#since its monochromatic

[jojolimons]

there's no way some guy in my class doesn't know about the communist symbol

[r-aindr0p]

Year of the Malleus in less than a month weeee ✨

Alt ver under the cut

[freshthoughts2020]

[applealchemist]

[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 4 - Calm Before the Storm

With the beginning of a new day it was like the calm before the storm. You stood up pretty late at night, making your way to a center, luckily they didn’t push for information knowing your situation is a dime a dozen around these parts.

Thank god. Though you did debate giving them your name or even a nickname, you decided against it. After all, you’re not staying here long term, you don’t need to cement your name here. Not as a civilian, or as spider-woman.

You shouldn’t even be here. You don’t belong here.

After having a fresh meal, bless the hearts of the passionate people out there giving out kindness like air, fix yourself up, and return to your makeshift home to decompress.

The cold air nipping at your face cools you off, making you vigilant of your surroundings. Quiet, a bit too quiet. Gotham isn’t known for its silence after all. Pushing the uncomfortable feelings aside, you decide to call it a night.

Making significant progress on your watch became your saving grace. The anchor of your sanity.

So the first thing you did in the morning was quickly get a nice breakfast at a shelter before dedicating your time to building the beacon until nightfall.

The voices in your head were getting restless so you even fixed up a radio you found in the piles of junk just to have a noise buzz in the background.

Days, you spent days inside this safezone you made a shelter out of. Two days to be exact. With how limited and unlimited your resources are, you had no time to waste. You had your own world to get back to, and help Miguel stop the Spot. Every day you spend here is costing you so much already. But you keep going, because you know you’re making progress.

Your routine was mostly some time in the morning, eat and wash up at any center, and go straight back to the junkyard. Snack for lunch and for dinner, back at another center. You make sure to hop around so as to not draw attention or to get familiar with anyone.

You don’t belong. Pretender, faker, liar, fraud, phony, sham.

You know that better than anyone else. You feel like a fraud. This world is like a different color pallet, monochromatic to you. You can’t stain this world with your presence.

You’re getting nauseous just thinking about it.

When taking some semblance of a break, you usually take walks to calm your mind in the morning, where crime is least likely to occur. And so far, you’re right!

Though there were a few (three) instances of muggers, and a drug dealer. Though you did stop (and robbed) them, but not as spider-woman, just as normal (fake) civilian you.

Those were the one’s just in your way or happening to you. Other than that, you have not put on the spider-woman suit to fight crime.

Why would you?

You were about to return home soon, if everything ends well. And it seems like luck is on your side since you have not caught a glimpse or heard any of the batsonas nearby. This also gave you hope.

So, how do you celebrate your near completion of your super secret science project?

Well, with ice-cream and a place of destination for your super secret science project!

So off to the library you go!

Finishing your ice-cream, you take in a breath of the polluted air of Gotham and make your way towards the library.

It was silent, and tranquil. Something you weren’t able to feel for some time. No big baddies escaping Arkham, no terrorist attacks, no bombing threats, no bat encounters, nothing. Just silence, and peace. And you embrace it with everything you have.

Your constant tense body finally felt itself ease as your stress levels went down.

Entering the library and once again greeting the librarian, you made your way back to the same seat you did days ago. With a clear mind, you browse the maps and possible locations for your beacon.

Finding a couple of very good locations, you made sure to memorize the landmarks and streets so you can pick the closest one.

You were giddy! Basically shaking in excitement. Tonight is the night! You just need to tweak a few things and you would be good to go! You would finally have a signal that can ping your location! And if you have time, you will be able to message Miguel through your signal.

With excitement, you quickly left the library and made your way back to the junkyard. Days of your blood sweat and tears, will all finally pay off your desperation to go back home.

Just a couple of adjustments.

Running into the warehouse, you turned on the radio and began to work.

Hours upon hours and you finally managed to get something done. It might have looked like a baby’s school robotics science project but hey! Ya got something at least!

You made something fast, not pretty.

Now, to connect his baby to a power source that won’t reveal your location- god knows you don’t need the bats up on your ass. If you trusted this world more, maybe you would have gone to Batman/Bruce Wayne first. But you know that- one, that idea is garbage at best, that’s how you would most likely get your cute ass locked at Arkham. And two, you know for a fact that Batman doesn’t trust metahumans or something- and you having enhanced powers in your fucking DNA, makes you the paranoid one.

You don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, especially the Batman’s. It just boils down to, you don’t trust him or his brood of sidekicks. That and the fact that if you could do it by yourself then you will.

And you’re already doing it. Ha! Take that universe!

This was a job for spider-woman. Changing into your suit, you hurriedly carried your mini beacon, and soared through buildings to find an appropriate source of electricity. You know you don’t have the right technology (you’re using scraps for fuck sake) to create an effective and accurate signal, but with this little baby, you should be able to send out a general area ping.

This way, for anyone who is looking for you (you fucking hope so) they can lock into a general area of the multiverse.

You are holding onto hope you get discovered soon.

Landing on top of a random construction site, you made quick work setting your things up. Connecting the cable to your beacon, and one towards your watch, you use the last cable and walk over a power generator.

This is it, this is where you’ll finally finally have a semblance of a chance to leave this universe. You just want to go home. You don’t exist here, you checked when scrolling through the web.

Not someone who looks like you- or a spider-woman either. You don’t belong here, and you never had the intention to play pretend either. This world isn’t your problem and you aren’t needed. So, now you’ll ping your location and go home.

Your very own emergency distress signal.

You plug your cable in the generator and it causes a power surge.

You pray to be discovered.

-

“B! It’s happening again!” Oracle’s alarmed voice caused Batman to head out immediately. “But this time it’s different!”

“Same place?” Hopping into his batmobile he sped off. “Different how?”

“No, this time it’s in the Narrows. A construction site twenty minutes from your location. It’s pinging like crazy!” Oracle couldn’t understand what was happening.

It had been a regular Thursday night until she got a ping of another disturbance. Not quite the ‘quantum disturbance’ like a few days ago, but then it was the flickering power surge. She was quick this time, getting an accurate location and with Batman on the way, they’ll find out what this is.

“It’s definitely the same as a few days ago, but not big enough, not strong enough. Causing a power surge!”

The surge only lasted ten seconds. Ten seconds too long. Then silence and all the light and energy came flickering back in that area.

“Robin’s close, he’s on his way B.” As if nothing had happened. Oracle wasted no time in finding cameras to see the situation. But the ripple effect caused security cameras to shut down for the duration of the surge. “Shit. Cameras are down- can’t find anyone in or out.”

“Hm.” Batman grunted. This was a grunt of annoyance.

Upon arriving on the scene, Batman made his way through the partially completed construction site. There stood only one other figure, and it was Robin.

“There was no sign of the perpetrator when I got here.” He spoke, his fixed glare at the spot where the ping was the strongest. “I surveyed the surroundings, nothing.” Frustration was clear in his voice and clenched teeth.

This confirms what Oracle said through the comms.

Batman sighed. Whatever was here, left just as quickly. This means that whatever caused a quantum disturbance days ago, is still here. In his city. In Gotham. And when he finds them, he’ll make sure to squeeze out every bit of information they possess.

He won’t take any chances of possible alien life force coming and going as they please.

“We’re not completely at a loss.” His words caught Robin’s attention, so he continued. “That means whoever did this is still here. It wasn’t as big as the other one, which means the recreation was not enough. Whoever or whatever it is, is still here.”

Robin processed the information and affirmed. “Understood. Means they will try again. And soon.” Robin makes sure to ping this area as a priority zone.

Batman nodded. He will find whoever is behind this. No matter the costs.

Nothing will escape their watch.

-

“No! No no nonono!”

Just as you plugged in the cable to the generator a huge surge of power came through, quickly to find a connection.

Your watch sprang to life, a bright screen greeted you and quickly you sprung to action. Seeing the universe number glitch but readable.

Finding a smidgen of a connection, you started calling Miguel; it couldn't even connect.

You wanted to sob.

“Miguel! Miguel please please see this! Please please please!” Then the connection went out and the watch turned black.

You felt like your whole world was crashing down on you.

You tried, you really did try! You did your best. You have always done your best. But in the end, it seems that no matter how hard you fought or tried to fight, defend, and protect, it just was never enough. But you lost waaaaay too much to give up. Especially now.

You’ll get discovered soon. And not by the ones you want to meet. “Fuck!”

You couldn’t let this get to you. They might be coming. Quickly unplugging the cables you grab the beacon and swing away, using the night as your cover to make a grand escape.

After all, you still were able to at least find a connection, just not a strong one. Try again next time.

A fire grew inside you. That’s right, you’ll just try again, and this time make something better. As long as you weren’t caught you can still make something better. “Can’t give up.” You spoke through your tears. You’ll fix this, you have too. It’s just you against the world.

Just like Miguel, you’ll throw yourself into fixing things. Making it better.

The obsession of trying to make things right by any means necessary, broken and unbroken. Take things apart and build it back together again, same and before, or better, greater even.

A Tinkerer if you will. Anything to be useful, needed, wanted. And in order for you to feel that, you’ll build an even stronger signal. This time, you’ll make your watch better.

You know Hobie Brown knows how to build his own watch. You both do. Discussed it when Hobie casually said he missed your presence at times. So you’ll just upgrade yours.

Building a better beacon and upgrading your watch requires more material. So you’ll plan for the days ahead. You will learn from this failure. You have to. You need to.

Your greatest failures were failing to save Ben, protect May, and defend Peter, those you cared for the most. You can’t afford to fail this. You will make it back. It just seems that you’ll be stuck here just a tad bit longer.

“That’s okay… everything will be okay.” Your erratic mind becomes calm again.

You learned to take responsibility for your actions and mistakes, learned to accept the consequences and help others face their own, and finally to heal and move forwards, to hope. And right now, you’re hoping for a better outcome soon.

“I can do this.” Landing on the warehouse you climbed through a window, throwing your mask to the side, landing on your workbench. “I can do better.”

You were known as a dangerous spider. You have years of experience, years of trials and tribulations, you’re smart, curious, and compassionate. But you’re hungry, always hungry to learn more, to consume knowledge. You use what you learn and become better than yesterday.

You’re a dangerous spider because you always come out of every experience learning more, learning to be better as you adapt, plan and overcome every obstacle in your way.

You’re a dangerous spider, because you push yourself to the brink it’s almost madness. Your obsession of not being weak, helpless, and vulnerable forced your body to adapt at a rapid pace. It terrified your enemies and comrades. And how easily you can hide that obsession is also terrifying.

It’s the calm before the storm.

And right now, you need to plan better. You’ll leave the Narrows, go somewhere else. Possibly Park Row? No. That’s the Red Hoods territory. Maybe somewhere less chaotic. Oh! East End sounds perfect! It’s one of the places Batman doesn’t really interfere with.

Perfect.

You’ll only leave once you finish your beacons. Because you know the bats will come here, and most certainly discover that someone has been here building no matter how you try to cover up your doings.

Batman is just that good. You just won’t take any chances.

-

In a different universe far faaaaaaar away. Miguel discovered a heartbreaking partially audible voice recording of his missing protégé.

Location unknown. Coordinates unknown. Universe unknown.

You were lost, and he doesn’t know how to find you.

Prev; Next;

I know it feels like I'm rushing and to that- fair probably. I also really want to get into the bat family and stuff. Their actual civilian personas i mean. Not their vigilante alter ego. You are going to meet them next chapter for sure, I just need to find a way to up the states for you. Make you feel dread and anxious.

I'm not a funny person, so I feel like I am doing the spider-sona injustice. Rip.

[popamolly]

‘DANCE WITH THE DEVIL’ ALASTOR

summary. Alastor grapples with the realization that he might actually have feelings for you, as you contend with the internal conflict of obeying your mother's wishes or pursuing your own happiness.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

warnings. dark romance, smut if you squint, human!alastor, age gap! you’re in your early 20s while Alastor is in his early 30s, you're naive, Alastor preys on your innocence, blood, kidnapping, implied murder, 18+ minors dni

author’s note. thank you so much for 800 followers! as well as the amount of love this story is getting! i am enjoying writing for human!Alastor and can’t for you all see where i’ll take this. enjoy sinners. (also, if you saw the rough draft and all the mistakes, no you didn’t)

One moment you were on Alastor’s cluttered desk and the next you were in his spacious bed. You had no idea how you got there as it all remained a mysterious blur. The morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on both of your bodies as you two continued to move in sync with one another. Straddling his waist, the rhythmic dance against his hips had your head tossed back in pure bliss. It was a slow, deep, sensation that was vastly different from a few hours before.

His fingernails dragged across your back as he watched your face contort in pleasure, he loved the sight of you— the various marks on you caused by him stirred something within him. It made him wonder how many times can he break you before you crumbled into a million of tiny pieces.

Before you knew it, you were waking up in Alastor’s bed again, only this time you were alone just as the sun reached its peak in the sky. The sunlight was so bright you had to squint your eyes as you sat up in the bed. A delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee and breakfast wafted through the air making your stomach grumble. Knowing that Alastor was perhaps in the kitchen, you pull the sheets from over you and go to stand, your legs felt like jelly and the soreness you felt in between your legs truly made it harder to walk.

You scanned the room for something to wear. All traces of modesty had disappeared since Alastor had taken you across nearly every piece of furniture in his possession, at that point what did you have to be modest about? Opting for one of his blouses, you opened his closet with the expectation of finding a more varied collection, only to discover that each blouse and pair of trousers adhered to a more monochromatic theme.

While reaching for a shirt, you accidentally knocked down another hanger. As you got on your knees to searched for the fallen garment on the floor, your fingertips brushed against a wooden box that was neatly tucked away into the shadows of the closet, sparking your curiosity. You sat down on the floor of the closet, dragging the box toward you to open it- but it was locked.

You decided to leave it be, excusing it as a mere heirloom or something of importance to Alastor. It was left in the back of your mind as you retreat from the closet, you changed into the blouse before leaving his bedroom to follow the delightful scent of breakfast- but before you left the room, you couldn't resist picking up Alastor's forgotten glasses from his nightstand.

As you made your way to the kitchen, the delicious scent of breakfast intensified. The memories of the night before lingered in your mind, a mix of passion and tenderness with Alastor. The soreness between your legs served as a reminder of the intimate moments you shared.

You found Alastor humming a jazz tune as he cooked, completely absorbed in his culinary endeavors. The clinking of utensils against pans filled the air, harmonizing with his cheerful humming. He turned to look at you, a smile spreading across his face.

"Well, good morning, my dear," Alastor greeted, his tone a mix of charm and, at least you hoped, genuine affection. "I hope you slept well."

"Goodmorning Alastor, I did sleep well, thank you," you returned his smile, feeling a sense of comfort in the domestic scene. The small kitchen table was set for two, adorned with a simple but elegant lace. Alastor had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane tasks seem like an art form.

You took a seat at the table, placing his glasses carefully beside you. Alastor joined you, serving a delicious-looking breakfast onto your plate.

"Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the spread before you. "We had a long night so I am sure you are quite famished.”

You looked down at your silverware as you thanked him, your entire body heating up at the mention of your shared affairs last night as you dug into the meal, savoring the flavors. The comfortable silence between you and Alastor spoke volumes, a example of the connection formed between you two during the night.

Alastor sat across from you with a delighted hum, newspaper in hand while he sipped from his coffee mug in the other, "And how are you faring, my dear? I supposed I did get quite carried away." He broke the domestic silence with a grin, his eyes looking over your neck that was littered with marks. His marks.

"I'm fine," You say honestly, "I enjoyed it really, it was good...for my first time." You all but whispered the last part.

"Well that eases my worry," Alastor puts on his glasses to rest them on the bridge of his nose as he looks over his newspaper again, turning the page as he crosses his right leg over his left, “Let me know if you prefer tea in the morning, I have some brewing on the stove for the afternoon.”

Tea. You audibly gasp at the word as the realization dawned on you. You were supposed to be at home, sick in bed, and drinking tea— that was your cover for the night but the night was long since over. Glancing at the clock, you noticed that it was thirty minutes until eight o’clock, which was the usual time for breakfast to be served at your house. Your mother always expected you at the table a minute before her, groomed and ready for the day ahead. If you weren’t there on time then surely it’ll cause suspicion.

“I hate to cut this short but I have to go,” You hurriedly gobble up the rest of your food before standing up from your chair, “I have to be home soon or my mother will kill me!”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at the irony in that, “Surely, you have time to at least finish your coffee?”

You spared the moment a thought but ultimately shook your head, “I’m sorry but I can’t,” you walked past Alastor to go into his bedroom to slip on your clothes from the night before. His footsteps followed, accompanied by the jingle of car keys in hand.

As you hurriedly grabbed your belongings, Alastor offered to ease your worry with a smile, "I'll drive you home. No need to rush alone in your state of distress."

Grateful for the assistance, you nodded in agreement, and together, you both left his place. You felt different now, a bit lighter, more mature as you slipped into the passenger side of Alastor's car. He held the door open and closed it for you like a true gentleman. The car ride was filled with light banter, Alastor's charismatic demeanor easing the tension that lingered from your hasty departure.

Once you reached your home, Alastor parked the car a little ways away from your estate and turned to you. "Thank you for the company, darling. I hope your mother's wrath is not as fearsome as you anticipate."

You chuckled nervously, appreciating his understanding. "I hope so too. And thank you for everything, Alastor.. I enjoyed our time together."

He leaned in, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and planted a gentle kiss on your lips. "Until we meet again," he whispered, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

With a promise to see each other soon hanging in the air, you slipped through the back door of your home, grateful for the concealment it offered. Hastily, you made your way to your room, hurriedly taking off the clothes from the night before taking a moment to compose yourself. You had only a few minutes to spare and you couldn't waste them.

After freshening up in your own personal water closet, you did your hair as neatly, and quickly, as you could— following up with a light touch of makeup. The faint taste of Alastor's farewell kiss lingered, and you couldn't help but smile at your reflection in the mirror. Now, groomed and ready, you braced yourself for the day ahead and the potential questions your mother might have about your ailment.

You rushed downstairs into the dining room, the scent of freshly brewed tea and warm toast filling the air. Just as you took your seat, your mother entered, her expression stoic. Unfazed, you greeted her with a bright smile, attempting to mask any trace of your recent escapades.

"Good morning Mother, How did you sleep?" you asked cheerfully, reaching for the toast as if it were any ordinary morning.

Your mother eyed you with a raised eyebrow, as she sat down at the head of the table, allowing the maid beside her to pour her tea, "Well enough, dear. I found myself tossing and turning all night. And you? That cold seemed to be really troubling you last night."

You laughed nervously, hoping your casual demeanor would deflect any probing questions. "It was, I could hardly get out of bed last night but thankfully sleep eventually came."

She continued to observe you, suspicion lingering in her gaze. Of course she knows you snuck out but she wouldn't reveal her cards too early. She would let you have this win for now in the hopes that when your rendezvous did come to light, your spirit would be so crushed by then that you'd have no other choice but to lean on your mother for support because she knew that this was a mere distraction for you and you were nothing but a toy to the man that wanted to use you. Your mother should know, after all she was a young girl once herself. "Mm-hmm," she responded, not fully convinced as she eyed the turtleneck dress you wore. "Anything interesting happen last night?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but you maintained your composure. "Not really, just a quiet night. How about you? Anything exciting on your end?"

She hesitated, scrutinizing you for a moment before deciding to drop the subject. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. Just the usual."

Relieved, you continued with a light breakfast, inwardly sighing at the narrow escape. Little did your mother know about the intriguing night you had spent with Alastor, and you hoped to keep it that way—for now, at least.

As you sipped your tea, hoping to steer the conversation away from any further inquiries, your mother decided to drop a bombshell. With a casual tone, she announced, "Silly me, but I forgot to mention that we're hosting a party in two days. We must prepare you for that so I have list of errands we need to run. Oh, and I've decided it's time that I take over in your matchmaking process."

Your eyes widened in surprise, nearly choking on your tea. "A party? Matchmaking? Mom, that's a bit sudden, isn't it?"

Your mother smiled innocently as she was spreading jam on her toast. "Nonsense, dearest. You've had quite a bit of freedom lately, and I think it's only fair that I take charge of finding you a suitable partner."

You were taken aback by the revelation. "Mom, I appreciate your concern, but I can handle my own affairs. I don't need you picking a match for me."

She raised an eyebrow, her expression turning serious. "And where has that led us? It's time to consider your future. I've arranged for some eligible suitors to attend the party, and by the end of the night, we'll have a decision."

You felt a sense of frustration and helplessness. The control over your own choices slipping away yet again, replaced by the traditional expectations your mother seemed determined to enforce. As you finished your breakfast, a sense of foreboding settled in—the upcoming party was more than just a social gathering. It held the potential to reshape your life in ways you may not be ready for.

As the conversation about the upcoming party lingered, a maid entered the room, carefully placing a radio on the table. You couldn't help but notice that this particular maid was new, and a quick glance around revealed that the other servants bustling about the home were also unfamiliar faces.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you leaned in and asked your mother, "Mother, What happened to our usual staff?"

Your mother, engrossed in the morning radio, responded nonchalantly, "Oh, I fired them, dear. They simply weren't meeting my standards. Now, please hold your tongue; I'm trying to listen to the morning news."

You were left you speechless, a mix of surprise and concern washing over you. The familiar faces that had been a constant presence in your household were replaced without warning. You couldn't help but wonder what had transpired behind the scenes and what might be the real reason for this sudden change. Then you realized that maybe your mother knew of your outing with Alastor and she was acting like she didn't, and if she was, why was she acting clueless?

Your mind began swirling with questions about the upcoming party, the matchmaking, and now the unexplained dismissal of the longtime staff. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, leaving you with an uneasy feeling about the changes that were unfolding in your once-familiar surroundings.

"Oh, what a delightful morning it is! I trust everyone enjoyed a restful night, as I certainly did!" Alastor's voice resonated through the radio, carrying a distinct weight. Despite being the renowned radio show host, he seemed like an entirely different person. Though the broadcast introduced some static, his charm remained. "Let's kick off this morning with some smooth jazz tunes, shall we? I have Louis Armstrong & His Hot Seven's top hits ready to grace your ears! We'll return shortly after this brief interlude, folks!"

Alastor flipped off one switch on his microphone and activated another. The sounds of "Potato Head Blues" filled the airwaves, spreading throughout New Orleans. While the jazz played in the warehouse, Alastor rose from his chair with an irritated groan, heading towards a locked closet at the end of the hall. Using a key, he unlocked the door and descended the creaky wooden stairs. As he reached the bottom step, another voice in the room caught his attention.

"Mmmh!" The person, bound to a chair with a cloth in their mouth, struggled against their restraints, fear evident in their eyes as they observed Alastor approaching with a stoic expression. Tear-filled eyes followed his movements as he walked to a table in the corner, his fingertips brushing over an array of displayed knives. "Mmmph! Hmph!"

"Your grunts and stifled screams are growing rather tiresome," Alastor remarked, his hand hovering over one of his cherished knives with a sinister grin. Lifting it up, the blade gleamed in the light. "I understand it's rather solitary in this space. You were supposed to have a companion, but," Alastor pulled a wooden chair across the floor, creating an unsettling echo against the concrete. He positioned himself in front of the restrained individual, heightening the bone-chilling atmosphere, "plans change."

Alastor glided the blade deliberately across the person's cheek, the chilling touch of the metal causing involuntary shivers. Despite their struggles against the restraints, Alastor sighed, tapping the blade against their skin in a disturbingly mocking rhythm.

"This person, this woman," Alastor mused, tilting his head to the side, "is confusing me, and I don't like it." The sadistic atmosphere in the room thickened as he increased the pressure of the blade against their cheek, drawing blood. Suddenly, he halted, as if a realization had struck him.

"But I don't hate it either," Alastor declared with an unsettling calmness, leaving an ominous pause that lingered in the air. The duality of his emotions toward the captive person added a perplexing layer to the unfolding scene, intensifying the disturbing nature of the situation.

Alastor, maintaining his eerie composure, turned to the restrained person and asked, "What do you think? Is it true love?" A twisted amusement gleamed in his eyes as he awaited a response.

A cruel chuckle escaped him as he noticed the person's inability to answer, their mouth securely gagged. The absurdity of the question in the face of their silent predicament seemed to amuse the madman further. The room resonated with Alastor's unsettling laughter, creating an atmosphere of malevolence that hung heavily in the air. The captive, helpless and silenced, could only endure the scene unfolding before them knowing that this would be the last sight they ever see.

"One, two, three, one, two-" The ballroom echoed with the rhythmic counting of the waltz, your mother diligently guiding you through the steps. As you twirled with your elderly dance partner, your mind drifted to Alastor. The memory of dancing with him under the stars tugged at your heart, and an undeniable longing for him filled your thoughts.

In the midst of the waltz, you couldn't shake the yearning to be with him, whether listening to his radio broadcasts or engaging in casual conversations over coffee. The mere thought of Alastor sent your heart racing, leaving you flustered and questioning the nature of these emotions. Was this love? The answer seemed evident with each flutter of your heart, each bounce of the balls of your feet. Love, it seemed, had taken root in your heart.

The dance partner, an elderly servant, winced as your foot landed squarely on his toes. "I am so sorry!" you began to apologize, but your mother's sharp voice cut through the room.

"A woman must be graceful like a swan," she admonished, tapping the back of your thighs with a cane, the sting making you wince, "not a tumbling tiger."

"I—" You attempted to offer excuses, but your mother's stern gaze silenced you.

"You are distracted," she declared, shaking her head in disapproval. "I need you to dismiss whatever is taking over your mind and be present. The ball is tomorrow, and I can't have you embarrassing me on your big day." The weight of her expectations pressed upon you, urging you to set aside your personal feelings and focus on the upcoming event.

A heavy sigh escaped your mother's lips as she turned her attention to the elderly servant. "You may leave us," she instructed, her tone carrying a hint of disappointment. The servant bowed slightly, acknowledging the dismissal before exiting the ballroom.

Now alone, your mother circled you, her scrutinizing gaze causing you to shrink under her watchful eyes. The atmosphere grew tense as she examined you, her expression a mix of frustration and concern.

With each step, your mother's presence loomed, and the weight of her expectations seemed to intensify. The impending ball was not just an event; it was a reflection of her social standing, and any misstep could ruin her reputation. As she circled, you couldn't help but feel the pressure to conform to her ideals and expectations, the desire for personal connection and freedom momentarily eclipsed by the demands of societal decorum.

Your mother's gaze didn't miss the marks on your neck you tried to hide, remnants of the passionate night you spent with Alastor. She dismissed it with a grimace, a silent disapproval lingering in her expression.

As the tension in the room hung thick, your mother took a deep breath before opening her mouth to speak once again. "Did I ever tell you the story of how I was in love?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

"Of course, you and father—" you began, but your mother cut you off with a firm gesture. "This was before your father. Before everything…before I became a woman of high society."

The weight of her words hung in the air, and you could sense that she was about to share a piece of her past, a side of her life that you hadn't even thought to acknowledge. As the ball loomed on the horizon, the barriers between you and your mother seemed to momentarily lower, providing a glimpse into a time when love and passion took precedence over societal expectations.

"I fell in love with a man during the summer months," your mother began, her voice carrying a bittersweet tone. She continued to circle you, sharing the intimate details of a past you had only glimpsed before. "He swept me off my feet quickly, and I was blinded by that love because, in my eyes, he was my happily ever after."

Your eyes widened as you listened intently to your mother's story. The ballroom, once filled with the echoes of waltz music, now held a poignant atmosphere as she delved into her personal history.

"I was merely a farmer's daughter, and he, a factory worker. It truly was a good match. But…" Her mother's expression darkened at the memory. "My dear, you can give a man everything, every ounce of your entire being, and he will still want more."

As the weight of her words settled, you could sense the bitter undertones of regret and heartache in your mother's story. It opened a window into her past, a time when love seemed boundless, yet reality had its own lessons to impart. The circling continued, each step a reminder of the complexities that love could bring.

"What I thought was love was nothing but a game to him," your mother continued, her voice carrying the weight of past heartache. The circling ceased abruptly, and her cane tapped hard against the ballroom floor as if emphasizing the gravity of her words. "He was gone with autumn, taking everything I had given him—my money, my body…my soul. I would've been truly ruined if it wasn't for your father."

She stood in front of you, gripping your chin harshly, forcing you to meet her gaze with glossy eyes. "I say all of that to say, do not be fooled by a wolf in sheep's clothing."

The words hung in the air, resonating with the tale she had just shared. The ballroom, once a place of elegance and grace, now echoed with the cautionary wisdom of a mother who had weathered the storms of love and loss. The vulnerability in her eyes and the firmness of her grip conveyed the sincerity of her warning, urging you to tread carefully in matters of the heart.

"I don't care what you do from this point forward but know this, you will attend the ball in your honor and you will marry the man who I deem worthy of you, understood?" After your mother releases her grip from your chin, tapping her cane once more, she steps aside, allowing you to pass. "Practice is over. You may go," she declares.

The aftermath of this encounter leaves tears welling in your eyes and a heavy weight in your chest. Unable to meet your mother's gaze, you hurry past her, fleeing the ballroom without a backward glance. In your rush, you even collide with a maid, but offer no apology as you hurry out the front door. Emotions swirl within you, mingling anger towards your mother with a deeper frustration directed toward yourself. The struggle between fulfilling family expectations and pursuing your own happiness weighed heavily on your mind. Are you truly prepared to forsake everything for Alastor? And more importantly, would he do the same for you?

Descending the stone steps of your home in haste, you decided to find Alastor and confront the questions you've been avoiding. Only his response would determine your next move.

"Mr. Ray?" You lean down to peer through the driver's side window, where your family chauffeur is taking a cigarette break. His complexion blends seamlessly with the setting sun. "Could you take me somewhere?"

"Without your mother?" He arches an eyebrow. "I believe you still require a chaperone, young lady."

"She allowed me out for the afternoon as long as I am back before curfew. Please, I'll be under your watchful eye. I promise to behave," you nearly beg, your puppy-dog eyes meeting his.

With a resigned sigh, the chauffeur relents. "Get in," he says, giving in to your plea and falling for your sweet lie.

With a sense of purpose, you climbed into the car, knowing that the journey ahead would be filled with uncertainty but you were determined in proving your mother wrong, you wanted to follow your happiness and Alastor was that happiness because in your mind— no, in your heart, you knew you loved him.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

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[sellyourshadownotyoursoul]

DP x DC WIP: Magical Sugar Daddy

The world exists in shades of green. Everywhere Jason looks he sees sickness and death and the perverted unfairness of it all.

There's blood on his boots, accompanied by the pleasant ache of tired muscles. His hand is still buzzing from the recoil of his gun - the breath in his lungs is tinged with cigarette smoke, dry and acidic.

There's been a presence behind him for a while now, trailing after him no matter what he does to lose the tail. It's like a prickle of static in the air, faint enough to dismiss for anyone less paranoid.

Jason's body is a spring wound too tight, the metal screeching in protest as the feeling of being watched intensifies.

A week and change since he's had a moment of peace.

When he hears the scuffle of a shoe on the quiet rooftop it's no wonder he explodes into action.

The trigger is pulled before he's even turned his head, a roar of thunder in his ears. The butt of his gun misses its target by a hair's breadth as he brings it down in an arc followed up by a kick that finally earns him a reaction. The figure grunts in pain and surprise, but the step it takes backwards isn't one of staggered retreat. It's a pivot on a heel and a coil of muscle before Jason's stalker is vaulting over the smokestack at their side, launching them back into the fight proper.

Jason growls low in his throat, like his lungs do not exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide but what he exhales is instead a heady mix of hunger and rage. There's an answering sound, a hiss pitched high at the end as the two of them clash once more.

Jason blocks a punch and pushes the muzzle of his gun against an unguarded shoulder, point blank. His target flinches hard enough that the shot only clips them but that gives Jason the opportunity for a follow-up punch to the jaw.

The hood of his stalker falls to their shoulders and Jason answers the grin on their face with a baring of teeth hidden behind his mask.

Jason gets a kick to the ribs while he reloads the gun and subsequently opts to just holster the thing so he can have both hands free. The other asshole isn't much bigger than Jason and their guard is sloppy.

He won't need weapons for this.

A misstep from his opponent has Jason surging forward to fling them over the edge of the roof before a flip that would make Dickie proud reverses their positions. It forces Jason to roll under a kick so he isn't the one meeting the pavement at lethal velocity.

His attacker appears male, age unclear but certainly out of their twenties. Jason grabs the snowy white braid that flows behind them and feels a rush at the gasp that pulls from the guy, even as the retaliation gets him an uppercut that makes his vision swim.

Jason twists the hair around his fist, forcing the head it's attached to into the pavement at their feet.

He slams it down once, twice, before a leg around his own has him lose his balance. He lands on his elbow and curses at the pain shooting through it even as he gets back up and rounds on his opponent. He blocks a punch by diverting it outwards, stepping back and to the side so the fight stays in the center of the roof.

There's blood running freely down the other man's front from a nose that Jason bets is broken, the liquid looks jet black in Jason's monochromatic world of sickly lazarus green.

The eyes watching him are wide and alert, a manic edge to them from the bared fangs and the tense posture. They both surge forward, trading blows and kicks until they're breathing heavy and Jason can tell his opponent is flagging.

The way they move makes it clear they're not a fighter, at least not one with a preference for hand-to-hand. They keep up with Jason just barely, but it's already clear who the winner is going to be, even as Jason lets it drag out until there's sweat running down his back.

A kick from Jason's steel toed boot against an unarmored shin is what finally ends it. His opponent falls to the ground with a curse and they don't get back up even as Jason looms over them. Their eyes are half-lidded, hands sprawled out limply above their head in defeat, but there's a smile on their face that really tests Jason's ability to suppress the urge to tear out their throat. He places a boot on the guy's sternum and puts enough weight on it to show he's serious.

A low sound, a mix of a grunt and a laugh, precedes a weak attempt to buck Jason off but he doesn't budge.

“Talk,” Jason rasps.

A dark tongue swipes through the drying blood on his assailant’s lips and they cough wetly before responding.

“Nice to meet you,” is what he says, strained from the pressure on his lungs, “fuck, you're good.”

“Who sent you?” Jason's demand is curious but dripping with derision. Who would send a fucking prodigy of stealth just to have them suck at actually taking out the target?

Jason hadn't been able to lose this stalker for over a week, had gotten litterally zero intel on who this fucker is despite having Oracle and half his own men on high alert.

And then the guy just walks up and scuffs his shoe against the pavement?

Suicide by Red Hood much?

“Technically Clockwork, but I'm not really-” the guy coughs again, trying to breathe, “not really someone people can send.”

Jason prompts him to continue with an addition of pressure to his ribs. He doesn't feel any sort of armor under the neutral hoodie, nor do the cargo pants look like they're in any way reinforced. They're clean though and clearly not the kind of worn Jason expects for someone trying to blend in this side of town. No camouflage tech unless it's nano-sized.

The man wrinkles his nose, eyes flicking down to the boot and back up to Jason's face.

“Okay, look I know I'm late, but I'm here to apologize,” he says with another little grunt and a wiggle. Jason keeps him pinned.

“I didn't actually know you were mine until a year ago-”

“Yours?” Jason scoffs, something sour rising in his gut.

“Yeah?”

“I don't fucking belong to you,” Jason states darkly, one hand unholstering his gun.

There isn't any immediate reaction to the escalation, but Jason can feel a strange charge in the air. The body underneath him certainly doesn't relax.

“Fuck, okay sure, yeah, no ownership,” the guy huffs but the voice is not nearly as afraid as it should be, “that's kind of, ah, what I wanted to talk about.”

“And if I tell you to fuck off?”

“Then I'll fuck off.”

Jason pauses, tilting his head in consideration.

“Who are you?” Jason's question is wary and curt, a final offer to change his mind before he cocks his gun. The guy under him watches with bright, intense eyes, seemingly unperturbed by the monster looming above.

“I'm the reason you're still alive, Jason.”

Jason laughs coldly at the boldness of that statement.

“Bullshit,” he spits.

The eyes continue to watch him, appearing to glow in the faint light. The guy's face is set in a grimace, but it's one of mild inconvenience rather than pain. He should have a concussion at least, not to mention a fracture or two, so he's either trained to withstand pain or some kind of meta. Maybe he's hopped up on some new drug that's got him unaware of the damage. A byproduct of whatever made him so difficult to track.

Neither of them are panting anymore.

“Last chance,” Jason drawls as he takes aim at a damp forehead, already feeling the anticipatory rush that comes with taking a life.

He is admittedly not intending to let this little stalker live no matter what comes out of his mouth. Not when he knows Jason's name, not when there might not be another chance to tie up the loose end.

The guy seems aware of it too, eyes flickering over Jason's mask as if trying to find the right combination of words to buy just a little more time.

He opens his mouth, closes it again.

He sighs through his nose, a wet sound when it displaces the coagulating blood, and lets his head fall back against the concrete rooftop. The message seems clear in the resigned set of his shoulders and Jason feels an irrational indignance at being denied the struggle.

Nevertheless he pulls the trigger.

BANG

The sound echoes into the distance until it blends into every other incriminating noise Gotham makes at night. Jason frowns down at the would-be corpse.

He couldn't have missed, not with the muzzle barely a foot from its target - but there's no bullet hole marring the face at his feet. The eyes remain alive and aware as they watch Jason's growing confusion.

“What the fuck,” he mutters.

That earns him a stuffy snort. The man's hands flare out as if to say ‘ta-dah’ and only flinch minutely when Jason sends another bullet into him.

“Rude,” the guy comments, in the cadence of someone annoyed rather than relieved.

“What are you,” Jason demands in response, forcefully holstering his gun now that it has proven to be worthless. Looks like fists are going to be the way forward.

“Loaded question,” the guy groans unhelpfully, pushing at Jason's leg with little success.

Jason makes a point of momentarily increasing the pressure, staring the fucker down through the whiteouts of his mask.

“You survived a lazarus pit,” stalker offers, the words a sucker punch to an unhealed wound that Jason refuses to acknowledge, “which means you accepted the price that comes with it, whether you knew about it or not.”

“And that explains what, exactly?”

“You asked what I am,” the guy shrugs.

“And you still haven't answered.”

There's a moment where stalker-guy gazes up into the cloudy, dark sky, hands settling from their attempts to remove Jason's boot to instead tap idly against the leather. The fingers are long and thin, the kind an author might describe as suited for playing the piano, the nails neither bitten to the quick nor so long as to appear unkempt. Jason feels a sudden urge to break those fingers one by one just to see if that might yield a more satisfying reaction. Or some answers. His eyes catch on a sleek black band on the ring-finger of the guy's left hand and wonders momentarily if his shadow’s got someone waiting for him. He pities them.

“Price,” Jason prompts, “explain.”

“Right, yeah I can do that-do you mind stepping off? The bullets are digging into my back-”

“Maybe if you give me a reason to,” Jason retorts with a sneer, feeling the absolute furthest from any notion of ‘charitable’.

Stalker-guy sighs.

“Got it, okay, so, I'm basically your magical sugar-daddy-”

“My fucking what-” Jason chokes, feeling distinctly like the gravity of the situation is doing loop-de-loops.

“Your patron. Your new one, anyway,” the guy shrugs again, as if that's a concept that's common knowledge.

Jason forces air into his lungs. The world flickers.

“You paid your soul to my predecessor and he gave you back your memories.”

Jason's insides are made of cracked glass and every syllable pushes further up against it. Isn't the pit rage enough of a price?

“I came to introduce myself,” Jason's apparent ‘magical sugar-daddy’ continues conversationally, “which I guess I still haven't, technically.”

Jason's hands are white-knuckled fists, his vision is green and tunneling. From the moment he had him pinned every word out of his stalker's mouth has done nothing but add more fuel to the anger sitting low in Jason’s gut. The need for this piece of shit to at least have the decency to be afraid.

Talking about Jason's fucking soul - about paying the price and book-ending it with a term as crass as ‘sugar-daddy’ is so discordant it is almost physically painful. Mentioning the pits and claiming to have saved Jason's life in such a blasé manner has him writhing with indignation. The condescension drips from him and his every action, too similar to-

Jason's spiraling is interrupted by a change to his balance. His foot on the guy's chest hits the concrete underneath, the sight of his calf sticking out of what should have been a living, breathing body causing a momentary stutter in Jason's reality.

Then the guy is on his feet, reaching out a hand as if they weren't at each other's throats a moment ago. As if the bullets lodged in the concrete weren't intended for one of their heads. As if he cannot sense the raw malice pouring out of Jason.

“I'm Danny, sorry for the wait.”

[acupofinkedblood]

Icedagger and child reader who eventually grew up

Note: This is a new breeze because I want to give it a shot with Icedagger’s new potential personality because of his rewritten lore, maybe like a rant on this new side of his character in the tea itself (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

Note 2: I’m not exactly too proud of this (￣^￣ )ゞ

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• “Slumber, as the night shall be eternal when the sun has been casted away by the haze. The merciless cold shall wash away all the spouts of the upcoming spring, burying them under a blanket of everlasting snow in peace. Close your eyes, dear children of the cruel winter, embrace the blessing of your fate with no question. For he who has isolated himself in the icy heart of his own until the next lullaby of death. Sleep, with little care to the world,”…The lullaby itself has became a classic of old Blackrock based on its extreme weather’s conditions. But one thing that annoyed Icedagger until this day is how those mortals dare to include his personal matter inside their lyrics. Not calling his name out directly, but still. Out of everything they can add, they choose that. For a kid’s lullaby too, how ironic. Yet Icedagger can’t bring himself to even make a fuss of it, slumbering for too long has reduced his thirst of conflict at this point being

• How many millenniums have passed? How many times has the sun risen up after the curtain of the night? How many moment of silence had he realized after awakening from his slumber? How many blizzards have reflected his heart that caused nothing but misery to the mortals? Icedagger doesn’t know, nor does he care. After all, what even matters to him anymore? He simply can’t give a damn about such trivial matters that occur outside of his domain. If he doesn’t even bother to send his regards to his siblings to check up on them despite haven’t seen them since certain things have changed, why should he bother with anything else? All he has is his own company to be annoyed with, such a dull and monochromatic life of his that he has chosen for himself — O Icedagger, habringer of the cruel snowstorms born from his cold heart

• The snow has been nothing but a false glimpse of mercy, so pure and beautiful, how can such thing ever hurt anyone? That’s when you’re just judging a book based on its cover. Dear children of the land where the sun cradles your face with love, how foolish has you been. That snowflake which dances so graceful on your hands shall then melt into ice, and your smile shall quickly fades and you yelp when the frostbite has gotten through your skin. The children of Blackrock has soon grown accustomed to these harsh blessings their god has granted them with little complains. Yet, some of those children just can’t help themselves but adores the snow despite everything no matter what. How foolish. Icedagger has always found mortals to be beyond his understanding. Such distasteful creatures with unexplainable behaviors, one with such a small lifespan that is as insignificant as an ant that froze beneath his feet

• He will never understand the fascination that his sibling held so close to that annoyingly blazing heart of his with mortals. What is even the appeal of them when compared to the likes of him? They are ridiculously fragile, one small gust of chill is more than enough to send them shivering like crazy. Mortals have needs that they need to get access to, or else they might as well just bid life a goodbye and join hand with Ghostwalker himself. Always need to be handled as if they can melt away under stress at anytime, like a delicate ice sculpture that has to avoid the sun but still wants to be under it so they can shine. Icedagger has forgotten the last time he had ever interacted with mortals. Hell, should he even remember? He can barely remember how many ice sculptures he had, how can he just sit down and mourn the old times where everything was still right as it should be? But then again, for a deity that has lived for that long, he might need a better excuse to cover for the face that he just does not want to recall those time due to not feeling like it

• Icedagger can’t recall the exact period when he was still walking among mortals. Maybe when he was still around his siblings with their assigned duties, since he was less interested in sleeping his existence away in those times, a contrast to now. But maybe it wasn’t that long ago yet, maybe during when he accidentally sleepwalked out of his home which caused an unexpected snow showers to wherever he went? Though he wouldn’t say he was exactly “walking among mortals���, since he barely made an effort to even interact with them at the first place. Unlike Firebrand who is so insisting on meddling with mortals, Icedagger wants nothing to do with them, at least not every single time. To word it more correctly, he’d say it was those time that he still managed to get out of his domain for a walk during such wintry weather. Even when it was mainly to ensure that he can get some fresh air for once like how they insist him to do, Icedagger didn’t complain. It wasn’t like any mortals could recognize him anyway

• Out of the seven SFOTH siblings, Icedagger held an infamous record of isolating himself the most away from any living beings despite no matter how much the others tried to convince him to go out. Even the SFOTHs themselves found it to be a pretty big deal when it came to see Icedagger in his physical form for once, let alone mortals. He would find any excuses possible to ditch any event they held, only made an appearance briefly for pleasantries before got back to his place. Hell, Darkheart had soon given up on Icedagger’s stubbornness as he too couldn’t figure out a way to get Icedagger to be genuinely interested in doing something rather than just shutting himself off in his domain all by himself. He always had shown little consideration to matters that didn’t revolve around his own existence. Not mortals, not any trivial matter, not anything that doesn’t concern him directly. Not even his siblings’ lives. It was enough for mortals to forget that he exists in the first place and only briefly referred to him as a mysterious entity that was behind Blackrock’s constant blizzard without knowing his name. For someone, it was a curse. But Icedagger simply embraced his fate as he found it to be unnecessary to be remembered by those whose lives shall end before his own. Why would he care for mortals anyway?

• That is until the day he found something. The ‘something’ in saying that resembles a poor excuse of a small Inphernal almost buried alive beneath the pile of frosty snow outside of his domain while he was on a walk. Poor thing was all black and blue because of the ruthless cold, looking as if just by staying underneath the snow a bit more and this unfortunate soul shall be guided to the afterlife by Ghostwalker himself. It shouldn’t be Icedagger’s problem. He didn’t gain anything by meddling with mortals before, so why should he now? He could have left you and continued his walk without looking back, like how he did to the other creatures that had departed this physical plane by his power without acknowledgement of it. Icedagger could just walk away, yet something about you that made him halt his pace. No, he wouldn’t call it a glimpse of pity, maybe it was something else. Amusement? Curiosity? Or maybe it was simply mild annoyance out of the blue. Even Icedagger was a victim of his own swallow emotions, how laughable

• In the end, Icedagger surrendered. If any of his siblings ever dared to observed him from afar and witnessed the fact he just scooped up a mortal from the snow in his arms, he knew he would never hear the end of it. Honestly though, he gotta gave you a bare minimum of the credit. If his memory served him right, you were in his main territory — the entire region of Blackrock is his territory, but this specific part is the main one — which was probably far away from your original home, enough to make anyone wince. To what did you stumble into this place? Out of pure stupidity, or was there something else deeper? Damn him for being curious, yet he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t born with a gift of a medic, so he did try his best to somewhat sustain your life. Trust him, he tried, somewhat

• The moment you woke up, you were still feeling the chill running down your spine, but seemed like your temperature had been moderated to a balanced point so that you wouldn’t die right away like earlier. And to top it up, you saw him. He hadn’t left just yet since the last bit of decent empathetic feeling was trying to ground himself down until he made sure you have been saved. And well, you definitely didn’t recognize the person in front of you to be one of the feared SFOTH deities. As annoying as that made Icedagger sulked, he had that coming. He had been isolated himself long enough for time to bury the last remain of his existence in the mortal’s mind after all, so he had expected your lack of manners as well as tried to excuse it. You were still young after all, and he wasn’t petty enough to hold it against the likes of you. At least you were able to stand up again without collapsing, a relief, he’d say if he had to

• Though he might just regret saving you. Because then all of the sudden you kept bugging him like you have no common sense when it comes to strangers. Sure, he helped you, and that was it. And now you expected him to stay? For what? Was this what Venomshank meant when he said that rescued animals will sometimes cling onto you like a tail? Are mortals always like this? How could his siblings even endure this nonsense? Icedagger genuinely wanted to brush you off and fly away. He wasn’t awakened enough to deal with this. But damn him for that too, because Icedagger was still rather somnolent to the point that he just didn’t have the strength to get himself out of this position with you holding onto his cloak. It was a weak grip, but hell, he didn’t even feel like struggling at that time. For the icy heart of his, what had he gotten himself into? Just treat it as another weird dream, as he would say to himself when finally agreed to entertain your childish behavior for a mere moment

• Icedagger didn’t know what to expect. He hadn’t interact with mortals before after this long, so he couldn’t really understand you. Deities and mortals are different in that aspect of unable to fully understand each other after all, and Icedagger himself fully committed to that fact. You just met him a few minutes ago, yet here you are, following him around while talking about something that he couldn’t hear fully due to his lack of interest for such trivial matters. And not to mention the question you had for him too: Who is he? Why is he here? Does he live here? What color does he like? Gosh, it was endless. Sometimes he would nod to play along to mask the fact that he was counting every minutes of nonexistent seconds in hope that you would stop soon. And even when you stopped, you still followed him like a lost puppy. You were definitely a lost case. If you were to be even more stubborn than you had already showed him, then Icedagger might actually have to pray under his own name for his sake

• He expected you to give up soon when he didn’t answer you for more than a couple of short sentences, most of those who had crossed paths with him always surrender their attempts to try to interest Icedagger in a conversation for more than five minutes anyway. To melt the sculpture of everlasting ice just by a little match within a day wasn’t a task someone would have the patience to do. But then if he was to comparing you to a tiny match, that wouldn’t do justice to the item itself. Hell, you were definitely a flamethrower, much to his annoyance. Icedagger wouldn’t be the type that you could call as kind or merciful, but he was like ice itself. To call someone who was just cold ‘cruel’ wasn’t doing their personality the justice it deserved. Ice was never cruel in nature to begin with, it is just cold. Just staying there, doing nothing while shooing people away by its coldness. Icedagger had successfully isolated himself from the rest his kin by that. And yet despite all of that, you just couldn’t seem to take the hint that he had given out which just screamed ‘Leave me alone’ in subtle. He was being somewhat nice, mind you

• He had intentionally shoo you away. But Icedagger had never shouted at you to get away from him with full volume like his sister. He lacked that intensity of raw emotions, as you mortals would call it as such. Still, Icedagger still tried to make an effort in a passive aggressive way. In which he complained to you directly on how you just bragged into his territory without a warning, and here you were. Did he tell you directly to leave him alone? Yes. Did you leave him like he wished? Sadly, no. He tried to drop you somewhere and just moved on with his monotonous life, yet you always managed to get on his nerves with your wailing, which dragged his attention to where he had left you all over again. Even Icedagger couldn’t even explain why couldn’t he just get away from this insufferable child even when the last thing he wanted was for someone to walk into his life and just stayed there. At this point, he wholeheartedly gave up

• Even when the night had fallen and he had made you to return to your home, even walked you out of his territory to your town to bid you a farewell message, the very next day you would still show up in the same place where he first saved you patiently. Icedagger’s stroll schedule was rather inconsistent due to how he would just lose all of his energy and slept for days, but when you found out what you were doing? Icedagger found a new motivation to snap out of his slumber to try to drag you out of his area. As comical as that sounded, please understand that even Darkheart’s pranks couldn’t get Icedagger out of his cave no matter how much he tried. That meant you were definitely special, in your own whimsical way. It even resulted in him chasing you around while you were laughing your heart out as if this was nothing but a fun game of catch for you. Yes, he could just ignore you and left you to freeze to death because of your stubbornness as a punishment, but something kept making him go all of his way to check up on you. Why was it that he had such interesting complications going on in his mind when he first met you? No one could answer that question, not even the physical manifestation of fate itself

• Days after days, hours after hours, Icedagger still tried to entertain you enough so you can just listen to him and go home, while you were still…well, you. Full of life, full of energy like the warm sunshine itself. And Icedagger didn’t even like the sun, yet he managed to stretch his patience out just so he could try and tolerate you. A game of chase like it was mentioned before, a snowball fight which Icedagger had to literally hold back the urge of digging the snow up to sleep there for the rest of the game, a couple rounds of hide and seek when Icedagger could just easily follow your footsteps on the snow to catch you. One game after another, and Icedagger had somehow gotten used to it to the point that if you were to sulk and wanted to play a completely new game rather than the old ones, he would bring his own ability to come up with something. Another door to your fascination that was his doom when you kept pestering him to get creative even more

• Iceskating was probably what he managed to keep you busy with most. He knew there was no way that someone could easily do it in the first attempt without hitting their butt against the icy surface, and that should include you too. The whole purpose of the games was to tire you out enough so you wouldn’t have enough strength to protest when he brought you back to your home, and this whole ice skating scheme was to make sure that you would be so occupied with this specific activity to the point that it would stop you from asking him to exhaust his mind with creativity again. It was two birds with one stone. The only downside of it was that you insisted on him teaching you from the baby steps even when he wasn’t really that enthusiastic about the whole thing. After all, he originally just wanted to sit on the sideline and relax while you do your own things. Between exercising physically or exercising creatively, both options didn’t really seem that inviting. But oh well, he had it coming from the start, might as well obliged so you wouldn’t make a fuss about it

• Another thing he had managed to distract your enthusiasm with was solitaire. No, not with cards, sure he was definitely not the most interesting deity to talk to, he wasn’t that basic at all. Icedagger was still a deity, mind you. You don’t really see a deity such as him going around and buy a box of card on his own, especially when he was living alone. One thing you might found to be pretty interesting about Icedagger was the fact that despite not having an intense interest with anything at all — excluding you, but it wasn’t really an ‘intense interest’ because he only found you to be annoyingly interesting for the very first time in his life, it wasn’t something too ‘intense’ in traditional words — he oddly had a fondness with ice sculpting. He would do so just to kill the time with all the sizes, though his preference was still the small ones so they wouldn’t take too much spaces of his living area. Each sculptures were handled with upmost care to make up for the fact he had procrastinated the process for who knows how long. A small bunny, a little dragon, a tiny moth…All originated from his everlasting glacier

• The sculptures would be replacing the cards in this game of solitaire. How so? Icedagger had this way to explain things to you later. After all, the more he made it pleasantly complicated for you to understand, the more he could get you to pipe down to stimulate your brain. It would be good for you too, since playing solitaire can offer mental benefits like improved memory or focus, while also providing a relaxing and enjoyable way to pass the time. Not to mention the strategic gameplay of it. Now that Icedagger had replaced the cards with his sculptures, it would make things even more fascinating for you to take part in. Icedagger had always played that game alone to pass the time, he didn’t expect to be the one who would watch another player play from an opposite side. He wouldn’t say he had expected this soon in the near millennia, but so far, Icedagger didn’t really hate the feeling of teaching someone else but him. Maybe you — a stubborn child — had managed to make it somewhat better, it seemed

• His idle monochromatic peace was definitely disturbed by your appearance in his life. Yet this disturbance wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Hell, you even considered him a ‘friend’. Icedagger had thought that word would never exist in his dictionary at the first place. Friend with a mortal, sounded like something Firebrand would say to him. It was less of a dramatic effect when Darkheart shared his own advice of him should befriend a slumbering snail instead, but still, those were equally absurd. A mortal who was barely an outstanding kid, there was nothing worth the gaze of a deity like him in the beginning of this whole thing between you and him. But maybe you were the slumbering snail that Darkheart had mentioned. It was an idiotic comparison, Icedagger was aware, yet that was the only explanation he had on how did you even manage to be this stubborn to be friend with him. For once he had gotten back his motivate to do something else rather than just sulked in the corner of his domain, all thanks to you, the stubborn child that was more of an enigma than he was

• There was time that Icedagger had asked you on that subject too. Surely there must be mortals your age that would be your friends, no? Yet you seemed to avoid his question at this specific topic of forming friendship with the Inphernals at your town. Icedagger could literally feel the mood shifting just by bringing that up. Of course, Icedagger wouldn’t really be the type to be fixated on getting an answer out of you for the sake of his low-functional curiosity. If you wanted to stay silence, then he respected your wish to not push any further. He could leave his territory to investigate the case himself, but then that wouldn’t be the Icedagger that you knew, but an imposter. He tried beyond his limits to get out of his self-isolation to hang out with you in his main territory, but to go out of it into a place with other living beings? You were definitely asking too much. This was the boundary that Icedagger shall not cross for the sake of his own comfort. You did mention just how it felt like you were stepping into a dream land to meet him, that this was like a fun dream to escape reality. Such interesting view for a kid, but you did have a point

• Whether it would take a while for you to gather up the effort of telling him of what had been troubling you or you would just spill the tea without a second thought, the decision to be made was purely yours. But in the end, you did tell him about your own situation within your own town. How you were being picked on by your peers to the point that you just ran away from them then got lost in his territory at the first place. The bullies were mean, saying all those rude things as well as made sure that you wouldn’t make any new friends as long as they were there. It was a natural circulation, if Icedagger had to admit. The strong shall rise while the weak somber, as such was how life itself worked. Though would he interfere? Not quite, it wasn’t really his thing to do all those heroic stuff. He would listen to you though, like always. Maybe gave you a few advice of trying to stand up for yourself while he was doing it. The weak couldn’t survive in this world by being weak, they had to find a solution to survive at all cost in any ways possible. He would encourage you to beat those kids back with a monotonous resting face, and somehow you knew he was actually serious about it. As long as you won or whatever, it was your attempt, not his

• Staying with Icedagger for long enough would grant you quite the great deal of philosophical viewpoints that you might have never heard before. Just judging on his character alone might stimulate your curiosity on how did he even become like that. Well, it was more of a natural thing since his existence as long ago as he could possibly remember, but if there was one thing that Icedagger would have said to back up this monochromatic personality of his was how he realized those lessons of himself and the world around him. Some might be too much for a kid like you to be able to understand, some could be explained in a less complicated manner if he made an effort. But overall, he would suggest you not to keep all of his lesson to heart and just treated it like story time for fun mostly. Icedagger had his reason, so you should just listen to him without question why in the first place

• A typical fact about Icedagger that you might have noticed was how he always carried a blanket outside whenever he went out on a walk to hang out with you. Based on how he looked sleepy for most of the time he was around you, you might guess that maybe he was like a bear that loved hibernation a bit too much. Honestly Icedagger would go on a rant to explain why was he like this to you, but he soon figured out that he should just let you keep that silly thought of yours rather than explaining in depths how sleeping was a good way to kill the time without the need to pay any effort to anything around him since he had lost all of the interest in reaching out for new connection on his own for the time being. He did try to be awake when you were there though. Sometimes he would give you the blanket if you were feeling too cold. Though you did have his blessing that allowed you to endure the cold better, you were still a mortal. As long as you didn’t tear his blanket in half or anything similar, you were good to pass

• With how you constantly talked about this new friends of yours after your adventure in the deep snowy wood at the outskirt of your town, the people that heard your stories might just assume that your vivid imagination had created this version of an imaginary friend with all these colorful details. No matter how much you tried to convince the folks that Icedagger was real, they didn’t really seem to take you seriously at all. Especially how Icedagger had made it clear that he wouldn’t leave his place at all, as he felt bounded there and had gotten used to it by now. It had definitely bothered you, that was for sure. But in Icedagger’s effort to keep a low profile, he suggested that it might be a good thing because if too many people know about his existence, it would be a hassle because then you would have to share you ‘best friend’ — your words, not his — to other people, and then he would be too busy to even pay attention to you. Safe to say that it did convince you. Children were easier to talk sense to than adults, Icedagger knew it mainly because of you

• All those times of spending most of your childhood with this mysterious yet magical friend of yours had definitely been a memorable experience. And even when Icedagger wouldn’t allow himself to say it directly in front of your face, he felt the same way too. He had been alone for if not most of his life after discovering just the philosophy of the world which he held against his frosty heart for dear life as he lived under it this entire time. You were definitely a flaw in his original calculation that had distorted the dull harmony he had tried to maintain this whole time. Who knew what he actually thought? Hell, even he couldn’t give you the clear answer. Yet one thing that Icedagger would say was how much you have been a good memory in his mind. All those games, all those silly little things you said or did, all those years of staying around him - even when to him, it was just a short period of time within a blink of an eye, you made it as if time had slowed down so the both of you could just live in the moment for once. And it meant quite a lot to him. But then Icedagger had noticed something out of the ordinary

• You were slowly, yet steadily, growing up. He had totally forgot the fact that you were a mortal, that this aging process was a normal thing to your kin. The unexpected realization hit when you suddenly gotten taller as time flew by. You were no longer the pipsqueak that was shorter than him, but then you started to grow taller like a spout climbing out of the snow for survival purposes. But he knew that it wasn’t how you were trying to adapt to whatever the environment you were residing at. His suspicion was confirmed even more as he noticed the naive tone of what was used to be a childish manner of yours was starting to become rather more responsible. Icedagger knew it. You were growing up. You were changing. He always reminded himself that nothing lasted forever, yet when it came to you, he almost forgot the entire thing - which explained why it had caught him so off guard. As if he could feel a major change approach. And changes had never really been his liking

• Yet Icedagger had mentally prepared himself before things would get too sudden. For a good while, he was preparing overnight for a gift dedicated to you, something that might be out of character for him to do especially when you had grown up beside him up until this point. Out of the blue, during that one time you two were still hanging out like usual, Icedagger suddenly gifted you a thing he called ‘lucky charm’ that was crafted from the same eternal glacier of his which he used to carve those sculptures. He knew you would like it, he knew you would wear it without a second thought. But he also knew that you didn’t know it was a parting gift that awaited for the unexpected future Icedagger had foreseen. During that time, he was still keeping that secret shut without mentioning it even once while you were still overjoyed with the gift he had made for you. At least then it would be a memento that would allow you to feel better during your hardship

• From a child to a teenager, you started to show up less to the meeting spot despite how it used to be a part of your daily schedule. Icedagger still made his effort to stay at the same place, waiting for you even when you were obviously absent that day. He did wait, until time was up, and he would return to his domain once again. He knew you were starting to forget about him. As much as the thought left a bitter taste on his tongue, he knew that this outcome was inevitable. Yet he still tried to fulfill this act of the play which would be served in your memory core as much as he could physically. From a teenager to an adolescence, Icedagger started to stop coming to the meeting spot as he did his calculations on how busy life must have gotten to you to the point that he barely saw you for weeks. When you came back to him, he could see the clear change in your expression. It was different than how he remembered you to look like. And he could definitely tell the confusion that presented on your face when sometimes you didn’t even know why did you come here in the first place. That marked the day Icedagger decided to retreat from your life as he had done his part. From an adolescence to an adult, you didn’t even come back at all

• You have completely grown up and moved on from your past memories of a mere imaginary friend that stepped out of your wild imagination. Most people could barely remember their childhood anyway, so you might just let it go like the rest of them so that you could walk your own path to see and experience the real world on your own. In another word, you had abandoned this piece of sweet dream and woke up to reality. Meanwhile, Icedagger had lost his motivation to go out again ever since you let your inner child go. He was back to where he was again, all alone with no actual interest in anything. Don’t think that he will recover quickly since in a deity’s eye, mortal is but a grain of sand in the eternal life of his. He will mourn you a little, but then he will discard the grief aside as he has always done to go back to that dull life of his like normal. The only difference is that now he has to live with the memory of a friendship who he might never get to experience again. Even when he is as cold as ice with barely any emotions to understand everything as it is, Icedagger can still be sentimental without showing it, even when he is now completely alone again

• They always left in the end, didn’t they? Nothing ever last forever, but the memories that have soon became a mere reflection of what he used to have shall stay in his cold embrace once more as he slumber himself to live in the past of somewhere no one knows. Icedagger has forgotten why did he feel so disconnected with his surroundings, even with his own peers, until now. Ice will melt when something warm comes into contact with it, but then what to do with the leftovers of said attempt of connection? It will take time before the puddle of water to be formed back into ice again, but things will never be the same. Nothing has ever stayed the same after all. The only comfort he can cling onto to soothe this unexplainable weight in his heart is the fact that you have fit into that definition of what he would call a ‘friend’. The first and maybe last friend he will ever have. A dear friend of his, who has woken up out of this melty wonderland to move forward to the unexpected future, while Icedagger is still there in the middle of nowhere. All by himself because of this act of self-isolation he has seek comfort in, all on his own as things have always been like such

• Mythology has it that when Blackrock is about to endure a sudden blizzard out of calculations, it is actually a reflection of a troubled supernatural force’s heart that is projected onto this land during their slumber. Some people is going to use science to get rid of that foolish myth, but some still firmly believes in that childish hope that maybe there existed someone who has the ability that is responsible to Blackrock’s current weather. And maybe, just maybe, you will still keep that little silly piece of ice he craved out for you. A keepsake, a lucky charm, or whatever you call it in the future. Even when you have forgotten him, calling him an ‘imaginary friend’ or never mention him again completely - that is fine too. Wherever you are, whoever you have become, he wishes you a life full of warmth, something he will never get to experience himself. Live with love, with empathy, live and know that you have been nothing but a memorable experience. And he regrets nothing, not at all, as this sweet dream shall live in his mind until time has stopped ticking

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

[lexo-is-pesto]

I'm so excited to finally post this.

My full Murder Drones reference! so hopefully I can keep up consistency

Obviously, this is full of my own head canons so close ups and explanations under the cut (it's a LOT) >;]

To be totally honest my focus was on the main characters, and I think that shows in the designs of the Manor Drones and Cabin Fever Squad. BUT I'll still do my best to explain my process here.

For the Disassemblers I decided to do very different builds for each but the same color pallet.

My idea here was that since each have a different designation letter, that was akin to their model type. That's also why "the company" was able to clone J so easily, they just had her model on file. (also like to imagine there are 26 different forms of the Disassemblers Imao).

I had all the colors remain the same to show their unity and of course the Absolute Solver-ification of the basic Worker Drone color scheme. Essentially, I just took the monochromatic WD colors and put the highlighter yellow over it that Cyn loves so much.

For J I did a more lean and strong build. I wanted her to exude that leader energy. I also made her Core a star shape for similar reasons and then I also noticed that N and V had caution stripes at the top of their legs but as far as I could see J didn't, so I decided to add those to the very top of her legs to finish the garter belt look she's got going on. For her hair, I actually really like the pigtails I just flattened them out a bit because the big cutesy poof they had didn't fit her style in my opinion. I brought it back for her worker form though.

With V I gave her a round yet sharp look. (My favorite added detail is the sharp shoulders) I did make her the shortest of the DD because everyone loves the small but vicious archetype. For her core I made it a sword or spear shape, because she's extra violent. And finally, I made her legs a little more pointed than J's to finish off the sharp look.

Last but CERTAINLY not least, N's design is meant to be soft and plushy but still has a little edge to it. His hair is fluffy but the tufts curl to be sharp, His core is meant to look like a heart but it's upside down so the point is still facing the top (which makes it look more like a club but whatever) I gave him a rounder torso than the other two and his elbow and kneecaps are softer too. His general construction is still menacing, though, so don't get too comfortable with all the fluff. I also spent a LONG time contemplating if I should make his thighs black to look like little biker shorts to contrast with J and V's sock looks but went against it because I love how the hazard stripes stand out against the white.

For N and V's worker forms I basically took out all the sharp edges and rounded them out. J's still a little sharp though not as much.

With the Workers I did the opposite of the DD. They have the EXACT same body types (minus Uzi because she's little) and instead I changed their color schemes to all be unique to their eye lights

Since Worker Drones were made to... well... WORK I think their initial manufacturing would be pretty uniform. A copy and paste if you will. It was only when they were left to their own devices that the WD started to customize themselves. Thus came the wigs and clothes.

I like to think the color started with those infected with the Solver, so Yeva and Nori gained color and then passed that on to their kids. Thats also why Alice has color, but Khan, The Manor Squad, and some other drones in the colony don't. Does not explain Lizzy and Thad though (maybe they have a distant relative that had the solver idk)

It was a lot harder to infer about what a base WD body would look like Maybe I was just looking in the wrong places, but I had to infer with things like the worker helmets, we see every WD except Uzi wear one but they seem more coordinated with their outfits so I decided to just continue my color head-canon that its naturally monochrome and you can customize it if you want to!

I added a light to the feet of the worker drones to match the hand lights. I don't think there's a canon reason for the lights but, on the workers at least. I think they're there to help them do grunt work in the dark! to light their ways in caves or tight spaces so they could do their job better. Now they're just another robot cosmetic

For the Parents, I gave them wrinkles because I thought it was unfair that Khan was the only one who got them. So, Nori gets crow's feet hurray! No but I probably had the most difficult time with these drones. It was hard to separate the canon from fanon since we know so little about them, but I fought off all the demons to keep their designs relatively grounded. Minus Khan's scar. And Alice's more natural horns. and-

I also gave some drones eyelashes. just cause. if I thought it fit, I added it and if it didn't, I didn't add it.

Now you may be wondering "Lexo what's up with all the cracks!?" the idea here is that it's the solver taking over. We see in Cabin Fever and Home that the solver virus fundamentally changes the body of a drone. The crack in the casing is basically this process. Depending on the stage of which your drone is at it changes the intensity. We see Cyn being the main host and essentially patient 0, so she has the most cracks. It starts at the core then spreads until it reshapes you entirely and you become a Disassembly Drone. Unless you stop it in time. Thats why J, V, and N have the pale lines on the bottom of their torso, they're more pretty and cleaner since they achieved the solvers "final form" so to speak. Nori and Yeva on the other hand, have repaired cracks but they're still messy since they were stopped mid-way. Alice, however, did not stop the spread with the solver cure since she was "abandoned" so instead she just cut out her core entirely. Yup. Shes functioning on pure insanity and spite at this point. And then of course with the new hosts, there is light spreading. TL: DR the cracks are a zombie bite.

But that's it for my Murder Drones head canons and designs! If you read all the way to the end, you're a champ and I love you. Have a cookie superstar <3🍪

[justlemmeadoreyou]

An Eternal Embarce*

(a hades!harry x persephone!y/n story)

in which Persephone is back after 6 months, and the Underworld blossoms once again. Tensions arise too, but there is nothing that the king of Underworld and Queen of Spring can't handle together

Word Count: 7.7k (she's long)

Warnings: 18+ content, two smut scenes, almost 3k words of filth, oral (f receiving, mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex

(please don't read if you are under 18)

(i worked really hard on this, please don't let it flop)

The Underworld was buzzing with excitement as Hades, also known as Harry, eagerly awaited the return of his beloved Persephone. It had been six months since she went up to the mortal realm, leaving him to rule the shadowy realms alone. The air in the Underworld seemed charged with an otherworldly energy, as if the entire realm was eager for the return of the goddess of spring.

As autumn's chill embraced the realms, the anticipation in the underworld grew. Harry felt a mix of excitement and longing as he waited for his queen's return. The portal shimmered, and Persephone, or Yn, stepped through, casting a radiant glow in the room. A soft smile adorned her lips, and the enchanting aroma of blooming flowers and the essence of spring filled the space.

As Persephone returns to the underworld, the atmosphere undergoes a subtle transformation. The dim-lit halls, once draped in shadows, seem to awaken with a newfound vibrancy. The air, usually heavy with an eternal stillness, stirs with a gentle breeze that carries a hint of blooming flowers and the sweet fragrance of spring.

The normally monochromatic landscape of the underworld begins to blossom with hues unseen during her absence. Delicate petals materialize, scattering across the paths she walks, leaving a trail of ephemeral beauty in her wake. The soft glow of luminescent flowers unfurls, casting a warm and gentle radiance in the once-shadowy corners of Hades' realm.

The underworld, typically shrouded in an eternal night, experiences a subtle shift in its cosmic arrangement. Faint glimmers of starlight twinkle above, mirroring the celestial display of the world above ground during her reign. It's as if the heavens themselves acknowledge her return, gracing the underworld with a beautiful celestial dance.

Hades, the lord of shadows, finds the weight of his kingdom momentarily lifted. The throne room, usually draped in a somber ambiance, basks in a soft, romantic glow. Shadows playfully dance with the ethereal light, creating a captivating interplay that mirrors the complexity of the emotions within the lord of the underworld.

The Underworld River, typically calm and placid, shivers with newfound life. Its waters, once still as the deepest abyss, ripple with a subtle current, echoing the pulse of Persephone's return. The reflections on its surface seem to shimmer with an otherworldly luminosity, mirroring the radiance she brings to this realm.

In essence, Persephone's return to the underworld transforms it into a realm of juxtaposition—a delicate fusion of darkness and light, shadows and blooms, where the eternal night momentarily gives way to the ephemeral enchantment of spring. The very fabric of the underworld seems to resonate with the romantic cadence of her presence, creating a symphony of emotions and atmospheres that dance harmoniously in the wake of her return.

Their reunion, though expected, carried the weight of a prolonged separation. Harry, usually composed, found himself at a loss for words, an uncommon sight in the Underworld.

"You're back," he said, relief and joy evident in his voice. He was beyond thrilled to see her safe and sound.

Persephone, also known as Y/N in the nine realms, nodded, reaching out to touch his hand. "I always return, Hades. It's the rhythm of the seasons."

"I missed you," he said softly. "I missed your touch, your smell, just having you around. It felt like forever without you."

Y/N smiled, showing how much she loved and missed him. "I missed you too, Harry. Every moment away felt like a really long time."

"I brought you these," she said, offering a basket of flowers. "Fresh from the mortal realm."

Harry accepted the gift with gratitude, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance. "Mortal flowers in the Underworld, a rare delight. Thank you, my sweet love."

He carefully placed the flowers on the bed and pulled her close, his hands cradling her beautiful face. They looked into each other's eyes, savoring the moment. After a while, Harry leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a sweet and long-awaited kiss.

The kiss was like magic. His lips moved smoothly and knowingly against hers, igniting a spark of desire in each other. His mouth claimed her pushing his tongue in her eager mouth. His hands shifted down her body, grabbing her waist, and pulling her further into him.

The absence of each other had stretched over time, intensifying the beauty of this long-awaited moment. It was as if time stopped, and it was just the two of them in that special moment.

Y/N let herself be handled by him, eagerly closing the space between them. She grabbed his shoulders, and her other hand went in his hair, pulling at it as she moaned into his mouth.

“God, you’re so beautiful” he whispered, fighting the urge to fall to his knees right then and there, and worship the beautiful goddess in front of him. Y/N smiled, looking up at her husband with passion and adoration.

Maybe he will.

“I want to worship you, my love.” He whispered into her ear, gently biting her earlobe. She shivered, her grip on his hair and shoulders loosening. She knew where this was going.

And she liked it.

“Mhm, but do we have time? I have to greet everyone as soon as I arrive”

He groaned, grabbing at her attire wantingly.

“That can wait, my love. They can wait. Right now, you’re mine. Only mine. And I want you. Your legs wrapped around my head, your thighs spread wide as I eat that sweet cunt of yours.

Her cheeks turned red, her mouth parting in an instant. She had been waiting for this too, to have his eager mouth on each part of her body, to become his, once again. And again. And again.

“I do too, my love. But-“

He brought a finger up to her lips, stopping her from finishing her sentence.

“No but’s or if’s. I want you, and I shall have you” with that, he grabbed her waist, turning them both around. His lips were back on hers, and he walked her backwards, till the back of her knees hit the mattress. With a swift motion, her body was thrown on it, her hair flopping down messily. Her chest bounced too, the tops of her breasts peeking out from the tight corset she was wearing. He licked his lips; he couldn’t wait to have his mouth on her heavenly body.

He flopped down on the bed, once again, stealing a quick kiss on her lips. His hands gripped the bottom of her skirt, slowly and steadily riding it up her legs.

Y/N’s breathing increased rapidly, and she gripping the satin sheets beneath her in her palms to keep her composure. It had been mere moments of kissing, and she had already gotten so wet and needy for him.

Once the skirt was up to her waist, he wasted no time in removing the rest of the clothing, her panties included. They had a wet patch in the middle, and Harry smirked, fully aware of the effect he had on her, how he can get her all dripping down for him without even touching her.

“So wet fo’ me, my love” he said, and she gulped. He was staring at her exposed pussy with hunger in his eyes, and she felt exposed, trying to close her thighs.

His actions were quicker, and he gripped the warm flesh in his hands. Spreading them wide, he glared at her, and she nodded, silently promising to not hide herself from him.

He slid to his stomach, gripping her legs in both his hands. He shifted forward, allowing her to rest her ankles on his shoulder, the heels digging into the flesh.

He stuck his tongue out, keeping eye contact with her, as he licked a bold stripe from her ass to her clit, collecting her wetness on his tongue. He then closed his mouth, her sweet taste evading his senses.

She released the sheets from the death grip she had on them, and held Harry’s hand in hers, squeezing it hard. He went fully in then, licking up all of her arousal as if it were his last meal.

He licks up her pussy again, and again, and again. Her arousal seeps out more, her other hand creeping its way down to grab into his curls.

Harry realizes she wants more, and he spreads her pussy open. With an open mouth, he blows air on her clit, making her whimper out loud, before she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Y’ like that, pretty girl?” he asks rhetorically, and he starts to lick on her clit, teasing her entrance with his finger.

She moans pretty above him, as his licks become faster and concentrated. Her mind reels with pleasure as her pussy becomes wetter. He circles her opening with his finger, before gently pushing one in.

She releases a sigh of relief, as his cold finger pushes into her warm, wet hole. He pushes it in fully, before pressing a soft kiss to her clit.

He begins to finger-fuck her slowly; her moans and whimpers music to his ears. She opens up soon, and Harry pushes in another. Two fingers in her pussy, and her face contorts in pleasure as she senses the beginning of an orgasm.

“You feel good?” he asks, increasing the speed of his fingers into her weepy hole. He brings his mouth back down on her, kissing and licking her puffy clit. Her grip on his hair tightens, her moans becoming louder with each thrust of his long fingers, rubbing against her g-spot with ease. His fingers, and cock especially, reached spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed.

“I do…I do-Oh fuck!” she curses, as he brings his thumb on her clit, rubbing slow circles on it. Her legs tense, her back arching off the bed beautifully as her stomach tightens. She closes her eyes, her orgasm approaching at a pace faster than she had anticipated.

That’s when he does it-pushed one more finger in, and then one more. Holding her thighs wider as he drives them into her with full speed. Her legs shake as she screams and moans, a thin layer of sweat covering her forehead.

“Harry-I-I’m going to cum, Harry-“ she barely finishes her sentence, before the coil in her stomach snaps. She cums all over his mouth and fingers, chanting his name repeatedly as he finger-fucks her throughout, his thumb and mouth on her swollen clit, wanting to make her orgasm last longer, and to milk every drop from her sweet cunt. He licks it all up, and once she is finished, he emerges from between her legs, half of his face coated in her sweetness.

He looked up at his love, her eyes closed with content. Her face was glowing with the beautiful glow of pleasure, her cheeks flushed red. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

Soon, she opened her eyes, and Harry quickly shifted upward, encasing her lips in his. She could taste herself on him, and she sighed at the sweet taste lingering between them.

But, just when they were getting lost in the moment, there was a knock on the door. It was a reminder that they weren't alone, and other things needed attention.

Harry sighed and said, "Seems like we can't catch a break, love."

“We’ll be right out” he announces, before kissing her once again. They both get off the bed, and he helps her fix her dress and appearance, though the smell of sex lingered in the air, and their faces gave away what they tried to hide.

He opened the door soon, and was greeted by Hermes, the winged herald of Olympus.

"Lord Hades, Lady Persephone," Hermes bowed respectfully. "Zeus has requested your presence in the divine hall."

Harry exchanged a knowing glance with Y/N. The tranquility of the moment was momentarily interrupted by the summons from the king of the gods.

"We shall go at once," Harry replied, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression. Hermes nodded and, with a swift motion, extended a scroll containing Zeus's message. "He awaits you in the divine hall. The matter is of importance, my lord." Y/N placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s arm. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

With a nod to Hermes, Harry and Y/N made their way through the grand halls of the Underworld, the weight of impending divine matters settling upon them. The anticipation of a summons from Zeus carried an air of both mystery and gravity.

The divine hall awaited, its doors opening to reveal Zeus on his throne, regarding them with a mixture of sternness and intrigue.

"Lord Hades, Lady Persephone," Zeus boomed, "You come at my request. There's a matter that requires your attention."

Approaching the throne, their expressions composed but curious, Harry inquired, "What matter brings us before you, Father?"

Zeus leaned forward. "Concerns have risen among the gods about the balance of power and the changing dynamics within the divine realm."

Y/N exchanged a puzzled look with Harry. "What do you mean, Father?"

Zeus sighed. "The union between the god of the Underworld and the goddess of spring has stirred discussions. Some are concerned about the potential shift in the cosmic balance."

Harry defended their union. "Our love brings harmony to our realms, Zeus. It does not disrupt the balance."

Zeus raised a hand. "I understand, but the concerns persist. To ease them, I propose a grand celebration—a gathering of gods and goddesses from all realms. A feast that will demonstrate the unity and stability of the divine order."

Harry realized the significance. "We shall host it in the Underworld, a testament to the enduring love that transcends realms."

Zeus approved. "May this celebration reaffirm the bonds that unite us all."

As the divine decree echoed, Harry and Y/N embraced the responsibility. The grand celebration would showcase not only divine unity but also the eternal reunion of Hades and Persephone.

The long table was adorned with decadent delicacies from all corners of the realm - ambrosia platters, pomegranate salads, and sinfully delicious desserts that would make even the gods drool. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and stories as loved ones reunited after what felt like an eternity apart.

Amidst this joyous gathering, Harry proudly introduced Y/N as his queen and partner in ruling over the Underworld. She charmed everyone with her warmth, grace, and genuine interest in their stories. Laughter echoed through the halls as they shared tales of adventure, love, and mischief.

As the night wore on, Harry and Y/N found solace in each other's presence, basking in the love of their family and friends. The Underworld was alive with happiness and contentment, for it was a reminder that true love could thrive even in the most unexpected places.

And so, as the stars twinkled above their kingdom and laughter filled the air, they embraced this precious moment of togetherness. Their reunion was not just a celebration of love but a testament to the power of connection and the beauty that can be found in even the darkest depths.

And then, as the feast reached its crescendo, Hades rose from his seat and raised a goblet to Persephone. The flickering torchlight cast shadows on the grand walls as Hades spoke, his words a heartfelt declaration.

"To Persephone, my queen, the light of the Underworld, and the love that has breathed life into the realm of shadows. May our days be filled with endless joy and our nights with eternal love."

The denizens of the Underworld echoed his sentiment with cheers, toasts, and a sense of jubilation that reverberated through the grand hall.

Persephone blushed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "To eternity and beyond," she said, clinking her goblet against Hades'.

After the feast, the grand hall echoed with soft footsteps as Harry and Y/N headed to the starlit garden. The celestial lights bathed the garden in a magical radiance as they stepped into the night.

Taking Y/N's hand, Harry led her into the open space beneath the twinkling stars. The night held a hushed beauty, and they danced to a celestial melody, a seamless harmony between the lord of the Underworld and the goddess of spring.

Standing at the center of the divine garden, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight and surrounded by fragrant blossoms, Harry and Y/N prepared to dance. The celestial lights above seemed to twinkle in anticipation, casting a gentle radiance on the couple as they took each other's hands.

Harry, with his customary charm, looked into Y/N's eyes and whispered, "May I have this dance, my love?"

Y/N's heart fluttered with love and adoration as she nodded, and they began their dance under the vast expanse of the starlit sky. The music of the night, a melodic symphony composed by nature itself, set the rhythm for their movements.

Harry guided Y/N with grace and tenderness, each step a declaration of the unconditional love that bound them together. The soft rustle of their clothes blended with the gentle night breeze, creating a harmonious melody that resonated with the heartbeat of the beautiful garden that bloomed with her magic.

"I've missed this," he confessed, the dance a gentle rhythm that echoed the beating of his heart.

"Me too, Harry," Persephone replied, her gaze locked with his. "There's something magical about dancing with you in the Underworld."

As they danced, Hades couldn't resist stealing kisses, each one a promise of the love that transcended the realms. The river Styx murmured its approval, and even the shadows seemed to sway in time with their movements.

"You know," Persephone said, her voice a soft whisper, "I wrote you letters while I was away. I wanted to capture every moment so I could share it with you when I returned."

Hades felt warmth in his chest at her words. "Letters? I would love to read them, my love."

Persephone blushed, a delightful contrast to the vibrant flowers in her hair. "They're not very poetic, just my ramblings and musings. But I poured my heart into them."

In that enchanted moment, Hades and Persephone were not the lord and goddess of the Underworld. They were two souls intertwined in a dance celebrating the eternal nature of their love. The grand feast had united the divine family, and now, beneath the cosmic lights, the couple celebrated the unity of their hearts.

They moved in sync, their dance the unspoken language of love. Harry's hand securely held Y/N's waist, drawing her close, while Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of his embrace.

The garden itself seemed to respond to the dance of love. Blossoms unfurled in their wake, releasing bursts of vibrant colors that matched the emotions swirling between the couple. The gentle hum of nature's lullaby accompanied their every movement, creating an atmosphere of serenity and joy.

The dance continued a journey of shared dreams and whispered promises.

As the dance reached its crescendo, Harry held Y/N in a final, lingering twirl. They paused, caught in the embrace of the night, and shared a tender kiss beneath the celestial lights.

“I love you so much, Y/N. So fucking much. “He whispered, and his face carried softness and love rarely seen on Lord of the Underworld. He was different when he was with her.

He was in love.

Y/N muttered the same, her lips ghosting over his once again. They softly brushed against each other, pecking every once in a while.

Hand in hand, they walked through the garden, leaving behind a trail of blossoms and the echo of their laughter.

Hand in hand, they ventured through the winding corridors of the Underworld. As they reached the Elysian Fields, the once desolate realm began to transform in Persephone's wake. Flowers bloomed beneath her feet, and the atmosphere blossomed with life.

"You've worked your magic again," Hades remarked, marveling at the vibrant beauty she brought to his kingdom.

Persephone grinned, her eyes sparkling. "I can't stand the idea of a lifeless Underworld. Besides, a little color never hurt anyone."

They found a secluded spot overlooking the river Styx, where Hades conjured a plush blanket for them to sit on. The soft glow of the river reflected in Persephone's eyes as they gazed at each other, a magnetic pull connecting their souls.

"Tell me everything about your time in the mortal realm," Harry urged.

"And you won't believe what Hermes did to entertain me," she laughed, recounting a particularly amusing anecdote that involved the mischievous messenger.

Hades chuckled, reveling in the sound of her laughter. "I'm starting to think Hermes enjoys causing chaos wherever he goes."

The moon rose higher in the sky, casting its gentle glow over the Underworld. Sensing the time was right; Hades took Persephone's hand, leading her into a slow dance beneath the celestial light.

Later, as they sat together on the blanket, Persephone retrieved a bundle of letters from her bag. Hades watched with eager anticipation as she handed them to him, each one filled with the essence of her experiences in the mortal realm.

For hours, they immersed themselves in Persephone's words, her descriptions painting vivid images of the world above. Hades listened intently, savoring every detail as if he were there with her. The letters became a bridge between their two worlds, connecting them even when miles apart.

As the night deepened, Hades couldn't help but express his feelings in the best way he knew how—through a poem, despite its potential lameness.

"In the depths of shadows, where silence holds sway,

A love blooms eternal, no darkness can betray.

Persephone, my light, in the mortal realm's embrace,

You brought back the sun, and with it, my grace."

Persephone's eyes sparkled with emotion. "Harry, that was beautiful. Lame, but beautiful. I love it."

Hades chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. "I aim to impress with my poetic prowess."

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its silver glow over the Underworld. Hades and Persephone lingered in each other's arms, the world around them forgotten. It was a moment frozen in time, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together.

>>>

As soon as they were back to the castle, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Sure, they were divine beings above human urges, but they couldn't deny the magnetic pull that drew them together.

They entered Harry’s room, closing the heavy wooden door behind them. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of candles, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.

Their lips were on each other, now kissing with more lust and desire. Harry had been pent-up ever since he’d had his head between her plush thighs, and her moans, her whimpers, and her ultimate release had almost made him burst in his pants.

But he had held off.

Even he doesn’t quite recall how he did it, perhaps some “celestial” power he didn’t know he had.

He began by untying the strings on her white corset, so many of them there were. She could see that he was getting restless, and she spoke up, “You know you can use your magic, right? Make them disappear in a click of your fingers?”

He chuckled, looking up at her while he continued the task in hand, “I sure can, my love. But I want to see the way your body reacts to my touch when I undress you. The way your cheeks becomes red as part by part, your beautiful body is exposed to me. The gasp you release when I unhook your bra, and the whimper that comes from your lips when I rub your pretty pussy over your wet panties, which I know they quite are. I want to see it all”

Y/N blushed, unable to keep eye-contact with the god in front of him.

Soon, the corset was undone, and Harry removed her long gown. He reached back, swiftly unhooking her bra, and throwing it behind him. His hands were on her breasts, and he groaned as he kneaded them in his hands.

“So long, darling. So long I have gone without your body” he bent down, rolling a nipple between his fingers before taking it into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it, eliciting a whimper from her pretty mouth. He squeezed it in his palm, between his fingers, as he continued sucking on the hardened nub. His other hand trailed to her left breast, kneading it too while he rolled the nipple harshly between his fingers.

“Harry-it feels so good, fuck…” she cursed, pressing her thighs together as more and more arousal oozed out of her needy hole. She whimpered and moaned with need as he played with her breasts, alternating in kissing, sucking and biting them. He sucked a few bruises on them too, just around the areola, not too much in the areas where they could be seen by others.

Once he was satisfied with his work, pretty bruises that would turn purplish-red soon, he looked up at his love. Her head was thrown back, lips parted as she was getting wetter by each passing second.

Harry’s hands rested at her waist, and she opened her eyes, meeting his green ones.

He joined their lips again, and started to kitten lick and suck her tongue, while his eager hands explored her body. He drifted his hands to her damp centre, brushing his finger over the damp spot on her panties, just above her clit. She moaned into his mouth, and e swallowed it all up, before bringing his fingers to the waistband of her panties.

He broke the kiss, quickly dropping down to his knees before her. He pulled the ruined panties off her legs, unhooking them from her ankles and throwing them near the discarded bra.

She was now fully naked before him, and she wanted to hide herself. Given that he had already seen her a million times like this before, given their immortal nature, and yet, being this vulnerable made her shy.

She tries to close her legs before him, hide her pussy from his hungry eyes. He smiles, knowing that she must be feeling so shy, given how much time they had spent apart.

“It’s okay, love. I know it’s been a while, and you’d feel exposed being fully naked around me. But you don’t have to, love. Not from me. You never have to be nervous or shy around me. Naked or not, any way you are, you are absolutely ethereal. And divine”

She felt a sense of relief hearing those words. Being a goddess, she knew she was one of the most beautiful and stunning creatures to walk in the Underworld. Her ethereal form radiated a timeless beauty that transcended mortal comprehension. And she was the most confident when she was out in the world. Her words, her beauty, all were elements that captivated those fortunate enough to witness her presence. The ethereal glow surrounding her form seemed to dance in harmony with the confidence that emanated from within.

Yet, here she was, feeling exposed and shy in front of her own husband, who was on his knees in front of her, ready to worship her.

“And yet, if you don’t feel comfortable enough, dove, we don’t have to do this. It’s all right. We can-“ she stopped him mid-sentence.

“No, no-I-I want to, Harry, it’s just-the way you looked at me made me feel-like I’m not that beautiful as you tell me I am.”

“You are, my love. You are absolutely exquisite, my darling. And I’m going to show you just how damn breathtaking you look around my cock.”

“But-how?” she asked.

He smirked, before snapping his fingers. A long, floor length mirror appeared behind him,, making her look at her own reflection.

“But, Harry-“

“No questions, love. You had your fun throughout the day, now let me have mine”

He parted her legs, immediately attaching his mouth to her swollen clit. She released a moan, his mouth doing wonders between her legs.

He licked and sucked, and licked her pretty pussy till she was a moaning mess again, whimpering with her bottom lip between her teeth. Her cheeks were flushed red, eyes full of lust as she watched herself reach the high of pleasure.

Her chest had reddened, and eyes were hooded, threatening to fall shut with the sheer pleasure consuming her. Her hands were in his brown curls, pulling and pushing his head to her core at the same time, conflicted between the need to succumb to the upcoming pleasure or to pull away from it.

But, just as she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped. Pulled his mouth off of her, making her release a cry of need.

“Harry-I-I was so close-“

“I want you to come around my cock, darling. Want to see you fall apart as I fuck you”

He got up, knees wobbly. He started to undress himself, removing each piece of clothing while maintain eye contact with Y/N.

She was still coming down from the high he’d almost got her to, her breathing still rapid and ragged. Soon, he was naked in front of her, pushing her back on the bed on which she fell with a soft thud.

She sat up on her elbows, and he pulled her so she was sitting upright. He climbed on the bed behind her, and sat down.

With fingers still damp, he pushed her thighs apart wide, spreading his own as well and locking hers with his, so she couldn’t push them again.

She sighed as her pussy spread open, revealing her pretty hole to the gigantic mirror in front of them.

He took hold of her wrists, pinning them together behind her back.

“Keep ‘em there. Don’t move”

He warned.

And she knew better than to disobey him.

“Okay” a quite whisper, but he heard it well.

“Good girl”

Her pussy throbbed with need, her neglected clit swollen and red. He brought his hands to her thighs, lightly grazing them with his fingers. He rubbed his hands up and down, smoothing them up to the part where her centre meet her thighs, and retreating back, neglecting the place where she needed him the most.

“Harry-please” she begged, hoping he will give in and fuck her senseless.

“My rules tonight, darling” he answered simply, and she had no choice other than to sit pretty and take it.

His torture continued for quite a while, and she was so tired from his edging, her head resting limply on his shoulder. She would get excited whenever he would graze her clit, only to get disappointed immediately after.

When he decided that he had had enough, he finally gave in. She was so fucking wet already, soaking the satin sheets beneath them with the arousal that dripped down continuously. He brought two fingers to her entrance, gently pushing them in while he played with her perky nipples, twisting them while stuffing her full.

“Oh fuck, Har-“ she cursed, her walls immediately clamping down on his two fingers. She tried to move herself on him, grind on his fingers, but he held them apart nicely, stopping any movements.

“Feel good?” he asked, pinching her nipple as he stuffed his fingers fully in, gently flicking the tips inside her tight walls.

“Mhm, yes, feels good-fuck!” he pushed another finger in, thrusting them in and out at a godly speed. She scratched his chest, nails scraping down his abdomen. She was feeling so good again, ready to burst at any moment.

That’s when he stopped-again. Pulled his fingers out completely. And just as she was about to open her mouth and whine about it-he pushed them into her mouth.

She moaned around them, sucking and licking off her own sweet arousal. He groaned at this, feeling so impossibly hard that he thought he will burst again.

“That’s it-good girl” he pulled them out, wiping them on her stomach. She smirked, knowing how she had imagined it was his cock between her lips, and made him imagine the same too.

Her on her knees before him, his hands in her hair, gripping them harshly as she took him like a pro. All those filthy thoughts muddled his mind, and he couldn’t hold back longer.

He turned her around easily, pushing her back down so her back was on the mattress, and he climbed on top of her. His lips attached to her neck, licking and sucking as he spread her legs apart with his hand, positioning his cock just before her lips.

Parting them with his one hand, he released a sigh of relief as he pushed himself in, her warm walls feeling so heavenly around his cock. He had held off for so long, focusing on her pleasure more than his. But now, he was going to fuck her good, make her see stars as she came around her cock again and again.

She grabbed onto his shoulders, nails scratching their way down as she felt the initial burn of his cock stretching her wide open. She tried to keep her composure, but how good she, when it hurt so good and felt even better at the same time?

He gave her time to adjust to his length, not trying to overwhelm her with bottoming out immediately. Once she was, she gave him a quick nod to keep going.

That was all he needed, as he carefully pushed in to the hilt, bottoming out inside her as his balls slapped with her ass. She wrapped her legs around his slim waist as he grabbed her wrists, pulling them from his shoulder and pinning them above her head.

“Gonna fuck you real good today” he promised, snapping his hips against hers. His cock drive into her warn hole again and again, making her throw her head back with pleasure. He took this opportunity and kisses and nipped at her neck, her jaw slack with pleasure. The bed started to rock against the wall due to the force of his thrusts, her slick folds coating his cock with arousal every time he pushed in. She was impossibility wet, and on the verge of falling over the edge.

“Oh my god!” she whimpered out when he gave a particularly hard thrust, her legs shaking with pleasure. His hands wrapped around her neck, slightly putting pleasure as he forced her to open her eyes.

“Look at me when you cum” he said, and she immediately nodded, not wanting to risk any other orgasm because of disobedience.

But she was disappointed quickly as he pulled out again, leaving her on the edge. She had been so pent up. and now on the verge of crying.

He picked her up, turning her around to face the mirror, on her hands and knees. They were shaking profusely, so he had to slide an arm beneath to support her pliant body.

“Look at me when you cum. In the mirror” he grabbed her jaw and positioned her face so she was forced to loom at herself, her body succumbing to pleasure that he gave her.

Every push of his cock in her melted her further and further, breasts jiggling with the force of his harsh thrusts, again and again.

“Har-please” she pleaded, not being able to hold off for any longer.

“Yeah, baby? You want to come?” he asked.

She nodded, not being able to form any coherent sentence, she was about to fall over the edge, just needed that little push, just a little…

He seemed to have read her mind because as soon as she thought of that, his fingers were on her clit, harshly rubbing concentrated circles, enough to take her fall over the edge she was teetering on.

“Watch yourself. Look how pretty you look falling apart on m’ cock, darling” her eyes quickly drifted to the mirror in front, and indeed, he was correct.

Her cheeks were flushed red , her face glowing as she released warm puffs of air through her open mouth. He was filling her up so good, pressing against the soft, spongy spot deep inside of her that made her toes curl and eyes to roll into the back of her head.

The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room, her moans and whimpers, and his grunts audible above them all. He gripped her hips harshly, nails digging in as he prepared to spill himself inside her.

“I'm close too…” he announced, and leaned in, wrapping his hand around her middle. He pulled her neck so that her back touched his clammy chest, the change in positioning giving him a deeper angle.

“Harry-Oh fuck!” she immediately gave in, her legs giving out beneath her as the waves of pleasure rolled through her body, blinding her vision and ringing her ears. His hand on her swollen clit was relentless, and so was his speed of fucking her through her orgasm.

“Harry-har-feels so fucking good, har” she stuttered, mouth open as she watched herself come undone on his cock. A warm glow enveloped her, and she looked absolutely breathtaking. But, her eyes were fixated on her Harry, who was just about to cum.

His eyes were closed shut, low grunts leaving his lips with each thrust as he gave in, and the first few drops of his release coated her walls.

“Fuck, baby. Making me feel-so-fucking-good, Fuck! His words were punctuated with thrusts to her cunt, spilling more and more of his milky cum with each push inside.

“Cum for me, Har-give me all you have” her soft voice egged him on, as her warm walls milked him for all he had. Once he was done, he gave her a final look in the mirror, before falling down on the bed, taking her with him.

In the hushed aftermath of their intimate celebration, Hades and Persephone lay entwined in the ethereal glow of their chamber. The flickering candlelight cast a warm hue over the room, a testament to the love that had just been shared. The echoes of their whispers lingered, blending with the quietude that enveloped the space.

Hades traced delicate patterns on Persephone's bare back, his touch a caress that spoke of both passion and tenderness. Her hair spilled like a cascade of midnight over the pillows, and the moonlight filtering through the window bathed them in a soft, celestial radiance.

The room seemed to respond to their connection, as if the very walls held the echoes of their shared love. The air shimmered with an otherworldly energy, and the shadows on the walls danced in tandem with the rhythm of their hearts.

As they lay there, the tapestry of their shared history unfolded in their minds—the challenges they had faced, the laughter they had shared, and the quiet moments that had solidified their bond. Hades couldn't help but marvel at the depth of emotion Persephone brought into his life—a depth that went beyond the confines of the Underworld and stretched into the boundless expanse of eternity.

Their connection, both physical and emotional, created a cocoon of intimacy that shielded them from the outside world. The grandeur of the Underworld, the echoes of the banquet, and the responsibilities of ruling—all faded into insignificance in the embrace of their private sanctuary.

As the night deepened, they spoke of dreams and aspirations, of the moments that had left an indelible mark on their souls and of the endless possibilities that awaited them in the expanse of eternity. The bedroom, once a quiet space, became a canvas for their shared reflections and whispered confessions.

In the quiet moments between their words, Hades couldn't help but be grateful for the cosmic tapestry that had woven their fates together. Persephone, once a fleeting vision in the mortal realm, had become the heartbeat of his existence—the one who brought warmth to the depths of the Underworld and a symphony of joy to his immortal heart.

And so, in the heart of the Underworld, where time moved in a rhythm known only to gods, Hades and Persephone continued their intimate celebration. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow a witness to the depth of their connection.

As the night wore on, they found solace in the quiet moments of shared laughter, whispered promises, and stolen kisses. The room became a haven, a sanctuary for the love that had endured through the ages. Their connection, both physical and emotional, became a testament to the enduring power of love in the face of eternity.

And as they drifted into the peaceful embrace of sleep, still entwined in each other's arms, the echoes of their shared celebration lingered in the air. The Underworld, once a realm of shadows, held within its depths a love story that unfolded in the quiet moments of the night—a love story destined to resonate through the corridors of eternity.

>>>

One day, as they stood on the shores of the Styx, Hades couldn't help but ponder the nature of their love. "Persephone, my queen, do you ever tire of the Underworld? Would you prefer a life in the mortal realm or on Mount Olympus?"

Persephone looked into his eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Harry, it's not about the realm we're in; it's about the love we share. Whether in the Underworld, the mortal realm, or the heavens above, as long as we are together, that's where I belong."

Hades felt a surge of gratitude and love for the woman standing beside him. "You truly are my light in the darkness, Persephone."

Their days were filled with laughter, shared adventures, and stolen moments of intimacy. Hades reveled in the simple pleasures of mortal-inspired picnics, where they lounged in the Fields of Asphodel, surrounded by the beauty Persephone had brought to his kingdom.

As the seasons changed, and the tapestry of time unfolded, Hades and Persephone's love deepened. They faced challenges together, weathered storms, and celebrated triumphs. The Underworld, once a place of solitude and shadows, became a canvas for their love story—a story that echoed through the corridors of eternity.

In the quietude of the Underworld, where the river Styx whispered ancient secrets, Hades and Persephone found a love that transcended the boundaries of the realms. And as they danced under the eternal moonlight, their hearts beat in harmony, creating a melody that echoed

Through the ages, their love story continued to unfold, a tale woven into the fabric of time itself. The Underworld bore witness to the eons that passed, yet Hades and Persephone remained a constant, their love enduring like the everlasting cycle of the seasons.

They explored the hidden realms of the Underworld, discovering forgotten chambers and secret passages. Hades showed Persephone the intricacies of his kingdom, the responsibilities and duties that came with ruling the dead. Yet, through it all, their love remained a guiding light, illuminating the darkest corners of the Underworld.

One day, as they stood on the precipice of the Abyss, where the echoes of lost souls reverberated, Hades spoke of his deepest fears and vulnerabilities. Persephone listened with compassion, her love a balm for the wounds that time had etched into his immortal heart.

"I never imagined I could share my burdens with another," Hades admitted, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the cavernous space. "But with you, Persephone, everything feels different. I am not alone."

Persephone took his hand, her touch comforting warmth. "We face the challenges together, Harry. Your burdens are mine, just as mine are yours. We are partners in this journey through eternity."

Their love became a beacon in the Underworld, a source of inspiration for lost souls seeking solace. Tales of Hades and Persephone's enduring love spread through the realm, offering hope to those who had long forgotten the warmth of companionship.

As the years unfolded, they witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations in the mortal realm. Hades and Persephone, however, remained unchanged, their love an eternal flame that defied the ravages of time. They watched as mortal heroes rose to greatness and tragic tales unfolded, the threads of destiny weaving a tapestry that stretched across the ages.

In the midst of it all, Hades and Persephone continued to find joy in the simple pleasures of life. They reveled in the beauty of the Underworld's landscapes, danced under the light of a thousand moons, and discovered hidden realms that held secrets untold. Their love was a journey, an exploration of the boundless possibilities that eternity offered.

Yet, even in the midst of their idyllic existence, challenges arose. Forces from the depths of the Underworld, ancient and formidable, sought to disrupt the delicate balance of their love. Hades and Persephone faced trials that tested the very foundation of their connection, but in each trial, their love emerged stronger, more resilient.

Together, they faced adversaries and overcame obstacles that threatened the harmony of the Underworld. Hades, once perceived as a fearsome deity, revealed the depth of his compassion and the strength of his love. Persephone, with her gentle yet unwavering spirit, became a beacon of hope for all who traversed the shadowy realms.

Their love story, once confined to the whispers of the Underworld, became a legend that transcended the boundaries of the mortal and immortal realms alike. Mortals sang songs of their enduring love, poets crafted verses in their honor, and artists immortalized their images on canvas.

As the centuries passed, the Underworld transformed into a realm of balance and harmony. The once desolate landscapes bloomed with vibrant flora, and the river Styx flowed with a gentle serenity. Hades and Persephone, hand in hand, continued to rule the Underworld with grace and wisdom, their love a testament to the eternal dance of life and death.

>>>

any feedback, like or reblog is always welcome!

okay-dokey! this was a request by @victoria-styles!

i hope you like it!

my masterlist

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[moonyswritinq]

runs in the family — platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gn reader

❝ RUNS IN THE FAMILY ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Edwin had been dead for decades and you had wandered the earth as a ghost in search for him. Who would have thought that you would find him in a small town in America, just strolling down the street?

PAIRING ➢ platonic! edwin payne x sibling! gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ mentions of death, kind of flirty reader, not much more warning needed than that, takes place end of chapter three, so spoilers?? not beta read

WORD COUNT ➢ 2.7 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ seeing as the reader is written as a sibling to Edwin it is implied they are biologically related and therefore caucasian. But since I have not specified anything the reader could just as well be adopted and of another ethnicity, so I leave it up to be your choice.

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST

It had been a hundred years.

A century had gone by since you died. And still you had not managed to finish your business in order to move on to the afterlife. How could you? When your older brother had mysteriously gone missing from his boarding school, simply presumed dead, and labeled as ‘an act of God’ and nothing else had happened. No one made inquiries. No one bothered to try to do him justice.

No one cared.

And it infuriated you. So much to the point of taking up the quest of finding him yourself. But no one knew anything, nor cared to tell you anything, so you were unable to find anything worthy of interest. Edwin simply did not matter to anyone besides you—even your parents were frustratingly unhelpful. It broke your heart. You didn’t want to live in a world that didn’t care about its people. Luckily, you didn’t have to for long.

It happened a year after you graduated from high school, making you three years older than the age Edwin  had been when he disappeared. As soon as you’d completed school you had gotten out of your conservative town, opting to travel to London instead to settle down there. The aftermath of the war had just calmed down and you thought you could get a new start. You hadn’t entirely left the business of Edwin behind you, but knowing there was nothing more you could do for him settled your guilt slightly.

When you had finally started getting used to the idea of Edwin actually being gone and of the possibility of moving on with your life, you died. A simple case of wrong place, wrong time in a robbery. And you reckoned some part of you weren’t completely ready to let go of Edwin because you had woken up again, as a ghost.

It was strange at first, feeling nothing but still being there, invisible to everyone but yourself. And it hadn’t hurt much—you had died immediately.

What should have been a tragedy left you feeling nothing but relief. You were finally free from the world’s boundaries and rules and the idiotic people that wouldn’t help your brother. Then being able to travel anywhere you wanted, speak to other dead people, and uncover all the supernatural entities that had been hiding under your nose your whole living life was more than you could have wished for. Was it possible Edwin could also be somewhere? Wandering around as a ghost, the same as you?

The thought was too good to even hope to be true. As it turns out, it was.

You visited all the places Edwin had been or he had talked about going to or anywhere you could have imagined his ghost to have gone. But there were no signs of him—at least no signs that you could find. No one had any information about your brother. It almost left you feeling like how you had when you were alive. Your world had gone from the bright colours of hope back to the dull monochromaticity that your life had been.

For years you had wandered the planet, going from country to country, adapting to the changing years and humanity’s new technology. It interested you to figure out the new things that were invented and to keep up with the modern world—not to talk about all the different ghosts, people, and other supernatural beings you met. While it was nice to travel around without a clear goal, your mind was constantly stuck on the thought of your brother being alone somewhere.

You needn’t have worried though, you realised, when you had found yourself in the small town of Port Townshend, walking down the street and seeing a very familiar face. Right across the road, a figure clad in a brown coat was walking with an all too rigid posture and pursing his lips at the teenagers surrounding him. You were too stunned to speak, your tongue felt as if it were locked, unable to voice any of the jumble of thoughts currently bouncing through your mind.

“Edwin?” you croaked, voice strained as it fought against the constricting of your throat. You hurriedly ran to cross the road, narrowly missing a car. It wouldn’t have hurt, but habits die hard—even if it had been a hundred years since you were alive. And so you let out a loud curse, swivelling out of its path, “Oh, bloody hell!”

When you turned to continue to the other side of the street you already found a familiar pair of eyes locked onto yours. Edwin had stopped completely in his path and with his mouth agape, arms hanging by his side. You couldn’t fight the grin that made its way to your face and broke out in a run, crashing into his frame with a hug.

“Wha—” he stumbled, before embracing you back and nestling his face into your shoulder.

It felt as if he would never let you go by the grip he had on you—and you couldn’t blame him. It had been way too long since you had hugged him like this and you couldn’t help the relieved chuckle that escaped you. It also felt weird hugging another ghost—it was like he was there and he wasn’t, but you could feel his presence in a way you couldn’t when you touched the living.

“It’s you,” you whispered, pulling away to grab him by the shoulders and really take him in. “It’s really you.”

Edwin looked just like you had remembered him to have looked when he disappeared. The same eyes, with which he always sent glares your way, and the same smile he hid in the corner of his lips by turning away from you, although it shone through at you then as a grin. He couldn’t help it, and neither could you.

“I—I never thought I would see you again,” he said.

You scoffed. “As if you could get rid of me that easily.” Then your eyes softened. “Though you scared me half to death.”

“More than half, it would seem,” he said, looking you up and down. “What are you still doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked, a smile on your lips despite your soft tone. “You were my unfinished business.”

You went in for another hug with a chuckle, holding him even tighter as if he would disappear if you didn’t. All that worrying, all that searching, all that trouble you had gone through to find your brother and it was all finally worth it. The thought made you almost want to cry—almost. You pulled away then for real, letting the both of you go back to your regular composure as a relaxed grin settled against your lips and Edwin’s went back to hiding in the corner of his lips.

That was when you noticed the questioning stares from his three friends. They were all glancing back and forth between you in clear confusion. 

“Sorry, did everyone just see what I saw?” questioned the dark-haired girl with a frown, gesturing between the two of you. “Who are you?”

You smiled at her. “Forgive me for being rude. I forgot myself for a second,” you said with a glance at Edwin. “I’m y/n, Edwin’s sibling.”

The three of them stared in astonishment upon hearing the words uttered, again looking between you two.

“I see the resemblance now that you mention it,” said the tall boy.

You shot him a playful smile. “I’m clearly the better sibling, though.”

“As if,” scoffed Edwin and tugged at his cuff. “At least I am older.”

You raised an eyebrow and pursed your lips. “Don’t know if that is actually true, anymore. I was alive longer than you were.”

“What? No.” He looked affronted at your words. “My birth was before yours and I am thus older than you.”

The boy next to him cleared his throat with a pointed glance. Edwin resumed to his usual composure, a curtain falling over his features as his bickering spirit died out. You let out a snicker, glancing between the four of them.

“You gonna introduce me to your handsome friends, Edwin?” you asked with a grin, eyeing the tall boy specifically.

Edwin glared at you. “Don’t,” he spit out, warning lacing through his tone. When you held up your hands in surrender he turned to his friends, gesturing to them all in turn with their names. “Y/n, this is Charles, Niko and Crystal.”

“Nice to meet you,” Niko’s soft voice said, hopping forward to give you a hug.

It caught you slightly off guard, but it was welcomed even though you couldn’t feel it as well as you could feel Edwin’s ghost hug. Crystal gave you a hesitant hand to shake and you took it enthusiastically with a smile. She smiled then, apparently less apprehensive. Charles also thrust out a hand along with a charming smirk.

“Any sibling of Edwin must be brills,” he said. “Also a ghost, by the way.”

You took his hand with an appreciative nod. “Did you hear that, Edwin? I’m brills,” you said and looked over your shoulder.

By doing so, you didn’t miss the soft gaze Edwin was looking at Charles with and nodded to yourself, smiling coyly. While you had learnt to adapt to the modern times, and even back then had always been quite open about yourself, Edwin was a shyer and more private person. You would let him work it out by himself.

“You know, I missed your miserable face,” you remarked, turning to nudge him with your elbow. “I also think we have a lot to catch up on, Edwin.” 

“I would say that is quite correct. We will take care of that, later,” he nodded in his stilted way. Weird as it was, you had missed his gestures.

When the four of them turned to keep walking, Niko suddenly let out a loud gasp. “There’s Monty, our new friend,” she exclaimed.

You turned to look where she was gesturing and saw a very handsome boy looking up when hearing his name. He smiled easily at the five of you and stood up from the bench he had been sitting on with a few books in hand. The boy, Monty, let out what sounded like a nervous chuckle while glancing between the group, definitely noting the closeness between you and Edwin.

“Hey. Wow, quite the crew you got here.”

“So, he’s alive and he can see the boys?” asked Crystal.

“Oh, he can definitely see Edwin,” replied Niko. You saw Monty smile at Edwin and turned to your brother with a questioning glance. He only shrugged.

When you turned back, you found Monty was already staring at you. His eyes were dark and thoughtful, jumping from your face to your clothes and your boots and your frame and your hair and your smirk—which spread even wider. His mouth opened in a silent gasp as he took in the sight of you. You could feel your lifeless cheeks warm with blood—if they could do that—and let your gaze skirt away nervously.

“Oh, hi, I, uh, don’t believe I have seen you before.” Monty smiled sheepishly at you and his voice was warm and sweet. “I feel, uh, like I would have remembered a face like yours.”

His face got redder the longer he talked and the more he tripped over his words. It was weirdly endearing and you smiled at him as his gaze jumped between you and Edwin.

“Edwin’s my brother,” you said. “I’m y/n. Also a ghost.”

“Charmed.” Monty’s grin grew wider. “I suppose good looks run in the family.”

You saw Edwin shift uneasily out of the corner of your eye and smiled at him. Monty’s unashamedly flirting was clearly not something Edwin was entirely ready for yet, but it only made the whole thing more amusing. And you couldn’t ignore the playful smirk Monty was giving you nor the glint in his eye.

“And I’m Charles. Nice to meet you, mate,” interrupted the other ghost, his own charming smile fixed on his lips, and extended a hand for Monty to take. “Any pal of Edwin’s is aces in my book.”

Monty’s lips pursed. “Yeah, sorry, hands are full,” he said, his voice suddenly cold and stand-offish.

He moved past you, closer to Edwin, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on you. You smiled to yourself as you turned to the other three, looking back at Monty.

“I was polite, wasn’t I?” asked Charles. His voice sounded much smaller, almost insecure.

“Yeah, you did good,” replied Crystal and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leant closer to him. “Don’t take it personal just ‘cause you aren’t pretty enough to earn Monty’s kindness.”

Charles turned to you, affronted, and glared at your cheeky smile. “Oi, hurtful. I’m very pretty, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, glancing up at him. “And don’t you worry, Edwin knows it too.”

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You only shrugged, glancing back at your brother and Monty. You saw Edwin take the book from him, completely oblivious to the way his gaze was fixed on him, and Niko was unashamedly listening in on their conversation. You took the opportunity to study Monty’s feature’s more carefully, gazing at the ways his lips lifted ever so slightly, and how his eyes suddenly jumped to yours. Immediately, you looked away in shame at being caught staring at him and you were sure to be blushing if you were still capable of it. When you dared look back at him his eyes were yet again on Edwin, but his smirk a bit wider.

“Hey.” You looked to Charles again, nudging him in the side. “If Edwin doesn’t know, though, at least I do.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his grin widen as his eyes fixed on you. That was when Edwin glanced past Monty, meeting your eye briefly before flickering over to Charles. You noticed him hesitate in his reply to Monty and furrowed your brows. It wasn’t like your brother to be careful about his words. Crystal seemed to know what he was thinking as she suddenly brought her hands together.

“Ah, well,” she began, sighing with what sounded like very bad conviction, ”Axe-murder, suicide Groundhog Day drained me, so, uh… I’m gonna head up.”

You shot her a questioning glance but decided against asking her about it. Whatever Edwin and his group had been up to you had more than enough time to figure out. Now that you had found him, there was no chance you were letting him go.

Niko nodded at Crystal’s words, still caught up with whatever Edwin and Monty were speaking about. “Okay, I’ll be up soon,” she said.

Crystal sighed and went over to the other girl, taking ahold of her arm and dragging her away from the boys. You shot a questioning glance at Edwin, but he just nodded for you to go without him. Briefly, you met Monty’s gaze as well and were almost pinned to the spot by his smile before he turned back to your brother. You swallowed and made to walk away when you noticed Charles was still stuck to the same spot, his gaze pinned to Edwin.

“Come on, mate, let’s go.”

He scoffed but let himself be guided away to follow the other two. You heard the traces of Edwin and Monty’s conversation follow behind you, their voices floating through the air. Monty’s was melodic and it made you sigh at the sound of it.

“He’s very cute, isn’t he?” you asked Charles, nudging his side with your elbow.

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing over his shoulder.

You weren’t sure you were talking about the same person.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear

[saratalksaboutdesign]

Claude is a bit of a difficult character design to talk about for me, mostly because of his actual character.

In my past posts about Edelgard and Dimitri, a great part of my reading on their designs is based on the story that said designs embody. Claude is a character that exists entirely divorced from the main plot of the game he is supposed to be a protagonist of. He barely has anything tying him to the war, and more importantly, his defyning personality trait is his air of mystery. How little he lets on about who he is as a person is his main appeal.

So, how exactly do you make a design that is intertwined with the story, for a character that refuses to be at the center of it?

The answer is very simple: You don't!

As is both the child of a powerful noble from the Leicester Alliance and the heir to the throne of the neighbor country of Almyra. Claude is a stranger to both of his home countries, too much of the other to actually belong in either. And this aspect of his racial identity is reflected in the clothes he wears.

His war attire is mainly inspired after medival european clothing, which makes sense as it is the outfit he sports to fight the war over in the european-inspired fictional continent of Fodlan. But his design also includes one acessory of more eastern influence and was very likely inspired by the colorful geometric embroidery that is common in real life near eastern countries. Which would be that patterned cloth tied around his waist like a belt. An element which stands out a lot given that the game goes out of its way to not show any characters wearing this kind of pattern besides him.

One could even interpret such fashion choice as a statement, that he refuses to give up his Almyran heritage and proudly wears it, unlike back in his academy days when his wardrobe was limited to the uniform he was instructed to wear.

Besides that... There is sadly not much else I can add. Perhaps I could add that the asymetric silhouette given by both the hairstyle and the cape are in line with his warm yet aloof and unpredictable personality, or that out of the main three protagonits he breaks out of the pattern of having a monochromatic color palette by having bits of green and those little red tassels attached at the end of the belt.

But these observations do not contribute anything relevant to the reading that I'm trying to make of his design. His design does not give us any further insight on his political views or his personal struggles, or his character growth over the course of the war. And I am afraid that's just a direct result of the writting.

I can't really say this design is bad. It really isn't! But I can't help but wish there was more depth to it.

And yes I do know that more lore on Almyra and it's politics and culture is revealed on Fire emblem three hopes, however that game is but an alterante story set in the same world as Three houses.

Personally, I believe that a designs capacity to communicate a message should be evaluated on said design and no other factors external to the story it is a part of, such as alternate universe stories or similar. Since requiring supplementary information not contained within the source material in order to make a better reading on the design, inevitably means that said design (or the source material for that matter) was already incomplete or insufficient to begin with. Therefore what little more information is given to us about Claude and his origins in that game, is not taken into account when analyzing this specific design.

[fox-guardian]

I have thoughts and since I keep forgetting to draw it, I will write it out

✨️ fashion headcanons for the oiar crew ✨️

Alice (I've already drawn her but I'm adding it here again anyway):

General thoughts: she enjoys layers when possible, fits the "tiny top large bottoms" silhouette most often in her outfits, and tries to throw plaid/flannel into her outfits in some way as often as possible. It's a minor obsession. Jewelry-wise she's typically a silver girlie but is far from against mixing metals and likes wearing piercings with colorful plating

the oiar likely has a pretty solid dress code and I highly doubt she follows it, especially after having been there for nearly a decade

At work I think she keeps it relatively simple. Comfy flannel shirts and/or t-shirts, hoodie if she's cold, and maxi skirts or jeans. Sneakers. It's nothing super fun (the workplace doesn't deserve her at her most fabulous) but it's comfy

Jewelry is also kept simple, studs and plain rings for her ears (snakebites are a given). She also wears her fav bracelets

Outside of work she gets sillayyyy. Bit chunky jewelry, novelty pieces. More fun frilly skirts, some shorter ones. Her nicer outside-of-work looks are somewhere between "hippie" and "that one type of iconic fashionable older woman" she also wears makeup more often Outside of work

Concert attire varies but she gets more grungy with ripped/shredded pieces and band tees (obviously) and sluts it up with shorter skirts/shorts and cropped shirts

Fancy clothes are as 80s as possible. This woman owns multiple shoulder-padded button downs

Pajamas are usually basic sets (often mismatched) or just like. Old t shirt and underwear.

Sam:

General thoughts: priorities comfort and tries to stay comfy as much as possible. You have never felt a wardrobe more soft overall. He wears plain earrings and the occasional friendship bracelet, otherwise not much jewelry I also think he wears as little sock as possible (unless it's funny) (alice got on him for wearing socks with sandals one time back in uni and that's all he wore in front of her for months)

Idk what the exact dress code for the oiar would be, but assume he adheres as much as possible

Prefers soft cotton mocknecks/turtlenecks to crisp button downs, with a nice cardigan instead of a blazer. Trousers are sensible, but soft. He probably irons them

Casual outfits are. Very casual. Sweatpants and sweatshirts/pullovers.

Nicer outside of work outfits aren't very different from work outfits. Date nights might require jewelry (rings, maybe a chain or two). I think he's a gold guy

He does have like one nice suit for special occasions but he suffers through the stiff fabric

Pajamas are button-up sets or literally just his underwear.

Gwen:

General thoughts: this woman is so monochromatic to me. She's very "dark mode basic" if that makes sense. She's not trendy but her looks are always solid. Owns a lot of black. Most outfits are fitted and snug. Wears minimal jewelry and always silver (even though gold would look so good) has a secret love of nice vintage pieces

Work looks are professional and crisp. Pencil skirts, button downs, and a sensible sweater typically (its cold) and plan heels/booties. After having to flee from ink5oul her work wardrobe has graduated to Trousers And Flats For Booking It. Her "girlboss" outfit is a matching blazer/trouser combo

Casual outfits are still well put together. Enjoys miniskirts and tights (if she's feeling bold she'll wear tights with a pattern) and off-the-shoulder tops. Wears basic chokers and slightly more jewelry overall. If she's feeling balls to the walls INSANE she might wear a dark red lip.

She doesn't really have a nicer vs comfy casual wardrobe, so all that's left is special occasion stuff. A nice dress for get togethers with "friends". An especially nice vintage coat she snagged. These pieces might have color other than gray maybe.

Pajamas. Hm. I think she would either have simple button down sets or frilly nightgowns. She definitely dreams of having a nightgown fit for touring a haunted castle I think

Celia:

General thoughts: butch <3 she has learned she really likes the look and feel of a more masculine shape and fit to her clothes after getting a hard reset on her identity. She doesnt wear a lot of jewelry outside her ear and facial piercings, and it is all gold, and she also has snakebites but prefers studs (slightly less enticing for babies to grab than hoops)

Work outfits are nice. Vests and trousers, with the occasional cardigan if it's cold.

Casual outfits are jeans and nice fitted t-shirts. A denim jacket perhaps. I also think she works out in some capacity so there's shorts and muscle tanks also (no bras ever, shits shwangin)

Nicer outside of work stuff.... I don't think she owns any special occasion things right now?? She simply would not have an occasion/reason to have them yet maybe. Maybe she gets a fancy vest for date night idk. She'd probably signify This Is A Special Occasion with nice bracelets and rings. Maybe a neck chain.

Pajamas are usually t-shirts and lounge bottoms/comfy shorts. She is forced to be fully dressed lest she teleport in her sleep while half/fully naked

Lena:

General thoughts: this is already so difficult. I think she would dress very practically. No jewelry unless you count her glasses chain, no skirts, and only very short heels/flats. She keeps proper walking shoes with her if need be.

Work fits. She has a whole power suit in my brain that's just a matching white blazer and trousers, and then the red button down. The white is the biggest power move. I think she has a few of these in different colors (black and iron grey) but the white one is the main one.

Casual.... I don't even know man. Probably also practical over pretty. Probably only wears men's pants due to the pockets. Probably owns a very practical leather jacket. Whatever she wears, she does numbers at the lesbian bars

Nicer out of work clothes.... probably not much different than her work clothes. She may tolerate a dress if she needs to attend a wedding.

Pajamas: she either has the button up sets. Wears an old t-shirt and bottoms from a bygone era of her life and both are full of holes. Or she sleeps butt ass naked with a gun in her hand.

Colin:

General thoughts: office dress code can kiss his ass. He's comfortable but practical, and I think he enjoys graphic tees. He has silver earrings and maybe a secret body piercing but doesn't wear anything else visible. He doesn't really bother with buying new jewelry but wouldn't care about mixing metals if he did.

He wears jeans to work, graphic tees, and a button down so he can call it business casual. Sneakers also. Programmer socks (gift from alice) The jeans are ripped (partially from crawling on his knees dealing with the computers so often) and he patched them up. I think he's big on mending. Also sews his name into items he may leave unattended (thank you merch drop for this idea)

Casual isn't much different. Maybe no button down, maybe he keeps it for flair. At home he wears pants/trousers as little as possible I think. The programmer socks stay on tho.

Nicer outside of work stuff. He owns like one suit.

Pajamas: butt ass naked. If he's cold he just gets more blankets.

Teddy:

General thoughts: thank you alice for pointing out that teddy wears shades of pink im gonna eat this. I also think he wears gold jewelry and those would look so nice together so I am Extra Eating This. Beyond this I don't have toooo many thoughts? I think he enjoys fashion. Knows what different cuts of items will do for him. He likes piecing together a solid Fit even if it's simple.

Work fits include button downs and sweaters, with the classic argyle vest. I think he would enjoy a fun pattern.

Casual fits are practical but stylish, and I think he considers himself legally required to buy anything with Teddy bears on it that fits him. I think he wears light jewelry even on more casual days, he likes to sparkle a bit.

Nicer out of work fits. I think he owns a couple shiny button downs. Does it up with the gold jewelry, chains, rings, a nice watch, the woiks. He has at least one funky patterned pair of pants.

Pajamas: usually sticks to old tshirts and comfy bottoms, has like one button up set that's Christmas themed (twas a gift) that he only wears that time of year, and one (1) legally mandated teddy bear onesie.

those are the vibes. They are subject to change as we learn more ofc but here they are <3

[blind-radio-waves]

RJ's the only one off the top of my head that can drive and they didn't know I was going until I was gone so... Yeah I dunno I shouldve asked but. Yknow. I was worried, so brain turned off.

No call needed, Zaza, everythings good, I just got. Heavily lost. I dunno how to drive after all, but I made it work. If anyone screams its them seeing me show up :) -Quill

Oh, Quill, thank God...

...Wait.

With all due respect, dear, why are you driving? Was nobody available to bring you here?

-D

[saltyorio]

just wanna say i rlly love ur artstyle and drawings!! It’s so nice to see ppl love Claggor bc he’s such a sweetheart 🫶

Just like my last post, this isn't an ask, but THANK YOU SOOO MUCH!!! There's a bit of paranoia in me that you all will eventually tire of my monochromatic artstyle (I suck at colors and color theory) thanks to its repetiveness. But it brightens my day whenever I have you guys just coming into my inbox, so say nice things. Here, for that, you all get a mini Claggor sticker! Might make some more in the future, but ehhh, I gotta think about it!

Claggor, as a character and a person, brings a huge comfort to me thanks to him falling into the archetype of big people who have gentle hearts. Gentle giants, basically. Not only that but he's so shrouded in mystery and tragedy due to the fact he's a side character in arcane and since Riot/Fortiche can barely care to give him and Mylo any damn attention I might as well do it myself. Sorry, Mylo fans, I'm GETTING there 😭😭😭

[enatopiaa]

Just a fun oneshot that I thought of!! OPM songs give me so much inspiration ‎٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و*̣̩⋆̩*

guys i know Grimmjow is literally in all blue and one would assume its his fav color but hey its for the story okay😔👎

(Bleach) Grimmjow Jaegerjaques x fem!reader ; inspired by the song Dilaw - Maki (ˊᵒ̴̶̷̤ ꇴ ᵒ̴̶̷̤ˋ) i love this song so much !!

Timeline ; after TYBW arc

TW: none! pure fluff ‼️

I originally wrote this in Filipino to practice LMAOO yeah I’m not sharing it… MY GRAMMAR IS SO BAD. Pure pinoy pero mas mataas grade sa english BAHAHAHA

“Ikaw, Ikaw ay dilaw”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

In all honesty, Grimmjow had never given much thought about his favorite color. He was never the type to care about such trivalities, he simply just accepts whatever came his way.

So why did he say that she was correct when she answered the color ‘yellow’ on their small guessing game about his favorite color?

“Is it yellow? I think it’s a pretty color and it’s also one of my favorites!” She answers on her first try. She was excited and smiling like a little child as her eyes sparkled with wonder, he could never admit it, but every time he looks at those (e/c) orbs, it always felt like the world was calm.

He found himself pausing for a moment, feeling something stir within him when she enthusiastically said the word ‘yellow’, the way the word rolled off her tongue sounded like a sweet melody, he felt his heart skipping a beat. He nodded in agreement, it was as if that color infused with her energy and excitement

“Yeah, you’re right…”

From that day forward, suddenly yellow was no longer just a ‘mere color’— It was her, her smile that can light up a dark room, her laughter that always sounded like a song. Every time he saw the golden hue, she was all he could ever think about.

He never had these bothering thoughts and feelings before, he was the former sexta espada, a hollow— he wasn’t supposed to be able to ‘feel anything’ in the first place, his hollow hole was proof of it.

Grimmjow insists that he loathes humans and soul reapers especially that damn strawberry head, but theres this warm feeling that he feels inside every time he hung out with the woman who was never afraid to stand her ground in front of him. A scintilla of something else filling in his void, it was unfamiliar to him, but it felt mellow like the spring day.

He always felt this strange, yet comforting feeling of euphoria whenever they were together. Sure, They may have been enemies and have hurt each other at first when the Espadas were still a thing and Aizen was still around, but ever since the day Urahara paired them up to work together with a few tasks during the invasion of the Quincies, he has been finding himself to slowly enjoy her company as time passed.

The wounds and scars that they gave to one another during their past clashes suddenly meant more than it was supposed to ‘hurt’, the pain it inflicted became a constant reminder of her presence in his life; no longer an act of violence but rather a testament of their history and the unspoken promise that bloomed between them.

His world was once dull and devoid of meaning, mirroring the barren dunes of Hueco Mundo, until she entered his life like a guiding star, introducing him to the vibrant world of the living, for once he was starting to feel more— emotions that he never knew he had possessed as a hollow, bringing color into his world that was once monochromatic.

If he was in a ballroom, she was his dance partner. If he were searching for answers, she was his certainty.

If there was a color to the new light that had been guiding him through the darkness,

She was yellow.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

yeah i said I wasn’t a writer but since this grade level we’ve been writing so many poems and essays I just had to find a way to improve, in a way where i can enjoy LMAO but yeah this is just a practice, i might start writing some more but…🧍

hope u guys enjoyed, its short but I tried😔 Grimmjow is a difficult character to write afterall but i love him still CACKCLING