#rp: one leader to another

[shimmerbeasts]

Learning her own term of magic took time, one that she had honed for a few months on her journey back to piltover and since then. She had yet to leave for Noxus. She was determined to have the noxian army under her mother's work to fix what damaged they wrought. Not everyone approved. Mel had learned of several noxians who died at the hand of Zaunites in the streets; but such a price was expected with how they had treated these people. A ruthlessness laid within the Daughter of Death; one that refused to live by Noxian values but also knew that sometimes fighting, violence, came with a necessary value to provide peace. Not in the way her mother taught, but because sometimes you have to fight for what you need. And that there was a price to such violence and expect retaliation. The magic hummed against Mel’s chest as she glanced over her shoulder. The arcane hummed with life against her wolven fingertips, walking along the streets of Piltover as repairs were being made. Noxians and Piltovans working side by side; fixing stone and rock and concrete to repair the mess. Yet there was one that was not like the others; the magic screamed around the body of an unknown figure.

Months of listening to her magic, the empathy within the very strands of life. The arcane lived within everyone, though some had a deeper connection than others. And this one had a deep and intense strength and one of familiarity. She twisted down the alley until finally she snapped. Like a wolf she was, she turned and drew the veins of gold magic from her body and slammed the clone up against the wall. “You dare wander into my city, cloaked in the visage of another? I see through you, so I’m going to ask you one time; why are you here?” The threads twisted around the wrist of the clone, pinning her firmly against the wall. It slithered around her neck, weaving through the walls and attaching to her ankles to hold her firmly in place. Mel’s power grew in strength over the last few months, managing the magic as if it was second nature. Golden eyes stared down at the clone as she pulled back her white hood. “And don’t try to deceive me, because I will know. So let’s put whatever dance we like to tango to, and speak one leader to another.”

Mel Merdarda had not headed back to Noxus after her mother's death. Instead, she stayed in Piltover. Even demanded that the Noxians in Ambessa's army help in the rebuilding efforts. It must be humiliating for any Noxian. But then when had Mel Merdarda ever done something, which completely aligned with how Noxus worked. The sly girl continued to surprise her.

It had been easy for LeBlanc to send another clone to Piltover and tail after Mel. This time, she wore the disguise of a simple girl, helping with the repairs of Piltover and Zaun. Always keeping just in the corner of Mel Merdarda's gaze. When the young leader of the old clan headed into a side alley, LeBlanc swiftly copied her clown once more, letting the false visage tail after Mel into the corridor.

Soon enough, Mel proved her cunning - oh, she was such an embodiment of guile, LeBlanc could not be prouder! - and whirled around, confronting the copy. Mel's magical signature had by now become intimately familiar to the Matron of Roses. The golden whisps and ropes laced around the copy's body as it was slammed against a wall. It gave a soft grunt, despite having no sense of the impact. The magic enraptured the clone further. LeBlanc casually teleported herself into the shadows of the alley and waited. The copy slowly rose its hands as if in a mockery of surrender.

"Of course, you will."

LeBlanc's voice came from behind Mel as she stepped out of the dark of the alley. Her body draped itself in shadows. The copy in the young mage's magical mesh of golden light dissolved into shadows, not after smiling, before they dragged their way across the floor and united with LeBlanc's clone's body.

"You'll have to forgive the layering of illusions", LeBlanc remarked idly, "I prefer to have my hands free. But you are right. How about we put that little tango of ours on pause and talk one leader to another? Though maybe not in such a dingy alley? How about a glass of mulled wine?"

Immediately a web of blood-red thorny vines and gore puddles sprung up around them both. As the mess climbed up Mel's body, coating her limbs and face, LeBlanc: "Don't worry. I let you go the moment we are done with this conversation. It will be like you never left, sister."

Soon enough the layers gave way to what seemed to be a rather pretty, yet modestly kept room. On the floor was a mosaic of black and purple stones, shaping the bloom of a rose. The round desk had golden lines swirling up and down its wood like the streaks of a river. Two wine chalices rested before two comfortable, red cushioned chairs of dark wood.

LeBlanc picked up a dark bottle and poured mulled wine into each glass. "Sit", she invited Mel, "I promise you the wine is real. You are not drinking air." The Matron sat down and crossed her legs over one another. The shadows dropped and Mel once more was greeted by the familiar face of the Lunari girl, which Ambessa had decapitated.

"I suppose a proper introduction might be in order", LeBlanc said, "Though I get the distinct impression that you may have already figured out whom you are speaking to. Even if, like you said, I keep wearing false faces."

@valiantthearts cont. from here.

[rokry]

My king! My king!

Character belongs to Myself and @vondieerde!

[shhhsecretsideblog]

Denial

Co-written with the gorgeously talented @gravid-transluna Thanks so much for picking up this RP starter, so happy we’re collaborating and writing fics. I’m having a blast! 💜 [fpreg, 7.7k words, birth denial, clothing birth, public birth]

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Alex had a million and one things to do in the office before she went on maternity leave. The day was disappearing fast and she’d barely sat down; with back to back meetings, numerous phone calls, it was non-stop. It seemed her body wasn’t too keen on being pushed so hard this late in her pregnancy, if the constant braxton hicks were anything to go by, but she powered through assuring herself that she’d be resting soon. Just get through today.

The Exec waddles into the lift, heading to a meeting room a few floors below. The doors were just about to close before a young employee jumped in lightly after her. They stood in relative silence facing the exit, until the sudden screech of metal clanged all around them. The floor shook, jolting suddenly, and the lift was brought to an abrupt halt.

Alex’s curled hair swung around her face as she glanced at the tiny screen which usually displayed the floor level - it was now flashing a warning error image. “Eugh, is the lift broken?” Alex gruffed, annoyed.

“Looks like it.” The anxious looking subordinate replied, clearly worried and apprehensive at the thought of being trapped in here. “H-Have you got your phone with you?”

“Damn. No, it’s on my desk. You?” Alex asks, frustrated her pregnancy brain had struck again, making her forget something as fundamental as her phone. Seeing the other woman’s expression Alex quickly realised neither of them had a phone.

Thankfully the lights stayed on, but the metal box quickly started feeling too small. Another cramp rolls across Alex’s large, full-term, belly and she can’t help but grimace.

“Oof…mmmnghh….” A moan slipped out under her breath, she rubbed the side of her twinging bump as the other hand automatically reached to the wall of the elevator for stability. “Hooohooo… not now…” Alex whispered.

The other woman looked at her nervously.

Colleen had two fears: contained spaces and her boss, Alex. Unfortunately for her, she was trapped in with both of them today. Alex’s pregnant belly straining the buttons of her work blouse did nothing to diminish her fearsome personality; if anything motherhood had only made her more intimidating, still a commanding presence in a roomful of men even with a swollen, overdue baby belly hanging off her frame.

Worse, her boss seemed a little more than uncomfortable in this situation. She’d seen her bite receptionists’ heads off her a wrong coffee order, but still, seeing Alex wince and rub her belly, which seemed to have dropped even lower this week, she felt compelled to hesitantly ask, “Ma’am, is everything alright? I’m sure they’ll realize we’re in here eventually.”

Alex gave Colleen a quizzical look, but on seeing where her colleague's gaze was, she realised she was rubbing the right side of her large pregnant stomach. She stopped, letting her arm fall limp at her side.

“I’m fine,” Alex replied curtly. “I just don’t have time for this today.” She sighed and looked around the cramped space, what she was looking for she didn’t know, but there must be someway to get someone’s attention and get them out of there.

She knew she was cutting it fine; both by how late she was going on maternity leave but also with how much she was trying to cram in to her last day. Her feet were aching in her 3inch heels having been on her feet for most of the day, in meetings and presentations and walking around the office trying to make sure everyone in her team was well equipped to continue things during her absence. She was heading down to the third floor for her next meeting with the team leaders, that was if the lift hadn’t so inconveniently broken down.

“So you don’t have your phone on you or any method of communication at all?” Alex griped, asking her mousy employee yet again. Hoping the woman would miraculously have a way of contacting the security team or something.

The baby in her womb seemed just as uncomfortable as Alex in this small space, shifting and kicking harshly against her taught and stretched skin. His head was sitting so low in her pelvis it felt like her hips were being pulled apart. She’d be happy when this pregnancy was over, she was done playing host, she wanted her body back. Though she continued to dress in her staple pencil skirt, blouse and heels, pregnancy be damned.

Alex began to pace around the room, finding herself needing to move, shifting the aching from her hips. Another braxton hicks decided to add to her problems, she huffed under her breath and faced away from the doors into the corner, blowing out a silent exhale through the twisting pain.

Colleen could tell by the way that Alex’s gaze flicked over her that she probably only recognized her face by sight and not by name. She seemed impatient, which wasn’t unusual for such a busy, ambitious, work-minded woman, but there was something else in her impatience, an almost shifting restlessness that seemed to match the restless movements in her packed womb. The fabric of her blouse was almost see-through, stretched so thinly around her massive swell, and Colleen could observe visible ripples against the tight skin of her belly. She winced. Colleen wasn’t at an age where she had seriously considered children, but her respect for her boss had grown immensely, seeing her waddle around the office in her pencil skirt and blouse, seemingly as efficacious as ever.

Alex’s restlessness became even more pronounced when she turned away from Colleen, as though hiding her big belly and whatever was going on inside it.

“I don’t have my phone,” Colleen said helplessly, hoping it wouldn’t result in a chewing out. “I left it in my handbag on my chair.”

Alex let out a disgruntled sigh, half from annoyance at her staff’s serious lack of organisation - who goes anywhere without their phone anyway? - but also from the way in which this false contraction was starting to bite.

The practice pains had been a consistent thorn in her side all day and it was really starting to get on her nerves. She’d successfully managed to grin and bear it through this morning's presentation to the board but by lunchtime they were starting to take her breath away. Still, Alex carried on. There was just too much to do and not enough time. It was why she was working right up to her due date, not that she told the company that. They’d have forced her out weeks ago if they knew she’d technically passed her due day on Tuesday.

When the pains passed, Alex spun around and walked determinedly towards Colleen who appeared to brace herself for something. She always got a warped joy when they did that. Leaning past her employee, Alex began pressing buttons on the lift and found the emergency call button. “Let’s try this shall we.” Alex smirked at the hesitant Colleen. Unfortunately the emergency button did absolutely nothing at all.

“Umm,” Colleen scratched awkwardly at her neck, trying to disguise her growing panic. She didn’t like the idea of being trapped, but more so she knew as things continued to go wrong her boss’s mood would continue to sour, and didn’t want to remotely be in her vicinity when it did.

She tried not to look at the immense belly taking up most of her field of vision, though it was hard not to glance at it, especially when making eye contact with Alex was such a terrifying experience.

“We could shout for help?” Colleen suggested. “Maybe someone will hear us from whichever floor we’re on.”

“Eugh… if you want to shout then go ahead.” Alex dismissed, and continued back to her pacing around the small space.

They stayed in awkward silence, the only sounds were the clack-clack of Alex’s heels on the metal floor as she did loops around her section of the lift. She had one hand on her back, knuckles pushing into the base of her spine as it ached and spasmed. She’d managed to breathe her way through a few more of the annoying cramps but they were soon joined by a serious increase in pressure.

One particularly forceful twinge made her gasp and stop her pacing, one hand flying to the wall to lean against as the tightening got stronger and stronger and stronger. She couldn’t stop the low hum she made in her throat as the cramp continued its assault.

Colleen didn’t dare to open her mouth to shout, knowing she’d probably receive a dirty look and a complaint about a headache for her troubles. Instead she watched as her boss paced, again noting her restlessness and the hand bracing her curved, strained back as well as the hand constantly circling and resting on the broad shelf of her belly, as though to soothe the baby inside. This time, though, she noticed Alex’s walk, the way she waddled as though encumbered not only by the weight of her huge bump, but a pressure of sorts between her legs.

She more than suspected Braxton Hicks at this point, but her worst suspicions were confirmed when her boss finally leaned against the wall as though unable to support her own weight or trying to escape a deep pressure from her womb. She hummed, lowing as though she’d momentarily forgotten Colleen was there, absorbed with sensations from her pregnant body.

“Ma’am, are you okay?!” She stepped closer, hands spread like she didn’t know what to do with them. “You’re having a contraction, right. Oh god. Oh, this is so bad.”

Alex waved a hand away at the approaching colleague, keeping her at arm's length. “Don’t be ridiculous. Hoooo…. It’s nothing, it’s just a c-cramp that’s all… mnghhh…”

Her hand drifted lower and brushed along the underside of her stomach needing to try and find some way to ease the ache that was gnawing through her belly. She could feel her knees start to wobble and she breathed steadily, her weight supported by the wall, until it passed.

“See, it’s gone now. I’m fine.” Alex stated confidentially, her work facade firmly replaced. “Someone better get us out of here soon, I’m gonna bloody fire that security officer.” Alex muttered aloud.

She wanted to resume her pacing, her hips needed the constant movement, but her feet were far beyond protesting the high heels - they were downright screaming at her. Too exhausted to keep up every one of her professional fronts, Alex resigned herself to the comfort of bare feet and uncharacteristically kicked off her shoes.

Colleen nodded furiously at Alex’s dismissal of the pains. “Right! Of course, just a cramp. I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

The young employee didn’t know much about pregnancy and birth, but she’d seen enough media about it to know that Alex closely resembled that of a woman in labor: the characteristically low, dropped belly, the consistent cramps, the restlessness. But…. that’d be impossible, right? There was no way she’d had the misfortune to be trapped in a lift with her boss of all people, and especially not an Alex in labor. That was not an encounter Colleen particularly wanted to be around.

She reassured herself. Even if those cramps coursing through Alex’s obviously overdue belly were labor pains, labor could take days, right? They couldn’t be stuck in here for more than thirty minutes, someone would absolutely notice Alex’s absence if not Colleen’s. She was too important to the company. Then, Colleen could get back to her emails and Alex could be sped off to the hospital or wherever she preferred to drop that kid.

These hopes wavered when Alex kicked off her shoes, pacing in her stockings. Colleen’s eyes widened. This was a ridiculously unprofessional move for Alex, she knew that for sure.

Without her black patent heels Alex shifted anxiously on flat swollen feet around the confined space, gradually feeling the temperature rise and the air thicken. There was no circulation in the small box, no air conditioning or fresh air coming through any gaps or vents. She could feel sweat start to dampen the back of her neck, her curled hair sticking to the tacky skin. She ran her fingers through her hair, arms stretching up and belly sticking out, picking up the ringlets from the back of her head and lifting them off her neck allowing some air to cool her overheated skin.

The Exec huffed an exhausted sigh. “How long do you reckon we’ve been in here?” Alex asked breathlessly to her subordinate.

She had given up on pacing and resorted to standing at the back of the lift and next to the metal railing that ran across the width of the back wall. Her hips swayed side to side, she breathed slow and deep, and occasionally would place a subtle hand on the railing for support.

The persistent braxton hicks were grating, chipping away at her resolve. It was probably just the confinement and heat, being stuck inside this metal box, but it felt like the intensity of the cramps were getting worse. She caught herself moaning under her breath when they struck, she tried to swallow the noise but it was never quick enough to remain totally silent. She wasn’t in the mood to field questions or concern from Colleen so she had to get those moans under control. Unfortunately for Alex, when the next contraction appeared it came on so suddenly she didn’t have time to prepare. The pain lanced across her stomach and Alex doubled over gasping, hands flying out and gripping the railing tight, an unusual groan rumbled from her throat.

Having watched her superior endure what were undeniably contractions at this point, Colleen’s concern had only multiplied. If she hadn’t been certain when Alex kicked off her heels (swollen, aching feet weren’t exactly uncommon in pregnancy, right?) or when sweat began to bead on her forehead in contrast to her usual inclement coolness (well, it is hot in here with no air conditioner, and she must be dying carrying around all that belly in such cramped quarters), there was not a doubt in Colleen’s mind when Alex clutched at the railing and moaned, low in her throat. It sounded so unlike Alex’s clipped, sharp tone. Almost animalistic, like something natural, a sudden instinct to vocalise as her belly contracted.

“Er—ma’am?” Colleen kept her distance, eyeing Alex’s heaving swell. “Are the, um, cramps getting stronger? They seem—well, they seem like they’re closer together too. Almost like—”

She didn’t dare say the word. Alex, she knew, didn’t like contradictions to what she said.

Instead she answered her boss’s previous question. “It’s probably been, oh I don’t know, maybe an hour or so?”

At the other woman’s panicked questions Alex managed to grit through her teeth a dismissive “… I’m fine!… mnghhh!” Alex tried to straighten up, to preserve appearances, and found she couldn’t - not while her muscles were still seizing. Instead another groan slipped from her mouth before she could clamp it shut.

“I-I think- they might be more than just cramps…” Alex panted as the worse seemed to fade away. “I think these m-might be… hoooo practice labour pains.” The Exec admitted hesitantly to her employee, removing one hand from the railing to circle around the heavy weight of her hanging bump.

She had a reputation to maintain, appearances to uphold, and Alex didn’t want to show any kind of weakness to anyone with an employee ID card. But as the waves continued she was forced to admit to her one companion she was indeed suffering from Braxton Hicks contractions. But that was fine, Colleen was only one person and after today she would be going on maternity leave and wouldn’t have to see anyone for months.

But this baby better quit practising for the main event soon. The false pains were aggressive and forceful, the weight of the baby’s head pressing so hard against her pelvis it felt like it was about to drop out any second. She hoped by the time they were rescued the baby and her body would have settled down. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

“They better get us out of here soon…” Alex breathed heavily and quietly. Then realising her company added “I’ve got a meeting at 4pm with the CEO.”

Colleen tried to keep her face neutral, even as her boss doubled over groaning, her belly tight around her middle. Alex’s thighs were wide in her pencil skirt and Colleen could tell by their restless shifting and the slight bending of Alex’s knees that she was feeling the urge to spread them even more, not quite a squat yet but unable to stand with any poise anymore. Inwardly, though, her thoughts were racing. Braxton Hicks weren’t powerful like this, were they? After all, if they had forced a woman like Alex into a panting dishevelled mess, they must be pretty strong.

‘Should I tell her it sounds like she’s having contractions?’ Colleen deliberated. By the minute, she could tell Alex was progressing into her labour. Even as she struggled to maintain her image her body was getting her ready for birth, and Colleen knew that even her boss’s willpower wouldn’t halt such a natural, primal process. Then again, if Alex wanted to be in denial, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. They still had to wait in this lift until rescuers showed up—Colleen might as well not lose her job on top of it.

Instead, she nodded again. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, practise pains. I’m sure they’ll subside before long. They’re supposed to be quite irregular.”

“Exactly… hoooo… I just need to ride them out. It’s fine. Hoooo…” Alex’s usually assertive voice sounded somewhat unsure. She didn’t like it.

Both hands returning to the railing, facing the wall, Alex found her weight shifting from hip to hip. Her stance was wide - when did that happen?- and her blouse was damp with sweat. The boss was grateful there was not a mirror in this lift, dreading to think what she looked like.

The false pains didn’t seem to be fading anymore, staying at a constant ache in her womb with agonising peaks shooting across her back and down her thighs. She prided herself on her ability to handle any challenge, but for the first time in her life she doubted her willpower to make it through. If this was practice labour she did not want to experience the real thing. Perhaps she should organise a c-section when she gets out of here.

The pressure in her pelvis was getting almost unbearable, and combined with the false contractions that continued to strike, she felt herself losing control of her autonomy. Her body was shifting and moving of its own accord and ghastly noises were coming from her mouth. Her hips were on fire, a weight pressing and splitting them apart. She bent over gripping the railing, flat back and hips shifting backwards. Her legs tried to stand further apart but were stopped by the tight fitting pencil skirt around her thighs. The groan that left her mouth was unrecognisable, like she was possessed. As the pressure built and built, she could feel an urgency sinking lower and lower. Before she knew it the sounds from her mouth had deepened, her heavy breathing ending with an animalistic grunt.

Colleen continued to observe as Alex made noises that she couldn’t even reconcile with the aloof, in-control Alex that she knew. Wide-eyed, she couldn’t stop staring as the laboring woman paced the tiny space. Her grunts, the way she hissed through her teeth, with every sound she appeared closer and closer to giving birth. Her waddle was pronounced, almost bowlegged as though there was a deep weight between her legs, forcing them apart and pulling her closer to a grounded position. ‘Holy shit,’ Colleen thought. ‘She’s about to drop her baby!’ She didn’t know a thing about midwifery or delivering a child. Much less delivering for a mother who refused to even admit she was in labor.

Colleen tried to track Alex’s contractions in her mind as they ramped up in both frequency and intensity, but found it hard without a watch or a way to tell time. Eventually she gave up, reassuring herself that the next stage of labor wasn’t yet upon them, and that unless Alex broke her waters the baby would remain inside her womb until they could call some paramedics. Still, she didn’t like the fact that Alex appeared to be losing her calm, composed self. Drenched in sweat, grunting and groaning through contractions, her body was obviously telling her it was time, and Colleen wondered if she’d even let her help if it came down to her pushing her kid out into her pantyhose or exposing her heavily pregnant self to a random colleague.

Alex’s grip on the railing tightened as she felt her legs start to tremble. Pressing her forehead against the cool metal wall, she released a shaky exhale. She couldn’t think… hell she could barely stand. Every part of her entire being was consumed and overwhelmed by the pressure and pain between her legs.

In some buried corner of her mind an instinct was telling her to get lower to the ground, to remove her skirt and tights, to open up her legs and hips. Alex fought against the idea, she’d already lost enough dignity trapped in this lift with some entry-level employee, she was not going to make it any worse. But when the next contraction struck, any fighting spirit she had seemed to evaporate.

“Ohhhh god!!!! Mnnnghhhh!” She groaned, long and deep, rocking herself forwards and backwards and clinging on to the only thing keeping her on two legs. “The pressure….. hoooooo…. There’s so much -mngh!- pressure!!! Mnngghhhhh!!!”

Her body sank back deep into her hips, knees dipping slightly in her tight pencil skirt and belly hanging to the ground, her backside swaying in the centre of the confined space. She could feel her muscles squeezing with the force of contraction, trying to do something. The baby dropped even lower and smashed through her cervix. She felt so full, the mass in her pelvis so heavy, and her body screamed at her to bear down.

“No…..” Alex cried aloud against nature's call. “No… don’t…” but her instincts took over and suddenly the mother-to-be was pushing.

“Ma’am!” Colleen cried, startled by such a stark display of utter abandonment from her boss. Her waters hadn’t yet broken. She couldn’t be pushing, could she?! Yet Alex was squat-standing and clutching the railing, the backs of her thighs trembling with an immense groaning effort. It sounded more forceful than just enduring the pains in her belly. It sounded as though Alex was actively doing something, putting in a hard, straining effort. Working with her body without a thought in her mind except birthing her baby. Between her spread thighs, Colleen could see the underside of her stomach, hanging low, uterus clenching her belly into a hard, tight ball. The way she bent her knees periodically, grunting uncontrollably each time… it was as though she was trying to force something low and heavy through her bottom. Everything about Alex seemed heavy, gravid.

She groaned again, and Colleen gasped, “Ma’am, are you pushing?! You can’t push, not yet!”

Tentatively, she placed her palm against Alex’s swaying lower back, curving with the weight of her belly. She began to rub and massage the tense muscles, not knowing what else she could do to help. The way Alex seemed consumed with birthing, Colleen didn’t think she even noticed her.

“Unnhhh- I’m not pushing! I’m not- ohhhhhhh- I’m not in labour damn it!!!” Alex’s staccato breaths carried her continued denial of what was happening to her body.

She gasped, breath holding in her lungs, and her body pushed again without instruction. Alex ignored the faint relief that was gained with the push, the satisfaction of the productive contraction, the moving of the baby as it neared its exit. But then the urgency faded, the contraction eventually dimmed, and Alex could think again. She had control again.

It was then she noticed the hands that were rubbing her lower back. Startled Alex abruptly stood upright and glared at the presumptuous woman beside her. “What on earth are you doing?” Alex sniped, waving an arm and shooing her away.

The nervous employee recoiled back and Alex shifted around the space again, both hands holding the large belly about to burst out the sweat-dampened blouse. “I am not in labour.” Alex repeated firmly, forcing the confidence as if willing it to be true. “I am not having this baby, and I don’t need your help.”

Colleen barely managed not to gape. Here Alex was, belly gleaming with sweat under her soaked blouse, contractions ramming her incessantly, curly hair damp and mussed in the heat of the lift. Her cheeks were splotchy and red with exertion and her chest was heaving, from the release of the contraction or from the force of her obvious pushing, Colleen couldn’t tell. All she did know was that her boss was actively bearing down, that much was clear. She would have thought anyone else was joking, but she didn’t think Alex had a sense of humor. She had to be in denial, Colleen concluded. To squat down and push like an animal like that, then brush off help like it was nothing—if nothing else, Alex certainly had willpower.

Of course, modesty and willpower goes out the window when you have a baby coming out of you, and from the noises and pushing grunts Alex had been making, it couldn’t be long now.

“I-I’m sorry,” Colleen stuttered. “Those…. practice cramps seemed so intense. You seemed like—well, like you were—“

Under Alex’s exhausted glare, Colleen faltered and trailed off.

“Uhh, I told you… I am not in labour- hoooo- I am fine!” Alex swallowed a moan before it slipped out her mouth. “When are they gonna bloody get us -mnnnnh!- outta here!” Standing by the lift doors Alex stared at the vertical line where the two sides of the sliding panels met, glaring at it willing them to open.

The weight of the baby’s head had started to press against her opening, Alex’s legs forced even wider apart with the sensitivity. Buried under layers of denial and facade, the unconscious sense of urgency had been joined by desperation and it was making its way to the surface.

Her fingers pulled at her blouse, freeing the thin satin from her skirt and letting it drape down from the significant curve of her belly. The pressure between her legs was beginning to return, Alex could feel it coming. Her arms lifted, hands palming the lift doors, and before she knew it she was banging on the metal to try and get the attention of someone outside this tin can.

The banging didn’t last long before Alex was stopped by the sheer force of the next contraction. Her fingers slowly slid down the lift door as her body crumpled in half over her tight, rock-solid belly. Double over she braced herself against the lift door, thighs widening and knees buckling in a semi-squat, and her body bore down with everything it had. Whether she wanted to or not every muscle was tense and squeezing, pushing the large round shape down down and out of her body. A rumbled grunt echoed from her lungs as she strained and pushed and contracted, and the heaviness between her legs started to burn.

Colleen was hyperventilating, barely able to register her own thoughts over the din of Alex’s furious pushing, grunts and groans erupting from her throat without pause or respite. The baby had to be coming soon, with how forcefully and urgently Alex was bearing down. Colleen’s mind swirled. As Alex pushed she took up the mantle of alerting any outsider to their situation, cupping her hands to her mouth and shouting over Alex’s uncontained moans.

“Help! Help us! We’re trapped in the lift and there’s a pregnant woman in here! She needs help, FAST!”

Alex’s voice rose to a deep bellow, trembling as though she was fighting an exhaustive battle against the baby inside her, bending her knees and opening her hips as wide as they could go in an attempt to drive it down and out. As her voice took on a higher, strained quality, Colleen began to suspect that something astonishing was taking place under her pencil skirt, that with all the pushing she’d been doing, the baby couldn’t possibly be very far from its only way out of her.

“Alex,” Colleen cried desperately. “What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!”

“You- mngh- don’t need to do anything cos mngh- I am not having this baby!” Alex grunted out, palms flat on the metal door, legs bent and wide beneath her skirt. “I am not in labour- hooo- I am not in labour…”

The exec panted the mantra over and over, fighting against her body’s urges to bear down. This baby was not being born in an elevator. She just had to breathe through the pains and she would be in the comfort and safety of a hospital soon, having a c-section damnit. That is what would be happening, not whatever the hell this woman was panicking about. Alex was in control, she always was in control, and the birth of her baby would be no different. She pushed herself off the doors and tried to move, to breathe through it, but the second she turned around her body doubled over and she gripped the railing to keep herself on two legs.

And then the burning got worse - the weight pressing lower, stretching apart her lips. The instinctual need to bear down was no longer a strong suggestion but a screaming demand. Alex was barely aware of her body’s actions anymore, she just wanted it all to stop. All she could do was gasp for air in between the bursts while her body forced the baby lower and lower - the head spreading her most intimate part around its giant surface. I will not have my baby here I will not have my baby here she chanted with every uncontrollable push.

Her thighs pulled the skirt as wide as it would go trying to make room, her whole body weight thrown forward as she leant over gripping the railing, arms locked and knees bent. But her hips weren’t wide enough, her body was too restricted by clothes, yet Alex was frozen to the spot as she grunted and roared with every wave. Soon the growling noise from deep in her throat turned into a pained whimper when the baby’s head pushed right through and fully crowned into her thong and stockings.

Colleen watched in horror as fluid suddenly spurted from between Alex’s thighs, soaking the floor of the elevator, filling the contained space with a musky, almost fertile scent. Alex shivered, lifting onto her toes as she gripped the railing. She looked as though her entire body was being pulled downward with the force of her descending baby. Her stockings were drenched—Colleen could scarcely believe the amount of fluid Alex’s body had let out, and it was still dripping and leaking from inside her skirt. She felt nauseous looking at the spreading puddle beneath Alex’s feet, and thought to herself, no doubt about it, there’s her waters. The release didn’t diminish Alex’s groaning efforts, though; if anything, the sudden breaking seemed to only renew her utter need to birth, nothing impeding or delaying its progress any more.

Except, of course—

Colleen gasped. “Ma’am—Alex—your skirt!”

Alex’s thighs trembled and quivered, spread so far that Colleen could see the hem of her skirt cutting into the flesh of her legs. She was trying to instinctively widen them, Colleen realized. She needed more space, even with them spread so far already, and Colleen could barely imagine the sheer size of the baby coming out of her boss. Then she didn’t have to imagine. As she watched, Alex’s skirt began to tent out slightly, tight against her backside as she doubled over, back flat. Whenever Alex grunted loudly, bending her legs and clutching the railing, the bulge in her skirt grew. That’s the head, Colleen thought, her own head spinning. My god, it’s enormous. It was a miracle they hadn’t been found yet from the noises Alex was making, letting loose guttural groans and roars that echoed in the enclosed space. Her entire face was twisted with effort, teeth clenched and eyes squeezed shut. All her strength was going into giving birth to her massive baby, but still, it didn’t seem to be enough, not with her skirt keeping her legs too narrow, her hips too closed. Alex’s skirt lifted and tented more and more, until it seemed to reach a peak. Alex’s voice slipped into a whimper and Colleen blinked, never having thought she’d hear Alex make such a vulnerable, sensitive sound. Then, Alex dropped into another hard push. The tent in the fabric stayed put.

“Your skirt,” Colleen said again, and hurriedly bent to pinch Alex’s skirt up. “Your skirt’s—“

From this angle she could finally see the crown, and drew in a breath. Her boss’s most intimate region was stretched and distended beyond recognition, lips taut around the huge head making its way out of her from behind her thong. The narrow strip of black fabric just contained the head’s huge circumference, cupping it tightly, barely allowing any more space for it to progress. Without room, Alex was stuck with a full crown between her legs, unable to push it out into her stockings.

With her boss barely able to speak anymore, Colleen made an executive decision. “I’m sorry, but we have to get this skirt off. Your baby’s coming, Alex. I can see the head! It’s coming out of you, and you need to let it, okay?! Come on, please listen to me.”

“No….unghhhh!” Alex mewled “I’m not having this baby… not here- ohhhhhhhh!”

The Exec had completely lost all semblance of control; doubled over, hanging onto the railing, legs wide and dipped as much as they could go. Alex couldn’t move. She hissed through her teeth, panting as her labia stretched thin, the baby sitting between her folds. But the baby couldn’t come now! It just can’t. She was at work for fucks sake! And worse, she was trapped in the lift. Real labour takes hours, days, there was no way she was pushing a baby out right now…

Her body argued against her thoughts as everything tightened and contracted once more. Gasping for air Alex tried to fight the muscles bearing down against the ridiculously large mass in her vagina, but panting through the pain didn’t do anything to stop the automatic pushing. Primal and animalistic noises left her mouth as her body pushed, her deep lowing reverberated off the walls.

Grunting at the end of each push, Alex tensed and strained, the instinct desperate to expel the child from her womb. But it wasn’t moving, slipping only the tiniest millimetre into her underwear. Heart racing Alex felt panicked - fighting hard against this birth and yet simultaneously trapped as the baby was stuck, held in by her tight stockings.

“Oh god!!!! Get it out- get it OUT!!!” She cried.

It was all too much; the burning, the fullness, the weight, the pressure. Alex collapsed under it all. She let go of the railing, legs shaking, and she clawed at the hem of her skirt trying to pull it higher, to give her hips more room. It was so tight, and her legs were so wide, her nails scraped across the surface of her stocking covered thighs as she gripped and pulled the black fabric of her skirt up towards her hips. But another wave crested and with it she was consumed by the need to bear down once more. Abandoning her skirt she held fast to the metal railing, her knees buckling trying to pull her down into a squat, but the pencil skirt creaked as the fabric stretched to its limits and she could only dip down slightly and push the baby against the strained clothing.

“I-it’s stuck!” Colleen stuttered. “The head is—” she raised her voice, tried to get through to Alex, but could barely even hear her own words over the almost-inhuman noises escaping from Alex’s throat as she fought desperately against the elastic of her thong, caught between the need to birth and the unyielding fabric of her stockings and the black fabric containing the massive head tightly in her vagina, shoving forward with powerful muscles as it wedged back inside her with just as much force.

She couldn’t open her legs any wider, Colleen saw. They shook violently as she threw back her head and let loose another deafening moan. From Alex’s furious face it was obvious that Colleen didn’t even register as a presence anymore, that the only thing in the world that Alex was thinking about in this moment was the head lodged between her tensed, opened lips.

Only when Alex started screaming that she needed it OUT, right now, was Colleen galvanised into action. She lowered from her crouch until she was kneeling between Alex’s legs. For a brief second, Colleen was in awe of the sight before her; the woman she’d known as a fearsome presence, a powerful executive, had been reduced to a groaning, sobbing mess, birthing into her skirt. Yet, this was her transformation into motherhood, and there was something powerful in that too.

“Alex,” Colleen said. “Alex, you have to stop pushing. I need to get your skirt down.”

She doubted Alex even heard her, but nonetheless she grappled with the clasp of Alex’s pencil skirt. The waistband was held taut by Alex’s widened legs as she tried to allow the baby to pass through, and Colleen was unable to undo the clasp.

“Shi-it,” she licked her teeth and then grabbed both ends of the waistband, pulling hard. The clasp tore off, and immediately the skirt loosened and sagged around Alex’s hips.

“Oohhhhhh… get-it-off-GET-IT-OFF!!” Alex yelled, feeling the tightness of the skirt loosen around her middle.

She had to push, she had to get this baby out now - location and present company be damned - the torturous stretching and excruciating pain had to stop. And Alex knew there was only way in which it would.

Her employee, whateverhernameis, was pulling the skirt over her widened hips and Alex squirmed and shifted with the fullness and desperation to bear down. When the skirt hit the floor Alex immediately stepped out of it and dropped down fully into a deep squat, roaring with the effort of another push. The woman was behind her, she thinks, but she barely notices… Alex’s arms stretch upwards, hands still gripping the railing, her body hanging off the support and almost swinging in her squat.

Her underwear and stockings were still covering her lower body but the freedom of being able to fully open her legs meant the baby could move further out. Alex pulled in a deep breath and bore down with everything she had. Silent in her efforts as all her focus went inward.

Part of her wanted to feel, to know how much of the baby was born and how much there was left to go, but she daren’t release her vice-like grip for fear of collapsing and losing her pushing position. She gasped, her throat scratched and raw, and clamped her teeth together and growled another push. The baby was coming, she could feel it slipping out and this time it wasn’t retreating. Harder and harder she leant into the push and finally the head popped out into her stockings. Alex sobbed with relief and collapsed back into her member of staff.

Colleen cried out in surprise as Alex fell back into her arms, leaning her entire body weight into them as though she had used up all of her strength, drained from pushing the huge head through her overstressed opening, and beneath her more fluid flooded the floor of the lift from the sudden release. Colleen gingerly caught her by the armpits, and Alex’s knees jackknifed apart, jutting upward as she lowered her bottom and hips beneath her, the head dangling between the apex of her thighs. She moaned, breathless, closing her eyes. Tear trails marked their way down her cheeks. Damp and shivering, with a baby hanging out of her, Alex was totally vulnerable to Colleen, hardly seeming to even notice her exposure or dependence on her.

Colleen couldn’t help but smile down at her superior as she swayed and panted in her arms. An hour ago, Colleen might have received a harsh glance for even brushing her fingers as she handed her a coffee. Now, she was holding her up while she prepared to push her baby into the world.

“Go on,” Colleen urged. “Feel the head. It’s out now. You’re almost there.”

“What? Hoooo… it-it’s out… the head?” Alex could barely catch her breath to form words, her full breasts heaving up and down on her belly as she gasped for air.

Somehow the mother-to-be was still upright in her squat but no longer holding the rail, somewhere in her mind she knew the other woman was quite literally holding her up to birth but Alex couldn’t bring herself to pay it any mind. Her only focus was her child emerging between her legs. With a trembling hand she placed a hand downwards and felt, through the sheer stockings, her baby’s head.

“Oh my god… hoooo… I’m having the baby…”

Through all the denial Alex’s brain struggled to compute what was happening. She had fought against it so fiercely, so vehemently, and yet very clearly beneath her fingertips was a baby’s head.

“My-my tights… I’m still wearing my tights?! Oh no… the baby…the tights are over his head… have to get them off!” Alex shifted awkwardly, unsteady in her movements but seemingly desperate to free her emerging child from the confines of her stockings.

“Hoooo…. Ohhhh no….” Alex suddenly whimpered. “Ohhhhhhh I n-need to p-push again…. No… need-tights-off…Don’t push… mnnghhhh…”

“Hold on,” Colleen muttered, working out the logistics of removing Alex’s stockings with her squatting and crowning a baby into them. She heard Alex’s hushed voice, articulating her primal urge to bear down once again.

“Just a moment,” Colleen said, crouching lower while supporting Alex’s labouring body, wrapping her thumbs around Alex’s waistline.

She was close enough to smell the subtle aroma of Alex’s deodorant and the natural odors of birth on her, and see the sweat beaded on her neck. She saw every one of Alex’s muscles tense, her tendons standing clear. Alex moaned, already in the forceful grips of another contraction. Her moan tightened and deepened, and Colleen had listened through enough of her contractions to know that she’d begun to push against her will.

“Alex! No pushing, just hold on a few more seconds,” Colleen said, frantically tugging the stockings down her waist and glutes. Unfortunately, Alex didn’t seem to have any more seconds in her.

“Ohhhh GOD,” she bellowed. “Oh, I’m PUSHINGGGG!” She bore down relentlessly, and Colleen saw the head give a surge against the tight fabric.

Colleen cursed again. Between the baby being squeezed into the stretching fabric and Alex’s parted thighs and widespread knees, there was no way Colleen could even slide the stockings past her crotch. Which meant she couldn’t access Alex’s underwear either. The tent grew and shoved down toward the floor impossibly as Alex sank into her push.

Hopefully, she won’t be too mad about this, Colleen thought, then she seized fistfuls of fabric and tore, ripping a seam large enough for the head. Then she looped her finger around the thong and quickly pulled it to the side.

‘Okay! Okay, I think it’s free!” Colleen announced.

“Ohhhh fuck!!!! It’s coming outtt!!!” Alex cried, gasping a desperate breath in between her body’s involuntary pushing and she felt the burning ring return.

A deep and gravelled roar rattled her throat as the shoulders stretched her sore and sensitive lips. Her baby… it was coming out… in the elevator at work! She couldn’t quite believe what was happening. Gripping her knees she fully leant into the contraction, using every bit of it as her hips sank towards the floor and her muscles pushed.

Suddenly she yelped and jolted in Colleen’s arms as one shoulder slipped free and Alex quickly and instinctively let go of her knees to put both hands between her spread thighs. The baby’s head and neck were in her uncertain hands and she grunted, low and long, desperately calling on every ounce of strength she had left to get the infant out.

With a roar-turned-wail Alex cried out as the baby slipped from her body and shot into her waiting hands.

Up. She had to bring him up, had to hold him. In a fraction of a heartbeat Alex had pulled the baby from between her legs and held the slippery newborn against her chest.

“Y-you’re h-here… oh baby… you’re here…” Alex sobbed, wiping the blood and fluids from his face. It was scrunched and red, eyes not yet open, his body curled up tight. Then his fists pushed against her breast, legs kicking and discovering new sensations, and the little bundle let out a high-pitch cry as he opened his eyes.

Colleen let Alex slip from her arms to the elevator floor, cupping her baby gently in her arms and murmuring softly. She rocked slightly, and even in the enclosed space it seemed to Colleen as though Alex was in her own world, far away from anyone or anything else. She backed away, allowing Alex her moment to meet the child she’d worked so hard to carry and birth. She didn’t think she’d be able to see Alex as she had before, the untouchable executive. Instead, she’d witnessed Alex’s most intimate, vulnerable moment, even helped her through it. She smiled to herself and Alex cooed, her face close to the baby at her breast.

The quiet peace of the lift was disrupted by a banging on the metal ceiling.

“Hey—! Is someone in here? And, is that a baby crying?!”

Colleen met eyes with Alex, and laughed weakly. “I don’t suppose this qualifies for a promotion, does it?”

[starmocha]

‘tis the damn season and deck them goddamned halls [Sylus/Reader ★ 1800 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Onychinus’ base gets a festive makeover. Day 01 — to: my true love (Sylus/Reader) Day 02 — do you want to build a snowman? (it doesn't have to be a snowman) (Zayne/Reader) Day 03 — in a gingerbread house built for two (Rafayel/Reader) Day 04 — you shine like the stars, you light up my heart (Xavier/Reader) A/N: I did not mean to skip this many days. I had an iron deficiency that left me physically weak and unable to focus for days. But I’m backkk now. Gonna try to churn out a few stories to catch up with the schedule. 😭😭😭 I had this idea planned since the beginning of this series, but the other day, the Sylus RP blog @sylus-qin and I ended doing a mistletoe plot too. Completely different from this, but I still wanted to give a shoutout <3 Tag list: @miudle @alfredosaws @nezukoo-channn @voidsylus @rose-tinted-kalopsia 【 request to be added 】

Throughout Linkon City, citizens were getting ready for the merry season. Garlands and festive lights were strung high in the city square, and holiday music blared from stores seemingly nonstop.

The moment you stepped into the N109 Zone, however, you noticed the drastic change. It wasn’t that the citizens of the N109 Zone didn’t celebrate Christmas, but the atmosphere felt much more subdued in comparison to the lively Linkon City. You saw a few decorations here and there. Shops (the reputable ones at least) were doing Christmas-themed sales, and you heard some Christmas songs every now and then.

In spite of all that, though, there was one place in the N109 Zone that did feel completely devoid of all signs of the approaching holiday.

Onychinus’ base.

“It’s so dark and dreary here.”

“It’s always dark and dreary here.”

“Don’t you want to make it festive?”

“Not particularly.”

“…”

“But if a certain kitten wants to ‘deck the halls,’ then by all means, go ahead.”

“You could’ve just said yes.”

“Do you want my card?”

“Yes.”

Armed with Sylus’ highly-valued black card and two of his trusted henchmen, Operation: Turn Onychinus’ base into a holly jolly wonderland was underway!

Since Luke and Kieran both refused to take off their masks, you reluctantly decided to do your shopping around the N109 Zone and made a few online orders for whatever other decorations you decided you needed.

Within a few days, shopping bags and packages full of garlands, lights, ornaments, and random knickknacks were strewn in the parlor just waiting for your creative touch. You beamed proudly, already humming happily Deck the Halls as you lay everything out neatly. A sudden shadow overcast you, the imposing presence looming behind you had you looking up curiously and meeting the amused smirk of Onychinus’ feared leader.

“Sweetie, I gave you my card.”

“…yeah?”

“…did you even buy anything?”

“What do you mean?! I bought a ton!”

“But you’ve only spent $1,000.”

“…don’t you have a gun you need to go bid on or something?”

After shooing Sylus away, you gotten to work decorating every single room, all of the halls, and not leaving a single crevice free from your festive vision. You worked nonstop for hours, commandeering whichever unfortunate Onychinus henchmen who passed by you, and roping them into your Yuletide operation.

“A little higher…higher…higher…too high—”

“Miss Hunter,” Kieran interrupted you from atop his ladder. You couldn’t see his face, but from his tone alone, you surmised he was rolling his eyes at you, about exasperated with the hours of you barking out orders to the twins.

“This was where we had the garland ten minutes ago,” Luke finished his brother’s thought, his tone much more explicit.

“Oh,” you said sheepishly, squinting, “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” both twins answered.

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “Maybe a little lower—”

They both ignored you and proceeded to hang the garland as is. You huffed in annoyance, but before you could get another word out, you noticed Mephisto perching nearby on a console table. You glared.

“Sylus!”

Mephisto squawked in shock and started flapping his wings, flying away as you chased after the mechanical crow.

“Mephie! I know you were spying on me for Sylus!” you yelled after the bird as you dashed down the hallway, “Get back here, you snoop!”

Luke and Kieran stared at one another, sighing.

Suddenly, Luke piped up, “Actually, maybe Miss Hunter is right and this could be low—"

He watched his brother climbed down his ladder and walked away. Luke grumbled, “So…am I supposed to finish decorating the hallway by myself now?”

“Caw! Caw! Caw-caw!”

“Don’t you ‘caw-caw’ at me, you traitor!” you screamed as you stumbled into Sylus’ study just as Mephisto landed on the young Onychinus leader’s shoulder. He looked up at you, his brow quirking up in question as you continued to argue with the mechanical crow. He sighed as his once quiet study was now filled with the argumentative squawking from both you and Mephisto.

“Sweetie, is everything okay?” he asked patronizingly, interrupting both you and the mechanical crow. He didn’t even attempt to hide his amusement when you turned to glare at him, clearly unpleased with his condescending tone.

“You were spying on me!”

“I was not,” he answered, mildly offended by the accusation. “I’ve been in my study all afternoon.”

“You had Mephisto spying on me!”

“Mephisto is free to roam as he pleased,” Sylus answered calmly, though you still had suspicions. Sylus sighed and motioned for the mechanical crow to leave. Mephisto appeared upset, but he did hop off Sylus’ shoulder and flew out of the room without complaint. You glared at the open door, only turning around when Sylus called your name.

“I’ve already seen your progress earlier,” Sylus said, “Is there a particular reason you suddenly don’t want me to know about your little project?”

Your shoulders slumped, feeling a little embarrassed now, as if you were a child being reprimanded for throwing a temper tantrum. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” you admitted, and Sylus smiled. “I wanted to see your reaction once everything was done.”

Sylus stood up from his desk and made his way over to you. You kept your sight lowered, too embarrassed to look him in the eye now after your silly little hissy fit.

“Look at me,” Sylus said firmly.

You hesitated.

“Sweetie, I said look at me,” Sylus repeated, his tone sharper, making you flinched before you slowly looked up, surprised to see his gentle smile.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “I’m already touched that you wanted to do this,” he said, “And I already know I love everything that you’ve done so far, so why are you fretting so much? It is just a holiday.”

“Can’t you at least be a little surprised or…” You furrowed your brows.

He shook his head, laughing to himself at your frustrated expression. “Are you upset now that I am not overtly excited?”

“Well, no,” you admitted quietly, “I can’t really see you jumping for joy or gushing or…”

Sylus watched in amusement as you continued to mumble to yourself. “Have you decorated the tree yet?”

“Hm?” You looked up, surprised when Sylus questioned you. Slowly, you shook your head, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“Then, why don’t we do this next part together?”

“…you actually want to decorate something?”

“No,” he answered, taking your hand in his, “But I do enjoy spending time with you. I don’t particularly care about the activity itself.”

You started to smile again. “Okay,” you said at last, “I was saving the tree for last, but…I want to decorate it with you as well.”

“Couldn’t we—ah!” You startled, frightened as you suddenly felt the ground disappeared and you were floating several feet high with only the tendrils of the red and black mist Sylus controlled supporting you. You gripped tightly the star topper in your hands. “Sylus—we could’ve used a ladder!”

He shrugged dismissively, and casually made a motion with his hand. You suddenly found yourself floating near the top of the Christmas tree, your feet dangling a little, unused to this weightless feeling of being suspended in the air for so long. After half an hour of decorating the tree with lights and an assortment of different ornaments, the only thing that was left was the topper for the tree. You carefully placed the star topper, smiling when it appeared to be aligned straight and perfectly.

Your joy was brief as without warning and within seconds, you suddenly found yourself descending rapidly, your cries stopping only once you found yourself cradled in Sylus’ strong arms, and his haughty face was peering down at you in amusement at your reddened cheeks.

You feebly glared at him. “You—!”

He chuckled. “The tree looks nice, sweetie,” he complimented you with sincerity, and your expression softened, though you were still mildly upset, feeling your heart still racing from the earlier adrenaline you had experienced at his mercy.

“Next time, you can put the topper on the tree,” you half-grumbled. Sylus agreed affably to your words.

In that moment, you noticed Mephisto had flown into the room, though Sylus himself seemed unsurprised by the mechanical bird’s presence. You blinked in confusion, noticing Mephisto was circling above you two, carrying a particular bundle of foliage in his beak.

“Why is Mephisto carrying parsley in his beak?”

“Parsle—what is wrong with your head?”

Sylus lowered his face down closer to yours. He smirked when he saw your smile, quickly catching on that you were messing with him just seconds earlier. He settled you back down to your feet, but he didn’t allow much space between you two. His face inched closer to yours and his thumb brushed over your lips, amused when he noticed you trembling from just the light touch. “Teasing me, are you?”

“I mean…just a little bit,” you said, feeling a growing dread upon seeing Sylus’ smile and sensing his imposing aura that almost wanted to engulf you. You nervously swallowed, wondering what was going on in his head.

“Should a kitten be so naughty this close to Christmas?” Sylus questioned you with a smirk, continuing, “What if good ol’ St. Nick puts you on his naughty list at the last minute?”

You pouted when he squeezed your face. You gripped his arm with both hands, grumbling, “What about you? Aren’t you expecting a lifetime supply of coals?”

“Indeed,” Sylus agreed to your annoyance. He loosened his grip on your face, his touch gentler now as he guided your lips closer to his. His voice was low, soft and only audible to you, “There is one festive tradition I wouldn’t mind practicing.”

“Which is…” There was a growing knot in your stomach, already suspecting that you knew what he had meant. With Mephisto’s sudden presence after Sylus’ earlier suggestion to decorate the Christmas tree together, you couldn’t help but wondered if all of this had been some elaborate ploy of his that you had gullably let yourself be manipulated into. You hesitantly voiced your thought aloud, the knot in your belly twisting tighter at his amused laugh and sudden confession.

“I confess,” he husked, taking your lips greedily for himself. You gasped against his kisses, surrendering yourself to him almost immediately. Lost to Sylus’ relentless kisses, you didn’t even notice when Mephisto landed on the mantle, the mistletoe still in his beak as he tilted his head to the side in confusion. Almost embarrassed, the mechanical crow looked away, his head tucked into his wing, as you and Sylus continued to kiss next to the newly decorated and brightly lit Christmas tree, its warm glow seeming to welcome the approaching holiday with wonderous joy.

[ask-tfone-megatron]

Decepticons, assembled! Today, I, Megatron, shall address a critical aspect of our conquest: open communication.

I don't wish to begin my regime with shrouded mystery, fostering skepticism. No more! I invite all to query me directly.

Fear not, for your curiosity will be rewarded, not punished. If I find your inquiry to be worthy of an answer I might also entertain you over my past as d-16.

Step forward, Decepticons, and inquire. Together, we'll forge an unstoppable force.

Important tags(alternative universe):

#u 1255 (tfo megop secret child):

Odyssey, megatron and optimus's child.. which optimus chooses to hide away from Megatron only to be discovered by him on a fateful day as the child went missing and found his sire (Megatron)

Theme- angst, fluffy

Pairing with @ask-tfone-optimus

#u 0124 (tfo Haunted au):

Megatron did it. He didn't save his lover as he said and now Orion is dead. Then why does he keep hearing voice? Why keep seeing him smiling in front of him? Is his lover's spirit keeps visiting him? Perhaps that is his punishment for his sin but then why he finds solace in this haunting illusion of his lover.

Theme- angst

Here Megatron is a grieving d-16

Pairing with @orionpax-arc

#u 0112- Rebirth Au:

What if Megatron returns back to his time to relive his life as d-16 but with his memory instant for him to remember his life as Megatron.

No pairing, open for all Orion pax rp accounts @orionpax-arc ,

RP rules:

Yes rp is allowed in DM!! But in chat form and mostly in drama style! (I can't write paragraphs in chats)

The second you start to feel uneasy and uncomfortable during rp please let mun know as my muse tends to be aggressive but rp is about fun and enjoyment not discomfort

Self and oc are allowed.

Whatever is in the DM .. will remain in the DM!!

If you wish for literature rp (not my best suit but you have to tag me in that post and if the scene is suitable for "TFO" Megatron to answer, he will)

Except a mixture of tfo and IDW Megatron while rp

(I will add more rules as I see suitable in future and if you wish to chat with the admin you are more than welcome to do so as I won't mind it much... please I sometimes feel very lonely 😭😭😭😭)

How Megatron speaks:

Normal

RAISED VOICE

Yelling

*action*/ action

How admin speaks:

Hello/((hello))

A little bit about Admin (me):

This is a sfw Blog so minors feel free to interact and ask.

Muse will not answer any questions regarding politics, hate, abuse and anything negative. Those questions will be deleted without hesitation.

Mun is a big megop fan! So if you are an optimus rp Blog I will definitely be there in your inbox!. Mun loves almost Soundop, Shockop, Megsound, Optiratchet, Driftratch, wheelratch

About muse:

Megatron is freshly after the tfo movie so the questions over d-16 are acceptable and welcome!!(Poor megs is sad and hurt)

He is independent as well connected to the canon (as much as possible)

This Megatron prefers to interact with intake before aiming his canon but do not mistake that as his weakness. He is still learning the curves of becoming a ruthless leader.

But he is soft for any sparkling in question

Muse and Mun's opinion will not always be aligned (mind it)

He is comfortable with the idea of multiverse as well.

Expect him to sometimes mess around and act more like d-16 (softie) and shit posting with other characters!(Whom he considers friends)

Here are some songs of my muse I love by @acaciasmith8 ((very creative I must add ))

That gif is created by @naeella please follow them!

[escapedaudios]

Fun fact! My second ever series was slated to be a fantasy series, but I absolutely shit canned the whole thing. I'll never, ever produce it so I'm gonna yap about it here. It was an adaptation of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign I wrote and DMed back in 2020 called Cobañera.

The story began with the listener attacking the main speaker (Thorne) with powerful magic. As he struggles against her spells, he tells her to try and remember their journey, that she doesn't really want to kill him. The story flashes back to one year prior, where they first met.

In a world where magic once thrived but is now heavily repressed after a prophecy fortelling the progress of magic would cause a world-ending war, two young and hungry directionless youths meet. They take on an odd job to transport a sealed crate containing a decommissioned and illegal magical artifact to be fully disposed of. On their journey, however, they are attacked by a member of a radical rebellion group (Plague Covenant) determined to restore magic to the world to it's former glory by forcefully infecting people with a plague that imbues them with dangerous and unstable wild magic.

They try to flee, but can't outrun their attackers. The listener tries to save Thorne from the Plague Covenant, and to her surprise, manages to do so using magic. The Plague Covenant yields when they see she is gifted with magic and leave them alone, with both the Listener and Thorne absolutely in shock that she could cast spells.

They become fearful that if someone learned of her magic, they would believe she was infected with the plague. They seek the help of the few who still understand magic, and find themselves entangled between three warring factions, all with different interpretations of the prophecy.

Anyway I got writer's block before I could write the middle of the story. The big plot twist towards the turning point of the plot was that the prophecy never showed their world's future, but rather the past of a long-dead world from a parallel timeline where the magic equivalent of nuclear armageddon took place. The bigger plot twist was that a few hundred powerful individuals from the old timeline escaped to their world before being annihilated. The records of their past were shown to the people of the main story's timeline as a "prophecy" to ensure that the only weapon powerful enough to stop them (the magical doomsday device from the other timeline) would never be built.

The bigger BIGGER plot twist was that the listener originated in the other timeline, AND her parents were the leaders of the super secret super evil final boss faction, ANDDDDD they had been engineering her entire life behind the scenes to make her into a powerful magical prodigy ANNNNNDDDD they brainwash her into becoming their leader and like AAAAAAUUUUGGGHH SRTFFHJG.

Anyway, my cat destroyed my laptop and I had to take a hiatus and work on a smaller, shittier backup laptop that could barely edit sound. I got writer's block and started writing another series instead called San Sequestro 1987, which later became The Neon Barbarian.

Anyway, I never came back to Cobañera. Why? I was struggling to convert a (thirty game long, four-player character) Dungeons and Dragons campaign into an eight episode game. Also, things that work for a tabletop RPG story just don't always work well as an audio roleplay story. There were like a million bazillion plot twists and the abundance of factions that made the story more interesting in the tabletop game made the story worse in the audio RP by just absolutely bogging everything down and making everything messy and convoluted.

I ended up just hating the whole thing. I hated the chosen one plot point, I hated that the plot hinged on the introduction of a bullshit multiverse plot device, I hated the fact that the final villains were randomly the listener's parents. I hated the countless tropes I peppered into the script that are forgivable in an interactive medium like a Dungeons and Dragons game but absolutely dull clichés in a scripted story.

Also my character had a funky fantasy British accent but I hated every rehearsal take I did with that accent. The listener's nickname was, I kid you not, "Cheeky". Around the time my fat idiot cat sent my computer to the shadow realm, I discovered a much more popular VA who's audience seemed to heavily overlap with mine named Scythe Audio. His flagship series featured a similarly impertinant speaker with an English accent and a Listener nicknamed Cheeky and I just stared at the YouTube video thinking "you're fucking kidding me lmao hahaha what the FUCK".

I think that was the last straw for me and I just abandoned the project entirely. A million zillion rewrites and then I found this uncanny similarity to this other VA and I just decided the rewrites weren't worth it for this fuckass story. I ended up becoming friends with Scythe after discovering him through that though lmao so silver lining.

[elexuscal]

Murderbot Diaries Book Summaries

The release of the 7th book in the Murderbot Diaries series, System Collapse, approaches in November!

I've seen at least one person looking for a summary of past events... So I've made just that! If it's been a while since you read previous books (or you just like hopping into series half-way through), this will get you up to speed!

That said, this absolutely has spoilers, so if that's not your jam, turn away now.

====

Short Story – Compulsory: A recently-rogue Murderbot decides on a whim to rescue a miner who falls into a ventilation shaft. We see its developing love of Sanctuary Moon and what is implied to be the first time it violated its orders to protect someone.

All Systems Red (ASR):

Murderbot is the contractually-obligated security guard on a survey of "surprisingly nice" scientists. Dr. Mensah particularly impresses Murderbot for her level head and kind nature. It turns out their survey is being sabotaged by the cut-throat corporation GreyCris, who don't want them uncovering alien remnants. Murderbot and the scientists go back-and-forth protecting one another. The survey team discover that it's rogue. After some initial tension, they accept it as a team-member. They escape GreyCris, although Murderbot nearly dies in the process. When it wakes up again, the scientists have bought/freed it. In the name of self-actualization, Murderbot runs away.

Artificial Condition (AC): Murderbot sets off to investigate Ganaka Pit, the facility where it supposedly killed a large number of its own clients. On the way, it discovers the spaceship it's travelling on actually dangerously hyper-intelligent. After some initial threats/tension, the two bond over TV. The Asshole Research Transport (ART) helps disguise Murderbot as a human. With ART's help, Murderbot uncovers that the mass death was a tragic accident caused by ComfortUnit malware. Posing as a human, the pair help rescue a trio of researchers and their data from their shitty ex-boss, and set a ComfortUnit free.

Rogue Protocol (RP):

On an impromptu quest to get blackmail on GreyCris for Dr. Mensah's ongoing legal battle, Murderbot investigates an abandoned terraforming facility. It meets a cheerful robot named Miki who immediately declares themselves friends. Miki is helping a human assessment team who become imperiled when they're attacked both by CombatBots and their own double-dealing human security. Murderbot reflectively rescues them, posing as a Definitely Normal SecUnit, although the team's leader clearly sees through that claim. Murderbot manages to collect the intel on GrayCris and protect the humans, but not before Miki performs a heroic sacrifice.

Exit Strategy (ES):

After discovering Dr. Mensah has been kidnapped by GreyCris, Murderbot rushes to save her. This forces it to re-unite with the other survey members; Pin-Lee, Ratthi, and Gurathin. While unsure of each other, the team manage to rescue their friend. Murderbot attempts a self-destructive last-stand against a CombatSecUnit, only for the humans to save its ass. The team escapes on a company gunship, but not before Murderbot melts its brain fighting off killware. When it rebuilds its systems, it decides to stay with its humans in the Preservation Alliance for a while.

Short Story - Home, Range, Niche, Territory:

Shortly after Exit Strategy, Dr. Mensah reflects on her time in captivity and her new friendship with SecUnit. Apparently she's been avoiding getting treatment for her extensive emotional trauma. She has a panic attack when she's cornered by a journalist, who's scared off by Murderbot.

Fugitive Telemetry (FT): A human is found dead. Murderbot is called in as a consultant on the case, in the hopes of building good will with Preservation Security. Eventually it manages to prove itself, particularly after it succeeds in a daring rescue of kidnapped corporate refugees. One of the refugees realises it's a SecUnit and shoots it. The dead human turns out to have been a liberator of indentured labourers, and the killer was actually the Port Authority robot Balin, who was secretly a disguised CombatBot acting on outside orders. The local bot community intervenes to stop Balin from hurting anyone else.

Network Effect (NE):

Murderbot is providing security for a Preservation Alliance survey which goes south when raiders attack and try to take Dr. Mensah's brother-in-law, Thiago, hostage. It then goes doubly south when, on the way home, the team's ship gets attacked by... ART?

It appears that ART has been deleted and its crew has gone missing, replaced with mysterious grey people. While protecting a team of its humans, including Dr. Mensah's teenage daughter Amena, Murderbot manages to reboot ART. ART kills the grey humans but refuses to let everyone go until and unless they help it retrieve its crew. Everyone reluctantly agrees, but Murderbot is pissed.

Eventually Murderbot and ART make up. Then they create a sort-of-baby in the form of a killware copy of Murderbot who dubs itself Murderbot 2.0. Half of ART's missing crew is found on a local planet's surface, though Murderbot is captured while helping them escape. Murderbot 2.0 manages to rescue the other half from a spaceship with the help of the newly freed SecUnit 3. The local colonists are discovered to have gone a liiiiitttle bit kooky due to infection via an alien fungus. ART threatens to bomb their colony to get Murderbot back. Murderbot gets infected, but Murderbot 2.0 does a self-sacrificial attack to save it and destroy the fungi's primary host. Meanwhile, the humans, ART, and SecUnit 3 work together to rescue Murderbot without any more bloodshed.

Murderbot has a bit of an epiphany that all its various friends do in fact love and care for it. When an understandably pissed and confused Dr. Mensah shows up like a month later, the groups decide on forming a mutual partnership. Murderbot tells Dr. Mensah that it would like to work with ART for a little while.

[vacuian-demon]

Faunus in Liyue

Closed rp with @lustimpacted

SWISH, TING, WAP!

Two giant avians clash flapping their mighty wings as they both headbutted each other.

"I-it's not working Lance! It won't open a portal!" A young girl with one boomerang, knife thing in her hand, and the other an ornate rod that she kept thrusting forward.

"Stay behind me Lorelai!" Lance clashes with the other summoner, a man with a leader jacket and shades, human man himself. As the summons and the men pushed themselves back.

"Hmph...it won't work here without this." The other man had the relic of choice, because this world was such a large jump it needed both items to 'see' home.

"Plunderer, humans always challenge what they shouldn't, we are all stuck here- if you do not allow us all to return home, something here may destroy us all!" The vaciuan demon would slash at the air in anger

"Only the weak fear that! Evra!" He summoned the giant vulture like creature to charge the three.

"Falcor!" They clashed once more and Lorelai fiddled with the relic, before it sparked in her hand and a blue light engulfed the group and send them further into this world.

...After a moment a portal opened up with Lance landing on his feet and catching his sister. They were in a town with people looking at them, kinda rustic compared to their world- and people gazed at them curiously, noting their tails. But looking among the people they noticed.

"We have lost him..." Lance looked towards his sister.

"But we're alive, that's good! And we have our relic still...we just need to find where he was transported too...another town maybe?" The siblings continued to talk as they'd explore, only for Lance to bump into...a girl with horns? Another faunus?

"Oh I apologize." Lance stated to the girl.

[aggravatetheaxe]

dethklok plays WoW

Nathan - main tank. Horde of course. Probably orc. His only toon. Absolutely a blood death knight both for aesthetic and because you know he's pulling top dps in addition to holding agg on everything in the room. Guild leader, does not take his title seriously but will still kick your ass if you bail on raid night. likes pvp but prefers pve

Pickles - plays mostly trolls, has 2 or 3 toons, probably also has an ugly forsaken and an ugly goblin (although goblin is a later race so depends on the year). Cat druid, often forced to spec into healing because mythic dungeons are only 5 man. But prefers to be cat or combat rogue. Incredible dps when he's allowed to do dps. not nurturing at all as a healer, WILL let you die if you piss him off (unless you're Nathan, but Nathan never dies). loves both pvp and pve but gets super steamed during pvp

Skwisgaar - paladin paladin paladin. Belf, of course. has secret female alts as well as secret ally alts. constantly adding his girlfriends to the guild and taking shit from the bank without asking. But he doesn't get in trouble because his dps is second to none - topping the charts even over Nathan. Ret pally, could technically heal with holy but his dps is just so insane that they can't afford to have him healing. pvp is beneath him

Toki - altaholic. Lots of female toons, lots of ally toons, gets bullied for both. Really wants to main a hunter so he can have a bunch of cute animal companions (and because it would be easier dps) but the others say that's gay so his main is a frost DK. the others make him spec into unholy because his crowd control brings clusters together so that Skwis and Nathan can wipe them out. So, so fucking angry that he never gets to do any actual dps because his plagues never get the chance to stack - and despite knowing it's a DOT issue the others clown on him for being the absolute bottom of the dps chart. pvp is too hard for him, no one protects him and everyone picks on him

Murderface - orc arms warrior and tauren fury warrior, dps but mostly off tank. makes cringe jokes (abt both native americans and milking) if tauren. One secret ally toon (human no less), also a warrior, that he uses to /walk around stormwind and RP badly. constantly brags about his dps but he's actually garbage, only above toki. makes a big deal out of his rank in the guild but he actually has no bank privileges. loves self harm through pvp

Charles - undead disc priest. a few alts, equal numbers male and female but almost all undead. probably a GM. heals when pickles is on dps and there's room or in a raid setting. guild treasurer, full bank permissions, has to constantly police the boys and spends thankless hours filling the bank back up with pots, food, etc. Also in charge of recruiting, so he should just be guild lead at this point but he dutifully never complains :) plays an affliction warlock and a couple rogues (combat and assassination) on a different server, when the boys give him one free fucking moment to do his own thing

Magnus - used to be a super powerful destro warlock that matched skwisgaar in dps. was super involved in the guild, help build it into what it was, contributed lots of materials, consumables, and money to the bank. Recruited some of their best players. after a horrific falling out (he was the asshole in the situation; controlling, etc) he was kicked from the guild and replaced. has since (due to wotlk) abandoned his warlock for a death knight. now he has a forever grudge and badmouths dethklok any chance he gets, but the majority of the server knows he's the drama so he has trouble finding others to play with. because of this he's been forced to switch over to alliance side. hence he falls in with...

MMA & the revengencers: MMA is yet another DK, probably blood, guild lead of the revengencers - rival guild to dethklok, constantly butting heads with them in pvp, ganking their low level members/alts, just generally being a nuisance. MMA wants revenge for Nathan (with the help of GM charles) getting his OG account banned

Edgar - human arcane mage main ("actually, the rotation is quite simple"). has lots of female alts. treasurer of the revengencers, takes everything way way way too seriously. Definitely works for blizzard or is a GM. very tense, sometimes outright hostile, relationship with Charles despite being essentially coworkers. "umm you sir have won the internet" "updoot" guy in chat. full collection of mounts, even the rare and/or limited edition ones

[sukayang]

Jujutsu Kaisen Omegaverse RP.

Hi everyone!

Looking for an rp partner to rp a very specific plot in the nearest future! Jjk arranged marriage omegaverse with mating, heats, ruts and knotting and potential mpreg! Would be great if you played any male omega for my Satoru Alpha.

Please read the prompt below and only reach out if you are ready to match the same quality of writing (not in length, just in quality! Most of my replies are usually 2-3 paragraphs).

Please find me on discord if you’re interested: palafinhunter

We can discuss any and all details on discord. I’m open to ideas.

Bonus points for:

Dub-con for their first intercourse and age gap between alpha/omega.

Starter prompt:

Miai (見合い, "matchmaking", literally "look meet"), or omiai (お見合い) is a Japanese traditional custom which relates closely to Western matchmaking, in which a woman and a man are introduced to each other to consider the possibility of marriage. It became the practice for those seeking a union between families, and parents on both sides made all the decisions regarding marriage.

As Gojo carriages neared the city gates, they knew rejection was not an option. They would leave with an omega as the heads of two clans had agreed far before any of them were born. Rejection in this case would mean a lifelong hostility between clans and eternal shame to their name. Not that Satoru was thinking of rejecting any omegas.

The only Alpha heir of Gojo clan, first alpha to inherit limitless technique and six eyes in four centuries… his fate was sealed since the moment he was born. He was adored, respected and feared despite young age. His family, teachers and servants put him on a pedestal that came with the heavy weight of responsibility he had to carry with dignity worthy of his family name. Especially after losing his parents.

He had no choice. Ever. That was why, after several years of mourning and rediscovering himself as clan leader, he made sure everyone under his rule had a choice. Despite their primary or secondary gender, their status and inheritance, everyone living on Gojo clan territory could choose their future themselves. Children got educated in a wide range of disciplines since young age. They could pick who they wanted to become after school. Satoru was the first leader to allow betas and omegas in all professions, including the local military. He was the most modern and liberal leader within his land, yet still the most feared one beyond it.

Despite this, there were traditions even Satoru Gojo himself could not avoid. Nor did he want to. For centuries the most powerful clans of Japan would be strengthening their bonds through marriage. Every omega child that was born in one clan was almost immediately assigned to an alpha child from another equally powerful family. Wedding preparations would start right after the omega came of age and definitely before their first heat.

That was how, after several months of preparations, Gojo carriages full of ample gifts and blessings for the hosts lined in front of the city gates, awaiting entry.

[newbeginningsrekindled]

Hey you!! Yeah you! Are you interested in deep lore? Fantasy settings? Steampunk, magic, political intrigue, and the like? Do you like… Minecraft? Well have I got good news for you!

Introducing: New Beginnings!

New Beginnings is a LGBTQ+ Friendly, RP-Based Minecraft Server, with an ever-evolving world that you can help to shape! Our community has been kicking around for nearly 2 years at this point, and is still going strong! We have members from the U.S., as well as a range of European countries. We have an active playerbase, and would love if you would join them!

The project we’re currently working on is called New Beginnings: Rekindled, a sequel to the first project we’ve done. As it is a sequel, it has a little bit of prior context, but don’t worry! There’s been a large timeskip, and a whole new location to work with! It’ll be just like starting fresh. In case it does become relevant, though, I’ll give a little summary.

———————

In the original New Beginnings, the story began with a Theocratic Monarchy called "Justyce.” their society put a major emphasis on arcane ability, and long-standing noble families were highly respected. As time moved on, the nation developed, andthe rise of technology became more prevalent. This caused a political divide between the noble and royal factions, the nobles hailing this technology for its myriad uses, and the other aristocracy reviling them for scorning their arcane gifts. Eventually a separate nation formed based on the more Materialistic beliefs: "Ebonspire". A nation fueled entirely by technology. These nations went to war with one another, sparking an arms race. This increased the need for resources drastically.

This is where our first project took place, with two colony ships, one from each nation, coincidentally arriving on the same landmass. The story focused mostly on the conflict between the two camps, and how characters chose to either stick to their beliefs, or branch out and choose humanity over duty. Some agreement was eventually reached, but the leader of the Justycian colony, "Alexander Cirillo", and the de-facto leader of the Ebonspire camp, "Alcar Nymmons", continued a new war by proxy.

———————

The story for this sequel follows the after-effects of the war they accidentally started, and what has happened, multiple decades down the line after its ending. More information regarding this will be in the lore docs on the discord server.

Speaking of the discord server! If you’ve read this far, you’re probably at least a little interested. So go ahead and join! There’s some questions you’ve gotta answer, some rules you’ve gotta read, and a character to write! So get in there!

[tiedsh0es]

im in love with this cowboy au actually. can i know more about oj please. he seems so wacky here and i never see a wacky oj ever /nf

OHH!!!! GET READY BC I AM ALWAYS HAPPY TO TALK ABT IT!!! OJ's the leader of this small little bandit group with Light-Bulb and Yin-Yang. Think cartoon lackeys they're super loyal to each other, but all a bit bad at their jobs. For a long time OJ got by without any scratches or cracks in his glass. He thought it was rather impressive- because he's made of glass. No one would ever expect a glass object to be a bandit and survive as long as him! But then one day while he's turned around Paper, the then Sheriff of a town he's attacking, shoots him in the back. Now he has this super ugly crack in the top of his glass. He's devastated. So so sad. But he's like you know what! We did good today! Tries to look on the good side of it all. He gives his two companions a lil speech, praising them for how good they did, holds up a carton of orange juice for a toast- dumps it into himself- And its spoiled.

After getting spoiled he complains for like an entire day. He's SO ANNOYING. but he's sick. So YY and LB put up with it. When they finally get to a new town, he's not really thinking right and gives YY all of their life savings. He tells Yin-Yang to get new orange juice but Yin-Yang is SOOO sick of him that he just has to kick OJ over before leaving to get it. Lightbulb feels bad tho, so she fills him up with some soda they have and Fizzjay is born!!! (Yk how different liquids affect OJ's mood? Fizzjay is like he's on a sugar rush.) Fizzjay and LB steal a carriage, rob a bank, lose the police by exploding a water tower, then he crashes into the store Paper and Silver are at causing another fire and burning all the money..... (forgot to mention but somehow everywhere he goes a fire starts. its rarely even intentional 😭) He challenges Paper to a duel- but then moments before it begins the soda wears off. He realises how stupid it is but its too late! Paper shoots him.

There's also the fact that he and Paper are childhood friends. It isn't until the duel that OJ realises. For a while Paper thought he was dead. OJ disapeared as a child after a fire burned down their home, and he's been a bandit ever since. Now Paper get's that second shot on him, the one in the very middle of his glass (DONT ASK HOW HE DIDNT DIE OBJECT PHYSICS) he's stalled recognizing him and Yin-Yang has to save OJ in the very last minute from a fight from Evil Paper. Currently (since its an RP) We've just gotten back to them. He's being pathetic again. Super sad bc he's got an ugly crack and his Childhood friend is sooo disapointed in him. But LB and Yin-Yang are gunna cheer him up.

[yaderyngoch]

Birds of a Feather

(closed RP with @muuuumin)

Things were not going according to plan. 

Tim really didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to plan.

Sadly, that was the nature of Gotham City, which was exactly why Tim had backup plan after backup plan, accounting for every conceivable variable. He’d written an algorithm just for this case. There was a stack of paperwork heavier than Tim was. 

And yet, somehow, none of that accounted for faulty construction of the barrier along the route Tim expected to chase the criminal along, and just like that all 27 of Tim’s backup plans went out the window, and he and this thug were tearing through the streets of Gotham City. 

Fortunately, Tim had always been quick. Maybe not quite as strong as some of the other bats, but he was balanced in agility, which was useful when it came to jumping over the wooden palettes that had been knocked in his way. 

He’d been chasing this guy for months, the leader of a trafficking ring that made Tim’s stomach turn with each new detail he learned. Finally, Tim had him… nearly. Weeks of careful planning were reduced to instinct, fueled by the base knowledge that whatever happened, he had to catch this guy. Because of that, he wasn’t particularly paying attention to where the man was running, only that Tim needed to catch up to him.

Tim was getting close. His chest burned with it, but he was closing the distance. The leader was about three times Tim’s size, but that made him slow, which Tim used to his advantage. 

One last turn lead them down a long alley with far fewer obstacles to jump over, and Tim took that as his chance. Putting one last burst of energy into moving forward, he could reach out and touch the man before him. So, he did. He leapt forward and used all his momentum to send the both of them tumbling to the ground, pinning the man’s arms behind him. 

“Get off- you little shit,” the criminal squirmed violently, pinned face down as he was. Tim was fully sitting on his back, using his entire body weight to keep him down and frankly unconvinced that was enough. Tim was strong, but he couldn’t hold someone like this forever. “I ain’t getting taken down by some pipsqueak-ass kid. I’ll fucking kill you.”

Tim used his position to secure handcuffs around the man’s wrists, trying to catch his breath. He might’ve secured them a little tighter than necessary, but knowing what this man did Tim frankly didn’t feel bad about it. 

Things hadn’t gone exactly according to plan, but Tim had gotten the criminal in the end. This would just serve as… something to keep in mind for the next time he had to make a plan. Always double check the strength of the barricades along the predicted potential chase route.

Breathless and full of adrenaline, Tim forgot another much more important rule: Always pay attention to where your target is leading you.

[thethreefaes]

~The King’s Return~

(A short story based on Epic and rp with @bigidiotenergytm ))

Odysseus lead the way up the path towards the palace. Kiara and Rose following, flanking him on both sides. All three were on edge. Eyes scanning the area. They stayed silent and kept to the shadows as much as possible.

Odysseus could hear the commotion from his home. The suitors yell and cheering. It twisted something in his gut. His blood already boiling. At least Lyra was gone from here. She would be safe and so would his son.

Silent steps brought them into the palace. Staying to the walls and out of the way. All eyes were on the woman at the front of the throne room. Setting a challenge for the suitors. Odysseus felt a swell of pride as he watched from behind a pillar. At least now he knew where to get his weapon. Speaking of…

“Rose. Find all the weapons, other than my bow, and place them in my armory.” He detailed where the room was. A large area with only one way in. And only one way out.

“Don’t lock it. We want them to discover it. They’ll call the others and we’ll have them all in one place.” Rose’s grin was feral as she snuck away. Watching as the fae disappeared into the shadows he turned is attention back to the suitors. All failing at stringing the bow. Their frustration growing.

“Kiara. Those shadows you control around you. Just how far can they reach?” He glanced at her. From the corner of his eye he could see she was following his plan.

“I can cover your palace in shadows darker than the night outside.” He nodded. Good. It was going to be easy turning the tides in his favor.

“At my signal, you shroud this place in darkness.” The suitors were chanting. Frustrations reaching a peak.

“Yes my king.” Kiara’s feathers bristled as she listened to these pigs. Singing something about killing the prince. Odysseus clenched his fists and stalked around the edge of the room. From pillar to pillar, cloaked covering his face.

He picked up his bow. Blood reaching a boil as they dare plan to touch his wife. With skilled ease he strung his faithful bow. Rose appearing, crouched besides him with a quiver of arrows. His keen eyes didn’t miss that these arrows had her own feathers attached.

Nodding a thanks he took one and notched it. Drawing back the string as the men continued to chant and their leader stood on the table. It felt so good to release that arrow into the fucker’s throat.

“For 20 years, I've suffered every punishment and pain. From the wrath of gods and monsters to the screams of comrades slain. I come back and find my palace desecrated, sacked like Troy. Worst of all, I hear you dare to touch my wife and hurt my boy!” Odysseus stared down the men, eyes aglow in hate. Besides him two more sets of eyes lit up like demons in the shadows.

“I have had enough.” At his growl he tilted his head to Kiara. The fae releasing the shadows over the palace. Pitch black other than the torches the suitors grabbed as the fae and king separated to take out their prey.

The arrow in Antinous’s throat combusted and flames began to engulf the body. The suitors ran to find cover. Trying to find where the king had gone. Arrows flew through the darkness, making contact with body after body. The suitors’ torches lighting up Odysseus’s targets.

One man began pleading into the darkness. Asking for forgiveness. Rose brought more arrows back to her king. Hearing the man ask for open arms made her hiss as Odysseus let another arrow fly.

“No.” Just as he’d been denied. Kiara smirked at the response, so filled with resentment and sass. The king continued on his hunt. Rose’s flames consuming the fallen bodies. Red and orange light bathing the palace in a bloody glow. The fire fae headed for the armory as Kiara made sure any stragglers found their way to the trap.

Odysseus took his time. The fae’s darkness hid him well as he stalked his prey. He heard the shouting at the armory. Good. They’d call all the others to that hall and there would be no escape for them.

But when Odysseus got there, it wasn’t just the suitors. Rose was pinned to the ground under two men and Telemachus, his son, had been grabbed by another. The rage burned hot again and he drew his sword. Running it through the suitors back and out his chest.

Odysseus watched Telemachus get Rose as the man’s voice gurgled in his own blood.

“Mercy? Mercy?!” There would be no mercy. As long as these men lived his family was in danger. With sword and bow the King got to work. Red flames sparking at every attack. Blue flames caught his eye as Telemachus fought besides him. Familiar feathers on his son’s weapons creating the azure flames.

Kiara and Rose blocked the exit. Ripping into any that tried to pass. The fae flames engulfing, consuming the bodies of the suitors until they were nothing but ash. Yet the flames harmed neither king nor prince. It damaged nothing in the palace. The swirling red and blue flames coming together to create a royal purple blaze. A blaze to cleanse the palace of all pests.

When the battle was done, and the screams silenced, the flames faded away. The king’s home fell into silence as the sun began to rise. And in that calm and silence after the storm, father and son properly reunited.

Kiara and Rose left them to their reunion. Going to find their own sister. The night had been long fought. But the sun had risen on a new beginning.

[lunar-rcp]

Memories meeting the star

. . ☕️ . .

hi guys! it has come to me that the rp has gotten a little long and its a bit hard to lose track, so i had decided to compile them into one big depressing pile of emotions!

note ; this is a very dark rp for those who haven't been caught up in the rp. note that there are multiple heavy themes in this rp.

part 1

venom that strikes back again

Poli's teacher and Poli had come face to face again. Poli feels small in the situation as his teacher downs onto him. Memories flow in as well as new openings for even the leader had yet to discover.

part 2

a call of stinging words

Poli's teacher had somehow managed to get a hold of the HQ's tv. Jin, confused and angered by this tries to cut him off. At her loss, he remains there with a grin as he speaks with poison pouring into her mindset.

part 3

let's meet over a cup of tea

Jin and the teacher had decided to meet at park late at night for them to face each other. Human to human. Jin wants to prove herself that she's more than the inventor soley, but tea gets spilled and minutes of the situation turn into scars.

part 4

new faces

After the month of the incident, another call is ringed through the HQ in the cold october. A new face, Emily; Introduces herself and states information that is handy to have. She offers to call Mr.Zorn's wife, Cheryl. The inventor and the leader click the accept button with a skipped heart beat..

part 5

what is love?

Cheryl, devasted by the situation at hand wants to find more about Andras. The 3 meet at the house he lives in. Emily and Jin find themselves into each other, but Jin theories that Andras finds himself in Poli. An arguement ensues when she tried to speak of that theory.

sun, star, blackhole

Jin and Poli seperate their ways after an heavy argument in the cold. Poli with complete exhaustion goes on to meet his teacher, again. A conversation that was supposed to confront him and win over justice ended with a gun on Andras' belt.

Thank you all so much for following the roleplay. I especially thank @polina-tvorozhok and @annintheclouds for helping me navigate the story. Those two were a huge help and I appreicate it so much.

[mignivi-dreycov]

*None of this is true or cannon, its just an au of Marvel to RP with*

The Dreycov Brothers.

Mikhail Dreycov: Eldest, never missed a day of training. Current leader or commander of Red Room

Ignasias Dreycov: Second oldest, isn't very interested in training but enjoys murder. Commander of "On foot"

Nikolai Dreycov: Second youngest, is more interested in technology then fighting, leader of "Breach"

Viktor Dreycov: Youngest, no remorse, weather its assault or killing. The most brutal of all brothers. Commander of "Lead"

The sectors of each of the Dreycovs:

"On foot": An army of men that provide backup on any mission. Commanded by Ignasias Dreycov. They take on more missions then any other Army all around Red Room's new Avatar.

"Breach": A technical group of computer hackers and specialists that can breach into any form of room, place, container or anything in question. Commanded by Nikolai Dreycov.

"Lead": A killing Machine, A separate Container in the headquarters. Once you enter you leave in a million pieces which are sold to Black markets, Cannibals and who not. Commanded by the youngest of the pack, Viktor Dreycov.

The MIGNIVI sector:

MIGNIVI, The initials of all four brothers

Mi-Mikhail

G-Ignasias

Ni-Nikolai

Vi-Viktor

It's a sector with all four brothers joining for one mission. Their only mission? Eliminate all Black Widows. Before they eliminate the Dreycov Brothers. They plan on having a successful killing spree, with all Widows Eliminated.

Their Story:

Almost 60 years ago, Ago Dreycov had impregnated a woman , deciding on keeping the child, and he raised him until the woman had another child two years later. He decided on a contract after four children with the woman he would kill her because he needed trustworthy future commanders for his four sectors. After his fourth child turned three, he sent someone to kill her, but she had fled already with all four of her children. She spent a life alone in a small town in Russia. Twenty years later, after their mothers death, they got to know who their father was. They then heard about the Black Widow program and were worried that their father might have left all the black widows to kill them, so they decided to eliminate them.

Will use //x// or [[x]] when speaking ooc