threatening and serious than he is.

Poor Mumbo. I was really rooting for you buddy. Better luck next series!

At least he still does damage with those End Crystals.

Pearl:

A lunar moth

As a winner, she gets her crown, and she gets her moon.

I'm not going to lie I want that lunar moth hoodie more than anything.

I had a lot of fun with Pearl: Her skin design is so simple (Well, maybe not this season, but usually) that it leaves so much room to interpret it. She's always going around with dogs, making her wolfish would've been really easy, but I think Moth suits her more.

There's a lot of mythology with moths being a little off kilter, mad, or leading people to madness that I think fits with Pearl's tendency to be a little bit of a loose canon, wild and unpredictable. Like a moth's flight patterns.

Red Hood Pearl had to put in an appearance here, especially with how it's sort of creeping to overtake her in Wild Life this season, and she just gets so earnestly threatening when she's on a red life despite still being all smiles and all laughs.

Unlike Gem or Cleo, I think there's an edge to Pearlie Pop on red that just reminds me of a horror monster, in the best, best, best way.

I haven't figured out heights but she's also the tallest.

[softguarnere]

Something He Can't Have

Edmund Pevensie x fem!reader

A/N: Not me falling back into one of my oldest hyperfixations after watching the movies this past week for Christmas 🥴 I honestly don't know what to say for myself, other than that I had fun writing this and it may have single-handedly saved me from my recent writing slump. Anyway, hope y'all like this, byeeee ✨💕 Warnings: none

Lucy lets out a groan that sounds so annoyed that it instantly draws Edmund back into the present moment. “Can I ple-ease say something now?” She asks Susan, who sits to her left at the banquet table.

Susan shushes her, but there’s no malice behind it. In fact, when she does allow a disheartened look to grace her face, she directs it toward Edmund. “No. I suppose we shouldn’t meddle.”

They’ve captured his interest. Which is something that seems nearly impossible, considering that he’s spent so much of this banquet staring at Peter and (Y/N) on the dance floor, watching his older brother enjoy dance after dance with her. And trying hard not to take it too personally when (Y/N) throws back her head to laugh every now and then at something that Peter has said. Usually, she only laughs like that at his jokes, and usually only when they’re alone together.

If Peter is making her come undone, allowing her to feel comfortable outside of the carefully crafted polite and diplomatic persona that (Y/N) has created for herself to use in Cair Paravel’s court, then she’s become relaxed with him. And who knows where that will lead?

“What are you talking about?” For good measure, Edmund tosses one last glance at the dance floor before turning his attention to his sisters.

“That!” Lucy exclaims, gesturing between Edmund and the crowd that swirl on the floor before them. “This!”

Edmund raises an eyebrow. “The ball?”

His younger sister groans, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, I give up!”

“Edmund,” Susan says sternly. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t get involved, but this has gone on long enough.” For a split second, the gentle queen loses her composure, though only ever so slightly. “I mean, for God’s sake! It’s downright painful to watch!”

Still confused, Edmund isn’t sure what to say that will clarify whatever his sisters are talking about without further upsetting them. Instead, he settles for biting his lip, glancing between his sisters and the dancing, trying to work out their meaning himself.

Susan sighs, turning to Lucy. “He’s either a better actor than we give him credit for, or he’s downright daft.”

“Help me out here,” Edmund says.

“(Y/N)!” Lucy hisses, leaning across Susan so that she can scold her brother without causing too much unwanted attention. “You’ve been following her around all lovesick for ages now, but you haven’t done anything. And now you’re all jealous watching her dance with Peter.”

“Am not!”

Lucy swats his arm. “You’ve been staring at them all night. If you like her so much, then you better do something before you lose her forever!”

In other situations, Susan might chide the youngest Pevensie sibling, telling her that she’s being a bit overdramatic before offering Edmund some sort of good-natured advice. Edmund looks to her expectantly, only to find her brown eyes full of disappointment; she agrees with Lucy.

“We can all agree that you wear green better than any other, Ed,” she says. “But jealousy is not a shade that suits you.”

“Me? Jealous?! Of who?”

But his sisters only fix him with knowing looks. It makes Edmund want to wither away from existence on the spot. He spent most of their lives before Narnia being jealous of Peter. It’s been hard, but it’s something that he’s worked on since they were crowned. He really thought that he had overcome it. Now, though, his sisters’ words, coupled with the funny feeling in his stomach . . . He feels like a man, trapped, full of guilt, and caught in the middle of something very private. Which innocent people with nothing to hide do not feel in situations like these.

I fancy (Y/N), he realizes, admitting it to himself for the first time. It feels demeaning, somehow, to put a label on the feelings that he’s been harboring in secret for so long. And I’m jealous because she likes Peter more than me, says the next one, which makes him feel even worse.

A warm hand takes hold of his and squeezes. For all the annoyance that Lucy has felt toward him in these past few minutes, she offers him nothing but a kind look and encouraging smile. “You have to do something, Ed.”

“I – “ The words clog in his throat, causing him to swallow thickly, trying to find some of the air which has suddenly become very scarce. As you spin by on the dance floor, Edmund can see how you’re smiling at Peter like he hung the moon, and how his older brother beams at you like you created all the stars. Who wouldn’t want to bask in the sun’s warmth like that? And what sort of evil would dare separate two people who appear to be so . . . so in love. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Susan reassures him. “Trust me, Ed.”

Edmund, however, can’t take his eyes off of you. “I can’t ruin that.”

“You won’t,” Susan says. And if Edmund had his wits about him, he would recognize that she says it with the tone of someone who is very sure of herself because she has access to information that no one else has. (She, after all, is your best friend. But facts like that tend to fall by the wayside in moments of intense anxiety such as this.) “Ed, it’ll be fine. Trust me.”

To unstick the words in his throat, Edmund reaches for his goblet and takes a swig of the drink from inside. If he’s really going to do this, he’ll need all the courage he can get, no matter where it comes from.

As the song ends, he pushes back his chair and begins to make his way around the table. Lucy squeals with delight from behind him, and both his sisters offer nods of encouragement and thumbs up when he turns back to them, unsure.

The next thing that he knows, he’s on the dance floor, maneuvering his way through the crowd to reach you –

He catches sight of you just as you excuse yourself from the dance floor. You disappear into the crowd before he can call out to you, though he reaches out a hand, like he might be able to catch you from afar.

“Edmund!” A well-meaning slap on the back announces Peter’s presence. His older brother throws an arm around his shoulders. He radiates heat after all that dancing. “I wondered when you might join us on the dance floor.”

“I’m not. I’m just looking for (Y/N).”

Peter’s smile doesn’t falter, despite the fact that the next words out of his mouth are devastating news. “I believe that she’s retiring for the night.”

“Oh?”

“She said that she needed some air, that she might go to bed.”

As one of Narnia’s kings, Edmund is inclined to stay present for the majority of this banquet. You, being a courtier, are free to go as you please, seeing as there are no diplomatic negotiations, no fates of any nations, resting on your shoulders. If things were different, he would find a way to go after you.

And he’s actually looking for an excuse to do so when Peter says something that makes him stop.

“I wish she would have stayed,” the High King sighs. “We were having such a good time.”

Edmund nods, hands involuntarily clenching into fists at his sides. His voice feels hollow when he replies, “It looked like you were having a good time.”

“I was thinking – “ A laugh cuts Peter off as he shakes his head, looking half embarrassed, half giddy. “I was actually just about to ask her to be my – my girlfriend.” On the last word, something most unusual happens – the High King blushes. Actually blushes! Who would have known that such a thing was possible?

To say that it catches Edmund off guard would be an understatement. He’s never seen Peter so vulnerable . . . so happy. It makes Edmund’s mouth go dry. He and Peter have had their differences throughout their lives, but he can’t just ruin his older brother’s chance at happiness.

“Oh.” Is all that Edmund can think to say. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “What do you think she’ll say?”

Peter laughs, breathlessly, happily. “Well, I’m hoping that she’ll say yes, of course. In fact – “ He glances in the direction that you disappeared in. “ – I would go talk to her now, if not for my responsibilities.”

“Go,” Edmund finds himself saying. He can feel Peter’s look of surprise mirrored on his own face. But if Peter is going to do this, if this is all really happening, he’d honestly rather get it over with. “I’ll cover for you here.”

Now it’s Peter who hesitates. After a moment, his face breaks into a wide smile. He claps Edmund on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Ed.”

I wish I were better, the Just King thinks as he watches his older brother chase after the girl that they both love.  

From the banquet table, Lucy and Susan are giving him confused looks. Edmund only shrugs, then quietly rejoins them. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to explain what’s just happened. He recedes into himself, letting the party whirl by without him.

If only he were paying attention – then he would see the knowing look on Susan’s face.

. . .

It’s late when the banquet ends, and later still when Edmund slips into the library. He’s exhausted, but his mind is racing and won’t let him sleep. You and Peter had disappeared from the banquet hours ago. That’s plenty of time for his brother to have confessed to you and for you to have accepted. Dread fills him at the thought of the two of you happily announcing your new relationship the next morning at breakfast. He’ll have to face the two of you sometime, to muscle through his own pain and begin navigating a world where he has to accept that you’re in love with his older brother. But tonight, he can be amongst his books, which are a comfort.

He's so distracted that he doesn’t immediately notice you sitting by the fireplace, an open book on your lap, but a distracted look on your face as you watch the flames dance before you.

“Oh,” you both exclaim at the same time when you notice each other. The synchronicity makes you both laugh.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologizes.

“I didn’t mean to take your hiding spot,” you say in turn. You shut your book, but Edmund holds out a hand to stop you.

“You don’t have to leave on my account.”

You squint, studying him for a second, before nodding and settling back into the cushions behind you. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Carefully, Edmund takes a seat opposite you, gazing into the fire to gather his nerve. He didn’t expect to find you here. Didn’t expect to find you looking so . . . distracted and lonely as you stare into the fire, your book forgotten. He really shouldn’t pry. But you’re his friend, first and foremost, and he doesn’t want that to change. “Is everything alright?”

Delicate fingers pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh, collecting yourself before looking up at him through the firelight.

“Peter asked me to be his girlfriend,” you confess. Though the library is quiet, your voice is dull, hard to hear. You do not look as joyful as he imagined you would when delivering this news.

“Oh,” Edmund offers. He fumbles for words. You look upset, so he can’t congratulate you. But then again, he’s not sure if he should console you.

You stare at him for a moment, studying him just as intently as he’s studying you. “I said no,” you finally explain.

“Oh,” Edmund says again, for lack of anything better to say. “I’m . . . sorry?” Except that he’s really not. He feels quite relieved, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your brows furrow. He’s said the wrong thing, but he’s not sure where he went wrong.

“I said no,” you repeat. “Because I have feelings for someone else.”

Edmund’s heart, only on the mend for a split second, plummets. “Oh. I see.”

“No you don’t,” you scoff. “Edmund, you’re the one I have feelings for! Have you really not noticed by now?”

The words echo through the still library. They hang between you for a moment. A glorious, albeit confusing, moment where Edmund can do nothing but stare at you, unsure if he’s heard you correctly. Narnia is a magical place, but there’s no way that you could have said the very thing that he would do anything to hear.

“You do?” His voice comes so quietly that when you don’t immediately reply, he worries that maybe he hasn’t spoken at all.

“Yes. And for quite some time, I might add.”

“But – “ Images of the night swirl in his mind. You had danced with Peter for ages, looking so happy. Everyone likes Peter. They always have. And much, much more than they like Edmund. To say that you have feelings for him . . . “Why?”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . Everyone likes Peter. He always gets what he wants.”

Even in the dim glow of the firelight, he can see your gaze soften.

“Oh, Edmund.” You leave your seat, coming closer to him. He rises, meeting you halfway, so that the two of you are standing together in front of the fire. Gently, you take his hand, intwining your fingers. Your hand is warm in his. You squeeze, and on instinct, he squeezes back. “That’s not true.”

“What’s not?”

“People like you, too. I like you.” Your grip tightens on his hand. “And Peter doesn’t always get what he wants. I know something he can’t have.”

“What’s that?”

A smile tugs at your lips when you gaze up at him and say, “He can’t have this.”

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #22

Back in my day.

Imagine dis…

Alfred is a whole mystery to the Batfam that whenever he pulls out his shotgun we are in awe at this kickass badass British butler, on the other hand, we are always in the shadows of his past endeavors. We all knew he was a S.A.S. Armed Services, fighting in 15 different operations between ages 18 and 20. A skilled medical and front liner soldier who was decorated. He later joined MI5, as well as the secret forces of the Queen and later being knighted by Her Majesty.

He is silent as he comes by, he can out Batman the Batman despite Bruce learning from the greatest assassin of all time. He is calm, too calm for any situation to the point your subconscious asks if he had seen something wilder, more insane to consider an alien attack, a mutant crocodile attack every Tuesday is considered somewhat tame, or even the rise of global or universal threats that Alfred seemed to brush it off.

So, who is he?

…

Alfred Pennyworth had always been a mysterious figure. He had dedicated his life to serving the Wayne family and their caped crusader alter-egos as Bruce Wayne's loyal butler and the revered keeper of Wayne Manor. But Alfred had held a secret for decades, one that would finally come to light most unexpectedly.

Alfred was a teenager called Danny Fenton long before he donned the perfect suit and tie. He lived in the small town of Amity Park, which was riddled with secrets of its own. Danny was not your typical adolescent; he had a strange encounter with a ghostly gateway that had bestowed upon him unusual and otherworldly skills. He had protected Amity Park from vengeful ghosts and spectral threats thanks to his power to shift into a phantom hero known as Danny Phantom.

Danny had just recently been crowned as the crowned prince of the Infinite Realm a week after he had defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark who had attempted to rip off a space in the fabric of in-between just to suck in his little quaint town. It was determined by both the ancient and the Observants that it was better for him to finish his mortal life before he dawns on the crown, as he was still growing, he was still considered a baby ghost younger than Young Blood as his death was still recent.

But slowly the thoughts that he had kept behind his head are coming back to him. Jazz his beloved sister as well as the one who had raised her despite being a child herself who had no idea of raising a child, may analyze her all she wants but she could never sympathize nor connect with his inner thoughts of being one of the halfas. He died, he never really had the time to process it because he had to face the Lunch Lady just a few days after the accident.��

His friends, now looking at them closely, have seen that they both have some sort of guilt in their eyes. They both have seen him die amid the electrician, he can’t help but feel some sort of longing at the cemetery the north of Amity Park, he is too alive to have a grave yet too dead to be alive.

He thought he was getting there, changing the views of the people. To show the world that his kind is sentient but the people kept whispering. Shadows cast long by the looming specters sent chills down their spines. Every eerie wail or flicker of a ghostly presence filled them with dread. Their eyes widened in terror as the ethereal figures materialized before them. A hushed silence fell over the town when ghostly battles raged in the skies. Parents warned their children to stay indoors when the ghost alarms rang. Fearful whispers of the "Ghost Boy" circulated, both a hero and a phantom menace. 

The ghostly encounters left scars of fear etched in the minds of Amity Park's residents.

In the end, he was forced to leave his home dimension, why? It’s because the GIW have become more vicious more brutal at their hunting, With the sacrifice of both his friends and family they have shoved him into the portal, never to be seen again.

…

All bloodied and still injured he had landed in a period in the early 1900. He thought that he may have accidentally traveled back in time but when he saw too many conflicting events that he had learned during his high school days that didn’t happen during this time led him to believe that he had traveled a different dimension. Small ripples in the water created a tsunami of change in what he previously known as the past, when he was still in the streets gathering information, he had noticed that he landed in the middle of London during the early 1900s. Good enough that child labor laws are still not a thing so he can work with practically anyone without questions asked. The bad news is that his supposed great-grandfather's version in this dimension had already died, according to his family tree history during his science project in 4th grade his great-grandfather went to London to earn a few bucks before traveling back to America where he would meet his supposed great grandmother and have children. Since he died before he even went back to America the Nightgale-Fenton line died with him.

Luckily a barren couple took pity on him and took him in, since Danny can’t no longer bear his original last name, he embraced the new name from this nice couple who had taken him in. Danny may have felt guilty at the prospect or even the idea of replacing his family but he can’t help but think of it as a new beginning of his life. No one to hunt down his ghostly half, No GIW, and No fruit loop trying to turn him into his heir.

Alfred Pennyworth

During this time he did a lot of odd jobs, cleaning the inside of a chimney, mining, selling newspapers… etc. Sure, it was hard work and he can’t help but look at the children far younger than him taking in jobs far more dangerous just so they can shave something to eat. He can’t help but feel too blessed when he was back in his timeline. Warn food to eat under a sturdy roof to keep out the elements as well as education. Things that were too mundane, too common, that he now feels like a luxury. 

Over time he developed an accent as well as new mannerisms and vocabulary. 

So, when war broke out on the horizon his core ached at the notion of protection thus signed up in the military. 

Sure, he became the most feared soldier in the fields due to his using some of his ghostly abilities subtly. His enemies who stand in front of him call him The Vengeful Orphan, due to his avenging every soldier who seems to die at the hands of their enemies. 

Between the ages of 18 and 20, he served in the S.A.S. Armed Services, engaging in 15 different actions. A decorated medical specialist and front-line soldier. He then joined MI5, as well as the Queen's secret forces, and was knighted by Her Majesty.

…

As time passes by the ages, slowly but surely. He had already outlived his adoptive parents and friends of his. He still held the authority of being the officially crowned prince of the Infinite Realms. He had already explored the world experiencing the culture and history of this world.

At this time, he had already recovered enough ectoplasm to turn back to his ghostly prime and create a portal to the Infinite Realms. But something in him nagged, his core kept trying to tell him something when he was about to take a step inside the portal, but he didn’t seem to know why. His years as Phantom and Alfred Pennyworth taught him to listen to his guts, and it saved him multiple times, without looking back he stayed in this dimension until his mortal life perished.

It seemed that he didn’t have to find it for too long as he was approached by none other than Thomas Wayne with the preposition to be Wayne’s butler.

So, when little Bruce Wayne was born he couldn’t help but feel a little fond of the tyke. He reminded Bruce of himself when he was just a simple young boy before everything. When the fated, night came he tried to shield Bruce from everything, to have him resemble a somewhat normal life. 

That night he tucked in a teary-eyed Bruce into bed who had just witnessed his parent’s murder. He faced the ghosts of both Martha and Thomas who had been with the young master since the incident a few hours ago and tearfully promised the two ghostly couple that he would take care of Bruce. Both couples seemed to be in shock at their butler who had seen them but felt relief that their boy was in safe hands.

…

When his ward Bruce Wayne turned into a crime-fighting vigilante, he can’t help but softly snort at his outfit. Sure, he admits he had a worse outfit when he started as Phantom when he was just a young lad but he is willing to take anything other than a furry suit that fights crime at night. He has no right to criticize either since his alter ego is just him with an inverted color without a mask yet people seem to make no connection between him and Phantom, in his defense he is a young teen whereas Bruce is in his 20s. He just raised an eyebrow at his outfit and Bruce immediately changed the design to be a bit more sophisticated than just a Halloween costume of a bat.

…

So when Bruce starts to bring in orphans he can’t help but smile fondly as the manor is slowly filled with such joy from each child that seems to find a home in the large manor. He can't help but reminisce if this could have been his life if Vlad had learned to forgive Jack or if his parents and Amity Park just accepted him if the GIW didn’t exist. He thought one day when he was drinking tea with Jason, Jason who died and came back different, never broken. His grandchild who experienced his death in a slow yet painful way died and came back later. He knew there was something different with his grave but he chalked it up in being his ghostly sense sensing the ectoplasm around Gotham. He just wished he checked the grave even though it holds so much sentimental value to the dead. 

Don’t get him wrong the moment Jason came back to enact his revenge on B he was already aware something was in Gotham he just didn’t know at the time that it was Jason. He is more than happy to kill the Joker as he had taken mortal lives when he was serving the army but Bruce might notice and he still held fear at the idea of Dan.

After the entire revelation between his son and grandchild, he just welcomed back Jason into the manor as if nothing was wrong with the boy and prepared his favorite dish and snacks in the library whenever he visited.

…

Now it had been a long way since he entered this dimension, now the long table at the manor is filled with guests and children alike. His grandchildren are full of life despite what had life thrown at them. Dick was the first one to arrive and started, Barbara followed, Jason who took off the wheel, Tim with his brilliant mind with his worrying caffeine intake, Stephanie who fought with his father, Cassandra who started just to atone for the sin of killing her father yet became loyal and caring young lady and Damian who started to learn what humanity is like. Sure others had been emotionally adopted but all of them all have places in the manor.

…

His grandchildren as well as his pseudo son kept throwing him curious glances every time, He managed to seemingly appear behind them to notify them of dinner. He can also feel the envy of walking silently from the assassin-trained children. He can feel Bruce’s stare whenever he raises an eyebrow at some classified cases that are supposedly secured. He can hear their whispers as they exclaim to one another that he supposedly knew everything, of course, he knew everything the manor became his new haunt after a few years.

…

He already raised an eyebrow at the simultaneous alarm from every vigilante at the dinner table but imagine his surprise when he joined in looking over the Bat computer as Oracle barked out orders and instructions, as a familiar opponent showed itself.

A green glowing monster is wreaking havoc throughout Gotham it came from Central City and marched its way here to Gotham which became even more powerful due to the ectoplasm in the air. There is already notable damage from both cities as the rest of the heroes seem to work together to evacuate and stop the creature. The JLD attacks seem to have some effect but it was useless due to its minions that kept them occupied. Oracle is so focused on the situation and doesn’t notify their pseudo grandfather to disappear from behind her.

…

The entire JL is starting to feel hopeless as the green creature seems to raze Gotham as if the stone road is made out of water. Every magician and heavy hitter have been called but no one was able to put damage to the creature.

When all hopes seemed lost, they all heard a loud bang from a shotgun.

Alfred Pennyworth is standing on top of a rubble of concrete and metal, the butler of Batman, the pseudo father, and grandfather of the entire bat clan, also known as Agent A. Carrying his signature shotgun and a thermos that seems to strap to his hip like a belt. 

He kept firing round after round from his trusty old shotgun and pausing for a second to reload. He glanced at the heroes around and seemed to raise an eyebrow at the absolute massacre that he had just done to the creature’s minions.

As he paused to take another reload, he paused at movement and looked at the space in front of him and waited. The creature appeared roaring out in fury but seemed to pause the moment it laid eyes on Alfred. The creature seems to shake with uncertainty and fear. Every vigilante and hero present could see its eyes growing wide from shock and fear as well the cold sweat as Alfred raised an eyebrow at the creature as he slowly walked towards the creature with annoyance with every step.

Some heroes who had enhanced hearing could hear Alfred muttering about, back in his day blob ghosts were these cute and harmless things but now some up-start wannabe newly formed one seems to think he is all hot shot. 

He proceeds to scold the creature as if he had just caught one of his grandchildren sneaking their hands on the cookie jar and proceeds to take out the thermos and effectively catch the creature. As if the one responsible for the mess never existed in the first place.

Now the bat clan has rules when they are in the manor or the presence of Alfred and one of those rules is that there will be no swearing when he is around, but there is one word that seems to resound from each hero's mind.

What the fuck just happened?!?!

…

Now as you know I started to post less, now it is both from writer’s block and class being in the way.

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[kurishiri]

03 . . . don’t look at anyone but me ˗ˏˋ🪽´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: darius being darius, aha.

The leader of the organization directly under the command of the German emperor, Vogel. That was Darius Vogel.

He very much resembled that of an angel that had descended on a whim when he had called for me all of a sudden——

Darius: Why, hello there, miss fairytale keeper?

When I opened the door, there sitting on the sofa was Darius, a charming smile on his lips as he greeted me with a sweet voice.

Kate: Hello, Darius. Uhm, what was it that you needed...?

They were guests who had arrived in England as a goodwill ambassador.

(So I need to make sure to retain my manners. That said... Harrison did say that they were ‘lying about something’...)

They had appeared before Crown so abruptly, so there was still a mountain of things I didn’t know about their identity.

(And because I don’t know much about them, it’s better to play it safe than be sorry later.)

Darius: Why don’t we have a chat?

Kate: ...Eh?

Darius: You see, I was thinking of deepening our relationship with everyone,

D: but it would appear that all the members of Crown are busy today. So, that’s why you are here now.

D: Ah, or do you happen to be busy as well? If so——

Kate: Oh, no, it’s alright! I have a day off today.

Darius: Is that so? I’m glad to hear. Then, care to come here, little miss robin?

Kate: I’ll do that. Thank you for having me.

No sooner did I sit on the sofa did Darius bring out a can of what appeared to be biscuits that could fetch a fortune.

Darius: Here, have some. I ended up receiving so many biscuits from the higher ups here in the castle, and I am unable to finish them.

Kate: Umm, so, is it alright for me to take all of this?

Darius: It would delight me if you could accept these, before eating all of these biscuits on my own makes my throat dry.

D: And Nica had also said, ‘You were the recipient of all these, Dari, so take some responsibility and eat it all.’ Now isn’t that just cruel?

D: Besides——I would imagine eating snacks while chatting like this would help us get along better.

D: Since we are staying here for a while anyway, I figured it would be good for us to break down some ice between us.

Just when I thought he might have been pouting, he tilted his head slightly to the side, letting a carefree smile play on his lips.

(Darius kind of reminds me... of an innocent child.)

His amiability ended up chipping away my already dwindling sense of caution.

(When he said that he wanted to ‘get along better’... it might not have been a lie.)

Kate: Well then, I will partake.

When I opened the can, the sweet aroma of the high-quality wafted through the air.

Excitement coursing through me, I grabbed a single biscuit and took a bite.

Kate: Mm, it’s really good!

Darius: ...Ho-oh?

D: Hehe, is it? I’m glad to see you like it.

With his elbow on the armrest and resting his chin lightly on the palm of his hand, he watched me stuff my cheeks with a bright smile on his face.

Kate: You’re not going to eat any, Darius?

Darius: I...

D: ...am full right now.

(Oh, I see. He did mention before that he couldn’t eat it all.)

(And he must be treated with warm hospitality by others in the castle as well.)

Kate: What kind of foods do you like?

Darius: Let’s see now... jaeger schnitzels, mille feuille glacé...

Kate: Jaeger schnit-what-now...? W-wait, could you repeat that please?

In a panic, I took out a notepad from my pocket, hoping to write it down.

Darius: Hehe, to put it simply, I enjoy foods that seem hard to make, and just as hard to obtain.

(So, foods that take a long time to make and require a lot of skill are delicious to him?)

Kate: Oh, so that’s what you meant! Thank you for telling me.

K: If I find anything that may suit your tastes, I will bring it to you.

Within his words that sounded more like an enchantment, I noted down the parts I could understand.

(I can ask Victor for the names of the foods later.)

Darius: .........

Kate: Ah, and what do you like to do?

Darius: Do you mean my hobbies? Hmm... milk puzzles, perhaps.

Kate: Milk puzzles?

Darius: It refers to a puzzle with purely white pieces.

Kate: Eh—? So, there’s no picture or anything drawn on the puzzle?

K: I would imagine without such clues, it would be difficult to piece together such a puzzle...

Darius: I would beg to differ? Although the shapes of the pieces appear similar, they are all different from one another in actuality.

D: I do very much enjoy finding the correct pieces one at a time.

D: Why don’t we do one together next time?

Kate: Of course! I will try my best to not become a burden then.

Darius: Hehe, you truly are an earnest little robin, aren’t you. Ah, also...

As though having just remembered something, he stood up and faced the door.

Darius: I imagine your throat must be dry from having eaten all those biscuits? I will bring some tea.

Kate: Ah, then I...

Darius: Oh, I insist. You can sit down?

When I stood up in a panic, Darius turned around before the door, his lips graced with a smile.

(...Since he is being kind like this, maybe I should simply do as he says?)

Kate: Thank you.

Having thought it over again, I sat back down on the sofa.

I clearly heard the doorknob turn, but——

Darius: Oh?

D: ...The door won’t open. It seems we are locked in here.

Kate: Eh!?

K: Did someone maybe lock the door by mistake... what should we do?

In a panic, I, too, stood up and made a dash for the door.

Kate: Ah, that’s right, I can call for hel——

Darius: It seems we ended up locked in here together, yes?

Kate: ——Eh?

When Darius turned around, our eyes met.

Through his platinum blond bangs, I was taken by those honey-colored eyes——

Darius: It is just me and you, together. In this room.

(Wait, wha...?)

This entire time, we had been chatting whilst making eye contact, and yet,

right now, I was hit with a sensation that directly touched a place deep in my chest for the first time.

His eyes seemed to resemble those that scrutinized my heart as it laid on the palm of his hand——

Darius: Ah, it opened.

The moment the door opened, I was freed from that strange sensation,

and I put a hand over my chest in relief.

Kate: ...Thank goodness.

Darius: You say ‘thank goodness,’ but for what, exactly?

D: The fact that the door opened? Or——

Kate: ? Of course, I meant thank goodness the door opened.

K: Since you have come all the way to England,

K: I hope, as much as possible, you don’t feel inconvenienced.

K: If you have a comfortable stay here, I take it you will look forward to your next visit here?

Darius: .........

Kate: I will bring some tea. Ah, and I will request the door be inspected while I am at it.

(Truly, thank goodness that it hadn’t become any big incident. ...That said.)

I wonder why, at that time, I felt as though I were being tested?

Not knowing why I felt that smoldering feeling in my chest, the day passed by.

Nica: Dari, you talked one on one with the Spatzi [1]. So, how was it?

Ring: Rotkehlchen... you’re talking about that girl?

With a smile on his face, Darius looked out the window, which showed the hazy scenery of London beneath the hazy night.

Darius: ——If ‘Crown’ resides in the world of darkness,

D: under normal circumstances, one would be very cautious of them... and they would live every minute doubting others, no?

D: On top of that, this is the ‘fairytale keeper’ we are talking about, whose job is to record their sins? Would it not apply especially to her? ——And yet.

D: The little miss human accepted the snacks I gave her and ate them without a single shadow of doubt.

D: And not only that? When I said that the door wouldn’t open, she held no shred of doubt toward me then as well.

D: Hehe, just remembering it makes me laugh. ——That said, though,

D: it must be because ‘Crown’ holds that human veeryy dear, no?

Ring: ...

Nica: .........And so?

Turning back toward the two, Darius’ cherubic smile widened.

Such a gaze...

...possessed the air of a heavenly being, looking down at the humans from a place far up high...

Darius: ——And so it had caught my interest, ever so slightly.

Fin.

← prev next →

full masterlist 🪽

NOTES:

[1] the apparent pronunciation of this word here in Japanese is [ロビン] (robin), quite literally the “Japanese English” pronunciation of the word “robin.” but in Nika’s story in the same event, when Kate asks what [ロビン] is, he says it’s German for the word “robin”, or [駒鳥] (komadori). Apparently the closest word of endearment related to birds in German would be Spatzi (which actually means sparrow).

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor pt. 2

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Your mentoring tasks persist as you and the newly crowned victor tackle a Capitol party- with some help.

part one | part three

"So you’re stealing from me now?” 

You jump at the sudden sound of the voice behind you. Luckily, none of your champagne spills. 

“Pardon?” You look over your shoulder, only to see a pretty face coming your way. 

“Intellectual theft is serious, you know,” Finnick says with faux sincerity, and takes a sip of his own champagne. 

You lazily roll your eyes, “Please, one of my cows could have come up with the momma-bear angle.” You pick at your nails again, gaze drifting back to where District Ten’s Capitol escort parades Darla around. Before the group of you had even arrived, she’d forbidden you from sticking by Darla’s side the whole night. Said the president wanted people to get to know her- which made you reluctant to separate from the girl you’d taken under your wing. 

You’d settled for watching her like a hawk, prepared to intervene if you recognized any bad apples. 

"Blue suits you, by the way," he starts, and you cast him a suspicious sidelong glance. "Much better than brown, or so I'd assume." You prickle with embarrassment, catching the reference to what he'd overheard the other night.

You cross your arms, "Don't be a jerk." The words sound sad rather than snippy- like you intended them to.

"I was trying to compliment you," he insists. "Really, you look quite nice. This is a far cry from your outfit the other night." Your pajamas. They were the closest thing in reach when you were paged to the recording studio during Darla's breakdown. The reminder makes you shift awkwardly, suddenly even more uncomfortable.

"How kind of you," you say flatly, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles of the dress your stylist had placed you in. At least this interaction is slightly less mortifying than the one, or two you suppose, you had with him the other night.

Finnick doesn't respond, and you don't bother looking at his face to gauge his reaction. Instead, you find Darla in the crowd and start picking at the skin around your nails again. She seems okay for now, but it doesn't do much to ease your worry.

”You seem nervous,” Finnick says, without his former mirth. You startle again, assuming he'd walked away. 

 “Do I?” You briefly let your gaze flick up to him, eyes wide, before turning right back to your task. 

“Well, at the rate you’re going, your hands will be bone within the hour,” he lightly grabs your wrist, drawing your attention to the blood (both fresh and dried) that sits on your cuticles. "Have you been at this all night?"

“Thanks for your concern,” you snatch your hand back, trying to shield it from his gaze. It takes you a second to spot Darla again, and when you do your shoulders drop in relief. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he doubles down. 

“Did you ask one?” You bite back. 

“What are you nervous about?” He asks. 

You turn fully toward him, “What do you think?” You extend an arm out, gesturing to where Darla is. 

Finnick follows your gesture to spot Darla being dragged around. He huffs, "She'll be alright, you know. Like us."

"Speak for yourself," you laugh, but it's a hollow sound.

His face falls, "You know what I mean."

"I do, but I don't like it," you snap sourly. Closing your eyes, you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath. When you open them, you face the front again. "The way I feel all the time," you shake your head slowly, "I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Let alone Darla, so if I can- if I can just keep her close enough, I can spare her from some of this."

He quietly says your name, almost like a warning.

"No!" You cut him off, "No, I know how I sound. I can do it." The look in his eye says he's not buying it, but you double down, "I have to. I have to... try." Your voice breaks a little, but there's no time to be embarrassed over it when a different voice calls out your name.

Finnick watches as you pull yourself together. The change is visible. It's almost like you're a new person, the one the Capitol adores. Sweet and pristine, bloody hands hidden neatly behind your back.

"I wanted to thank you for coming in this week. The kids love your visits," the middle-aged woman says, smiling at you. Her attire is far less ostentatious than her fellow partygoers, but she's clearly Capitol-born and bred. Her gaze shifts to Finnick, and he stiffens, recognizing the look in her eye.

It seems you notice it, too, as you're quick to intervene. "It's my pleasure, Mrs. Montgomery," he almost cringes when he recognizes the name you call her. "If I could, I'd come often enough that they'd be sick of me." You're good at this, though, he notes, grateful for being off the hot seat. Quick and clever, just like in your games.

"Impossible!" The Capitolite laughs, "In fact, they're already asking me when you'll be back. When are you free?"

While your facade is impressive, it's not perfect. He sees you tense before replying, pleasant as ever, "I'm actually heading home soon, but I'll let you know when I'm back." It's enough to appease Mrs. Montgomery, at least. She eyes the buffet table.

"Please do! I'll see you soon, love," she waves as she walks away. You wave back, picture-perfect smile lighting up your features.

It drops as soon as she turns, and he does his best not to laugh at the contrast. "If that's who I think it is, I hate her husband," Finnick tells you.

You echo the sentiment with a scoff, "Me too."

"I thought you were sweet to everyone but me," he turns toward you in surprise, and you shrug. "Here I was thinking I was special," he shakes his head in faux sadness.

A small grin emerges on your face at his antics, though it's clear you're trying to hide it. He spots it, however, and smiles a bit, basking in his victory. Suddenly, your poorly concealed grin drops, and he follows your gaze to see who stole the humorous moment you'd been sharing.

Darla, of course, but someone else is with her. A large man, probably a few inches taller than Finnick, towers over the sixteen-year-old. She looks terribly uncomfortable, and the District Ten escort is missing from her side. When his eyes flick back to you, he finds your expression mirrors Darla's. It's worse, even, and far worse than when Mrs. Montgomery came around.

You turn to face him, eyes wet and blown with fear. He's never seen you look so vulnerable, not on TV and not in your limited interactions. You looked worried the other night, sure, but this is different. This is a look of terror.

"Dance with her," you practically beg, suddenly grabbing his forearm. Your voice trembles, "Please. They'll- I can't take her away. Please just go dance with her." Tears threaten to spill over, and you get more upset as you go on.

Finnick's reluctant to leave you so distraught, but he's sure that whisking Darla away from whoever this is is the only way to assuage your worry. "Of course," he nods, ducking his head a bit to be on eye level with you. His hand covers yours, subtly removing himself from your grasp so he can attend to your request. "Keep an eye on us, okay? It'll be fine."

He holds your gaze for a bit as he departs, but he can feel your eyes on him even after that. Quickly, he comes upon Darla and the large man that you apparently know and abhor enough to ask him this favor. He spews some of the charming bullshit everyone in the city eats right up and steals Darla away without issue.

Finnick looks back to where he left you as he leads her onto the dancefloor, hoping that seeing Darla safe will ease your panic. He's caught in the act, though, "Sent by my guardian angel, then?" The teenager asks him, pulling his attention back to the dance floor.

"How'd you know?" His eyebrows knit together, and the girl laughs.

"She's been watching me from the same spot all night. It's kind of creepy," she jokes.

"I think she's just worried," Finnick says defensively.

"I think if she stays there for much longer, they'll install her as a statue," Darla quips. It's funny, but he fails to chuckle since he wouldn't put it past the people here. She sort of cringes, realizing the joke didn't land. "I'm really grateful for her, don't get me wrong," Darla tries, "it's just- sometimes I wonder about her."

"How so?"

Darla inhales, "I don't know. She disappears and just seems... different when she comes back. And I swear she lies about where she goes since there's never any press coverage, but cameras constantly follow her." His face falls as Darla goes on, "Sometimes when she sees random people, she instantly clams up."

It's a little too familiar to him. Paired with your reaction to both his comment about Mr. Montgomery and seeing that man with Darla, he's starting to understand. Maybe he has more in common with you than he'd originally thought.

"Finnick?" Darla says, and he realizes he's left her in silence for too long.

"I was gonna say I wonder about her too, but I was thinking more- favorite food, favorite color," he tries to lighten the mood.

Darla looks pleased as punch, "Well when it comes to you, I have her pinned."

"Yeah?" Finnick asks, amused.

"Yeah," Darla nods, "she’s clearly head over heels for you.”  

His eyes nearly bug out of his head, “Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, no, she’s totally in love with you,” she reaffirms.

“Are we thinking of the same person?” He asks, extremely skeptical.

“Yes!” Darla insists, lightly slapping the side of his head. 

“Well, it just seems like she doesn’t like me,” he defends himself. 

“You make her nervous,” Darla affirms. “She’d make a fool of herself if she wasn’t being rude. She told me the other night, this is a quote by the way, 'he's so gorgeous, I can't say anything to his face.'"

“You’re kidding.” 

“Nope,” she pops the P. 

“I struggle to believe that Capitol’s loveliest victor won’t talk to me because she thinks I’m pretty,” he scoffs. 

“It’s more than that,” Darla chides, “she thinks you’re too good for her, so before you can reject her, she tries to beat you to the punch.” 

“And when exactly did she tell you all this?” He asks skeptically. 

“Oh, we had a sleepover the other night and got super drunk. Boy, was she an open vault,” Darla laughs, but it's clear to him you'd kept some secrets to yourself.

“And you don’t feel bad telling me?” He inquires skeptically. 

“Please, I’m helping her help herself.” She scoffs, “She’d pine over you until her dying day without ever saying a word.” 

“Whatever you say, kiddo,” he says. Finnick's not sure how reliable a source the teenager is, so he decides to refocus on his original goal. "I meant to ask if you were ok, by the way. You know that guy?” 

Darla’s face sours. “No clue. But let’s just say I was glad for the interruption.” 

He raises a brow, hoping she’ll elaborate. 

“I felt like he was … looking at me,” she huffs. “Like, trying to see below the dress.” Finnick's jaw clenches at that. He knows the type. He deals with the type. And now he's almost certain you do too, hence your big reaction.

"Well, if he bothers you again, just come find me. I'm quite comfortable on the dance floor," he tells her as the song comes to an end.

Darla pats his bicep, "Thanks, but you should really be getting comfortable with someone else." She nods her toward where you'd been standing. "The bar will take good care of me." She only gets a few paces before he calls out after her.

“Hey!” She turns to catch his words. “Moderation,” he points at her, emphasizing the word.

She smirks, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dad.” A smile twitches at his lip, and he shakes his head as he turns to find you. 

When Finnick finally circles back to where he'd left you, you're nowhere in sight. He sighs, disappointed, though he can't quite blame you when you've revealed more about yourself tonight than you probably intended.

He wonders if you've left the party or just found a better observation spot, but either way, something tells him you don't want to be found right now. He remembers something you said earlier about shielding Darla. You seem to be doing alright so far, but he's suddenly wondering how far you'll go.

———————————————————

Once again- super unedited. I'm just having fun on my holiday break at this point. I feel like this leaned kinda sad? So... sorry for that. <3

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

your stories with Fem reader are my biggest source of serotonin and self esteem I literally spend hours rereading them 🙏🏽

could you do one with a reader who has tattoos?

the scenario I imagine is reader always wears 100% covered clothes (pants or skirts and tights) none of the boys really care about this because it could be a religious reason or just because reader doesn't like it

but at some point when reader is alone, they decides to take a dip in the school's pool (I don't know if there is one but I remember seeing official bathing suit artwork so it probably is) it turns out that's exactly when the dorms get together for some activity and see reader with bathing suit and all sampling tattoos. it would be even cooler if reader coincidentally had tattoos that represent each dorm or some symbol that represents their favorite villain

could it be with the dorm leaders?

Tattoos Revealed | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

While I don’t think they have a swimming pool,  I know Kalim can make one! And what better time for them to see your Disney villain tattoos. Granted it’ll be awkward explaining how you know the great seven from your world. When they ask you might omit the detail of how you’re world considers them villains instead making up something arbitrary. But no worries even without a concrete reason they’re wonderfully enjoying the skin your flashing:

Riddle Rosehearts 

A decorative heart with a familiar crown 

He tilts his head 

After a series of looking back at you with a firestarting blush

He finally gains the guts to look at you

And not the skin you’ve left uncovered

“T-that tattoo…it looks similar to the insignia of the Heartslabyul…could you have perhaps gotten it while you were staying here? I didn’t think you had the funds to pull that off…How’d you pull it off without me seeing?”

You chuckle as you give an excuse

“Well I’ve always loved her finesse especially in the live-action!” 

So you put things you care about…on your body?

Even the hidden parts?

He was never allowed to think positively about tattoos 

let alone possibly getting one

And in that regard it was a symbol of your forbidden allure

He wondered blushing red in the Scarabia sun what it would take to put him on you

“What would it take to put a tattoo of me on you? I mean your tattoos are…nice. Have you thought about adding more?”

Leona Kingscholar

Spots the familiar outline of Scar with an amused gaze

He doesn’t hesitate to run his fingers on it

Delighting in your embarrassed reaction he’s smirking endlessly

“Awfully presumptuous for an herbivore to just mark herself like this. Almost like you’re asking to be claimed by me right off the bat.”

It doesn’t matter all that much why you have it, he’s just happy you already know who you belong to

Granted he understands the ambiguity of the symbol

But he’s more than happy to make some marks of his own

And if you weren’t so insistent on being his prey he’ll save you the embarrassment of doing it now

“Don’t be such a baby, I’m sure a tooth prick isn’t nearly as painful as getting a tattoo. So buck up.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He’s in awe of your confidence 

Not only in wearing your bathing suit but flexing the octopus tentacles clutching the shell necklace

“Y-you look dvine great I mean you always do–ugh just I like your tattoo!”

He gets all flustered when your eyes turn to him anyway

He has his suspicions about how you got that or why

And if he’s feeling confident he’ll ask 

Only to recognize your deflection

He rationalizes…that you must be destined for one another

As embarrassing as that is he can’t think of anything else

Other than the horrifying likeness to some other mer-octopus

Embarrassment aside he’s going to be the only one who has a chance with you

“Oh my (Y/n)? Are you implying something about the two of us? If so I’m already on board”

Kalim Al Asim

The familiar viper has him preening with pride

He already considers you destined for each other

This just confirms it

“(Y/n)! I love your tattoo!”

“Kalim back up your practically on top of her!”

He doesn’t care for space

Specifically your space

So he’ll getclose enough, nose nearly touching to look at it

He thinks the very pores of your skin as the most beautiful 

And even if you didn’t have tattoos he couldn’t be more enamored

“Please let me touch (Y/n) I just want to touch just a little! Please!”

Idia Shroud

He’s already floored that your in a bathing suit

Its just too much for his virgin-otaku-brain 

How cool! 

You have a blue flame tattoo and he couldn’t be happier that he has that trait

“Whoa (Y/n)! To think the love-interest would have so many layers? I realize there’s more I have to dig up.”

If he doesn’t already know about the intimate image

He feels inadequate…that he didn’t know about sooner

So he might just get one to match yours

That is if he doesn’t have plans to remove it

“Blue flame from my family? Lame! I’ll sooner print my username instead…hehehe that’s a really good idea, me!”

Malleus Draconia

He has a…mixed reaction

On one hand, I’m sure he’s been informed of different cultures marking their bodies

And that’s probably not what he’s mad about

But he’s livid that its not directly about him

“That’s an interesting marking…who gave it to you?”

Why would he want you sporting a tattoo representative of his grandmother

And while he thinks its great that you idolize her

He doesn’t want you sporting it

So if you wake up with no tattoo at all

Or a tattoo with his name

Or (Y/n) X Malleus

Or Malleus Draconia’s Mate

“Oh its a shame that such a thing has happened. Come, I can imprint something I have from my memory. This is not what was there? I do not recall, this is exactly how I remember it to be.”

[theemissuniverse]

“THINGS WE LOST IN THE FIRE” LIU KANG X FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You turned off your humanity but Liu Kang still has hope

WARNINGS : none I think. Angst

A/N : short sorry. Inspired by TVD. Trying to finish my drafts

Turning off your humanity wasn’t on the bucket list but after your mother Sindel dying you thought no one could really blame you.

Being the oldest daughter was already a burden on you but being a vampire added to that made thing’s entirely worse. Your emotions were at an all time high and sometimes it felt like the universe was against you.

Well the universe was against you. And the one that controlled it was Liu Kang.

Liu Kang did not expect for history to unfold like this. In the past timeline, you had an even darker upbringing with Sindel being the driving point but this time he could not predict that in this universe you’d sacrifice your humanity in order not to feel any more pain.

He had to make this right. He couldn’t let you become the villain you were destined to be in other timelines. You deserved better than that. He knew you wanted better than that.

It didn’t help the fact that feelings were getting in the way. He was undeniably in love with you. Everyone knew it. Hell, even the darkest part of you did but Liu didn’t want you to feel like you had to be with him so he pushed his feelings aside.

You had only one thing in mind. To be Empress of Outworld. Only though you would be a harsh ruler and rule with an iron fist.

That was why Liu Kang was worried. Worried you’d be a tyrant.

You decided to throw a ball to “celebrate” your freedom and announce your rule. Everyone from other realms was invited to see your rule.

Liu Kang was not happy as he knew it was just a ploy to get you to drain mortals so he insisted on coming.

You had on a beautiful dark red ball gown. The gown was made of human blood and magic. Your makeup matched you from head to toe. Your crown was made of indestructible glass. The glass held lost souls deep within Outworld.

You greeted your guests with a smile. The smile was not welcoming. You obviously had much darker intentions.

You made sure to avoid Liu Kang at all costs. Deep down, you knew he was the closest to getting your humanity back on. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want to feel anything.

As you walked along the ball, you seen him. He stood right in front of you. When your humanity was on, you always took in other people’s feelings and would try your best to hide how annoyed you were. Not now.

You made sure to show off your eye roll which didn’t go unnoticed to him. “Glad you could make it. Come to babysit your mortals?”

“Just trying to make sure you won’t use them as entertainment.” He stated simply.

A chuckle came from your throat. “Don’t give me any ideals.”

You made sure to look at his whole attire. He wore a dark red suit and it made you all the more irritated that you knew he did it on purpose to match you. From head to toe he matched you. Your black heels to his black dress shoes. The white rose ring you wore, he matched it with the rose on his suit.

You gave him a look and tried to show how bothered you were. Not by simple irritation but that because you knew he was trying to reach down to your humanity. The old you would’ve loved to match with him. “You’re annoying.”

“Oh am I?” Liu Kang asked not bothered by your attitude.

Your hands were at your hips. Your eyes latched on to watch his hand. He carefully held out his hand for you to take. You looked at him slightly confused. “What?”

“Dance with me.”

The old you wanted to take his hand immediately. Be wrapped in his warm embrace as you two swayed to music. It was the small part, the one thing that was hitting your humanity.

You couldn’t feel that.

“No.” You flatly said. Then tried to turn around and walk away from him but the moment you turned around he was right there in front of you. ‘I hate that he can do that.’

Liu Kang, without saying another word, grabbed your hand and walked you over to the dance floor.

The slow song played. And the air felt thick. Liu Kang had his left hand on your lower back. He held you close to him.

His right hand held onto yours. He took the lead. This was surreal to you. Usually Liu Kang would avoid physical contact as he thought it was disrespectful to the princess now Empress.

But it was like he was purposely trying to be close to you.

The two of you did not say anything. Not a word. Liu Kang’s god like eyes stared into your blood red ones. You were trying to deprive yourself of all emotion but it wasn’t working. It wasn’t working because it was Liu Kang.

“Your mother wouldn’t have wanted this.”

He was trying to hit a nerve and you weren’t budging. “I couldn’t care less of what she wanted. She hated my vampire nature. Now? I embrace it.”

“You know that’s not completely true.”

“But it is. Don’t convince me otherwise.”

Liu Kang didn’t say anything in response. He spun you around and held you in front of him again.

He knew you. Better than anybody. And he knew you were secretly enjoying his hands on your body. How close you two were. How your lips were inches apart from his.

“So your humanity is off?”

“Not ounce of the old me left.” You confirmed.

He didn’t seem so convinced. “Right. So, you can admit that the ‘old you’ was in love with me.”

You felt your blood run cold and you forced out a laugh to deflect. “Are we really doing this?”

“Come on. You don’t have any emotions right? So, you shouldn’t mind to talk about it. So, let’s talk about it.”

You couldn’t stand Liu Kang’s persistence sometimes but you wanted to make him know that you didn’t care about anything good anymore. “Fine. Maybe the old me did. So what? It doesn’t matter anymore. Because she’s not there anymore.”

“I just wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

“That it took for you to turn your humanity off to confess how much I love you.”

You felt something jab at your heart. It felt unreal. What Liu Kang was saying to you. It even made you stop dancing. “What?”

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted. The only woman I’ve ever known to ever love. And I’m sorry it took for me to say it in this timeline. I’m sorry it took me eons to say it. I’m sorry it took all the good in you for me to say it.”

You tried to look for any deceit in Liu’s eyes to see if he was lying. He was being sincere. And you hated it. “I don’t care.” You lied.

Liu Kang forced you to keep dancing and he held onto to you even tighter, afraid you might run from him. “Of course you don’t. I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Well, bravo. You did. You want a cookie?”

Liu Kang had smiled slightly. You were using Earthrealm expressions to signify emotion and he noticed it. “Maybe. Are you offering one?”

You hated when Liu Kang matched your sarcasm. Usually he was serious and it took the right person, which was you, to bring out the humor in him. “I’d watch you starve before doing that.”

Liu Kang’s eyes darted to the necklace you were wearing. He noticed it was the necklace he had given to you eons ago. “Why are you wearing that if you don’t care?”

“It’s pretty. I don’t care for the meaning behind it.” You had to lie.

Liu Kang just nodded but still did not believe you. “Why do this? This seems like torture to you.”

“What is?”

“Pretending to be something you’re not.” Liu Kang’s hand rubbed your back soothingly and his touch felt pleasant. You didn’t want him to stop. His lips reached to your ear so he could mumble. “Pretending you don’t want this.”

Out of instinct you held your head back and Liu Kang took his opportunity to leave sweet kisses on your neck. You moaned slightly.

His kisses reached to your cheek that’s when he pulled you close and dipped you. His eyes stared into yours. The universe just felt like it revolves around the two of you. Nothing felt better than this.

“Does your heart truly refuse to give in?”

You had to snap yourself out of it and remember that you didn’t want this. You didn’t want to feel.

When Liu Kang brought you back up, you spoke, “What heart?”

[astroboots]

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #11.5 SPECIAL

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: Heavy angst and character death. Dead Dove do not eat.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Let’s start from the beginning one last time. 

My name is Miguel O’Hara, and in an experiment gone wrong, my genetic code was partially rewritten with Spider DNA, giving me superpowers.

My home is Earth 928-C where I was the one and only Spiderman... of my home dimension at least.

I invented and built a dimensional travel device that allowed me to jump between universes with the goal of exploring the limits of the multiverse. 

And then I met a woman in this other world who nearly died from a crazy freak accident.

I saved her of course.

Then I saved her again.

And again, and again.

... And again.

We fell in love, and I decided to stay with her in her world.

You know the rest. We got married. We had a life together.

I was happy. Really happy. 

For a while.

[Earth 383-D]

3 YEARS AGO

"Goddamn idiot bird," Miguel mutters under his breath.

Vulture is on the loose again, wreaking havoc on the city. The maniac is flying high above the city grounds, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake. 

Miguel's been in pursuit for the better half of two hours. In that time, the bird has derailed the High Line, literally hit a traffic light and managed to knock over the spire on the Statue of Liberty as if he was flying under the influence.

Then somehow flew across town through Tribeca, along Lower Manhattan and Greenwich Village and now reached all the way to Midtown Manhattan. 

Dumbass ugly stupid bird. 

Miguel digs his claws into the exterior of the limestone and granite of the Empire State Building to steady himself, using the momentum to leap forward.

The Vulture crashes into a skyscraper 50 feet ahead of Miguel, and in the mad dash, he can see a man tumble out of the building head first to the ground from the 30th floor. 

Swinging forward, Miguel slings out a web from his palm, catching the screaming and sobbing office worker in midair and lands briefly against the windowpane. He ensures the man is secured to the building in a cocoon of webbing until the fire department can get him to safer grounds.

Miguel doesn't even get a second to catch his breath. From afar, he can pick up the sound of another window being crashed into by the unwieldy metal bird. 

Crap. 

It's impossible for Miguel to both chase the Vulture and keep everyone else in his path of destruction safe. One superhero can't be in two places at once (none that he has encountered).

Gritting his teeth, Miguel leaps off the building swinging freely into the air to make up on the lost ground between him and the metallic cuckoo bird.

He needs backup, and the backup is unfortunately running late.

Where is he? Why is he always late?

Does that man not understand that when someone calls for backup because of an emergency, the emergency part indicates that there's some urgency to it?

Flying through the air 100 feet above the ground, from the corner of his eyes, Miguel catches the familiar garish red flowing cape that billows from the cowl of the grand cloak and suit. 

Miguel would know that weird wizard get-up anywhere. 

"Strange!" Miguel calls out, and he can feel irritation rattle in his chest. "You're late! Where the shock were you?"

"The word you're looking for is 'fuck.' Where the fuck was I," the man responds with a sarcastic drawl.

Strange levitates through the air, effortlessly without expending any energy at all as he catches up with Miguel. "You gave me no notice. Be happy I showed up at all."

From a distance he sees the dumb bird soar high up into the sky and towards the all too familiar crowned roof of the Chrysler building. 

No. nononono. 

Why is he there? What is he doing there? Anywhere but there. 

His back flashes cold then burning hot as the Vulture makes a straight beeline for the familiar building.

It’s fine. Maybe he’s not going to fly in there. Maybe he’s just going to fly past it.

Miguel watches as the metallic bird soars up and up and up, past the midpoint of the building, past the 40th floor of your office and up to the 50th floor. The tight squeeze in his chest eases.

Then the vulture stops, mid-flight and looks down below, as if he changed his mind, before he descends again. 

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

He dives into one of the windows between the 40th and 50th floor. The sound of broken glass and shrill screams can be heard even from where Miguel is. 

Blood freezes in his veins and nausea overtakes him. Calm down. Breathe.. Maybe you’re not in. After all, Lyla’s security protocols would’ve been activated by now if you were. He would’ve been alerted. 

Soaring through the skies, Miguel reaches over to his wrist to punch in the dial for Lyla to check in and reassure himself you're safe. But his tracker blinks back in an alarming red, and he darts down his head towards the display.  

Error. 

His heart stops. 

The flying silhouette reappears through the shattered windows and the metallic harness strapped onto the vulture gleams bright against the sun.

It’s only then it hits him. Lyla's been deactivated by the madman's stupid Electro-Magnetic Harness. 

Why hadn't he foreseen that as a technical flaw?

Against the reflective glass panes, Miguel sees you, caught in the Vulture talons like a mouse captured by a large predatory bird. Every hair on his neck stands on end. His vision bleeds into red, blood roaring at the sight of it.

Kill him.

Miguel's gonna murder that freak for touching you. Crush his windpipe so he can't ever squawk again, then rip his throat out with his claws and feed it to the street pigeons for good measure.

Launching himself through the air, Miguel tears up the side of the building. The tempered glass beneath his claws and feet, shatters into sharp jagged pieces as he closes the distance. 

He is almost within reach. Only some 30 feet that still separates you from him. Leaping the final distance he slams hard into the side of the Vulture until metal crunches beneath his feet. 

Miguel roars until his throat burns with it. Palms gripping at the man’s jaw and prying it back to get at his bare throat. His fangs are ready to sink into the jugular. He can see the dark pupil of Vulture's eyes dilate with fear. 

Good. Miguel's anger will be the last thing this freak sees.

"Miguel calm down," Strange shouts at him from behind. "You're gonna knock her off."

Miguel freezes at the warning, forcing himself to hold still as he looks down to where you are dangling precariously from the Vulture's claws.

"Be ready," Strange shouts, and Miguel looks to him, not understanding what the hell he means. 

Strange rests his hand over the shiny blue gem hanging around a chain from his neck.

What does he mean by be ready? What is Strange going to do?

"What'd you mea–"

Miguel doesn't have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. An unnatural force vibrates through him. A pulsating wave that pervades his senses, punching through his lungs and knocks him back. 

In an instance, you're propelled away from Strange and the Vulture, and you are freefalling towards the ground below.

Miguel leaps mid-air, arms outstretched to catch you as you plummet towards the ground below. His fingers clasps around your wrists, your warm skin against his fingertips.

He's got you!

Taking hold of you by the arm, Miguel pulls you into his chest as he wraps one arm securely around your waist.

Immediate relief fills him from the inside out as the adrenaline and the searing anger is already starting to fade now that he knows you're safe.

"You okay, nena?" he asks.

You nod, arms finding purchase around the back of his neck, and squeeze down tight. He swings you both to the safety of a nearby rooftop.

There's barely time for him to touch the surface, he hears the nearby explosion and sees Vulture crash into the concrete wall of the nearest building. 

Strange is levitating nearby, hands making wild gestures, presumably to perform some hocus pocus ritual. There’s a magical glow as strobes of light manifest out of thin air surrounding the Vulture from all sides and wrapping around him in a restraining bind.

Miguel sets you down. You're a little bit wobbly on your feet, and seeing you stumble the way you do has that protective streak spark anew in his chest.

Stupid Strange. He can't just do shit like that. 

What if Miguel hadn't reacted in time? What if you had fallen? 

This is why Miguel hates working with the guy, even if they’re friends. Always on his moral high horse about Miguel being reckless, then he pulls shit like this.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asks as he levitates through the sky to set feet close to you both on the rooftop.

Miguel grits his teeth with annoyance at the man’s casual demeanor when he nearly threw you out of the sky.

"Shock you, Strange," he spits out.

"Miggy..." you sigh in a reprimanding tone next to him. 

Stephen shakes his head at him. "I told you. It's fuck"

"Fuck you, Strange."

Sanctum Sanctorum is closer than home and Strange has, comfortable sofas in his ridiculously big mansion. Big enough sofas that Miguel can actually lounge in them comfortably without it feeling cramped. It's why, given the choice, he always prefer to regroup there, over your tiny apartment.

Besides, while the man's control over his magical powers can be suspect at times, he used to be a doctor. Supposedly one of the leading brain surgeons in the world, and Miguel is a lot more comfortable at the prospect of Strange giving you a checkover to make sure you don't need further medical attention than trying your luck at one of the local ERs.

"Follow my finger," Strange says as he shines a little flashlight into your eyes and moves his index from side to side. 

Your eyes follow him dutifully, and Strange proceeds with the rest of his medical check, asking you the boring standard questions. "Any symptoms of dizziness, lightheadedness, or a sense of vertigo?"

He fires them out in rapid succession, and a bit too perfunctory for Miguel's liking.

"Noticed any changes in your vision, blurriness or double vision, etcetera etcetera?"

Miguel's jaw tic in irritation at how Strange is putting in minimal effort and just going through the motions.

"Yeah, you're fine." Strange pats your knees, then whisks the flashlight away into nothingness with his cape.

That medical check wasn't anything close to thorough. Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Her feet were wobbly before, I wanted to make sure she didn't sprain her ankle."

"A little bit overprotective as always aren't we?" Strange says.

Miguel shoots the man a glare and Stephen sighs, "Her reflexes are fine, I don't think anything's sprained."

"Check again, you seemed sloppy," Miguel accuses.

"You know, I'm doing this as a favor because you’re a friend. Do you have any idea how much a medical examination by one of the leading neurological surgeons in the world would cost you normally?"

"I'll have Lyla transfer the money."

“No, it’s not actually about money just–" Stephen shakes his head, then sighs. "Nevermind.”

He gestures for you to drape your leg across his lap, then he reaches over to gently assess your ankle as requested.

"What is this necklace?" You ask. You lean closer to Strange, inspecting the blue gem where it rests against his chest.

Strange swats at your hand, the way an adult scolds a child with sticky chocolate smeared hands trying to touch the fine china.

"It's a protection amulet. When activated it forms a protective barrier that forcibly repels everything within ten feet of you."

"Huh," you reach back for the amulet undaunted by the earlier reprimand, fascinated and clearly enamored by it. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it."

Strange looks offended. "It's not for sale, and if it was it would certainly be worth a lot more than fifty dollars. It's a genuine magical artifact, not fake costume jewelry from the theater department."

You purse your lips, considering the amulet.

"Forty," you offer.

Miguel has to choke back a snorting laughter in his throat at the way Stephen's eyes goes wide in confused outrage.

"Wait, why is the price going down?"

“We’re in the middle of an economic crisis, Stephen,” you counter.  

Strange's head darts over to where Miguel sits, presumably for backup, but he's knocked on the wrong door. The man must be mad if he thinks that there is ever a world where Miguel would side against you.

"Strange, we both know it’s easier if you just give her the amulet." Miguel says. 

The man sighs, shaking his head in defeat.

"Be careful with it," he says as he drags the chain over his head to place it in your awaiting palms. "And don't lose it like the invisibility amulet with Mysterio. Had to spend a whole month clearing up your mess when that creep used it to get into the women's locker rooms at every local gym in Greenwich!"

"That wasn’t my mess! Miggy lost that one during an aerial fight. You can't blame that on me."

"You married him, so you're responsible for him. I consider you two jointly to blame."

"Now you're just lashing out," you shoot back.

Miguel watches the two of you in patient boredom, his head propped up by an elbow on the arm of the sofa. He expended way too much energy during the fight, and now he needs to refuel. 

If Miguel leaves you two to it, you'll spend an eternity bantering, the way you do. His stomach growls. He wants food. Wants wantons and beef ho fun and a dozen custard salted egg buns for dessert. And the longer you two are at it, the longer it's going to take for him to get it.

"Nena," he calls out, "I'm hungry. Are you two done? I want to go for dinner."

You shoot Miguel a quick smile, pulling out your wallet and take out a wad of green bills then fold it into Strange's hand with a happy grin.

Strange looks down at the crumpled up money in his hand. "Wait, you're only giving me thirty? I thought we said forty."

"You still owe me like ten bucks from mini golf last week."

Strange pockets the money with a grumble. "Unbelievable." 

“C’mon,” Miguel says as he stands up and gestures to the both of you with a curt nod of his head towards the door. “Let’s go. I’ll pay for dinner this time,” Miguel says, and that seems to abate Strange’s outrage somewhat as the man grabs your coat from the sofa cushions and offers it to you.

Life on Earth 383-D is strange.

Life here is borderline primitive. The technology is something out of the stone ages.

Social media is a wasteland. Reality TV is a dystopian concept. And he doesn't understand who Kardashian is or why everyone is obsessed with her and her family. 

He does like fax machines though. They are basically teleportation machines and it boggles him that the people of your dimension do not seem to understand its potential.

The one thing he will give this version of earth credit for is that the food here is nice. Everyone in his home dimension is too health conscious, and fried food has long been banned by the government for the long term damage it does to the cardiovascular system. 

He also likes the life that the two of you have built together here. You have a home in that tiny shoebox apartment. You have friends. Strange friends. Like the Doctor who flies around with the help of a magic cape and now practices the mystic arts after a gap year in Asia. A young girl whose main superpower is the ability to communicate with squirrels. Then there’s that ugly red-masked wise-cracking, katana-wielding maniac who never dies.

Sadly, your friends are not the only thing that is strange about your surroundings.

Miguel perches himself on top of the Chrysler building sitting hunched over on the ledge of the roof. He’s drained and bone-tired, chasing down a helicopter that had gone haywire and was hurtling towards your office building. 

Luckily Strange was able to assist and sent it through a magic portal to crash into the Atlantic without putting any lives at stake. 

"Just had to do some cleaning up," Strange says as he sets his boots back down on the ground. 

Miguel doesn't answer him, staring out at the city view and the setting sun as he takes a well earned breather for a moment or two. New York is a bit of a shit hole, but it does look pretty from a high viewpoint, especially when the sun is setting, Miguel has to give this city that.

It's silent between the two of them. Or at least it is until Strange decides to break it with a harkle of his throat. When Miguel doesn't react the man does it again, coughing discreetly in a clear attempt to get his attention.

Miguel doesn't say anything about the man's sore throat. He ran out of the lemon drops you bought him as snacks hours ago, but he does tilt his head up at the man.

"She's been getting into a lot of these incidents lately. More than usual, more than any normal human for it to be a coincidence" Strange says.

The whole of Miguel's back stiffens.

"Have you noticed the abnormal uptick in strange unexplainable supernatural occurrences lately? Indoor tornadoes. The rain of poisonous frogs outside of whole foods. A sinkhole appearing right next to the cafe your wife frequents."

Miguel doesn't love the insinuations. Even with his lips pressed tightly together, Miguel can feel the small muscle in his jaw flex like a nervous tic at the mention of it. Because yeah, he's noticed, kind of hard to miss when your wife's life is in constant peril at all hours of the day.

Ice storms in July that hit right outside your workplace. An inexplicable solar flare causing a blackout that had every single vehicle within a 5 miles radius go haywire in the dark near your apartment. A swarm of mutated mosquitoes with a venomous bite that chased you down Central Park. 

The incidents are occurring more frequently. They are also getting increasingly bizarre and dangerous.

No one can say it’s just bad luck when the daily occurrences around you are defying the very laws of nature itself. Something isn't right with the universe, and he's not sure what else there is to do except pretend that everything is still ok.

"What are you implying?" Miguel asks through gritted teeth. 

But for the first time in the years that Miguel has known him, Strange's talkativeness is nowhere to be found. He doesn't answer Miguel. He's smart that way, the clever bastard. Knows that if he says one wrong word, Miguel is going to unhinge his jaws like a feral alligator and snap at him. 

Strange has said what he needed for Miguel to know exactly what he's getting at. The man just meets his eyes with an intentional stare, not shying away from Miguel's glare.

It's not like the thought hasn't crossed Miguel's mind. Not like it hasn't been keeping him up at night, every night.

Even though you've always been accident prone and suffered from bad luck, at this point it's a mathematical impossibility that anyone would run into as many near death incidents as you have.

This isn't by chance. It's by design. Miguel's suspected as much for a while now. He just doesn't know whose design and why.

"It's not her fault," Miguel spits out.

"I never said it was."

"Even if what you are saying is true..." Miguel stops, and stares down at his fisted palms with a sinking feeling in his guts. "There's nothing she can do about it to stop it. You can't put that on her."

"Whether she knows about it or not, if it's true, none of this is going to go away.

Strange walks over to where Miguel is, sitting down next to him.

"It’s been escalating in severity," he continues. "There are strange universal energies attached to her. There’s warping of the universal order and space around her. We don't know how bad this can get, if we don’t do anything about this, it could unravel the fabric of reality itself."

Despite the calamity of what Strange is implying, his voice is even and calm as he says it as if he might as well be discussing the weather. That trait has always annoyed the shit out of Miguel.

"What are you planning to do if this continues?" Strange asks.

It's such a silly question. Strange says it as if this is a multiple choice question. But for Miguel there's only one correct answer. 

"Protect her. I have to. She's everything to me."

Miguel is staring into the sunset bu all he sees before him is your face even though you aren’t here. The happy smile that he wants to preserve forever. He tries to fight the ache that's building in him at the thought that it would go away.

"Strange, don't tell her. Please. She doesn't need that burden."

He fists his palms into his side.

Miguel never liked asking for help, but even he knows that if what Strange is saying is true. That if the universe for some unfathomable reason wants you dead, then he's going to need all the help he can get.

If Strange has figured it out. Then it's only a matter of time before others do as well.

Soon enough, you won't just have the universe coming after you but every superhero and villain combined in a united front to take out the common threat that you pose to this entire universe.

Even Miguel knows he can't do this alone and as much as that helplessness tastes like failure and bile in his throat, he can swallow his pride if it helps keep you safe.

"Stephen, you have to help me save her."

From behind, Strange rests one hand on the corner of his shoulder. The weight of it feels like a promise being made. For the first time in a long time, Miguel feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

"I will do what I can, my friend."

Weeks go by. There are more incidents. Runaway vehicles that go haywire. Electrical storm fires. Rain of poisonous locusts. 

Somehow he manages to protect you from it all. 

It just means that he has to be more vigilant, that's all. The universe doesn't rest and neither does Miguel now. Lyla has been set on constant alert to wake him up whenever he's napping at any small signs of abnormal occurrences happening near you, with an electric shock to make sure he wakes. Something the A.I. is taking a worryingly amount of glee in (which probably means he needs to retune her programming when he has time).

And today, today Miguel was meant to have a Sunday lie in. Universe be willing, his goal was to sleep all the way into the late afternoon and then you had promised to take him to IHOP and get him all the pancakes he could eat for late breakfast.

But right now he's not asleep. He's trying to. But there are hushed words and whispered murmurs, buzzing in his ear that keeps trying to drag him away from sleep.

It's you and Strange.

Judging from the distance of the noises, you're both standing outside in the hall. The fact that you two are trying to be quiet makes it worse. If you'd spoken in normal volume he could tune it out as white noise, but the conspiratorial quietness of it all makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle with alertness.

Fuck's sake. He swears to god if you two are gossiping and making fun of Hercules’ costume (or the lack of it) again.

It's too early for this crap. Don't you two know that people are trying to sleep? He was up all night chasing crazy Kraven worshippers releasing animals from the Brooklyn zoo. Miguel had to gather wild zebras and crocodiles all the way down East Village til 4am.

With a groan, he drags himself halfway up along the mattress, about to go and growl at you both to be quiet, when the cluttered noises register as words and the fuzziness of sleep clears momentarily.

"He'd destroy this world for you."

Huh? What are you two talking about?

Miguel's too groggy to make sense of the context of what's being said. Even with his super hearing he has to focus to make out the words.

"You can't let him."

Irritated, he gets out of bed and walks to the front door to swing it open. The first thing he sees is you standing with Strange in the hallway. You jump at the suddenness and look up at him with wide eyes.

You have the worst poker face of anyone he's ever seen in his life.

"What are you two jabbering on about this damn early?" he asks.

He'd expected the two of you to act coy, maybe a clever 'wouldn't you like to know' retort back from the Mystic. Instead, Strange's face is entirely inscrutable, tone serious as he responds.

"We were just catching up. Nothing important. I need to head back," Strange says, then he turns to you with a meaningful tilt to his head. "Think about what I said."

"What was that about?" Miguel asks you as he watches Strange step through a portal and disappear.

You don't say anything. There's a worried frown etched between your eyebrows as you bite down on your lip.

Something crawls under Miguel's skin at the whole interaction.

You're oddly quiet the whole afternoon. Deep in thought and walking around as if in a daze, which unsettles him.

It's not difficult for him to guess what's wrong. He might have been half asleep when you and Strange were whispering in the corridors, but Miguel can put one and one together. Having two PHDs and a lifetime's experience of working in theoretical physics gives you that leg up.

In a last ditch effort to get you out of the uncharacteristic blues, he orders a dozen of your favorite cupcakes from that tiny shop in New Jersey. It costs an arm and a leg to have it couriered, but it'll be worth it if it makes you smile. 

Then he sits down next to you on the bed and places the pink pastry box down on the mattress. It's your favorite place to eat cakes and it’s why you two always end up with crumbs and frosting all over the sheets.

You happily cram half a cupcake into your mouth in one bite as you eat, and he watches you contently. If there was any fairness in the world, this quiet idyllic moment could last forever. In a good world, Miguel wouldn’t have to burst this perfect bubble. 

Sadly, this world is neither fair nor good sometimes. 

"Strange said something to you right?" Miguel asks. 

You still next to him, clearly torn between whether or not to share what was said to you, probably in secret with the very intention of being kept away from him. 

“Nena,” Miguel tries again, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath, caving into his prodding. 

"Strange thinks that my incidents might be correlated with the strange natural occurrences lately."

That fucking asshole. He knew it. Irritation pings across his jaw, and Miguel bites it down. He tries to reel it, forcing back the rant that wants to surface. Instead he tries to focus on you instead of his own anger. 

"We don't know that. It could just be a series of coincidences," Miguel tells you. 

You nod, but Miguel's not an idiot and neither are you. He can see the worry creasing your eyes as you look down to your lap. 

Putting down the cupcake, he reaches over and links his right hand with yours. 

"Nena, don't worry.” He cups his free hand over your cheek to drag you up to meet his eyes.

“I'll fight the whole universe to keep you safe if I have to. Nothing's ever going to harm you so long as I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You're the most important thing to me."

You smile at him at the words, but there's a wistfulness to it that embeds a dull ache in his chest that he wants to physically rub away to make it stop.

You lean into his touch, until your forehead presses up against his and the physical touch blunts the ache in him for a moment, putting it on pause. 

"You’re the most important to me too," you say.

The sky itself cracks open not long after. 

It doesn’t take the combined forces and intellect of the entire world too long to hone in on you being the root cause. Soon enough every superhero, mutant, villain and alien starts coming after you. Because hero or villain alike, no one truly wants their world to end, not if it’s not on their terms. 

Mysterio tries to kidnap you by the elevator in your apartment building. The Human Torch even tries to burn the whole building down. The Punisher tries to murder you point blank outside your office.

Miguel can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s running on fumes. Day after day, he feels like he’s getting by on borrowed time. 

The friends and allies you have thin out fast as the threats to the world increase in severity. Miguel never imagined having Deadpool standing outside his door stating that the life of one single person cannot outweigh the universe itself. 

It’s all so stupid. None of them know what they’re talking about. A lynching mob with their torches and pitchforks. Never stopping to think whether harming you could trigger something much worse.

If Strange is right and you are the knot at the center of the fabric of reality that is coming apart, then ripping that out leaves a hole. Miguel gave up on explaining that fairly quickly because he realized that theoretical consequences doesn’t matter to an angry mob scared of facing the reality of extinction. 

It all becomes a blur. 

Exhaustion eats into his bones, until he can no longer tell the days apart. No matter how many times he saves you, disaster is always waiting just around the corner. 

And now he’s chasing down the Green Goblin to the top of the Chrysler building from the 61st floor, where the green freak has cornered you to the edge of the rooftop.

Miguel is already out of breath, running away from the coalition of superheroes and villains that are hot on his heels, trying to stop him from saving you. 

Adrenaline beats fast in his veins as he keeps running. Miguel is only able to make out those in pursuit in brief glimpses. The bright blue spandex suit of Reed Richards as his freakishly long elastic limbs stretch towards him. The blocks of metal hurtling towards Miguel, missing by inches and crashes into the side of a building as Magneto’s form hovers nearby. 

He ignores them all, not sparing a glance behind him. He just has to keep moving. It doesn't matter that his muscles scream and burn in exhaustion. Doesn't matter that his head dulls with a heavy ache from lack of sleep. He has to keep going for you. Has to save you.

He's so close, he's almost there.

From the corner of his eyes, he makes out the familiar garish red flowing cape fluttering against the blue sky.

Strange.

Miguel marginally relaxes, at the sight of the sole ally he has left in this universe. He leaps across the rooftop, into the temporary safety of the observatory deck.

His feet doesn't even reach the ground. Something restrains him from behind. Bright lights materialize out of thin air. It wraps around Miguel's limb with the strength of unbreakable manacles, hugging him so tight it restricts the flow of blood to his fingers. Then he’s brought down to his knees. 

Miguel whips his head back and Strange stands there, hands formed in a holding gesture.

“What are you–”

"I'm sorry," Strange says.

Miguel snarls at his restraints, wrenching and twisting in every direction he is able to even with the limited range of motion, but it's to no avail. The harder he struggles the more forceful the restraints seem to close in on him, mirroring his strength.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. I really hoped there was another way but every life in the whole of the universe is at stake, Miguel."

Hot burning anger spears through him, and if he could he would raze it all to the ground with it. This place, this world and this fucking traitor standing there can all fucking burn. Miguel is gonna kill him. He's gonna kill this fucking bastard. He can't believe he trusted him.

“Strange, fucking let me… Stephen!”

He hears your pained shout and snaps his head towards the sound.

Miguel is only ten feet away from you. Ten measly feet from where the Green Goblin is holding you by the ledge of the rooftop. He can still reach you, if he can get free he can still save you. 

Tearing through the magical binds, there’s a bone-cracking sound in his shoulder. Searing pain spreads through his arm. For all his struggles, he doesn't know if he’s even an inch closer towards you. 

He watches you drop from the ledge. 

It's a pin drop moment where everything stops. His heart is no longer beating. 

No. This can't be how it ends.

He's moving forward, even as the sharp restraints digs into his limbs and flesh and burrows in with an excruciating ache. But the pain doesn't matter. All that matters is you.

It claws into him, and digs and tears, until he is sure that his entire limbs are going to be torn off, but he doesn't stop, keeps pulling against the resisting strength that surrounds him, rips against the hindrance embracing every ounce of the pain until finally, the pressure gives.

There's a cacophony of sound that's left behind him as he leaps through the air. He slingshots downwards, cutting through air as he tries to reach you.

Miguel catches your hand and relief fills his chest.

"I got you. I got you," he murmurs. He's not sure if those words are to calm you or himself.

Pulling you up in defiance of the pull of gravity, he tries to haul you up towards him. Your hand squirms in his, and if you keep going you're going to slip out of his grasp.

"Nena, don't move," he shouts in alarm, but you don't stop, twisting in all directions, making it harder for him to get a better grip.

What're you– You're resisting against his strength, why would you...

It hits him with a sickening realization.

You don' want him to save you.

"Stop!" he shouts. “Stop!”

You shake your head, tears filling the corner of your eyes that flow upwards and everything is upside down to him. 

"We’re out of time. You have to let me go,” you say. 

His fingers squeeze down even harder at your words, refusing to hear it. 

“There's still time. There are still other options. I can still save you!” 

Your hand reaches for the amulet pressed against your collarbone. Dread floods every nerve in his body as he sees your fingers squeeze around it.

"No!" He shouts. Screams it so loud it burns in his lungs. But deep down he knows it's not going to make any difference. "Nena, don't!"

The wind whips too loudly against his face. The sound of your heart pounding so painfully hard in his ear that it's deafening and he knows that sound will haunt him forever. 

You're scared.

He sees your lips move, but he can't hear what you're saying.

But he's heard these words so many times before from your lips that he knows them by heart. 

''I love you.''

An invisible force blasts away at him, it shatters through him through his limbs and torso into the very soft tissue of his stomach and makes his teeth shake. He's propelled upwards, unable to control his movements or defy the gravity that he's learned to navigate after all these years mid-air.

He holds on as hard as he can to your hand, but it doesn't matter. His fingers slip, his grip is lost.

You're falling through the sky.

Miguel doesn't remember much after that.

Somehow he makes it back onto the ground.

Somehow he finds you amongst the cracked dirty concrete. 

Somehow, despite falling from over a 100 feet your body is still intact where it lies lifeless on the ground.

Your bones are broken though. Body limp and soft in his arms in a way that has never felt more wrong to him. His only consolation is that you're still warm in his arms, and he thinks that maybe if he just doesn't let go, if he holds you tightly pressed to him the way he is doing now, it'll remain that way forever.

The sky has cleared above. There are no cracks in the azure blue canvas.

This world is saved. 

His world has ended. 

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To @thirstworldproblemss who has been with me on this journey since chapter one without her enthusiasm and her companionship and friendship and listening to my wild ramblings about this story, I would never have set out to write this thing. She gave me so much joy in the process, she also gave me her time and her skills and brainy talent to help me process and brainstorm this into a shape that I was excited to share with you all! You also have her to thank for that devastating last line.

@guruan who has been a constant well of inspiration with her amazing art, her bright sense of humor and her sharing of theories of what's going to happen! You've made writing this story so much fun!

Author's note: Here we go guys, we've officially entered the final arc now. With only three chapters to go! I am so excited to share the remaining puzzle pieces with you all!

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Eddie Munson's second chance

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 14

Prompt: Angst with a happy ending

Rated: G

CW: referenced child neglect/abuse

Tags: Modern AU, Royalty AU, Royal Steve Harrington, Rockstar Eddie Munson

Notes: Continued from day 11. This was angstier in my head, but Eddie is a silly goose.

Eddie Munson is no stranger to fucking up. He's long accepted that. It's just a thing that happens.

Sometimes, you'll miscalculate a stage dive and have to cancel the rest of the tour. 

Sometimes, you'll get so caught up in your stupid rockstar stuff, you'll forget about the youth center you founded to give other kids a better childhood. 

Sometimes, you'll meet an adorable guy named Dustin at said youth center, and rant about how useless the monarchy is, only to find out that Dustin isn't Dustin at all, but Crown Prince Steven Harrington, aka the future king, aka owner of the saddest pair of puppy dog eyes that Eddie has ever failed to get out of his goddamn head. 

Which brings him to his current predicament, sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Chrissy to pick up the phone. She does after the second dial tone, which is pretty impressive for three in the morning. 

"We must cancel the royal visit," Eddie blurts before she can ask what's wrong. 

"Eds," she yawns. "We've been over this. Just because you can't stand the guy-" 

"That's not it," Eddie groans. "Listen … I met him yesterday? Only I didn't know it was him? And I flirted with him and he was really cute but I couldn't keep my fucking mouth shut and now I can't ever see him again because I don't wanna rot in some dungeon, understand?" 

"No," she says. Damn, it sounded perfectly logical in his head. "But this doesn't seem like something we should discuss on the phone. Stay put, I'm coming over." 

*

They don't cancel the royal visit, but Eddie refuses to make an appearance. Instead, he watches from behind the curtains of the office window like a creep. The Prince looks dashing in his tailored suit, smiling for the cameras, joking with the kids, listening to Chrissy with polite attention as she shows him around the place. Eddie loves her so fucking much, will be forever grateful that she filled in for him. 

Even if she tied it to one condition. 

He watches how she whispers something into the Prince's ear, how his smile melts into an angry frown. How they both turn to stare at the window. Eddie flinches away from the curtains, heart in his throat. 

He wonders if the dungeons have WiFi. 

*

"You have exactly ten minutes," says the bodyguard. It’s the same one from yesterday, the one called Hop. Eddie doesn’t reply, just nods stiffly. Hop looks at him like he's contemplating murder, but then he ducks out of the room with a muttered all clear.

Prince Steven steps in. The door clicks shut. Silence descends. 

"Well," Eddie finally mumbles. "I guess this is the part where I bow and grovel." 

The Prince snorts. "Please don't, Mr Munson. I'd rather you save us both the embarrassment."

Eddie winces, because ouch. That stings more than it should. 

Neither of them says anything for a long while. The clock on the wall keeps ticking. 

"So," Eddie rocks awkwardly on the soles of his combat boots. "Who's Dustin?" 

Those plush lips twitch into a smile and those pretty eyes light up. For a moment, Eddie glimpses the boy from yesterday. 

"My housekeeper's kid. He'd be so mad if he knew I met you and didn't get him an autograph." 

He says it with genuine concern, like he's honestly afraid of getting shit from a little kid, and Eddie can't help but grin. 

"Don't worry, I won't tell." 

This gets him a huffed laugh. 

"He'd love this place, it's really cool." 

When Eddie looks up, the Prince is looking at the picture frames on the walls, photos of smiling kids and drawings in crayon and watercolors. Eddie sighs and joins him, stares long and hard of a picture of Max on her skateboard. 

"Thanks. I, um … grew up around here, and I wanted to give these kids a safe space. Where they can just … be children. I never really had that myself." 

A thoughtful hum. Those hazel eyes are soft with an expression that looks weirdly like longing. Eddie remembers watching stories about the royal family on his uncle's rickety TV set. A solemn-faced boy his own age trailing behind his parents outside of private jets, in lush parks and gilded halls. Always in expensive suits. Always well-behaved. Always way too grown-up.

Well, shit. 

"Listen, your highness …" 

"Steve is fine." 

"Listen, Steve …" Eddie lets the name linger on his tongue, finds that he likes the feel of it. "I guess I've been a bit of a dick." 

A hint of that bitchy little smile. "You guess correctly." 

"Whatever," Eddie huffs. "I'm trying to apologize here, so may I? Or are you throwing me in the dungeons?" 

"The …" Steve blinks. Then, his mouth starts to curl. "We, um … don't actually do that anymore. Unless you're into that, then I'm sure it could be arranged." 

Eddie sputters and Steve bites back a laugh. 

"If you really wanna make up for it," he then says. "I hear your concert next week is all sold out? Dustin would love backstage tickets." 

Eddie frowns. 

"Dustin as in the kid or …" 

"Steve?" Hop cracks the door open. "Time to go, c'mon." 

Steve smiles, bright and sunshiny. "On my way." 

He turns to Eddie, grabs a pen and a notepad from the chaos on the desk.

"Backstage tickets, two of them. I'll be expecting them by tomorrow." 

*

When Chrissy bustles in not five minutes later, she finds Eddie in the office chair, staring morosely at the still drawn curtains. 

"Eds? Everything okay?" Eddie just groans and hides his head in his hands, so she crouches down in front of him, hands on his knees. "He didn't give you shit, did he?" 

"Shit? I wish. No, it's far worse than that." Eddie cackles hysterically and unclenches his fist, presenting a crumpled piece of notebook paper. "He gave me his number." 

Part 3

All my holiday drabbles

[gilbirda]

Ghost Princess!Jazz design

So, since I'm posting chapter 24 of Friendly Neighborhood Vigilante, finally these will see the light of day!!!

Designs and drawing by the amazing @herbatahleb!!! I commissioned him these drawings so I could visualize the suit in my head better; and also so peeps could see what I'm talking about!

Thank you so much Hleb!

Alt version that was scrapped during the design process and me rambling about design ideas under the cut

So the Idea was that in this AU Jazz was trained by Pandora and the dead Amazon warriors in the greek afterlife.

Jazz doesn't use guns, not because of morality or anything, but because she sucks ass at shooting and is like the moment she hits the trigger it doesn't matter where she was aiming, she will cause an accident/hurt someone. (Weapons she doesn't have to actually aim are kinda okay, but you have to be ready for her blowing up something)

So she compensates and uses a lot of long range weapons, with her mom's staff being the one she uses the most. The staff has 2 settings: spear, which she uses for a more aggressive approach (think Okoye and the Dora Milaje from Black Panther)

and War Mode, with the War Mode is the one that is in the final design. I sent Hleb a bunch of reference pictures and the lance is based on Ares' lance in Destripando la Historia (a spanish youtube series)

My general idea is that Jazz is inspired by the war god because she herself had to become one for Danny. She's one of their best strategist but she is also vicious in battle and the best at hand to hand combat and most versatile weapons-wise.

Her suit is also red because it stands out in the Infinite Realms. She makes herself a target so she can attract her enemies to her, since she can't fly or doesn't have a means of quick transportation during battle.

Armor is made for speed and agility, and it's charmed so it enhances her natural ghostly abilities and physique. Her arm pieces can project an ecto shield for defense.

For the crown I had a few references, but mainly Wanda's headpiece in MCU

But also I wanted to include some kind of high fantasy crowns for her, because that's her crown as a princess. While Danny has the black metal one that's constantly on fire, Jazz would have this armor headpiece and only the "tips" would be on fire and then the actual crown appears out of thin air as a fire circle over her head.

For me this detail was important because it showed: first, how for Jazz her crown IS part of her armor and how deeply entwined being a princess is with being a warrior while Danny can be the king without the warrior; and second, to represent how "fake" as a ghost princess she is, since she's not actually dead-dead, because only 2 singular points are actually metal but the rest comes and goes and doesn't anchor to anything.

We also used a bunch of references of Kassandra from Assasins Creed Odyssey

For the boots and other details I really just sent Hleb a bunch of pictures from the Wonder Woman movie Amazonian armor design

Anyway that's all my rant. I'm very happy with the final design and Hleb was very kind to sit with me and let me be specific about what I wanted. Love you, darling!

[blackphanto]

Trying to overanalyze Lucifer's design

The Hazbin Hotel season 1 finale was fucking insane. I loved everything and especially Lucifer, whom I am dedicating this post to.

Let's begin with his "normal" form

Lucifer wears a ringleader costume bc Hell is one giant circus and he's the ringleader, but did you know that there's actually more to it?

A ringmaster, -mistress or -leader is like the opening act of a circus. They show you around, introduce the other acts and keep you hooked. They are essentially the glue that keeps the circus together. Another definition of a ringmaster, -mistress or -leader talks about an actual leader who leads a group of people, mostly through the act of doing illicit or unlawful activities. A role that would suit Lilith better than Lucifer. Sins could be seen as unlawful activities in Heaven's eyes and Lucifer is the cause of how evil found its way to earth, one could say that he was the one to lead the sinners in their sinful behavior in life. Yet, in death - if we go by Charlie's storybook - Lilith was the one leading the sinners to rise up against Heaven, another illicit activity that has led to their eventual doom.

Luci also wears a top hat with his crown on top of it. The hat gives him some extra height so I doubt that he wears it for any other reason. His crown is mostly covered with a snake and a red apple on the side. The snake can have 2 meanings: 1) how the word 'seraphim' in Hebrew can be translated to 'fiery serpent', due to his six wings, Lucifer is likely a seraph. 2) he was the serpent that tempted Eve, although never confirmed in any religious text, this idea of him being that snake is really popular in every reiteration of that story. This would also be why there's an apple motive following the Morningstars. Now let's move on to...

Angelic/demonic form

I don't think what we are seeing here is his full angelic/demonic form, but considering that the other Princes' forms aren't as scary either it is likely the case. The first thing that caught my attention were the horns and overall resemblance this form has to Charlie's, but let's focus on the differences.

In the first image, the snake and apple have turned into some sort of halo, a nod that his actual halo has disappeared when he fell and unlike Vaggie his wings probably didn't get ripped off, but I do believe they were different to how they were when he was behind the Pearly Gates. He has a tail and horns, classic demon imagery, there are 6 eyes at the end of his coat and there's one more on his bowtie, which makes a total of 8 eyes on Lucifer's design. The eyes are a common returning motive in Heaven and with angels.Luci also has a flame in-between his horns. This honestly reminded me of Baphomet, but they would likely be a Candle head from the Sloth ring. In the Bible, fire is often depicted as the presence of God, but I'm a firm believer that Hazbin has a deistic God view (see my other post), so I doubt that's the case here. The fire was likely chosen because Hell is associated with fire and he's the king of Hell so they thought it would make sense.

Like father, like daughter

As stated before, Lucifer and Charlie share a lot of similar elements. She's essentially him without wings and with longer hair. They both have a red sclera with a yellow iris. Their tail is pitch black with a heart cut out at the end and despite having white skin, Lucifer's arms are greyish. I always thought they were gloves, but no, man's face doesn't match his hands. I really like this shot of them right here, they look so badass!

Charlie also seems to be getting a new ability which has to do with her arm getting bigger and blocking Adam. This might be a callback to whatever was going on with her arm in her first design.

That was it thanks for reading <3

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (15)

The penultimate chapter!!

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: back to reality

Ollie pushed her luggage to the side, his eyes tired behind a pair of blue light glasses. His hair was smushed a little from the drive over to the airport, but he looked handsome as always. 

They were back in Italy, Ollie starting training again before the Canadian Grand Prix. Aubrey had to go back to New York, catch up on classes and deal with auditions and bookings. 

“Don’t fall in love with some Manhattan fashion guy,” Ollie pouted, tugging her into him, cradling her head and waist. 

“Don’t be dramatic, babe. I’ll see you in like, a week and a half.” She sniffed into his hoodie, but she felt her heart carving itself out of her chest and wedging into his already. Nearly two weeks with Ollie, all tanned, shirtless and happy…now back to the sweltering, bustling city without him. She wanted to cry a little. This sweet boy made her life so much more, so abundant. It felt like time, almost. She knew that he loved her, and she most definitely loved him. But he knew her and he wanted to take it slow so she wouldn’t be spooked. She adored him for it. 

He must’ve felt her tense because he pressed quiet kisses into the crown of her head, smoothing her hair away from her face. 

“I can’t wait to win in your home country. Promise you’ll text me when you land?” He pressed one more kiss into her temple tenderly. 

“Okay, I will.” 

With one more squeeze, she rubbed her eyes and entered into the terminal, waving once more at Ollie. 

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang SO AMERICAN MUSIC VIDEO! It was an honour to direct my first music video for my girl @oliviarodrigo ❤️

Even though I hate being mistaken as american, this song was too good to pass up 💋

GO WATCH NOW 🇺🇸🦅🗽

liked by oliviarodrigo, olliebearman, and 111,092 others

view all comments

user1 OH SO SHES SERVING SERVING HUH

livieelove OMG THE ULTIMATE COLLAB

aubreyyangcontent liv and Aubrey (successful gorgeous asian queens) 🤝 their golden retriever tall white bfs

-- olliebearmansgf CRYING BECAUSE THIS IS THEIR SHARED EXPERIENCEE

logansargeant we welcome you to America anytime 🤠

-- aubreyollie4eva YO STAY IN UR OWN LANE BRUV

olliebearman real ones know the Vancouver lore :)

-- aubreyyang downtown day when?

-- user2 MOM AND DAD PLSSS

MESSAGES

ollie

just watched the music video

it was so good

aubrey

well what can I say I relate to it hehe

ollie

really?

aubrey

well duh

I mean ig im from canada but ur from england

ollie

oh wow

aubrey

idk I kinda like having a muse for directing

it feels more personal

sorry did I make it weird?

ollie

no of course not love

come to the next gp with me

aubrey

ollie what

ollie

no im serious im having my Aubrey withdrawals

I really want you here

aubrey

okay

okay ill come to you

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang highkey in love with my best friend 🤪

liked by celine_diorr and 18 other

view all comments

alexandrasaintmleux I KNEW IT THATS WHY HES ALL RED AND GIGGLY

-- aubberieyaang wait really hehe

leosdad please just tell him this hurts my soul

-- aubberieyaang SOON I PROMISE

celine_diorr fine hes better than any of ur exes and he has my blessing

-- aubberieyaang TY BAE

chuck_bushes Ay he better watch his hands

-- aubberieyaang love u my honorary big bro

f1wagupdates posted

slide one: ollie and aubrey walking through the paddock; he is wearing a Ferrari polo and a backwards hat with jeans and sneakers, she is wearing a vintage Ferrari tank top with her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her mini skirt is a light denim, and she has a pair of low doc Martens and scrunch white socks. A pair of sunglasses (as seen in her previous posts) pushes her hair back from her face. The picture is slightly blurry, but she is walking in front as he follows suit behind her, one hand on the small of her back. A black Prada handbag is in his hand, presumably Aubrey's.

slide two: a video of David Bearman and Aubrey Yang in the Ferrari garage as they stand side by side, both wearing red earmuffs as they stare enraptured at the screen. Someone moving boxes passes by, and David moves Aubrey behind him in a very fatherly way. She says something that makes him laugh, and he pats her shoulder as they focus back on the screen. The tags on the live TV shows David Bearman, Oliver Bearman's dad, and Aubrey Yang, Oliver Bearman's Partner.

f1wagupdate Aubrey Yang is once again seen in the paddock, this time in Montreal. She is seen with Ollie Bearman's father and Ollie before and during the race.

liked by ollieheartsaubrey, aubrey1fan and 88,092 others

view all comments

aubreyyangfanpage THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF FERRARI RAHHH the first pic is so cute

-- user1 THEYRE BOTH WEARING MERCH AND LOOKING GORGEOUS HOLY MOLY

user2 aww her and his dad are so sweet (when is it my turn PLEASE)

-- f1funnies00 shes so daughter in law coded I SWEAR THEYRE TOGETHER EVEN THE TAG HARD LAUNCHED THEM BROO

premababies hes holding her bag (gonna sleep on the highway tonight hehe)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik @yla-aira @motorsportloverf1 @gigigreens

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.