#she gets a new master at some point perhaps

[starmocha]

Part 2 of my third theory about Sylus' upcoming myth, and I'm speculating about their separation. But first, look at Sylus' beautiful smile, because this is gonna get sad real fast 😔

So we can infer from the trailer that Sylus and MC were in love with one another at some point, but then the Sylus we meet in the main story is very cold. His words sound cryptic when you first hear them, but after spending an afternoon lol reviewing some key Sylus memories and comparing them with the trailer, it kind of makes sense.

I made a theory months earlier before Sylus' official release about how I think Sylus and MC's story could bear some resemblance to the Greek myth of Cupid and Psyche.

Quick paraphrase:

Cupid, the god of love and desire, was originally tasked by his mother, the goddess of love and beauty, Aphrodite, to make a beautiful mortal princess, Psyche, fall in love with the most hideous being, simply because she was offended by Psyche's beauty. Instead, Cupid falls in love with Psyche upon sight. Through his own scheme, he arranges for Psyche to marry him, but his identity remains a secret for the duration of their marriage. Psyche was only told she was to wed a monster even the gods themselves feared. However, Cupid is kind and loving to her. She is only forbidden from viewing his face. One day, after noticing his wife is despondent, Cupid learns that Psyche misses her family. He allows her sisters to visit. The sisters are jealous of their youngest sister's seemingly perfect and luxurious life. Upon learning that Psyche is not allowed to view her husband's face, they plant a seed in her head that her husband could be hideous or a true monster. They persuaded her to kill him in his sleep with a dagger before he could kill her. Hesitant, Psyche starts to carry out the plan that night. However, when she holds a lamp to her husband's sleeping body in their bed, she sees the most beautiful man in her life. The lamp drips hot oil onto Cupid and he awakens, enraged by Psyche's violation of his trust and he leaves.

At the end of Long-Awaited Revelry, Sylus does ask if MC will give him a sincere apology if he admits that her cryptic visions did in fact happened.

If you recall, ever since Sylus triggered her "memories" in their first encounter in the main story, she starts hearing voices:

"Devour him." "He's yours for the taking." "Kill him."

Is it possible, similar to the myth of Cupid and Psyche, MC was coerced by "loved ones" to kill Sylus?

Sylus obviously knows the truth. He dances around this topic often, giving only terse responses. He admits that they do have a shared past together, but doesn't elaborate much on it. Whatever has happened, we the readers and MC herself, recognize that Sylus is deeply wounded by the events.

In one of MC's last visions in the main story, she sees a blurry scene full of destruction and confusion. She hears Sylus' voice.

There's no animosity in his voice. He encourages her on. There is a dream MC has in the Tender Moments, Continuous Symphony, where past her is sharing a tensed moment with Sylus:

Even though he says he won't die, the way he speaks seem to infer otherwise. However, it is possible he could still live and the current Sylus we know is still the very same one as in the myth.

In the trailer, there is an interesting scene with the claymore:

It appears to be pierced into the ground in a field of red poppies. Poppies have throughout history been used as a symbol of sleep, peace, and death. It has also been used in remembrance of fallen soldiers. A sword placed into the ground can also serve as a gravestone for its master.

Originally, I had speculated in another post that this could be Sylus' grave, but perhaps it makes more sense to view it as MC's since in her new combat outfit, she is the one wielding the claymore.

Perhaps, in the end, MC is executed. Maybe Sylus placed the claymore there in remembrance, since presumably, he wouldn't have her body to give her a more proper grave. Placing it in a field of poppies could be symbolic of wishing her a peaceful slumber in death.

I don't have any caps, but I have mentioned before how Sylus shows disdain for humans. You can trigger a comment from him in the café where he seems very disgusted by human behavior. Likewise, he also seems to prefer animals more since they do not have any evil in their hearts. Could it possibly have stemmed from this time? Perhaps in the end, he is angered that MC is slain by her own people.

OK, I'll end it here. Gonna check back Monday to see how off I am lol

[antianakin]

Okay, okay, a Wrong Jedi arc AU where instead of Ahsoka getting framed, it's Anakin. Maybe Barriss sees Anakin as the epitome of everything that's gone wrong with the Jedi instead of the Council, so her entire plan isn't about attacking the Jedi, not truly, but about framing Anakin and getting him OUT of the Order to try to purify it again.

Maybe Barriss asks Letta for help somehow, and it's Letta's plan to use the nanodroids to cause some damage to the Temple and then blame it on Anakin. Barriss thinks the nanodroids are going to be in a piece of equipment Letta's husband drops off, she has no idea that Letta is turning her husband INTO the bomb.

It goes sideways and the nanodroids go off early when there's still people in the hangar, and Barriss hadn't wanted to hurt and kill so many innocents, so many of the Jedi she's trying to SAVE. But she can salvage this still maybe, she can still pin it on Anakin.

And she does. Letta gets captured, as planned, and calls Anakin in to speak with her instead of Ahsoka. The plan was for Barriss to pretend to choke Letta while Anakin's in the cell just enough for it to be caught on camera and look like Anakin tried to kill Letta, but neither of them counted on just how violent Anakin could get when Letta goads him into anger. Neither of them counted on Anakin actually killing Letta.

Anakin doesn't try to break out of the prison, he fully believes he can talk his way out of this, that the Council will step in to protect him, or that he can get Palpatine to step in for him or Padme. He has no reason to run, so he doesn't.

But the Council doesn't step in for him. He lashed out in violence and killed an unarmed prisoner, they're being asked to expel him from the Order so he can stand a trial because the Senate believes Anakin was the true perpetrator. Palpatine claims his hands are tied on the matter, much as he'd love to help. Padme probably still ends up being his lawyer because he'd guilt her into it despite Padme knowing that legally she probably shouldn't due to their marriage.

Palpatine knows that if Anakin is pronounced guilty and permanently expelled from the Order, it'll push him even closer to darkness and more susceptible to temptation and persuasion, so he ensures that Anakin's past is brought up, tells Tarkin about shit like the Tuskens and the secret marriage that make it look like PADME betrayed Anakin.

Barriss of course is dutifully consoling Ahsoka about all of this as things start getting revealed. A part of her obviously is faking it, but she just thought Anakin was insensitive and irreverent and reckless, she had no idea he was a MURDERER or that he'd married a senator.

Barriss keeps her silence about the truth behind the bombing because it really doesn't matter anyway if Anakin had been behind it or not, he still murdered Letta, he murdered the Tuskens, he broke the Jedi oaths he took, he lied about it all, and he's refusing to apologize for any of it, so he's never going to be a Jedi again even without the bombing accusation.

[7s3ven]

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 1

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Y/N L/N, after spending a decade at Camp Half-Blood, still remains unclaimed. Luckily, Luke is there to keep her company as her good friend. And to, perhaps, provide a bit more.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

( follows the show - kind of just a oneshot bc i’m bored )

Warnings : fighting, violence, a little too much of a description about injuries

—

Nobody had been this excited about a new kid since three years ago, when a H/C-haired girl showed up holding a Harpy’s head. The new arrival had slain a Minotaur, which Clarisse wasn’t too happy about. She was convinced he was a liar.

Y/N sat in the Hermes cabin, closely inspecting her empty juice box. She had waken up an hour ago yet her good friend, Luke, still woke up earlier. She always wondered where he went in the early morning. Perhaps to get some sword training in before the day started. He was, after all, the best swordsman in camp.

The rays of sun poured through the window, bathing the wooden floor in light. A few of the Hermes kids groaned, knowing Luke would burst through the doors any second and force them to get up. He always did when the sun rose.

As expected, Luke kicked the door open. “Good morning!” He exclaimed, as energetic as ever. “The new kid’s coming today so get up and start cleaning! I’m mainly talking to you guys.” Luke sent the group in the corner a stern look and added, “Y/N, you’re fine.” He pointed at her with his usual boyish grin.

Lately, Y/N had been sleeping in Luke’s bed while he slept on the floor. They took turns switching. Lying on the ground for more than a decade now wasn’t good for the back.

After all this time, Y/N was still unclaimed. It usually took a week or less. Y/N was a prime example of the Gods above ignoring their children.

“He’s the one who killed the Minotaur, right?” Y/N questioned as Luke collapsed onto his mattress, partly to annoy Y/N who was sitting on it. The H/C-haired girl scoffed and playfully rolled her eyes, yet she couldn’t contain the amused smile on her face.

“Yeah. He can join your little monster slaying group. Let’s hope he gets claimed because I can’t deal with a boy version of you.” Luke teasingly grinned while Y/N scoffed and slapped his shoulder.

“You love my company.” She uttered, rolling her eyes.

Luke’s friends snickered to themselves. “More like he loves you.” One whispered to another.

“What’s his name again?” Y/N asked, tilting her head to the side. “Was it… Tom?” Luke stared at her in disbelief before lightly snorting.

“You’re way off, Y/N. Stop thinking, you’ll hurt that tiny brain of your’s. Just do what you do best; sit still and look cute.” Luke ruffled her tidy hair, turning it into a bird’s nest again.

Y/N flung a pillow at him, and glowered at the Hermes boy. “I’m going to kick your ass in capture the flag.” She threatened, poking his shoulder. Clarisse, out of all people, was her best friend. So naturally, she teamed up with her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, princess.” Luke lightly shoved her which caused Y/N to gasp in disbelief.

“Don’t push a lady, Luke!”

The other campers, already used to their antics, just chuckled. “Hey, love birds!” One of the unclaimed kids exclaimed. “Get a room!” With her smart she was, Y/N assumed she was Athena’s child.

Y/N and Luke liked to play a silly game where they guessed which camper belonged to which godly parent. It was fun. Luke was never wrong until the day he tried to guess Y/N’s.

A year ago, he guessed Aphrodite. His explanation? Because she was charming and she had a certain aura that followed her. And because she was pretty. That was the only time he was wrong because Y/N never ended up in a cabin.

“So, what do you think of the new kid? Which cabin?” Y/N asked as she and Luke walked outside. He shoved his hands into his pockets, laughing.

“Tough call. I haven’t even met him yet. Apollo, maybe?” Luke shrugged and frowned. “I’ll tell ya my guess when I see him.”

“I’m guessing… Poseidon.” Y/N uttered, earning a light snort from Luke.

“No way. Is that your confirmed guess? Being a child of Poseidon would mean being a forbidden child.”

The game had a few rules.

One. You can only take a single guess and once you confirm it, you can’t change it.

Two. You can’t ask the kid you’re talking about. Luke considers that cheating. You can only observe them.

Three. No asking Annabeth because she’s always right.

“I guess. It’s not like I ever win, right?” Y/N laughed, grinning at Luke. He stared at her for a moment before returning her bright smile.

“I know we don’t usually make bets, but if your guess turns out right, I’ll willingly give up in the next capture the flag game after he’s claimed.” Luke puffed out his chest, certain Y/N wouldn’t win.

“And if you win?” She asked, arching an eyebrow.

“You give me your strawberries.” Luke had an obsession with strawberries that everybody, even the gods above, knew about.

“You’re on, Luke.” Y/N held out her hand with her lips curved up into a teasing smirk.

“Good luck, princess. Looks like I’ll be taking all your strawberries.” Luke ran his tongue over his teeth, already being able to taste the sweet, red fruit in his mouth.

He walked off, playfully winking at Y/N. Clarisse, who saw the whole conversation go down, hurried over to Y/N. “Looks like you and lover boy have a bet going in.” She smirked, raising both her eyebrows. “You two are cute together.”

“Don’t mess with me, Clari. We’re just friends.” Y/N rolled her eyes at what her friend was suggesting. She had been friends with Luke for three years now and she had known him for even longer.

“Are you just friends… or you want to be more?” Clarisse leaned forward with that taunting glint in her beautiful eyes. Y/N groaned, shoving her away. Clarisse simply laughed. “Come on, princess.” She mocked.

“Oh, come on, Risse.” That was a horrid nickname given to Clarisse by an Apollo boy who seemed to be obsessed with her.

“Shut up!” Clarisse exclaimed, eyeing Y/N up and down in disgust as if she was the Apollo boy. “You know how I feel about him!”

“And you know how I feel about Luke.”

“Yeah… but do you?” Clarisse tilted her head to the side before her gaze flickered to something, or rather someone, behind Y/N. “The Minotaur kid is out.” She grumbled and sharply clicked her tongue.

“Great. I can see if my stupid guess was correct.” Y/N glanced over her shoulder, watching the boy walk beside Chiron. His hair was curled, much like Luke’s, and blond. Clarisse had wandered off in the midst of Y/N’s staring, but she didn’t mind.

Suddenly, the boy lifted his head. His eyes clashed with Y/N’s, and he almost jumped at how intensely she was staring at him. Y/N merely smiled before turning away.

“So, what do you think?” She asked Luke as they walked towards the Hermes cabin side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“Hard to say for now.” Luke replied. Y/N looked at him and he stared back before the pair burst into quiet laughter. Just locking eyes could make two friends find anything hilarious.

“I assume you’ll take him under your wing? Good luck.” Y/N nudged him with her elbow, which seemed to be a normal gesture between them.

“Thanks, princess. See ya.”

Y/N turned around, almost crashing into a disoriented Percy Jackson. He seemed jumpy and panicked. Of course, how couldn’t he be? He had just unknowingly killed a monster and his mother had been taken.

“Hi. The first day is always rough. Don’t beat yourself up about it.” Y/N muttered to him before she passed by.

She didn’t stick around to hear Chiron announce him. She sighed, wandering aimlessly around the camp. She saw Clarisse talking to her siblings. Y/N had always wondered what it was like to have siblings you could relate to. What did it feel like to understand each other? To go through the same difficulties?

The Hermes cabin was comfortable and friendly enough but it wasn’t the same. She wanted to feel what a true family felt like, or at least was supposed to.

As Y/N had expected, Luke was the first to talk to Percy.

“I’m Luke.” He introduced himself to the boy after the rocky start to their conversation.

“Percy. Hey, uh, who was that girl before? The H/C-haired one?” He questioned, clearing his throat.

“Y/N. She’s nice most of the time the time but a pain in the ass during capture the flag.” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Nah. I’m just kidding. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

“You guys seem close.” Percy uttered, remembering the way Luke looked at Y/N when they talked.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. Unfortunately for me, her best friend is an aggressive Ares kid.” He grinned, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “Feel free to lie down anywhere. Just don’t get too close to Y/N. If she’s having a monster dream, she kicks in her sleep.”

One of the campers across the cabin groaned. “I know how that feels. The bruise lasted for weeks!” The others burst into laughter while Percy hurriedly made a mental note.

Avoid the pretty girl when she sleeps.

Percy was lucky that Y/N, who lay on the floor a few feet away from him, wasn’t having one of her infamous nightmares. He couldn’t say the same for himself, though.

Percy sat up, panting and sweating. He looked around, realising where he was. Birds chirped in the distant and he could hear the faint sound of chatter through the wooden walls.

“You okay?” Luke asked.

“Super.” Percy sarcastically responded.

“We all have them here, you know.” Luke clicked his tongue and sighed. “Intense, reoccurring nightmares. That’s normal here. Take Y/N for example. When she first came here, no one wanted to get near her while she slept. Girl’s a bloody good kicker.”

Percy lightly chuckled while Luke smiled. “The daydreams and ADHA and dyslexia are normal too. Demigods just process reality differently than humans do. For the first time in your life, you’re just like everyone else.”

“So, are you also…” Percy trailed off, not wanting to sound rude to his first friend at camp.

Luke found his hesitation amusing. “Am I unclaimed? No. Hermes is my father.”

“And Y/N? Is her father also Hermes?”

Luke scrunched up his face like he had just eaten a sour lemon. “Oh, no. Heck no. Y/N’s unclaimed… still. She has been for a while.” The brunette pressed his lips into a thin line as he gazed at Y/N, who was laughing with Clarisse.

“Why hasn’t Aphrodite claimed her? I mean, she looks the part.”

“That’s what we’re all asking ourselves. We all thought she’d be Aphrodite’s kid.”

Boys and girls flocked towards Y/N like she was a muse. It was no secret that out of all the campers, Y/N stood out the most. There was something unique about her, how she always hung around the aggressive Ares kids like she wanted to be one of them.

She was a tough opponent but a little too soft for Ares’ liking.

Too gentle for Ares but too angry for Aphrodite. She was constantly stuck in the middle. It almost seemed like no god or goddess wanted her in their cabin because she had proved herself over and over again.

“How long has she been unclaimed?” Percy inquired. Kids before him had asked that very same question and every time, they were never ready for the answer.

“A decade.” Luke replied, “She’s been here for a decade. Last year, there was a stupid rumour going around that she was fully mortal but that doesn’t make sense. If she was, she wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

“Why so long?”

“Nobody knows.” Luke shrugged. He had wondered that too. And he could see how it was weighing down on Y/N. The unclaimed kid was what campers referred to her as. They used her as an example of what not to do.

“Will she ever get claimed?”

Luke hoped she would. For her sake. He knew how she felt about not having a related family of her own. For now, she was satisfied laughing over silly tales with the Hermes kids.

“So, where does she go during the day? She disappeared yesterday and today.” Percy tilted his head to the side, not being able to spot Y/N anymore. Luke paused. It was uncommon for him to not have an answer to everything.

“I… don’t know. I assume Clarisse and her go somewhere.”

“Probably swimming in the lake.” Grover said, overhearing the two’s conversation.

It was scorching during Summer at Camp Half-Blood. Most stayed in the shade while an occasional kid or two tended to the plants. So it would make sense that Y/N would go to a lake to cool off.

Luke left Percy in the company of Grover and made his way towards the Lake in the middle of the forest. As Grover guessed, he found Y/N and Clarisse and a few other Ares kids swimming in the water or sitting on the nearby rocks.

“Hey, Y/N, your lover boy is here!” One of them exclaimed. Y/N, from her spot in the middle of the lake, glared at him. She huffed before swimming over to Luke, easily heaving herself onto shore.

“Hey, Luke, ready to make your guess yet?” She asked, grinning up at him. “Or do you wanna swim?”

“My guess is definitely not Hephaestus.” Luke said as he sat down in front of Y/N. His gaze flickered to her new swimsuit. “New bathing suit?”

“Yeah. Miya got it for me.” Miya was a child of Aphrodite and favored Y/N quite a lot.

“Ah. No wonder it’s so…” Luke hesitated, “Revealing.” He tried to act like a gentleman but his cheeks flushed every time he even looked at Y/N.

“One more day until I kick your ass.” Y/N laughed as she sank back into the water, returning a moment later with her hair dripping wet and her face shining in the sunlight. She looked effortlessly angelic.

“Are you sure you’re ready to handle Y/N again, Luke? She almost beat you last time.” Clarisse snickered as she floated on her back.

Luke scoffed. “Keyword. Almost.” It was true that Y/N had almost beaten him in his own game of sword fighting but that was because she was becoming increasingly more distracting.

Gone was the shy and quiet kid who always trailed behind Clarisse. With every passing year, Y/N became more headstrong and, well, beautiful. That’s why it was so hard for Luke to keep his feelings to himself now. Even Clarisse could see through his facade.

“I’m ready to make my guess.” Luke finally announced, catching Y/N’s wavering attention. She arched an eyebrow, intrigued. “My guess… is Demeter. I met the kid and he seems gentle. A soft and kind soul.”

“Nice. I guess we’ll find out soon.” Y/N’s guess was nothing but a joke and she’d end up laughing if she was actually correct.

“Join me for a little swim?” Y/N asked, reaching out to tug on Luke’s shirt. He sighed while Y/N merely smiled. A moment later, he gave in. Luke lifted his shirt over his head while Y/N stared at him a little too shamelessly for her liking. Some of the Ares boys teasingly wolf-whistled which made Luke chuckle.

He jumped into the lake, practically tackling Y/N and taking her under with him. “Luke!” She yelled, hitting his shoulder when they resurfaced.

“Oh no. The married couple is fighting again.” Zyra, Clarisse’s half-sister, said. She and Clarisse shared a knowing grin.

“They’re so whipped.” Clarisse whispered, subtly swimming away to give the two more space.

It was the day Y/N had eagerly been waiting for. Perhaps her favourite day at Camp. Capture the flag day.

Clarisse handed Y/N a spear. “I got it fixed for you.” The brunette said. During the last game, Y/N’s spear had broken. She was forced to fight with half of it after that.

Y/N adjusted Clarisse’s armour, ensuring that it was tight enough before putting on her own helmet.

“You’re gonna love this.” She overhead Luke say to Percy as they passed by. “Camp-wide mock warfare. All glory to the victors. Annabeth’s the head counsellor. She’s led our team to three straight wins.”

Y/N looked away, giving Luke the perfect chance to gaze over at her. “Y/N and Clarisse lead the other team. Clarisse is rather… impulsive, though. Y/N’s come up with some good plans but Ares kids always go off the rails.”

“What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyway?” Percy suddenly switched the topic, much to Luke’s surprise. “I mean, you guys say you’re just friends but you’re always looking at each other. And talking. And you stare at her like she’s your world. Sometimes I wish I could look at someone like that.” Percy sighed while Luke was left speechless.

Luke cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let’s just… focus on the game.”

The conch shell blew. Y/N stood side Clarisse, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Heroes, it’s time.” Chiron announced. “The game begins. The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor. As always, there will be no maiming and no killing. I trust these rules will be respected.”

He subtly glanced over at Clarisse and her cabin.

“Let the games begin.”

There was twenty minutes until the next conch shell, which meant game-on. Normally, Clarisse and Y/N would pair up and hunt through the woods for the first few hours. But Clarisse had a different idea this time.

“Good luck.” Y/N said to her friend, slinging her spear over her shoulder. Y/N split up with the rest of her team, taking with her small portion of campers.

“We follow Clarisse’s plan this time. We’re the last defense meaning that if the blue team manages to get through, we fight like our lives depend on it.” Y/N said as she gripped her spear tightly.

“What are going to do?” Someone else asked.

“I’m going to…. look around.”

Luke grunted as a sword piercing his upper arm. He easily disarmed his opponent and kicked them to the ground.

“We give up.” The red leader grumbled, wincing as their brushed their fingers over his cuts.

“I wanna move quick. Straight through the woods for their flag.” Luke uttered.

“Y/N and Clarisse hunt in those woods for the first few hours, you know that. They’ll cut us down.”

Luke grinned, shaking his head. “Annabeth has a plan for Clarisse. And Y/N, as always, is mine. Don’t worry about her.”

“Last time I didn’t worry about her, she almost chopped my head off. By accident!” Chris loudly exclaimed, shoving Luke. Unbeknownst to the pair, Y/N was watching from above in the trees, hidden by the thick leaves.

She skilfully hopped from branch to branch, sliding down in front of her teammates. “The blue team is coming. They got past the other defences. Get in position.” Y/N hid behind a thick tree branch, panting and listening carefully for the sound of Luke’s voice.

She heard a twig snap and peeked her head out slightly to see Luke, Chris, and the rest of their small team. Y/N looked up, signalling to her friends above that it was almost time.

The moment Luke, who was leading the pack, stepped right where Y/N wanted him, she revealed herself. “Now!” She shouted, raising her spear and striking Luke. He easily blocked her attack.

“Thought you could ambush us, princess? Nice try.” Luke chuckled, pushing Y/N back.

“I’d say that it worked just fine.” Y/N retorted, lunging at Luke again. She pinned him to a nearby tree, holding the blade of her spear to his throat.

Chris grabbed Y/N by her shirt, pulling her back. Luke swung his sword at her but Y/N simply ducked to avoid the blow.

She tried to run off to help her teammates but Luke blocked her path. “Where do you think you’re going?” He uttered, playfully furrowing his eyebrows.

Y/N scoffed, kicking his ankles. She pointed at spear at his chest, poking it ever so slightly. “Ready to give up, Luke?”

“In your dreams.” He rolled over, latching onto Y/N’s arm and pulling her down with him. Y/N yelped, quickly scrambling up before he could grab her again.

She looked around at her surroundings, finally understanding what Luke’s plan was. It was to keep Y/N away from her team so that Luke’s could take them down. That left Y/N solely alone, standing between the flag and the blue team.

She panted, glaring at Luke. “Bring it on, Luke.” She muttered, holding up her spear. Luke was the first to make a move. He jumped at her, swinging his blade. Y/N dodged it and blocked another attack from Chris.

She quickly lowered her head, tackling another Hermes kid. Y/N rolled across the floor, swiftly standing up. “You won’t be getting near that flag on my watch.” She kicked Luke and whacked Chris. One of the Athena girls launched herself at Y/N, gripping onto her leg.

Y/N shook her off but the girl’s weight caused her to topple over. The bits of debris grazed at her skin. Chris swung his sword, slashing at Y/N. The blade cut her lower arm and blood welled up from the slit.

Quietly groaning, Y/N heaved herself up. She lightly swayed, unbalanced and a little weak. “Like I said,” She murmured, “You aren’t getting that flag.”

Y/N blocked every attack and blow aimed her way but she was getting slow. She could barely lift her weapon fast enough to stop Luke from successfully landing a hit.

Everything was becoming too overwhelming as she struggled to keep up. It was all a fast blur filled with weapons violently clashing against each other and shouting.

Up above, thunder crashed and lightning flickered through the darkening sky. Rain poured down, drenching the campers.

The thunder got louder and the lightning brighter as the seconds passed until nobody could ignore it. A harsh flash of lightning hit a tree nearby, setting it alight.

“Y/N, watch out!” Luke shouted, reaching out. Strings of electricity rippled around Y/N as a burning tree branch fell towards her. Luke sprinted towards her, dropping his sword in the process. He tackled Y/N, shielding her from harm’s way.

She groaned as she hit her head, black dots swirling around in her vision. She felt numb and her head lolled to the side as she heard shouts of victory followed by gasps of surprise.

“Y/N L/N has been claimed by Zeus, the king of Gods and the God of thunder and ruler of the sky.”

[sweetfushi]

HIS LOVE HABITS PT 1.

fluff, slight angst | giyu tomioka, obanai iguro, sanemi shinaguzawa x reader, mentions of guilt, crying, mentions of death | word count. 1.1k ◦ notes. watching the new season is making me feel nostalgic about the start of the anime :(

GIYU TOMIOKA.

Giyu shows his passion for you by spending most of what would be his alone time with you. He doesn’t always talk much during the times he’s around you, but he isn’t opposed to you talking. Giyu doesn’t mind where he is, as long as he’s with you and knows you’re safe - despite his underlying feeling of perhaps being incapable of protecting you completely. Thus, he sometimes feels guilty for wanting to spend time with you, but he compensates for that by allowing you to guide him - choosing where to hang out, leading most conversations.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like his alone time. You out of all people know best how much he indulges in silent reflection and meditation, but you’ve also noticed that he’d consult you for those things. He’d start using some of his silent reflection time to ask you questions riddled with guilt. He finds that you’re much like Tanjiro in your overwhelming ability to comfort people.

“You know,” you start as you’re walking alongside him, making your way to the noodle house, “I’m really thinking we need to change our plans. The owners know our orders at this point,” you grin, stretching your arms out.

“Supporting a small business doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” he retorts, plopping his hand on your head and ruffling your hair slightly. “Besides, that makes ordering our food quicker, does it not?”

You roll your eyes but are forced to agree.

Following that brief conversation, the two of you spend the next half an hour eating to your hearts’ desires. Giyu will pause every few minutes to remove the food items from your plate that you don’t like and add them to his with a small smile, both at your sweet voice thanking him and the sight of more food on his plate.

You’ll always require a sweet treat after your meal, whether that be a drink or more food, so you either head into town to survey the sweet stands or drop by Mitsuri to see if she has any stored - she typically does and you’re forever grateful for that.

All the while, Giyu will let you ask him question upon question, start conversation after conversation, all without complaints just to lengthen the time he gets to spend with his beloved.

OBANAI IGURO.

Obanai expresses his love through promises. They’re never empty ones and he makes sure you know that, sometimes even goes as far as gently pulling your ear to discipline your ignorance towards such. Sometimes the promises are of small value, such as promising to not eat your food or not start training without you. Other times, they mean the entire world, where he’ll promise that he’ll return from a dangerous mission or that he’ll not get injured because he couldn’t ever be so weak as to let a demon injure him fatally.

Every time he promises you something, the eye contact with him is almost intimidating. Obanai feels as though averting his gaze from you connotes distrust and uncertainty, so he always ensures to gaze into your apprehensive eyes when he speaks his truth. In moments of vulnerability, when you’re crying late at night because you’re certain tonight awaits his death, he’ll emerge from the Master’s room determined to fulfil his assignment and not evoke worry.

When he sees you in such a state, sniffling and averting your gaze, he’s convinced that you’re stuck in a cycle of paranoia and fear.

“Are you really so sceptical of my return? Don’t be so foolish,” he says, narrowing his eyes at your despondent state. “I promise I’ll return to you.”

You hear Kaburamaru hiss before feeling him graze your cheek with his face. You whimper and allow him to do so, only until you motion for Obanai to sit beside you. He does so without question and cranes his neck to look into your eyes, to which you turn away from.

“Have I ever broken a promise made to you?”

You swallow thickly. “No.”

He huffs. “So what is your concern?”

You shrug but, in reality, know what is bothering you. Instead of telling him, however, you lift your head to look at him and pout in an attempt to satiate your tears. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t come back, Iguro. I swear.”

You can’t see his mouth, but you know he’s smiling as he nods and presses a quick kiss to your temple. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA.

Sanemi shows his love for you through acts of service. Initially, you hadn’t noticed it, but you start questioning him when your katana appears sharper and cleaner, your uniform neatly pressed, and your food managed to suit your tastes.

“Have you only just noticed? I’m almost insulted,” he scoffs, gently smacking the back of your head only for you to groan and swat his hand away. “The swordsmiths are practically sick of me,” he grumbles, watching you admire the shine on your katana.

You grin and elbow his side, making him wince and shove you. “You’re so in love with me.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea from,” he teases, flashing you his canines as the two of you lean closer to each other, faces inches apart as your childish squabbling continues. Sanemi snickers as you attempt to maintain your scowl but inevitably fail at the close proximity, turning into loud laughter when you slump over and rest your head on his chest.

As a Hashira, the Kakushi already know you, but recently have appeared in near fear of your presence (despite being aware of your empathetic personality). At one point, you explicitly ask why the change in treatment, to which they respond: “Shinazugawa-san isn’t forgiving if your uniform is anything but perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“As in washed, pressed and perfumed.”

You pause, shock evident in your expression. “Uh,” you almost break into laughter, “you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll… have a talk with him, make sure he’s not bullying you.”

The Kakushi give you a pointed look, to which you nod and purse your lips. You mumble, “well, he’s getting slapped.”

Sanemi always ensures that the menu provided to the cooks that cater to you suits your tastes. However, you’re highly concerned with the fact that Sanemi thinks anything is obtainable through an arbitrary expression of power, but you have the advantage of being able to discipline him for thinking such without consequence.

“The Kakushi help us, not serve us!”

“That’s a very liberal way of looking at it– ow!”Sanemi groans at the punches you land to his chest, making him double over and eventually lay down on the grass with no attempt of fighting back. “Okay, okay, I’ll be nicer.”

sweetfushi © do not modify, repost, translate, copy or use my post. all that is included in this post, aside from the photos, fictional characters and universes, belong to sweetfushi (zee).

[dilftaroooo]

hii new anon🎀

ex-boyfriend gojo who has an obsession over you and has been following you around. you’ve “moved on” and invite a man to hookup but he just couldn’t make u cum. as soon as the guy leaves gojo comes over and fucks you dumb.

>.<

gojo being on the sidelines before coming in to finish the job is kinda crazy. i can imagine he followed u from the bar you were in before leaning near the door to your apartment. waiting for your hookup to leave.

★tags/tw: stalking + toxicity + bathtub sex + he fucks u with his clothes on while ur bathing + fem!reader w she/her pronouns + nipple play + unprotected sex + unsatisfied sex (with ur hookup) + ummm home invasion but not, really?? + idfk I'm not a judge + gojo kinda comes in unannounced + attempt at proofread bc im sleepy so some shit might look janky.

The small dicked fucker left as soon as he spurted over your abdomen, the runny substance cascades through the crease between the start of your thighs and the edge of your pussy, which, hasn't released a drop of arousal the whole night.

The man you hooked up with had to blow a glob of spit onto your folds before he'd rub a finger on your make-believe clit, 'Yeah, know you like that. You came to the right person, sweet thing'. Why did you even bring him over? He's not even doing this shit properly. You're sure he wouldn't know where your clit laid even if you made a map and pointed it out for him. If you're gonna be cocky at least do it right.

Your hot bath gave you more pleasure since it was the perfect ratio of water to bubbles. The white foam didn't completely submerge you and you took the time to let the liquid stray you from your mind while listening to the sound of bubbles crunching from around.

Apparently, smelling the medicinal aroma of eucalyptus must've blurred the taps of footsteps making their way into your apartment and into your master bathroom.

"There she is. Taking a bath already? Your one-time fling came here, what, not over ten minutes ago and left? I'm sure you had the night of your life." The mockery in the intruder's tone was evident with each word he spoke.

His hair was still the absence of color, resembling the white sheets stacked high at the corner of your room. His skin was pale and somewhat glossy with expensive moisturizer. Aqua spheres were decorated with flecks of adorable baby blue. He's buff, perhaps buffer than the last time you saw him. But most of everything was unchanged.

He squats next to your incredulous as well as vulnerable figure in the ivory porcelain of your bathtub.

"How'd you get in here?" You inquiry.

"It's no good to leave the keys to your apartment under that more than obvious vase next to your front door. It's corny and you can get robbed that way too." He takes a peek at nipples covered by a translucent blanket. The bubbles had disintegrated leaving you exposed from the lack of foam.

You forgot he knows about the key underneath your grandmother's vase. You're the one who told him about it and you silently wish you hadn't.

"Well, congratulations on committing a federal crime. Now leave, Satoru."

"Oh, but darling you trusted me enough to tell me about those keys so I'm doing nothing wrong. Now, enlighten me, did that guy make you come so hard that he had you seeing stars?"

The lukewarm water kisses your pores in an attempt to soothe your beating heart. The scent of your ex was still riddled with that same lustful scent of mint and cinnamon, a cologne that you remember gifting him for the sole reason of how arousing it was paired with taut muscles and blue eyes.

You felt like a needy omega, shaking in the comfort of your den as your eyes water at the sight of your alpha and cowering at the pheromones leaking off his body and into your awaiting nostrils. He smells so fucking good.

"I know you heard me, sugar plum." You won't forget how much he loved to jeer at you. He wanted to hear you admit how much of a bad fuck your hookup was and how he didn't even get you to come. How you wished it was Satoru that took his place and filled your achy cunt til his balls smack your ass.

You adjust your seating when a warm palm engulfs your cheek whole. Not a trace of your skin color reveals itself under Satoru's hand. He's big even when squatting down to your size. The scowl on your face juxtaposes the grin on Satoru's.

"That's none of your business. We're not together anymore. Stop riding my dick."

"Though I do love a good ride, I think it's you who wants to do the riding, sweetheart."

Fingers crawl over your neck, down to the tops of your breasts, and onto your perky nipples. He continues to tease you by drawing circles around them making you tremble with unadulterated desire.

"Am I wrong? You can't even look me in my eyes. Bet you're not even aware of how heavy you're breathing. Poor girl. He didn't give you what you wanted. Say it." It almost sounded commanding if not for the lithe of his voice

"Fuck, hah, fuck you, Satoru..." The man cheeses.

"Right now?"

"Shit, yes."

"Knew you’d come around."

His patience must've ran thin because he didn't even bother taking his clothes off. Only unzipping his flyer to pull out his aroused dick and fleshy balls before joining you in the now cold water.

You were still his pretty princess as you took him in deep into your cavern, the bath water that surrounded you sloshed with every dominant thrust Satoru pounded you with and you did nothing but moan the name of your supposed ex like a vintage record player.

"Was he able to reach that spot that you liked hit, baby?"

"Mm-mm." You muffled.

"And why is that, huh?" His cock has that cute upturn that repeatedly nudges at your slimy walls which encourages your arousal to spill and combine with the bath water. You were better off taking a shower.

"Because he wasn't you." Your words came out in increments as he beats your pussy raw. The sound of almost every syllable slurred like a drunken man's tongue.

"That's it. You got it now, darling. You still missed me, didn’t you?" The fabric of his clothes is now soaked due to his stubbornness but there was no room for complaints when cotton and denim cling to jutting muscles. The pink of his areolas revealed itself under wet clothes. His nipples were as hard as yours. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Al Ghul: Incorrect Quotes and Miscellaneous Thoughts

Incorrect quotes-style snippets specifically for my danyal al ghul au here (which i really need to come up with a unique au name for atp). Because I thought it'd be funny. And also some miscellaneous headcanons thrown into the mix. Some context for the au: - Danyal is 5 years older than Damian (so 10 and 15) - Danny faked his death when he was 10. Talia knows and helped him with it. - Jazz, Sam, and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin.

-------- Snippet 1

Danny, dryly tapping his temple: I have, as the Americans say, irreparable psychological damage, right here.

Jazz, an older sibling first and foremost: well, it's good that you're self-aware.

-------- Snippet 2

Danny, aged 10, in the American foster planning to just age out of the system: *emanating Bad Vibes. Pure, Little Orphan Tom Riddle Energy*

Jazz, aged 12, coming in to adopt a new sibling with her parents: Him. This is my brother now :)

Danny: ...what

--------

Lilo and Stitch is Danny's favorite Disney movie. He watched it when he was 11 with Jazz when she was attempting to connect with him, and by this point Danny was becoming receptive to her efforts. They had a movie marathon in the living room one night.

Safe to say? It resonated with his little 11 year old heart strongly, and he related very strongly with both Nani and Stitch. He got unexpectedly emotional and hid in his room for the rest of the night. Jazz felt really bad, but it had the intended (but kinda unexpected) effect of him trying to be nicer to her afterwards.

-------- Snippet 3

Dash, aged 12, causing trouble again and getting intercepted by Danny: *scaling up a desk* AHHHHH! GET YOUR LITTLE FREAK, FOLEY!

Tucker: Hey! Danny is not a freak!

Dash: GET HIM TO BACK OFF

Tucker, was the kid Dash was messing with: ....whats in it for me

-------- Snippet 4

Danny, saying some questionably immoral shit: What. Why are you looking at me like that.

Tucker: Bro. I mean this as kindly as possible; what the fuck?

Sam: yeah, I'm with Tuck on this one.

-------- Snippet 5

Danny, ranting about Vlad: if it weren't for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered him

Sam, painting his nails black: I'm pretty sure you'd slaughter him regardless of the laws of the land -- and quit moving, you're gonna mess me up.

Tucker: we've literally seen you debate yourself about this, Dan

Danny: ...you are correct, but it is the principle of things.

-------- Snippet 6

Vlad: I have experience my child, and the money and power attained through using those powers for personal gain, you say. I could train you, teach you everything I know! And all you have to do is renounce that idiot adoptive father of yours.

Danny, was already contemplating committing a Violence: ....

Danny, internally: I'm going to stab him *turns into Phantom*

--------

Funny contrast I realized between Danyal and Vlad that iirc I haven't pointed out yet is that imo, Danyal doesn't rely on his powers nearly half as much as canon Danny does. He falls back instinctually on his League training, and thus sometimes forgets to use his powers in battle. This was prevalent especially early on when he was still getting used to the whole 'halfa' thing.

He incorporates them more often after a year, but still for the most part relies on his own physical hand-to-hand combat. He trusts those skills much more than he does his powers. I'm not sure where he is on a technical level compared to canon, but just to stay safe I'll say he's similar in power skill as canon Danny. Perhaps a little more finessed than him because his League training would probably have him trying to figure out his powers as soon as possible.

But in summary? Danny is strong in hand-to-hand combat, weak in powerset.

Meanwhile Vlad is the opposite. I can't recall if he even knows hand-to-hand in canon, but it makes total sense to me that Vlad Masters wouldn't because he's so confident in his monetary influence and ghost abilities that he sees no need for it.

And he's kinda got some merit behind it. He's very powerful and has 20 years of experience to experiment and fine tune his powers. He's got bite to follow up his bark. He's perfected long-range combat and his ability to phase through walls makes it impossible to corner him, but if you can manage it, then one good hit could probably knock him on his ass.

So in summary, Vlad is strong in powerset, weak in hand-to-hand combat.

And it casts a good contrast between the two of them in that regard. Danny, as a fellow halfa, can follow Vlad when he phases through walls and is fast enough to land a hit on him. His league training as an assassin, albeit rusty, is still deep ingrained enough in him that he can hold up as a rather veritable threat against Vlad without needing his powers.

But Vlad can force Danny to use his powers more often through use of his own. The duplication is the first thing to come to mind: Danny's fast enough to dispel them on his own without powers, and smart enough that he could figure out who the real one is if given a few minute. But that's not always efficient enough.

Good foils for each other that way. Also Vlad's Plasmius design mimics Ra's juuust enough that he looks like Ra's knockoff loser second cousin no one talks about, which only fuels Danny's hatred.

-------- Snippet 7

Danny, ranting about Vlad for the first time: --and it's only made worse by the fact that the little ingrate resembles a cheap knock-off of my grandfather!--

Sam, choking on her water: he what--

Tucker, doing a spittake: HE DOES?

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1282

Finale I - part 1/3 (Agatha X Reader ending):

Rio never intended to harm you that way. Even attacking Agatha was more of a bluff. Use the dagger to make her drop her guard, perhaps try to scare her or draw just the tiniest bit of blood.

And then you interfered... and she didn't have the time to pull back.

She tried to redirect the attack, and in the end; she did not harm you... not lethally, at least.

The blade pierced your clothes and your skin, leaving a nasty wound above your chest; blood quick to escape the new wound.

Your eyes were wide at the sharp pain that came from the wound, one hand instinctively going to where you were injured; feeling the warm blood that was staining your fingers.

Rio was as shocked as you, but before she or Agatha could do anything, Billy did.

He had been recovering in the green house, fighting his new superficial bruises and wounds while watching the battle going. He wanted to interfere, to try and help some more, but he hesitated; seeing you and Agatha already struggling, and you were far above his level.

And then.. when Agatha was about to get reaped, you jumped in front of the sharp blade before he could use his powers in any way.

Seeing you wounded, faintly seeing the red blood on the blade and on your white clothing... he lost it.

In a moment of sudden anger, he unleashed his powers on Rio. The attack caught her off guard and threw her back, away from you.

He rushed towards you as you bent a single knee, adrenaline, and years of hardships, the only thing keeping you standing and focused.

Agatha was already by your side, looking at you with worry and fear. An expression that reminded you a lot of the night Billy almost died back then during the second trial of the road.

However, this time, it was you who was wounded but not as deep as Billy was. Of course, that was not much of a comfort; considering your foolish heroic move to try and put yourself in front of Rio's blade.

"I'm okay," you reassured her as your white magic slowly started work, fighting to heal your wound.

It was tricky, even for you, because Rio's blade was unique; capable of reaping souls out of bodies and even cutting through the road as if it was nothing.

Rio managed to get up, and whatever shock you had from the initial attack had passed. A new opportunity had been presented, and she was not going to let it get away.

"This will never end. You all know it," She said and pocketed her knife. "So will let you choose, which one of you is coming with me"

You exchanged a look with the others, unsure about this dilemma.

How could you just point a finger at someone else and sacrifice them just like that? Especially after the battle you have just been through.

Ypu were about to volunteer when, to your surprise, Agatha did.

"Take me," she said, but before you could argue, Billy did.

"No , it has to be me," he argued, mastering all the courage he could find within him. "Take me," he bravely took two steps forward.

At that moment, one would expect Agatha to argue with him, but she didn't. Much to Billy's surprise and slightly to yours.

"Yes, take me him, like we agreed."

She did feel some sort of guilt for letting Billy die, her heart heavy because that damn boy often reminded her of Nickolas.

But, at that moment, no victory was in sight. You were injured, and she was not going to let you waste your life or die for her and Billy.

She finally got you back, and it looked like you were going to stay this time. Agatha was not going to lose you so easily, not when she finally might have a chance with you.

She offered her hand, wishing to help you get up, but you sapped her hand away.

You were clearly feeling betrayed by her words and her final decision, though you should have been used to it by now. Yet, a part of you deep down was truly rooting for her... for the light she still had in her heart.

Agatha looked at you defeated and took a step back, realizing you were not going to forgive her so easily.

She refused to leave you back, though.

"Come along, sugar," she said, expecting you would obediently listen to her. "You heard him. He volunteered himself to save both of us."

You managed to get up, the bleeding having stopped, but the wound remained open. Your hand was sticky with your blood, but it was the last of your concerns at the moment.

You looked at Billy, and you could see the fear behind his dark eyes. He did not want to die, but he also didn't want you or Agatha to die. Though with the latter's reveal, he was starting to rethink for whom he was volunteering.

Yes,he did volunteer himself, but he had already faced death once, and he was a mere boy; back then in the Hex. He wasn't sure if he was gonna be able to pass through it again, especially after spending so long fighting for answers... after actually managing to give Tommy a body.

You couldn't bear to look at him.

No, he had a full life ahead of him, and he had already started tough in the beginning. You were not there to somehow help Nicky when he passed, but you were present now, and you were going to make your stand.

"Take me," you repeated as you locked your gaze with Rio's and no one else's. "I don't care about your rules. You wanna take a soul with you. Then take mine and let Agatha and Billy go."

You could clearly see that Rio was hesitating, for there were rules at place that even she could not break. Rules that she could not bend like she did for Nicky.

Rules she had explained to you not so long ago when pieces of your past and hers started to go into place.

But if you volunteer yourself, so openly; she could try to make an exception under the right circumstances.

Plus, Rio had started to enjoy having you around, and she did want you around. Like she did want Agatha, which was why she had not argued with the deal.

After all, Billy was the one she was after from the beginning.

Agatha was just looking to be tormented for the words she told Rio at the Road, showing how ungrateful she was despite the rules Rio bent for her and their son.

You didn't like her hesitation and in a moment of spontaneous thought, you grabbed a window shard laying close by and brought it closer to your neck; sharp edge threatening to rip your skin with one clean cut. "If you hesitate to take me, I will make it easy for you, but i'm not letting you take Billy or Agatha."

Your words and the sharp item by your neck, surprising your three companions, some might even consider you a madwoman, but you were tired of losing people. And you were tired of standing to the sidelines while everyone else did the work.

You were tired of being scared of your powers and regretting all the life choices you had made due to fear.

This time, you were making a choice, and you were certain about it.

This time, you would protect your loved ones.

[A/N] - This is part 1/3 for the First Finale (Agatha X Reader ending). Tomorrow, I will publish the next part.

Part 2 now out!

[loth-creatures]

GIVING HER A SWORD ⚔️

@lothwolfwalkers au sideblog

Right, so after Sabine sacrifices her and Ezra's lightsaber (rip) to sabotage the Sion (see here), she's gonna be missing it a lot. She can defend herself just fine without it, but by now she's so used to reaching for it.

During her search for Ezra on Peridea (gonna hold back the details on that for now) she will end up fighting and defeating some Night Sisters, and upon running into a situation in which the lightsaber would have been very very useful, she picks up one of their fallen swords in it's place.

The magic fire infusing it remains just long enough to get the job done, but quickly fades with it's former owner's passing. It's a good blade regardless, and Sabine carries it for the rest of their journey on Peridea.

There will be a bit of a learning curve weilding it, swords and lightsabers have some differences. It might get broken at some point, and perhaps she'll reforge it. Some version of it will make it back home with her probably idk. This is all part of a half-baked subplot that probably won't make it into comic form. I'll probably talk about it more in future though! There's ocs and everything now.

Basically I'm imagining there are several factions of the Dathomiri on Peridea and some of them are against allying with Thrawn, and are willing to help Ezra, Sabine, and Ahsoka defeat him. They'll totally help Sabine master that sword, especially reforging it or forging a new one from scratch, and maybe even give her a way to activate it's magic. Even if Sabine herself can't do magic, they could put a spell on it that attunes it to her and it will activate at her command or smth like that. Not a feature she would utilize often, but it would come in handy in dire situations.

[and-so-he-rambled]

Costume

(Gotham Rogue Vlad Masters)

Masterlist

“You’re going to fight Batman?” Daniel’s curious eyes peeked over the table, watching Vlad feed material into the sewing machine.

“Not exactly, I’m planning to avoid him as much as possible, but I’m sure we will cross paths.”

“Are you going to fight him with your superpowers?”

“No, remember how no one can find out we’re special? Not even Batman, he’d turn us in to the bad men.”

“Oh.” Daniel continued to watch him as he cut and arranged black material. He’d gone light on any body armour since he didn’t need it and needed the extra movement. He did have some for appearances and in case his powers still were on the fritz by the time he went out. He was getting better with time, but it wasn’t perfect.

“You should be a Badger.”

Vlad paused, looking at the child.

“Pardon?”

“A badger! Wait here!” The boy ran off, leaving Vlad staring after him.

He returned with his animal encyclopedia, plopping in on the table and pointing to a honey badger.

“You call me little badger and so Jazz showed me, I’m this one.” He pointed to the badger on the next page, a European badger. “But these ones are called Honey Badgers and they’re really cool and mean, and you should be one like Catwoman is a cat.”

Vlad thought that over. It did seem on brand for a Gotham rogue to have a theme, and while he was only planning on petty thievery it couldn’t hurt. He had gone more for the vampire look once his fangs had grown in but a badger was different enough that nobody would connect the two identities.

“I’m not calling myself Badgerman.” Daniel giggled at that, delighted. “Perhaps you’re on to something though.”

“Would you help me pick a design? I just can’t choose myself.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up in joy as he ran away to go find his drawing pad.

Jazz and Daniel worked together for the next few hours, his sister keeping him from making it too complicated. They ended up with a catsuit with a gray stripe down the back with lots of secret pockets and zippers. The mask he had to make a few alterations on, but it had a more American badger design with white down the center of the face and up the cheeks, leaving two stripes of black over his eyes. Jazz vetoed the full cape, with both Vlad and Danny complained about, but he managed to sell her on the shoulder cape.

“I can’t believe I’m going to become a two bit criminal for a giant bat.” Vlad murmered at he started in on his sixth hour of costume creation. He’d cheated with being able to change his ghost clothing at will after a few years of trial and error, this was hard. “I was supposed to be a scientist.”

Jazz was face down on the table, but she raised an arm to synthetically pat at him.

“Th’ goal is t’ avoid th’ bat.” She reminded him sleepily before falling back alseep. He took a break to bring her to bed.

The first goal when they got a payout was to get an apartment with their new identities. As much as he wanted them to stay ghosts it wasn’t feasible for the kids. They needed lives, to be children. Daniel was getting better control of his powers with daily training and eventually he might be able to go to school.

Vlad knew they couldn’t stay in Gotham forever, that once day the government would catch up to them and they’d have to disappear again, he was pretty Jazz knew it too. He needed to give them something before that happened. This time he’d spread the money into off shore accounts, they’d never be left with nothing again.

[calicoheartz]

Déjà Vu ; Paige Bueckers ౨ৎ•

꣑୧ — summary | based on the song “Deja vu” by Olivia Rodrigo !

wc ; 1.4k

— warnings | Paige lowkey being a bad girlfriend , jealousy , arguments , use of foul language , angst , etc.

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : i ❤️ writing angst 😈 , tried something new while using a different song. Enjoy bestiesss ◡̈

It had been weeks since you and Paige had broken up, things were just too complicated between the two of you.

You wanted something serious, something made to last. But Paige wasn’t necessarily interested in that, while she did love you; you two were just opposing forces. Your relationship was trying to force two magnets together that clearly didn't attract to each other, or trying to force puzzle pieces together.

While you wish you could say it ended on good, mutual terms, the truth was quite far from that. You and Paige continuously argued throughout the couple of weeks leading up to your split. Whether it was about who you both were hanging out with, who didn't do the dishes, your social media presence, you've probably argued about absolutely anything under the sun.

Which is why when she suddenly broke up with you, you weren't surprised to say the least. You practically saw it coming, both of you slowly distancing yourselves, spending less and less time together, it was bound to happen at some point. But at this point in time, you were tired of begging her to talk to you, begging her to work things out with you. You simply gave up, knowing in the back of your mind that if it was meant to be it would've been, and things would have already fallen into place.

You had already figured that she had moved on, you just didn't expect it to be that fast. You knew the type of person she was, but it did sting a little bit knowing that your 2 ½ year relationship didn't really mean that much to her. Your mind instantly starts thinking of the what-ifs, what could have possibly made a difference in your relationship, and this infuriated you.

I mean, what the fuck was her deal? Trying to tell everyone you both ended amicably, how you eventually wanted to try again, but immediately getting with some other chick? I mean come on now. That was just petty and low.

And as if the universe was playing a joke on you, with the weeks after your breakup it seemed as if you were seeing the blonde everywhere, whether it was throughout the campus grounds, or perhaps at the gym. But nothing could have prepared you for your next encounter with the 6’0 point guard.

It was a friday night, and you had just finished your last final of the school year, the air was cool, and the sun was setting. Your friends had decided to celebrate by going to an end of the year house party, hosted by one of UConns most infamous frat houses.

To be frank, you didn't really feel like going, the idea of being surrounded by a bunch of drunk college kids didn't really appeal to you. But somehow, your friends managed to convince you.

You wore a skin tight, tantalizing, black lace dress with some simple black pumps, dabbing a tiny, but noticeable amount of makeup on your face, that enhanced all your natural features.

As you entered and made your way through the party, music thumped loudly, echoing through the house and drawing people in. The air is thick with the smell of alcohol and sweat, mixed with the faint scent of cheap cologne and perfume.

Inside, the main room is packed with people dancing, laughing, and drinking. Red cups are scattered everywhere, filled with various concoctions of alcohol. The dance floor is a mass of bodies, moving and swaying to the sound of the music. With Strobe lights flashing, adding to the chaotic atmosphere.

After glancing around and observing the chaos filled room, you made your way to the make-shift bar set up near the kitchen, quickly helping yourself to the wide variety of alcoholic beverages the frat boys had to offer. You soon noticed a figure out of the corner of your eye lurking behind you, not paying any attention to it, you continued to tending to your drinks, hoping that whoever was behind you would just leave you alone.

As you turned around, you were met with a familiar set of blue eyes. The eyes that caused you so much pain and distress. You furrowed your brows, slightly frowning, before spitting out “what the fuck do you want?”, the blonde looked away slightly, before mumbling out a, “I just wanted to apologize to you, and yk make sure we were cool.”

If you weren't pissed off before, you certainly were now. You laughed slightly, before replying, “That's bullshit and you know it P.” Before quickly walking away, hoping to not run into her for the rest of the night.

But of course, the universe just couldn't let that happen. It felt as if everywhere you turned to, there she was, with a girl all over her. Whether she had her tongue down her throat, or occasionally grinding on each other, it didn't matter. All you knew was that this was Paige’s sick and twisted way of trying to make you jealous.

While it's shameful to admit now, you couldn't help but keep the shots coming, doing anything to keep your mind off the blonde.

It was only then when you spotted the two out of the corner of your eye, dancing on the dance floor. For some reason this dance looked oddly familiar, as if you've seen it somewhere. That's when it hit you, this was your dance, a dance you only did when your song was on, which to your luck happened to be playing.

A feeling of adrenaline and anger rushed over you, it was almost as if all your rationale just left your body and went to outer space. You quickly stormed your way over to both of them before spewing “So when you gonna tell her that we did that too??” Before looking over at the girl, who was now in return giving you a confused look, you continued, “She probably thinks its special, but it's all reused.”

“Y/N cmon, can we talk about this somewhere else?” Paige chimes in, before you snap a simple “No no, do you get deja vu when she's with you? Because i mean come on it’s so fucking obvious that-” the blonde cut you off by simply dragging you away from the living room and into the back patio of the house.

“Is that what this is about?” she says harshly, “why are you even so upset to begin with?” You felt as if someone had just punched you, not being able to grasp the fact that she herself can't grasp why you're so upset. “Dont act like we didn't do that shit too paige” you scoffed, “You're so pathetic. A different girl now but there's nothing new.”

The blonde just looks back at you, her gaze softening a bit, she bit her lip in anticipation of what you were going to say next, with tears welling in your eyes you managed to stammer out, “Do you call her, almost say my name? Because let’s be honest, we kinda do sound the same.”

A few minutes go by, the blonde remained quiet, just observing you through your sudden fit of rage; something you rarely did throughout your relationship. As if it was like clockwork, you suddenly snapped out of your sudden jealousy filled haze, and simply averted your eyes from Paige and onto the ground below you. Just releasing an annoyed sigh as you came to realization that you just word vomited incoherent sentences of jealousy to your ex.

The girl finally broke her silence, simply saying , “are you finally going to let me get a word in y/n?” But at this point, it was too late for the blonde to try and explain her actions, to give you closure, even tho in reality that is what you wanted; you knew you had to move on and try to rebuild your life outside of the blonde.

You simply shook your head in response, stating a sharp, “No, Paige. Im done trying to get you to understand what you did was wrong, and why it’s shitty that you keep doing it. Im done with you, goodbye.”

Before she could even reply you were already on your way out, the loud environment seeming to drown out everything and everyone around you. But unbeknownst to you, the blonde had given you a reply. Mumbling under her breath just quiet enough that you could hopefully hear it within earshot,

“But I wanted it to be you.”

muahahahahaha !!! Idk how to feel abt this tbh…uhmmmm ??? as always tysm for reading !

[ihaznoclue]

Could I request Nicole and Von Lycaon with a fashion designer reader who likes to make clothes for them?

omg YES! I LOVE THIS REQUEST, specifically because I was about to be do a work placement as a fashion designer but I did a chef instead (because of the free food ����)

NICOLE AND VON LYCAON x Reader who is a fashion designer

NICOLE

let’s just say she would love you to the moon and back, she just can’t get enough of your fabulous clothes you would give her

“for me?!” Nicole screamed, you nodded with a smile on your face, Nicole giggled as she tightly hugged you, “thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!” She repeated yelled

seems like she was quite the happy girl which made you happy as well

she would prefer something pink and black, some accessories would do her good as well, the first time you have gave her some new clothes was because of the rips and holes in her old clothes so why not give her new clothes instead

she was very happy to receive some clothes from you, after giving some clothes you have created she would give you something in return

money and some chocolates for a thank you gift, which to you didn’t mind but hoped to god she didn’t steal the money and chocolates

VON LYCAON

he would be appreciated to receive some clothes from his master, but he would just wear his butler outfit on his work days but he would wear the clothes you gave him on his off days

he would thank you for the offer as he would keep them in a neat and tidy environment which would be his room

he would make sure to wear them to show that he cares for your generosity, he would also like to give you some gifts as well

some roses perhaps or some clothes in return for the offer, which to you didn’t mind because he seemed to be on point for your fashion choice

he would like clothes that give him formal vibes or just black to show his white groomed fur when he’s out and about

the first time he revived clothes from you he would be delighted as he bowed in a thanks and said that he would give you something in return but you refused as he didn’t have to give you anything

but he insisted so you gave up as you thanked him which to him he smiled softly

OH IM ON A ROLL TODAY, I just finished this 10 mins before I go to school

-A<3

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

something that makes sokka extremely adhd relatable is that he's constantly looking for his Thing, the one Thing he's good at or useful for that makes up for any failings or flaws or ways he just can't measure up to others. at the beginning of the show he defines himself by being the oldest boy in the village & best warrior, but then he gets his ass kicked by zuko and suki and sees aang's raw power and he can't exactly think fighting is his special skill anymore. but he still thinks he has to be defined by fighting ('man of the house' daddy issues) so he calls himself the guy with the boomerang bc that's turned out to be his most useful and versatile and unique weapon, the one that other people can't outclass him at (after all, it's his most successful attack in his fight with zuko). when he loses it in "avatar day" he explicitly says it's like losing a key part of his identity and the moment katara goes "hey you're good at solving mysteries" he's like "yeah! i'm a detective! that's my new thing! and gets a new set of objects to signify it ("i believe in the power of stuff"). but detective sokka doesn't last bc throughout the entire episode he and katara are pretty equally matched in detective skills and he gets his boomerang back anyway. failed experiment.

and throughout all of this, he's figured out that people find his insistance on getting them fed & his grumpy comments funny and so he begins defining himself as the meat and sarcasm guy, and when he's a tough spot in "bitter work", bargaining with the universe to get him help, he offers that up as all he's got to give. it's obviously a Joke that he immediately asks for meat after telling the universe he'll give it up but it's also pretty indicative of how much he clings to these identities. it's all he's got (he thinks), of COURSE he can't actually give it up. they stuck that boy in a hole for 22 minutes and it revealed so much about how he sees himself.

at some point (likely around "the library" when he takes initiative to come up with a fire nation invasion plan) he also becomes the plan guy, the idea guy, and the gaang find themselves looking to him for leadership. this is perhaps the closest to fully encompassing sokka that any of his "[blank] guy" labels get, since coming up with plans involves planning when and how to fight (boomerang guy) & how to get everyone fed (meat), and people not following his plans is a major source of frustration (sarcasm).

this all culminates in "sokka's master", where the show finally names the underlying insecurity driving this quest - that he's a nonbender. katara being the last waterbender meant she was in danger and that keeping her safe was top priority, and even though hakoda and kya wouldn't have played favorites sokka probably felt a little like the unfavorite child for not being special like her. he lacks an ability, and believes his life has less value bc of it. almost like somebody with a disability and internalized ableism

(interesting, one of the people who most consistently mocks sokka for being a nonbender is toph, early on. toph has a lot of internalized ableism herself, a fear of vulnerability bc she doesn't want to perceived as weak like her parents thought she was. her bending is her disability aid, the thing that allows her to be stronger than people think, so she dismisses a nonbender until she learns better.)

piandao's response to sokka's lack of self-worth is not to train him to be great at one thing, but to introduce him to a variety of different arts, show him that his value lies not in having any one skill but in his capacity to learn and grow. there's no single thing that makes him worthy. it isn't even the combination of all of them that makes him worthy. he simply is worthy.

and i don't know if this is a unique narrative in fiction or anything but it really means a lot to me that sokka doesn't have One Thing that "makes up" for him not being a bender. he's of course extremely skilled and prodigious at many things he does in the show but there's no one savant talent that "justifies" him being in the group and i feel like so many disability narratives - especially for kids - go that route and i really appreciate that atla doesn't and simply says people are valuable because they are valuable, not because of their special abilities

[underdark-dreams]

Rolan putting Tav in their place? But like….in a frisky way 👀🔥

Rolan x fem!Tav

Master

"Sit still and behave." She's feeling impatient for some attention from the Master of Ramazith's Tower. She decides he needs to let off some steam; Rolan decides to teach her some proper respect.

Tags: Obedience, Praise Kink, Soft Dom, Explicit Sexual Content | Word Count: 3,875 [Read on AO3]

“Did they even do the readings? Half of these are wrong…I’ll have to regive all the illusory lectures…”

Rolan’s brow furrowed deeper as he read down the page. Frustration practically radiated from the way he hunched over his desk, and she wished for the umpteenth time that he would just take a break.

“I’m sure they’ll get it with time,” she told him, gently rubbing his shoulders.

Inwardly, she found it difficult to feel concerned about his students’ grades at the moment. She was far too busy admiring how good Rolan looked when he was a bit disheveled. 

It was a rare sight; he preferred to keep his appearance clean and tidy at all times, his robes neatly pressed and hair half-pulled back to keep it out of his eyes. 

Right now, this was about as unkempt as she’d ever seen Rolan outside their bedroom. His hair was loose from its tie. As he worked, one lock swung forward between his horns, and he impatiently swept it away with the feather of his quill. He had pushed the sleeves of his underrobe up to his elbows. She watched the sinews of his forearm flex under his crimson skin as he scrawled a severe note on his student's parchment.

She knew his state was a testament to the stress he’d been under lately. Beyond her love for the petulant wizard seated in front of her, she didn’t have much personal experience with wizardry. But Rolan had said enough to impress upon her how important these upcoming exams were for his young pupils. For the oldest of them, their results could mean the difference between continuing their studies or finding another vocation. Rolan took the task of preparing them quite seriously. 

Perhaps too seriously, she thought to herself, watching the muscle of his jaw flex with concentration. The candles standing beside his desk were burned down to dripping puddles of wax.

He needed a good distraction, and that she could help with. She crossed forearms along the back of his chair and perched her chin on his shoulder.

“Come to bed?” She asked him. “You’ve been grading for hours.”

Rolan hardly seemed to hear her. "In a moment," he murmured.

It wasn't his usual response to a proposition. Teasing or enthusiasm she was used to, but flat out disinterest was new. It stung a little more than it had a right to.

She knew she should respect his work at hand. If he didn't look so downright frazzled, she might have.

Instead, she gave into the temptation to take advantage of his concentration. She slid one arm down around Rolan's shoulders and leaned in to tuck the curtain of his hair back behind one long red ear.

Then she kissed along the line of it from lobe to pointed tip. She'd always been fond of Rolan's Infernal gifts, particularly his sharply tapered ears—even more so as one of the few people allowed to appreciate them. His usual style kept them tucked and hidden behind his hair.

Rolan sighed slowly as her lips made their soft journey, just enough to satisfy her that she was getting to him. She knew she was being a nuisance, but it had been days since she had him to herself. Rolan was passionate about his work—she couldn’t help selfishly wanting a little of it for herself tonight.

“You’ve been sleeping at your desk too much lately,” she murmured against the shell of his ear. 

“Can’t be helped,” Rolan replied, although the fingers of his free hand raised to the arm she had curled over his collar. “These exams are the most consequential step in an apprenticeship. I’d be a worthless archmage if I let my students arrive at Blackstaff unprepared.”

“Rolan, there’s no way that would happen.” She broke away slightly to look at the thick stack of assignments he was grading. “Don’t you think…maybe you’re overworking them? You’re definitely overworking yourself.” 

“I’m fine,” Rolan said a bit sharply, turning to the next student’s parchment. “I can certainly handle a little paperwork.” 

She pouted slightly at the back of his head, then leaned in to place a kiss under his ear. “That’s not what I meant.”

Rolan let out a short huff as he set down his quill. Feeling a bit smug with herself, she let his grip over her arm draw her around beside him, quite unsuspecting.

Before she could tense her relaxed muscles, Rolan’s grip jerked her down. One of her hands flew to grab the far edge of the wooden seat, but she still landed hard on his lap, her back thumping against his chest.

“After all our time together, I’d expect you to understand the duties of an archwizard,” Rolan scolded her. His voice reverberated against her back as he tucked her slightly to one of his legs so he could keep working. Then his fingers plucked up his quill, even as his other forearm wrapped tighter below her navel to keep her firmly planted. 

After a week starved from his attention, the humbling position made her face grow warm. "Rolan, I do understand. I just think y—"

“Good,” Rolan cut her off. “Then sit still and behave.” He was ordering her in the same tone she sometimes heard him use with his apprentices—as if she was nothing but another naughty pupil.

She bit her lip. That could work. Oh, could it ever. “All right.”

After that, they both sat in silence. The steady scratch of quill tip against parchment was the only sound drifting through the candlelight. She kept herself perched quietly on Rolan’s thighs, watching the neat movements of his writing hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart between her shoulder blades. Of all the positions she hoped to find herself in tonight, fully clothed and trapped on his lap wasn't one of them.

But she could certainly work with it. 

Carefully, as if just adjusting to a more comfortable position, she wiggled her hips up higher against his lap. She felt the muscle in Rolan’s forearm clench slightly over her, but he said nothing as he turned to another page.

Testing his patience, she scooted back toward him again. This time she pressed her palms against his thighs for balance, letting her hips bounce slightly down against him. The game was rapidly becoming unsubtle.

It wasn’t lost on her wizard. “That won't get you anything,” Rolan warned her.

But despite his words, she could already feel him stirring underneath her. Lovely heat coiled in her stomach in response. “Will from where I’m sitting,” she answered back saucily.

“Hmm.” His monotone hum reverberated against her back, but Rolan didn’t look up from the note he was scribbling. However disappointing his verbal responses, Rolan’s body gave him away the same way it always did. 

It only made her braver. She leaned forward on an elbow as if to read his work. In the same motion, she nudged her hips back to press herself more firmly against the growing hardness under his robes, dragging her center across his clothed thigh at the same time. She’d prefer to make use of the lovely ridges near his knee, but that would have to wait for another night.

“Take off your clothes.”

She blinked at him over her shoulder. “What?” Surely she had misheard—Rolan’s expression was impassive, eyes still on the pages scattered over his desk.

“Take off your clothes,” he calmly repeated, still not looking at her. “Now.”

If he was calling her bluff, he wouldn’t get the satisfaction. Slowly, she leaned back against his chest. She would go along with whatever game he wanted to play. 

She began with her bodice. Her fingers ran down the lacings, plucking them open like harp strings, feeling the heat already starting to pool between her thighs in anticipation. With her head leaned back over Rolan’s shoulder, she could feel the steady tickle of his breath down her collar and chest, though he was still steadfastly marking the parchment before him. 

Rolan was studiously ignoring her, even as she undressed. It was new, and it made something shy and uncertain coil in her chest. When they were together normally he liked to be the one removing her clothes. He practically insisted on it. 

But tonight he made no move, apparently content to let her take as much or as little time as she liked.

She favored the latter. With that thought in mind, she pressed herself forward to shuck the unlaced bodice back over her shoulders. Rolan’s arm over her loosened to allow her undershirt to follow. When both garments were discarded on the floor beside his chair, she leaned back against him, bare above the waist. She couldn’t help arching her chest up a little as Rolan’s loose hair tickled against her neck.

"Everything," Rolan directed her. His arm remained draped unmoving over her belly. He either didn't notice her body language or was choosing to ignore the invitation to grope her. 

It made her feel even needier for him. Perhaps that's why she wiggled out of her pants and smallclothes so eagerly, nearly tipping sideways off Rolan’s clothed lap in the process. His palm splayed up against her sternum to catch her, and the sharp nail of his thumb pressed into one of her breasts. A small gasp escaped her.

Rolan made a noise low in his throat, and when his hand raised from her chest toward her chin, she understood his intention with eagerness. 

She parted her lips to take two of his long, slender fingers into her mouth, licking and swirling her tongue to wet them completely. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked his digits in deeper over her tongue. Rolan needed reminding of what her mouth could do, and she was pleased to feel his length twitch under her in response. She hummed in satisfaction over his fingers.

Rolan pulled them from her mouth then, and she felt a string of saliva stretch and land across her chin. Before she could wipe it away, two slickened fingertips nudged at the hot apex of her thighs.

She let out a needy groan as her head tipped back over Rolan’s shoulder; her warm cheek pressed against his. She let her thighs fall open for him. But Rolan only continued to make soft and idle circles over her folds, dragging the wetness that was already pooling there up around her entrance, not quite hitting the aching spot above. Her hips rolled forward greedily toward his palm.

“I told you, sit still.” How could he possibly have the nerve to keep writing at a moment like this? She did her best to obey his command, but the way Rolan’s breath had quickened behind her made it difficult.

“Rolan…” His name left her in another groan, this time almost begging. She arched her back to curl an arm around behind him. Her fingers found the curve of one of his horns, and her grip tugged up and down the hard ridged length of it—wishing it was the hard ridged length nudging up against her backside.

In one movement, Rolan’s writing hand swept up the stack of papers from the desk in front of them and deposited them on the floor. 

His grip on her arms was rougher than she was used to as he jerked their connected bodies upright, but it was somehow exactly what she craved. She heard his chair clatter to the floor behind them—her hands flew to the now-empty desk for balance as she landed on her feet.

“I’m a very busy man, you know,” Rolan hissed into her ear; he kept her facing away with nails dimpling against the flesh of her hips. “I don't have time for these games.”

“Sorry,” she lied, breathless. “Let me make it up to you?” She reached eagerly back for him, wanting to pull him closer by his robes, before something drew her palms together behind her back.

Rolan’s tail coiled around her wrists in a makeshift binding. Its soft ridges rubbed over her skin, the sudden friction causing her to freeze in place.

"You can tell me to stop.” 

Rolan’s voice was suddenly low, and she glanced back over her shoulder to his face. His eyes burned molten gold, but she caught hesitation beneath and realized what he was looking for. She nodded her head yes.

Then the palm of Rolan’s hand settled between her shoulder blades, and steadily, he pushed down.

Her body bent at the waist over the hard surface, goosebumps tickling her skin where her bare chest met the cool wood. She shivered from the cold, and more so from the delicious uncertainty of whatever he was planning to do with her. The firm coil of Rolan’s tail trailed from her wrists across the bare skin of her back.

"Do you know how infuriating you can be?" Rolan's voice chided behind her, even as his hands on her ass massaged and spread her apart for him. "I have a great deal of work to do, yet you insist on interrupting."

"Why don't you give me something to shut me up, then?" She did her best to tease back, but she could only imagine the view Rolan had of her slick folds as his hands pulled to expose her. She ached for his fingers and mouth and cock—for any part of him to touch her again and provide release.

"Always so greedy for my attention," Rolan said, as if he could read her thoughts. "High time you learned a little discipline."

The warmth of one hand left her. Then, without warning, his palm reconnected with a stinging slap against her ass. The shock lurched her body forward, grinding the ache between her legs against the hard edge of his desk. A shameless mewl escaped her throat.

“Hush,” Rolan tutted softly from behind. “I run a reputable business here, you know. Unless you want everyone below to learn what a state you’re in?”

“Oh yes—” From her prone position, she still tried to crane her neck back at him. “I’m sure your patrons would love to know that the new mage of Ramazith’s Tower is a perverted little—”

His palm smacked against her a second and third time, once on either side, the lewd sounds echoing all around the cavernous room and causing her words to stutter into an incoherent moan. She just barely bit it back this time. 

“Good girl,” Rolan hummed in approval, and she couldn’t ignore the way her insides quivered from the praise. He smoothed both hands over the heated skin on her flanks as if rewarding her obedience. “Now spread for me.”

Incredible how four little words could make her throb and drip for him. It was vulgar and irresistible, and she obeyed wordlessly, shifting her bare feet further apart to expose herself more fully to him. The rush of cool air between her legs was almost too much to bear. 

There was the soft rustle of movement behind her—she could practically feel Rolan’s body heat moving closer. In the next moment the length underneath his robes pressed firmly in between her legs. 

She dug teeth into her lower lip to restrain another wanton groan. He was so hard already—was it all from this little game? Sweet hells, if only she'd tried his patience like this before. She couldn’t spare a thought to wonder, could only fixate on the anticipation of Rolan filling her. Her cunt throbbed against the fabric between them at the thought.

She heard Rolan inhale through his teeth. "So desperate even now. Gods, you're shameless." But his hands traveled up the arch of her back, his softly filed nails whispering against the skin under her bound arms from her ass to her shoulder blades, as if relishing the position he had her in.

Then his grip cupped down over each of her hip bones, and he ground her back against his hardness.

The gesture dragged the bare front of her against the cool wood surface, and a shuddering exhale fell from her lips. “Fuck, Rolan—”

“Is this not what you wanted?” Rolan asked her, calling down patience from gods knew where. “Tell me, then.”

"I want you to fuck me,” she gasped out, ready to be done with the teasing. The words formed a heated fog across the wood surface underneath her.

"Ask nicely, then." One of Rolan’s thumbs pulled at her flesh, no doubt giving himself another view of her wet slit, teasing her open again without touching her where she needed it most.

“Please—” Maybe she'd never been more desperate for him; or maybe she'd always known he would love it. "Master Rolan, please fuck me—"

Rolan's hands were gone from her in a flash, and she heard and felt them working on the laces of his pants.

She’d never been more ready for him. Shamefully eager, she craned her head as best she could from her bent and bound position to watch him reach through the slits in his robe to unfasten his pants. Then his beautiful red cock sprang free from the fabric, deliciously hard and lined with those angled, concentric ridges that she knew could make her see stars. Her mouth watered at the sight of him. 

She must look positively desperate for it, because Rolan was watching her face with a dark glint of approval in his eyes. As he did, one of his elegant hands closed around his cock and pumped lazily. She squirmed with impatience.

"Say it again." Rolan's dark-set eyes watched her with something like anticipation, his baritone husky with desire.

Her mind was so addled from the delicious sight of him stroking himself that it took a moment to grasp what he was requesting.

"You like that?" She asked suddenly, licking her lips. "When I call you Master?”

Rolan's hips bucked forward into his own grip, almost involuntary. Despite her position naked and prone on his desk, she felt a kind of power tip back into her hands.

“Because that's what you are, Rolan…” She looked back at him from under her lashes, wanting to see what the words might do to him. “Master of this tower, Master of the Weave—Master of me—”

Rolan's face was flushing burgundy, his eyes smoldering into her as if hanging on every word. His tail unwound from her wrists to shudder and flick behind him in a motion she’d grown to recognize as pure desire.

“Just look at what you do to me,” she breathed. Wetness leaked down her inner thighs as she spoke. “No one else fucks me like you. You're so good—so powerful—fuck, just please Rolan, I need you—”

With a guttural sound, Rolan pressed and sheathed himself in her completely.

The abrupt stretch between her legs made her cry out and clutch at the far edge of his desk. Rolan hadn't readied her with his fingers the way he usually did—very little about tonight was usual. His ridges were hot and tight against her walls, but the ache was exactly what she craved.

Before she had fully adjusted, Rolan pulled out from her almost completely, and then his hips snapped back into her a second and third time. The pressure almost made her sob in relief.

Rolan’s hands landed on either side of hers, sharp nails digging into the wood underneath them as his body pressed down over her. He was truly, finally fucking her; she felt the silk of his robes drag against her overheated skin with each thrust, and then the shift of his body hit a new angle inside her. 

His tip abruptly met with that deep and sensitive spot, pounding into the aching nerves there again and again. Her eyes rolled back with an unrestrained moan.

"Again," he panted, his face close behind her ear. The control in his voice was fading with each jerk of his hips.

Her skin was on fire; all she could concentrate on was the ridged length of him rapidly filling and stretching her, each quick thrust grinding and rocking her clit against the smooth wood under their bodies.

"Master Rolan, plea-se—" The last word was jerked in two by the force of him fucking her into his desk—"just like this, fuck, I’ve wanted this for weeks—you’re so—so fucking good—”

The words were babbling incoherently from her, but they seemed to be what he needed. Rolan let out a broken groan into the skin of her back as he twitched and spilled inside her. But he didn’t slow his rhythm. Instead his hands gripped either side of her hips, sharp nails digging into her skin, fucking his spend deep into her with driving force. 

It was possessive and raw and hot and the feeling made her own orgasm crash down around her, her walls spasming and clutching around him as if to keep him there. She felt the gush of heat from her center leaking out all around him and spilling down her legs.

Her arms and legs trembled weakly; she was grateful for the support of Rolan’s desk holding her up, hard and cold though it was. She gathered enough strength to glance back at him as he straightened and pulled out of her, just in time to catch Rolan admiring the way his come dripped from her opening.

“I love you,” she panted up at him. “That was…gods, Rolan.”

He looked just as dazed as she felt as he stood with hands still resting on her hips for balance. But Rolan said nothing in response, only drew one of her limp hands from the desk up to his lips. Then he shook his shoulders slightly as if to rouse his senses, tucking himself back into his pants.

Dipping a hand to the floor, Rolan thrust a bundle of her clothes unceremoniously toward her. “Clean yourself up. I have more work to do.” 

She would have laughed if she wasn’t so spent. He was being intentionally brusque; perhaps embarrassed by how far he’d let himself go. The lingering flush on his cheeks and the way his outstretched arm shook both undercut the attempt slightly. 

She straightened up on wobbling legs to pluck the clothes from him. Despite his rudeness, she felt satisfied with the knowledge that the heavy smell of sex and the image of her spread open for him on that very desk would make concentrating on his menial paperwork a near-impossible task.

Before he’d let go of her wrinkled garments, she pulled him by them into a quick kiss. “Come to bed soon,” she told him firmly. “Or else I’ll come back and carry you there.” 

Rolan exhaled through his nose, the bare hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Give me an hour.”

An unthinkable wait after the lay he’d just given her. But she made no complaints as she turned—it wouldn’t do to let him have too much power.

“Fine,” she called over her shoulder. She put a little sway in her hips as she sauntered toward the bedroom staircase, strongly suspecting that his eyes were following her. “But this time, Master Rolan, I’m getting you naked.”

[ganondoodle]

yeah no of course i cant stop trying still ...

currently trying to get out of the mindset -draw what could be popular- by designing some rough ideas for the weapons shops in the new totk rewrite (fuse isnt a thing here)

to explain; during the first part (before villain rauru reveal and change to shiekah arm) the way to repair or craft weapons is with a new type of NPCs; they are smiths that can repair your weapons, craft them, and have some avaible to buy (mostly for arrows but also small selection of weapons), it costs material and some money, or if you dont have the material/all material, it costs more money but is still doable, price depending on how valuable or hard to get the material is you dont want to spend on it

then after the switch to the sheikah arm and zelda taking on the role of your permanent companion, she can both repair and craft as well (might be limited but expandable with quests, as in that zelda learns more skills- so theres new quests after the switch and you cant just do everything before that) with the difference that you need to have the required materials but it costs no money

this would mean that while no giant change before and after the halfway point of the game, it is definitely different feeling, plus its a convenience that is good to have in the second half but shouldnt be sorely missed in the first, the difference between NPC smith and zelda gives you the option to spend material or money- so you arent forced to grind anything if you need either for something else, plus new quest rewards for the second half and new points of interest in general, similar to a stable but not too close so theres still an element of exploration; they arent super frequent but around the map of the surface enough that you can reasonably reach one in each region (perhaps after aquiring the yiga as allies/or before that in disguise they can do the same for you but are only found in the underground)

it would also allow for more diverse gameplay, if your favorite weapon is about to break (it might not fully disappear but if you use it up it would go into a condition like the master sword when its lost its power, not usable or doing tiny amount of damage, but not gone forever if you accidentally use it too much-) you can decide to throw it away or keep it until you find the next smith, depending on if you already found one and see you are close or havent yet, or spend the material if you have it to instantly repair it

(i havent decided yet if rauru might be willing to repair your weapons, but not to craft them since he lacks the skill (would never admit to it) and he only wants to give you just enough support to enable you to do what he wants you to do- i think that might work better bc its still a difference to zelda, since she can craft too, but not too much so that you would feel like the games forcing you to use the smiths in the first half ... possibly its unlocked with one of the enigma stones, when rauru can claim he is able to do that now bc it lets him recover some of his strength)

what im wondering now, which is a bit important i think, is .. should the smiths be wandering around a set path or have a lil stationary shop? if they wander around it would make it a bit more depending on situation of you wanna use them, but bears the risk of making it annoying if you dont know here they are or happen to be too far away and a lil weird bc should have something to work on there, like an anvil, which would be a lil strange to carry around; a lil shop could potentially turn into a location you keep teleporting back and forth though im leaning towards the shop; you could make helping them build it a quest too, or saving them from monsters? overall i think this idea is a rather nice balance

[sebastianswallows]

The Little Death — 3. Strengthen what they would prohibit

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: just a bit of smut

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk @lowlyloved @pomtherine​ @localravenclaw​

Laws to suppress tend to strengthen what they would prohibit. — Bene Gesserit Coda

Sleeping was sweet. At some point indistinguishable from oblivion she became aware of not being aware of being asleep, but she wasn’t ready to wake up yet. The tendrils of her mind touched only shyly the membrane on the other side of which reality was waiting. And even though her feet were cold and her head felt heavy, she felt as though she was floating in the air, held by some invisible force in perfect safety.

A sense of urgency tugged at her, and with reluctance she let herself be pulled. Gradually she realised that her neck hurt from the awkward pose she’d fallen asleep in. That she was sitting on the floor, her legs curled under her and stiff. That his hands were feeling up her body.

Her eyes opened to the sight of her new master sitting on his knees before her. Feyd was still completely naked, and his body dared to have a rosy flush from sleep across his pale white skin. He held a knife to her, slicing through her shift to part it from her body, smiling as if he was opening a gift. He paused at her chest and slid his hand across her skin — the one that wasn’t holding the blade, mercifully — and gently cupped her breast, holding it in such a way that her nipple was caught between his index and his thumb. A practised hand. She reacted before her body rebelled and responded to him.

“Get off of me,” she hissed, and in one motion she slapped his groping hand away and gripped the knife out of the other.

He looked at her in excitement for a moment, or perhaps his mind had not caught up to things and was still tasting her body. She flung the blade away before she could find out which. Feyd pouted like a spoiled brat.

“Yesterday, you agreed that —”

“I’m a Bene Gesserit, not a concubine,” she said as she pulled the tatters of the shift around her and moved further away.

Feyd was still processing the novel information that there was a difference when he got up to his feet. She busied herself with her ruined clothes and tried to ignore that his cock was right in front of her. He looked down and seemed a few times to want to say something, or ask, but then his mind was made up and he walked right past her. Oh, he just went to pick up his blade.

She took this opening to move away and gathered up her clothes.

“Won’t you dress me?” he asked, turning to her with a puzzled expression.

“No,” she said, plain as can be, and slipped into the washroom. She only caught him muttering something about her being useless as she shut the door.

He was gone by the time she came out again.

It crossed her mind that she might have hurt his feelings. After all, he can’t have been used to women slapping his attention away like that. He’d even been fairly considerate, for a Harkonnen. No blood drawn.

But in hindsight, she recognised her instincts were correct. She was the kind of toy he’d never had before. Nobody had ever treated him that way, and now he was going to spend the whole day trying to understand his own emotions, spilling his poison on the other staff no doubt.

She walked through the palace with newfound confidence, and even when eyes turned to her, followed her quick steps and the flowing of her gown, nobody dared question her. Quite efficient in communications, these Harkonnen. They already know who I am, she thought with reserved admiration.

Her first stop was the laundry to replace her ruined clothes and get a couple more. She would need them, living with Feyd-Rautha, it seemed. She ate later, quickly and in the most unassuming part of the canteen. Arrakeen gruel with a Harkonnen twist, dry and oily with a sprinkling of melange on top. It stuck in her throat and there was only cactus juice to wash it down with.

It was only during her noon meditations, on a lonely rock outside the southern wing, that the impact of everything that happened finally came upon her. She shivered terribly, felt tears bead at the corners of her eyes, and breathed deeply to steady her pulse. Fear had passed through her, and death, and she was still left standing. It was a very precise part she had to play, and for all her training and prescience, the spice could only show her certain futures.

Rejecting his touches had been the right choice. Refusing to look at his body had been the right choice too. She teased both him and herself, and the natural energies that flowed between men and women would do half the work for her, especially with such an excitable specimen as Feyd-Rautha to work with. Now all she needed to do was reward him.

She thought back to his nightmares, those twitches and struggles in the dark, alone, and she remembered the instincts of her body: to hold him, to comfort him, to feel his naked skin on hers and let them melt into each other. She smiled, thankful for the infinite genetic wisdom, guiding her path through this most dangerous of circumstances, because now she knew exactly what Feyd wanted.

“Terra firma,” she said to herself. “Something firm and unyielding. Capable of giving him both punishment and pleasure.”

She waited for him in his chambers by the window, sewing that morning’s ruined shift. Her mind was split between that task and meditation, letting her consciousness drift through the environment, expanding to the outer halls. There was a slight commotion in the hidden room next door, and she felt the unmistakable presence of Feyd there. He wasn’t alone. But he felt happy, confident, but with some restraint still in his manner. She could hardly grasp the threads of his thoughts before he moved too far away from her senses.

He entered the room not long after, stopping in the doorway when he saw her there.

She held his gaze, allowing her eyes to say nothing while his told her everything. He was apprehensive, excited, fearful, and fought against an inner urge to see in her a motherly figure — after all, she’d chosen to be seen sitting quietly in the pale light sewing quite on purpose. Her lips were set in a line that wasn’t yet a smile.

He shut the door behind him with finality and walked toward her.

“I hope you had a good day, my lord na-Baron,” she said, getting up to her feet to lightly bow.

“We started harvesting the spice again today,” said Feyd. “The first batches have already started filling the silos.”

He wanted to be praised…

“A great achievement. Your uncle must be pleased,” she smiled.

“Well, he’s always been easy to satisfy.”

Feyd stopped before her and shamelessly looked down her figure. He smelled of sand and sunlight, and a hint of cinnamon. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from his suit. Without asking, he reached for her hand that held the needle and let his finger trace its length. It fell off the sharp tip without breaking his skin.

“Fixing what I broke this morning?” he chuckled.

“Yes. I have the impression there will be many more mornings like that.”

“Not if you do as I say,” he rasped.

“I can not sleep naked as you do. The nights in Arrakeen are too cold.”

“Funny,” he said with a playful tilt of his head and a smile. “You didn’t seem to mind seeing me. Yet I can’t see you?”

She hardened her expression deliberately, chastisement evident in her every muscle. “No,” she answered.

He nodded and tried in other ways to seem indifferent, but he couldn’t hold it up for long. He gripped her sewing hand again, but this time harder, and without giving her the option to protest, he tore the shift from her hands and threw it down behind her.

“If you live to serve,” he hissed, “you serve.”

“That’s not what —”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

She didn’t stop him from unlacing her dress, although her every muscle shouted at her to. His fingers were more careful than she thought, and he made short work of it. Then, without daring to look into her eyes, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. He wanted to take her black veil off by himself… Of course.

He felt at first how it was held — pinned within her hair from both sides. As gently as a bard unboxing his instrument, he uncovered her, letting the veil fall to the floor, then his hands went to her shoulders and pushed the dress down her limp arms. It went down to her waist where a narrow belt held it.

She was surprised to feel a touch upon her back, careful and precise, but harsh. If she focused, she could almost hear his heartbeat, hear his breathing, see behind her closed eyelids the expression on his face. His presence was as intense as when she’d first seen him take his first steps on Arrakis. He was not someone who liked to be ignored.

She turned to find him smiling, and couldn’t help a shiver of pleasure to find him happy from so small a thing. She realised then that what he’d been enjoying was the way tendrils of her hair fell on her skin. She held his gaze and, as if it meant nothing to her, took out the pins that kept it all together. It fell in waves around her shoulders and framed her breasts in teasing curtains, her hardened nipples just barely peeking through.

Feyd drew a sharp inhale and smiled as if he’d just received a present. Even his eyes looked innocent for a moment as if all power and control were drained from him, rendered unnecessary, because he’d just gotten everything he wanted. And then she slapped him in the face.

It was probably the hardest hit she’d ever given, and it still wasn’t enough to move him. He didn’t even waver on his feet. But his expression fell from pampered to petulant. It took a moment for his anger to be summoned up, and he flashed his black teeth at the sensation, cupping his cheek to soak the feeling in. He blinked and frowned at her — confused, perhaps, as to why she didn’t seem afraid, or why she dared to do it in the first place. But she saw in his expression a similar sort of thing to what passed across the eyes of sisters who accessed genetic memories. In his case, it was probably half-forgotten recollections from his childhood.

“You want it harder?” she asked with a deliberately indifferent tone.

Feyd didn’t waste a single breath. He gripped her throat and started squeezing, but she was unshakable now. Beneath his skin, she knew, her slap still sang throughout his blood. She stood before him half-naked, and he was the vulnerable one.

She slid her hands out of the sleeves of her dress and gripped his wrist — not to push it away, but to hold it — and dipped her head to bite into the flesh between his fingers. Feyd breathed in but let her do it, a shiver of pleasure running up his arm. He moaned, and immediately she felt his blood against her tongue. Pretending to enjoy it, she closed her eyes and drank it down. Then, with a kittenish lick at his wound in parting, she raised her head and started walking.

“You say I’m here to serve,” she whispered, pushing him toward the bed. “I know just how you want it.”

She brought him to the edge of the mattress and kneeled, forcing him to sit down. He did it as if mesmerised. As reward, she kissed him where his skin was bleeding, then sank her teeth in it again.

[beenbaanbuun]

I need fuel for my addams! Matz delusions soooo.... what are some of darling's personal goals/hobbies? Who is she outside of her relationship with hwa and joong?

Personally I can actually easily imagine her as a webtoon creator for some reason LMAO, I can imagine her taking inspo from her lover's actual lives to add to the lore of the world she's built in her comics, holding a laptop or drawing pad in her lap while she follows hwa around the house.

But that's just me and my headcannons lol

~lyra

i think art would definitely be a big one for darling. she just loves to create things and it’s even better when she gets to show her lovers and they just give her a proud little smile and a kiss on the cheek. you’re so right about taking inspiration from them too!! darling would traipse up to hongjoong one day to show him a sketch of a new character and he can’t help but recognise himself on the page. when he asks about it, you deny it, but he doesn’t quite believe you…

as for other hobbies, i think that darling loves to learn. whenever she’s not with seonghwa or hongjoong (it’s rare, but sometimes it’s unavoidable) you can definitely find her curled up on jongho with a book about some obscure craft that’s she’s decided she absolutely has to learn. she has about 4 languages that she’s trying to wrap her head around, 3 different types of yarn craft, 2 types of old-fashioned board game and a sport that no one has heard of in at least 40 years. seonghwa had joking called her a jack of all trades at one point, hongjoong quickly joining in to tell her that the end of that saying is ‘master of none.’ she might’ve given him a glare for that comment before going back to the rather interesting book she’d found on wood carving. perhaps if she begged hard enough, they’d buy her a set of carving knives…

as for goals, i think her main aim is to find a sense of purpose in life. despite looking and acting like an absolute princess most of the time, she can’t deny that sometimes her mind wanders into pretty complicated territory. why exactly was she put on this earth? what is it that she is supposed to do to leave her mark for the next generation? perhaps that’s why she studies all those different hobbies so hard. maybe she’s hoping that her purpose will just drop into her lap one day. to seonghwa and hongjoong it’s pretty obvious that her purpose in life is to be spoiled by them, but they’re happy to help her in her pursuit of wisdom and enlightenment. after all, if stressing over what you’re supposed to be doing to appease the universe makes you happy, then so be it. they’ll buy you those carving tools.