#since my hc for them is that they started off as eclipse while they were being used for the theater

[biblically-accurate-dca]

experimental sunman yaaaay

(ruin spoilers under the cut)

[thegamingcatmom]

Choose violence 12 and 23

Hi there!

12. The unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them.

Irina Denali

A lot of people resent her because of her behavior and actions throughout the movies. Which...I kinda get it:

she´s part of the reason the Denalis did not aid the Cullens in fighting off Victoria and her army in Eclipse (Tanya´s to blame for that as well imo - she´s the leader and, as such, should´ve been the voice of reason)

in BD Part 1, she still refused to believe Laurent tried to kill Bella (basically called Edward a liar) and I fully believe she´d have offed one of the wolves (probs Seth) after the wedding, had Tanya allowed it

then you got all of BD Part 2...I mean, I think we all know (always always always get your facts right first)

HOWEVER-

I think a lot of people don´t make an effort to actually understand such complex characters. It´s easier to go by what you can see rather than digging deeper and wondering about the Why:

.

Laurent

I don´t believe Laurent and her were "meant to be", but Irina probably did. (Hence why she wouldn´t believe a word Edward said.) After centuries of searching, she´d finally found her mate. The one thing she´d always hoped and longed for. (I HC her as someone who´s dreamed of marriage since she was a little girl. Just like Rosalie.) The one thing all vampires hope and long for, I reckon.

...Only to have that ripped away from her in a matter of...days? Weeks? Months? (Not sure how long Laurent´s been with the Denalis before he returned to Forks to finish the job.) It broke her. I´d even go so far as to argue she felt a pain similar to when her mother died. Not as severe, but powerful enough to leave a gaping hole in her chest. I think Laurent´s death changed her, made her bitter, and I really wish we´d have gotten to see the Irina before Laurent. She was probs a whole different person.

Besides: Yall can´t tell me any of the Cullens would´ve reacted any differently if their mate had been slaughtered by the wolves. A vampire will always be out for blood and revenge after that.

.

The (not quite) immortal child

Well, what to say here? It was a misunderstanding, a big one. One that could´ve been prevented by Irina herself, if only she´d have taken the time to think before acting.

...But rational thinking can be difficult when your past comes back to haunt you. She saw the child, and got triggered. She didn´t even think about thinking, she was simply not able to. The death of her mother was a traumatic experience for her, and seeing Renesmée probs felt like living through that trauma all over again. She looked disgusted when she saw her and Bella because she has suffered the consequences of such a selfish act (turning a child) before. How could the Cullens, people she considered family, commit such a heinous crime when they knew what it cost them (the sisters)?

I think, above all else, Irina felt utterly betrayed.

With that said, Irina wasn´t a "bad" person. She´s simply been dealt very shitty cards, and while all of that is no excuse for some of the things she´s done, it makes her, for a lack of a better word, human.

23. Ship you´ve unwillingly come around to.

...Don´t hit me pls (looking at you @ynhara):

Irina Denali x reader

DON´T HIT MEH, I CAN EXPLAIN-

Look...I gotta confess something:

I´ve never been fond of Irina, probs because of the very reasons I´ve stated above. I just never really got attached to her, yknow? Sometimes, there´s people you just don´t click with, right?

...Until you start looking deeper into their story. So, basically, ever since I started writing about the Denalis, some of my views just...changed. In order to come up with these HCs and silly little posts and whatnot, I had to deal with her and her story. How else was I supposed to come up with stuff? So, the more I wrote, the more I understood (e.g.: see above). And with understanding came fondness.

If there´s one thing I´ve learned from this, it´s that you should always make an effort to get to know the person behind the mask. 🎭

.

.

.

Thanks for your ask! 💋

[prager-lover]

Recom Prager x F!Recom!Reader

I got so damn bored also this is my first time writing for a Recom, i've been obsessed with them since I saw the second movie. Feel free to send me hc or fic ideas for the recoms cuz I love them so much.

When you cant find the fanfics you want, write em yourself

Content overview: Swearing, reader is straight/bisexual(says they like men, doesnt specify if they are straight or bi), cringe fluff, Prager being dumb (i love him), Prager being a little nerd that can't talk to women, awful writing get over it this is self indulgent

Word count? Dont know. A lot. Ignore how bad my writing is

Pandora, twenty years later.

Being woken up in this new big blue body kind of threw you for a loop. Years ago, we were fighting these giants and now you were them. What the fuck. The first face you saw was Lopez and Christ Almighty he was the wrong person to see. All up in your face, the blue Latino was yelling, probably running off an adrenaline high.

"AYE COÑO WAKE UP"

Prompting you to shove him away and jump off the gurney, backing into a corner. Other large blue bodies closed in on you, yelling to calm down. You took the time to realize they were Marines. Your friends. You calmed down when one of the Na'vi that looked alot like your old friend Ja started talking. He started explaining that you guys were recoms, you'd died and now you're back.

Well Shit.

Y/N's Pov

It's been a few months since I woke up as a Recom. Thankfully, everyone seems to have adjusted. Lyle is still an idiot, flirting with every breathing thing at Hellsgate (Im pretty sure hes even tried making passes at the Colonel). Being in this new body is actually pretty cool once you get used to it. The stripes and shit look awesome. Besides, the improved strength is nothing to sneeze at. When we're not out trying to find Sully, I spend almost every free minute in the gym, or at least outside trying to do something active, any chance to be around my friends. I'm glad Ja is here, back when we were humans, he was my damn rock. Always there with a joke and a smile, it's nice to be so comfortable with someone, considering theres only a few of us recoms. Everyone else on base is either a scientist trying to probe me, or some puny human that jumps a mile high when I go in a room. Tiresome.

There is a new guy though, Prager. He was in the room when I woke up, wide eyed and ready to hold me back if it was needed. Not so good for first impressions. Ja gave us a formal introduction afterwards. Apparently him, Brown, and Ja were pretty good friends. His facial features did look kind of familiar, I probably saw him around base a few times. I can't lie, he was kind of striking. In a weird way. He looked so tired all the time. We got to talking, and eventually became friends as well. He was reallyyy into working out. It was kind of obvious, Jesus his muscles were big. Kind of muscles that you just wanna smack. It started with us running into each other at the gym, polite "Heys" and "How're you?" but after a while we started working out together. He'd spot me on the bench, making it kind of hard to concentrate when he's standing right on top of me. Almost dropped the weight a few times. We'd hang out together for a little bit, going outside on the basketball courts and watch animals flying around, and sometimes when it would be near eclipse, we'd stay and watch. We'd both be hungry, and sometimes he'd forget a snack so I'd bring extra protein bars I snuck from the mess hall. Sometimes when he'd turn away I'd look at him. He was pretty, especially in this lighting. Very soft and relaxed, unlike when we were on missions. When it was just us, no Ja or Lopez coming around the corner to tackle him, he'd let his face fall or just close his eyes. Call me delusional, but I swear he did the same to me. I'd turn my head around and catch him quickly turning, light purple blush spreading across his cheeks. Cute.

3rd person Pov

"Hey, Y/n, wait up!"

Y/n turned around, smiling when she saw Prager jogging towards her, green headband ties swaying behind him.

"Damn girly, what happened to waiting for eachother?" He said, feigning hurt while slightly out of breath.

"Sorry man, maybe you're just too slow. Pick up the pace." She joked, lightly punching his bicep, being met with pure muscle. God Damn. He wont admit it, but that touch sent butterflies right to his stomach. He'd been harbouring this crush on Y/n for months now, and everyday it seemed like it went deeper. Ja would groan loudly when Prager brought up y/n for what seemed the thousandth time that day.

"Just stop being a pussy and ask. her. OUT." He'd say, enunciating the last 3 words with smacks on Prager's head.

"I know but what if she says no, I'd rather get trampled by a direhorse." He lamented, throwing himself onto a bunk like a melodramatic Disney princess. Ja just decides to give up.

Y/n and Prager started their typical workout routine, stretching, muscle building, then cardio if they could bear to look at a treadmill or bike. They didnt talk much during their workouts, mostly shared smiles or raised eyebrows. It was late now, the workout was probably 3, 3.5 hours. Too long. They left the facility, heading out to the basketball courts to cool down.

Y/n's Pov

Fuck. Too long. Way too fuckin long for a workout. I should be used to it at this point, i'm a damn marine but it was too much weight for too many reps. I think Prager feels the same way. Everything feels too light in my hands, the dumb bells ghost weight still pulling my arms down. One upside, Prager still somehow looked good. I'm not sure how its possible but the man just looks handsome without trying. Pisses me off to a point, he probably doesnt realize how good he looks to me right now. Asshole.

We stopped in our tracks and flopped to the ground.

"Fuck almighty." He groans out, sprawled out on the concrete, tail flicking lazily next to him.

"Yeah, you're telling me." I say, sitting down next to him. "It's gonna be a pain in the ass to get up tomorrow."

We sit in silence for a while, just soaking in the fresh and cool air. Thats the beauty of Pandora, all this beautiful scenery, nature preserved and fresh air not polluted by billions of people over-populating the planet. Sometimes I don't like what we're doing here. General Ardmore, all the other humans. We're going to fuck up this planet, just like we did our original one. Prager must have noticed my shift in mood, my tail flicking around, agitated. He sat up on his elbows looking at me.

"You alright there?" He asked, big ol eyes looking up at me. I was knocked out of my trance.

"Yeah i'm good, just thinkin'."

He was about to reply when a loud laugh erupted from the side. There was Lyle, hands on his knees while Z-dog was wiping tears from her eyes. Of course. Those guys were inseparable. And insufferable. Lyle would always be giggling about some stupid shit. I love that bald bastard but when you're trying to unwind it can get on your nerves. Prager and I shared a look. Yeah, he knew. We both started laughing, somehow our two voices still overpowered by Lyle's hacking guffaw across the courtyard. We watched them walk off, Z-dog clapping his back.

"Do you think they have something going on?" Prager asks me. I was taken aback. He said it so nonchalantly, but I never would have thought he was one for gossip.

I chuckled as I answered. " I really doubt it, I think Z-dog's gay. Never seen a girl that looks like that without an ounce of fruit in her. Never knew you were a gossip queen Prag, didn't know you had it in you." I raised my eyebrow suspiciously at him. He threw his head back laughing softly, his Adam's apple withing perfect striking distance. Why did I think about that. We were quiet for a few seconds. when suddenly;

"Are you gay?" He was looking at me again. The question was so quiet I thought I misheard him for a second. Again, taken aback.

"Uh, no. No, I like guys."

He let out a breath of relief. "Oh thank god."

What the fuck. I started laughing. Loud, violent laughs as he quickly gets from his comfortable position, obviously panicking from what he just said.

"Wait wait wait no I- no no I didn't mean it- well I didn't mean it like that no no you got it all wrong." He was shaking his hands at me, cheeks blushing a deep purple. I was rolling on the fucking ground. my sides hurt from how hard I was laughing. I tried gaining composure, but his stupid handsome face was looking at me with a panicked face and I came undone again.

"did-didn't know you didn't agree with-" I hiccupped. "-that sort of lifestyle Prag." I was still giggling when he got louder.

"Wait wait NO I didn't mean it like- like that no no it's- no I have gay friends and stuff-" Again I lost it. His ears were pinned back against his skull, tail swishing adamantly behind him, pupils big.

"No no no no no no no I just meant it like I like you so I hoped you didn't like girls cuz that would suck cuz I like you and I don't want you to not like me..." He covered his face with his hands, mumbling after that sentence. What he said, I don't know but I think it was along the same lines. All that was replaying in my mind was " I like you"

Prager liked me? ME? I turn so I'm Infront of him, he's still babbling on and on, incoherent.

"Prager.."

"I'm sorry I don't know why I asked that-"

"Prager."

"I know I know I'm sorry I can just go I'm sorry I don't know I just got nervous I'm sorry."

Fucking Christ he was cute. I grabbed his wrists, yanking his hands away from his still blushing face.

"PRAGER."

He looks up to me so mopey, poor kitty cat with his ears drooping. I couldn't stop myself. I kissed his nose. That shut him up.

"Prager, I like you too."

He's looking at me with his mouth half open. Idiot. His hand reached for mine, holding me tightly.

"You do?" He sounded so small and helpless, like a kitten.

"Yes, you fucking dipshit" I said with a toothy grin.

His shoulders slumped over and he leaned into me, crushing me in a hug.

"Thank god oh my god you had no idea how long I've wanted to hear that thank GOD-"

I kissed his nose again. I'm finding this to be a very effective way of shutting him up.

"Maybe ask me out now instead of rambling."

He grinned at me. We left the courts a few minutes later, I reached to hold his hand and he took mine gladly. He dropped me off at my room.

"Night y/n, see you tomorrow." He beamed down at me, his ears perked up and tail moving quickly.

"Goodnight hotshot."

Prager scampered off. He felt like singing but he knew no one around would appreciate it, so he settled with whistling. The man wanted to fucking skip. It was obvious to Ja, who was playing cards with Brown and Lopez when Prager came in, that something good had happened.

"Prager? You alright man?" they all turned to look at him, his usually tired looking eyes bright and wide open.

"This guy on meth or something?" Lopez muttered.

"No no nothing like that I'm just a happy camper fellas."

Ja figured it out.

"No..."

"ohhh yes."

"NO."

"YES."

"YOU ASKED HER OUT?"

"FUCK YEAH."

Loud noises, Brown whooping and Lopez hitting Prager's back filled the room. Ja tousled up Prager's hair, laughing at his scaredy-cat friend's (Long overdue) courage. They made him stay up and tell them all the details.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Is this my best work? probably not. But I am both sleep deprived and Prager content deprived so let me live my life. I'm living for the recoms right now. tell me what y'all think bye have a nice day

[dragonmarquise]

Everyone keeps talking Abt all the crews and stuff, but like, I never see any content for futurism! Sure there wasn't a lot of stuff for them since they were like, a really small part of the plot, but it would still be awesome to see content for them!!!! So I come bearing a question, do you have hcs for futurism?

Ooo, I have a few for FUTURISM! Not as extensive as my stuff for Devil Theory and DOT EXE, but still. :>

(I know some people kinda debate writing it as FUTURISM vs. Futurism, I'm gonna personally keep all caps but I also understand most people probably don't care either way lol)

Also feel free to send in asks about the other crews/characters too! I might not have a lot for each character though. I also have a general list of LGBT+ headcanons for all the BRC characters, if that interests you! Granted, it's probably not as extensive as some other people's lists.

Anyways, gonna put this under a Read More, it won't get nearly as long as the other two headcanon sets, but it'll be long enough that I'll feel bad about posting this without one. ^^;

I like giving all the crew members themed names, and for FUTURISM I went with computer-related terms! Some of them more obscure than others. So for the members (besides DJ Cyber of course):

Jazz (Related to the Chorus/Jazz version of JavaOS)

Quantum (i.e. quantum computing)

Veronica (an old search engine)

Nyx (The name of a prototype Amiga chipset, though also Greek personification of the night!)

I have a personal idea that after the events of the game, one member from each of the major crews end up joining BRC, basically representing the unlockable characters in the post game. In this case, Nyx is the one who joins BRC (and in my mind she's the default Spring palette in the game), so let's start with her!

Bi, currently dating one of the Eclipse ladies (inspired by this very good fan art btw :D )

All of the FUTURISM gals have amazing skills both with computers and as writers. Nyx ends up being one of two Designated IT Person for BRC, the other being Cueball.

Her and Cueball get into little prank wars, mostly instigated by Cueball for the hell of it. Her opinion of him ranges from genuine respect for his own computer skills to Chump Lord Supreme. Depends on her mood (and how much Cueball has recently pissed her off before asking her about it, lol)

As for the rest of BRC: "Well, they're still kinda chumps, but I guess they're my chumps now, y'know?"

Not afraid to be snarky, even to authority figures (DJ Cyber included)

Now for Jazz (Summer palette):

Is actually a guy who crossdresses! Does drag shows on the weekends too. :D

She is personally not very picky about pronouns, but most people default to referring to Jazz with she/her while in her writer outfit or as her drag persona (she goes by Jazz for both anyways), and he/him when he's not dressed up. But again, not very picky either way.

"I'm just saying, when the cops try to chase me down, they're gonna be looking for a blonde woman, not a guy with dark hair and stubble. Literally, one time I ran around a corner and managed to take off my wig and mask, then just covered up my top with a hoodie I had. Same pants and shoes, but they didn't even notice!"

Truthfully the crossdressing thing was genuinely just for fun, not to mention pretty comfortable while going around doing writer stuff. It wasn't until a while later that she realized it would make for a great disguise as a writer. :P

Nyx and Jazz are basically Besties and will be more than happy to smacktalk about their respective crews behind everyone's backs, lol

Now Quantum (Winter palette):

Runs an underground (kinda literally) server farm for local web hosting, chat sites, and forums. Anyone remember forums? Man, the good ol' days...

Has a hand in a lot of open source freeware projects. Hates companies like Adobe, Apple, Google, and Microsoft with a passion. Big Linux nerd btw, she will talk you ear off about the pros and cons of different distros if you let her.

Actually on that note, if you're not talking to her while she's out and about as a writer, or otherwise talking to her about computer stuff, she's fairly introverted! Especially if you try to talk to her in person instead of via text/chat/email/etc, she's basically more talkative online.

Also very good at sneaking around. Though not really as like spying or anything like that, she just prefers to not get in people's way or annoy them. Unfortunately she has scared DJ Cyber more than once by sneaking up on him by accident, lol

Wears contacts as a writer, but otherwise wears glasses normally. Has been considering getting prescription heavy-duty goggles for her writer activities, so that she doesn't have to bother with the contacts anymore.

And finally Veronica (Autumn palette):

She is genuinely a jerk. Nyx can be snarky sometimes, but not in an overly mean way. Veronica will be more than happy to be nasty to someone if she thinks they deserve it, even if they really don't.

Always looks down on pretty much any other writer outside of FUTURISM. She's still convinced Felix cheated to get his reputation, especially the whole "did it with no boostpack" thing.

Most people would probably consider her a stereotypical Karen ngl :u

So yeah, she's basically That One Teammate Nobody Likes. Veronica is only still in the crew because her skills are second only to DJ Cyber himself. Hell, he really doesn't like her attitude, but can't find a replacement for her in terms of skills. (He's begged Vinyl to formally join FUTURISM in the past, but she always declined, preferring to keep being a freelance writer. And now that she's part of BRC, she's definitely not an option for replacing Veronica, lmao)

She had a crush on Faux, but these days refuses to admit it was ever a thing.

That's about all I got I think! Hope you enjoy these. :>

Small bonus, specific track from the game that I associate with FUTURISM the most: Funk Express!

[theeclipseknight]

Relationship HC’s: Eden and Steven 💛💙

——

(Inspired by @lyrakarma telling the story of her romance with Jake)

—-

• They met at The Museum when Eden started working at the Museum book shop.

•After almost an entire day of everyone ignoring Eden’s pronoun pin, and misgendering them, they had a silent panic attack behind one of the larger, more secluded exhibits.

•Steven was the only one to see them sneak back there, wiping tears from their eyes. He followed them, watching for a moment as the sank back against the wall, put their head in their hands, and let the tears of frustration flow. Steven silently sat beside them, putting a hand on their back.

• From the first “You alright, mate?” Eden was smitten. And I mean they had it BAD.

•Eden didn’t really know why, but they were comforted by Steven’s kind eyes, and his understanding nature. So they vented to him.

•They became fast friends, and ate lunch together most days, and bonded over their love of Mythology and Literature.

•…until Steven disappeared during the events of the first season.

•Eden was worried sick, but didn’t have his number, so they waited. And waited. Until one day, he showed back up at work and explained everything. About Marc and Jake, about Khonsu and the other gods, about his servitude.

•Since then, Eden met Marc, and Jake, and got to be friends with them as well.

•When Eden became The Eclipse, they passed out for almost 12 hours, and The Moon Knight system took them home, and took shifts watching over them.

•The first thing Eden did when they woke up was call out to Steven.

•When Steven came to their side, they were so happy to see him they started literally glowing.

• They hugged him a little too tightly, Ra’s strength still coursing through them. Right then and there they confessed their feelings for him, vowing to do whatever they could to help him with their new gifts.

• After that, they started working more with Moon Knight and Mr. Knight, training under their wing.

•Eden and Steven, especially when Eden is in a Solar mood, are SUNSHINE INCARNATE.

•Maybe it’s Marc and Jake’s training talking, but Eden, especially when in a Lunar mood, would GLADLY murk someone on Steven’s behalf. Even in the day, Ra’s wrath is STRONG if anyone messes with Steven.

•Marc and Jake make fun of them sometimes, but it’s all in love.

•Eden loves Marc and Jake like big brothers.

• Ede uses Solar’s powers to make Steven little rainbow shows with light prisms.

•If Eden spends the night with Steven and one of the other alters wakes up the next morning, they take extra care to not look and Eden takes extra care to not be seen. And vice versa for Ede not looking at the boys.

• Eden: *Snoring peacefully, buck ass nakey in Steven’s Bed*

Marc: *gets up without moving the covers off of them and gets dressed*

Also Marc: Yo, Sunshine britches! Get dressed we got work to do! Coffee in ten.

•Eden makes playlists for Steven… it’s absolutely the mushiest stuff imaginable.

•Ede’s Solar persona and Mr. Knight ARE 60’s Batman and Robin.

•Ede’s Lunar persona and Mr. Knight have ‘I will sic my Ninja on you if you don’t give me the info I need.” Energy.

• Extremely flirty with each other while sparring, but they don’t hold back!

Mr.Knight: You wouldn’t hit your boyfriend, would you love?

Solar: I love you so much. *Shoots beams of sunlight into his eyes and makes him fall down*

Also

Mr. Knight: You wouldn’t hit your boyfriend, would you love?

Lunar: In the face, yes. *Lunges at him with their Khopeshes, stopping at the last second to give him a smooch on the cheek*

•Steven calls Eden “My Sunshine” and “My Moonbeam” depending on the time of day.

[unsafecoma]

YAYAYYA i wanted to do madamemiz's ask game about the DCA because i llike them 🫶 UNDER THE CUT !! ! !! ! !!!

how did you get here?

my hyperfix on the dca started earrrly january this year because i played hw2 and was promptly swept off my feet and ive been sick over them since. id played it before , but started playing again bc i wanted too 100% the game! oh if only id known !!

2. why these characters in particular? what was the hook for you?

originally it was Sun that hooked me onto both of them. hes just so silly!! and such a prissy bitch!! and i love it!! plus i love the idea of 2 separate ids in one body, thats always fun to mess with 😋

3. how long have you been here?

since early january of this year!! though, im not SUPER active in the fandom itself. i just silently enjoy fanart/fics , and VERY RARELY draw and post on my art bog. im not a big participator in fandom itself, im perfectly comfy just watching.

4. have you actually played fnaf sb?

NO. and i do not plan to. the game is too buggy to pay 40 bucks for it, plus i really dont wanna give scott anymore money (fuck you scott cawthon i hate you scott cawthon a million plagues upon you and your life scott cawthon) so ill pass. im perfectly fine with just watching videos.

5. if you make content, what's your favorite piece you've contributed?

THIS POST!! i love vocaloid, and i love the dca, and whats better than combining the two? i was especially proud of myself bc these were animations, which is something i NEEEVERRR to, so id say i was pretty damn happy with these!!

6. what's your favorite sort of art or fic? what genre/flavor/style?

ive still yet to actually read any fics abt the dca (im in the process of reading one about djmm rn <3 its so good i love it so much <333) but im a sucker for angst w/a happy end (the heart wants what the heart wants, and who am i to deny ?)

7. what's your favorite au?

i like aquatic aus for the dca!!!!! i love seeing all the different designs ppl give them ... i also rlly like cowboy/western aus too :)

8. do you have any ocs, or have any ocs you're fond of?

not yet, but ive absolutely thought about it!! maybe one day ... (for now though, im happy with my silly little technician s/i hehe)

9. what do you think of the dca's canon appearance? Scary? Cute? Something else?

I LOVE THEM I THINK THEYRE SO PRETTYYYYYYYYYY i dont really see them as scary from looks alone tbh, like MAYBE moon but it'd have to be rlly dark so it was just his glowing eyes visible. other than that they are just silly billys cutie patooties to me. id pinch their cheeks if i could (i mean i know u can but. ykwim)

10. what keeps you in this fandom despite the very small amount of canon content the dca had?

im kept sane by both my own brain's constant thoughts abt these robots, and also the art and writing made by other fans!! i 🫶 images.

11. be honest: if you had to pick only one, sun or moon?

:( i GUESS sun, if i HAD to choose, only bc Moon's the one with the virus. it feels so wrong to separate them. you wound me.

12. thoughts on eclipse?

I LOVE THEM!!!!!!! i hc that eclipse isnt one whole robot, but its a state of being where sun and moon are both comfortably, equally in control of the body. so like ... in a WAY they could seem blended into one whole ai, but theyre both still in there, and have moments of one overtaking the other, while still as "eclipse".

13. thoughts on pre-glitch sun?

I feel like pre glitch Sun was juuust starting to get a bit overworked and burnt out, like right before the virus (and afterwards, it jsut got worse and worse). i think the DCA are genuinely good at taking care of kids, they just slip up often and arent absolutely perfect at it (unlike how they would be, if they were actually made to be caretakers and not theater animatronics). sometimes Sun is too loud, having to constantly remind himself to lower his voice when around more meek kids in the daycare.

he definitely has his moments where he needs to correct himself and remember that he is taking care of young kids, but all in all, i feel like Sun was pretty good at taking care of the kids (much better than he was when he was first moved to the daycare, since i can imagine he was VERY, VERY BITTER about being moved from the theater, but its not like being a theater animatronic was synonymous with despising children, so he wouldn't HATE them or anything yk ??)

14. thoughts on pre-glitch moon?

YKNOW I WONDER does moons voice sound like that bc of the virus, or is that just his voice ? nonetheless, i feel like Moon was good with his job, and maybe a bit better than Sun, only bc i feel like handling naptime would come with less struggles than daytime activities.

Moon was probably so much more gentle, less hunched over and 'scary-looking' when he moved, and rather than punishing kids for not sleeping he just ... actually helped them sleep. yknow ? whether its holding and rocking some of the younger kids to help them sleep better, or maybe one of the kids has something on their mind that wont let them sleep, i feel like Moon was actually really good at his job.

im firm on believing the DCA is actually good at taking care of kids due to what cassie says about the AR sun/moon plushies!! theyre good at their job!!! to a degree LOLLLL

15. do you interpret sun and moon as two sides of the same person, or truly two separate beings in one body? does it matter?

i interpret them as two separate beings in one body!! i like this interpretation, it feels more fun to work with and is oddly cathartic? emotional? interesting? theres just so much emotion that comes with sharing a body with an entire other identity, knowing that you and them are tightly knit together, whether you want to be or not, because no matter what, you have them, and they have you, and you're stuck with one another. and yes, you and them are different, but you bleed into one another at some parts, at some angles the yellow and blue smudge, and sometimes you struggle to see where 'you' starts, and 'they' begin.

i love love love thinking about how they experience sharing a body with one another, how they maneuver the world and their thoughts. ITS SO FUN!!! THEY MAKE ME SICK.

16. what's something in the fandom you'd like to see more of?

WAITER!!! WAITER!! MORE PRISSY BITCH SUN PLEASE!!! ill literally never ever get enough of it.

17. what's something in the fandom you'd like to see less of?

this is ENTIRELY just me, but seeing the dca act all suave and sexy feels mischaracterizing. this tweet literally captures how i feel perfectly

like OB VI OUS LY have fun and do what ur little heart desires, never ever am i gonna bash someone for DOING THAT, but whenever i see them drawn sexily and with abs or anything like that it just makes me wonder if we have the same character in mind. you dont get them like i do. we are playing with our touys in different corners.

18. anything you're looking forward to?

THE MOON NIGHTLIGHT. i have the sun one already and i NEED the moon one so he isnt alone :( i hope they fix up the coloring on the moon one, bc the dark bit looks so weird and messy (im assuming it only looks like that since it was the first look at him, but still!!! i think they should just make him all white, and not make the NIGHT LIGHT dark in some areas, lol???)

19. do you think you'd actually get along with the dca if you met them irl?

this is one of those rare times where i DO think i would get along with them, or at least Sun!! i feel like id definitely be super duper anxious first meeting them, like the enthusiasm levels are a bit jarring, but i really do feel like i could get along with Sun (and maybe Moon ... if this is pre-virus, then more likely, but if its while Moon has the virus .. .. . . . . .. .. .. .. mauybe.)

20. free space! talk about whatever's on your mind!

if i think about the dca and their room and state of neglect for too long i get sick. i get insane and curl into a little ball like a roly poly. they make me so sick. i hate them i need to bite them.

also genderfunny aroace dca forever and ever. ok? 🫶

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

oh requests are open!! can i ask for hc's for an gender neutral s/o crawling under the character's arm to cuddle them properly while said character was "asleep"? (for characters, sebek, deuce, and jack) thank you for taking the time to read through my ask!! -tired anon who wants cuddles

Since asleep is in quotation marks, I’m going to take that as meaning the boys aren’t quite sleeping...? 😅 I hope that’s what you were looking for, because that’s how I wrote these headcanons!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Thanks to his tireless knighthood training, Sebek immediately snaps into a state of alertness as soon as you start to wiggle under his arm. He knows there’s no enemy nearby to smite, but now that he’s fully conscious again, adrenaline is pumping through his veins, and he’s fully aware of your presence.

Sebek’s eyes are bulging, staring right at you—incredulous. He speaks to you in a stern whisper, his cheeks inflamed. “H-Human, what are you... why have you infiltrated my quarters? Realize that this behavior can be considered indecent conduct...!”

He makes a bit of a fuss about the situation, but ultimately yields under the pretense that it’s his duty to keep you safe, even when you launch sneak attacks like this on him! (Sebek has a smug little smile on his face when he makes this proclamation.)

Sebek’s strong arms loop around your torso and hug you to him, securing you flush to his chest. His muscles instinctively stiffen, getting a tighter grip on your body to keep you from rolling over and off the bed. You’re anchored to him—and he, to you.

You curl up into a little ball, and Sebek’s body follows the motion. His large form eclipses yours in a spooning position. It feels safe and secure with him cradling you like this, and you know there’s no other place you want to be but here, contained in your knight’s arms.

Deuce is still in a dazed state when you crawl under his arm to cuddle. He just had one of those dreams where he’s falling through the sky, only to make impact with the ground and be startled semi-awake.

“Huh? (Y/N)... You’re... in my b-bed?” Deuce rubs at his eyes with one hand, unsure of if you’re real or not. His other hand is preoccupied with holding you. “This... This isn’t still my dream, right?”

He gives you a light squeeze, as if to test just how real you are. Your skin squishes at his touch, and Deuce jolts back, wide-eyed at the sensation. For several moments, you stare at each other in stunned, shy silence—in the darkness, admiring the vague outlines of one another’s forms.

He twitches and turns bright red when you decide to you lean against him, but his body relaxes back into yours just as quickly. It almost feels like he’s a marshmallow, melting into you so naturally. “Mmm... you feel nice.” Deuce mumbles absentmindedly. “Is this... um, really okay? Staying like this for just a little... longer................”

Deuce drifts off to sleep on his own, completely forgetting about his “just a little longer” vow. You join him in the land of sweet dreams, tucked safe and sound against your beloved—your slumbering faces so close, your foreheads and noses touch, almost as though you are subconsciously seeking the other out.

Jack’s still drowsy, so it takes him a few seconds to readjust to his surroundings. He squints into the darkness of the room, and immediately pick ups on you shuffling around to tuck under his arm.

Nuzzling into his tail will draw a shy blush from him(not that you can see that well in the dark)—but because it’s you, Jack will make an exception and allow you to make yourself comfortable on him.

“... What’re you up to now?” he asks groggily. Jack sounds kind of grumpy, but he doesn’t push you away or scold you for snuggling up to him. “You’ve got your own bed space, don’t you?”

Despite what his words would have you believe, Jack does want you near. He insists on holding you close to him. Your presence, your warmth, comforts him—and something about it sets his protective instincts off like fire alarms. He wants you close, so he can safeguard you to the best of his abilities.

Jack eases you against his chest, the warmest and safest part of him. A hand remains on the back of your head, keeping your face from straying too far away from him. “... Go to sleep now. You need your rest.” he murmurs, a shy blush on his face. You do—lulled to dreamland by his steady heart.

[yoomiii123]

BD1 Movie (because I read the books about 13 years ago and can’t remember if this happens exactly) but when Sam’s Pack go to fight The Cullens and to begin with it’s just Jasper, Emmett and Alice…and they’re “outnumbered…by a lot”…how does overprotective fool Jasper cope then?! Not much he can do really to keep almost the entire Wolfpack off of himself, let alone Alice. Any HC’s? What’s going through his mind then? ❤️

(she then corrected that of course it was Edward, who was with them at first).

I think this is a scene where Jasper's fighting experience actually helps him cope (somewhat). He's definitely freaking out, especially since Alice cannot rely on her visions with the wolfs. However, he also is aware that she would never sit out, so he basically has to rely on two things to calm the initial panic and get into fighting mode:

1) He trained her himself and despite her overdependence on her gift, Alice is a formidable fighter.

2) There are no fires around and the wolfs will not be able to start one in their wolf forms. So Jasper's priority is to make it out in one piece, so he can reassemble her if the worst case should occur.

These two things combined with almost a century of experienced let him focus on the fight first, rather than on the possibilities. However, once the fight is over, that came back in full-force.

I headcanon that he probably went ahead and held Alice for a good amount of time while in his mind he pinpointed everything that went wrong. Why was no-one patrolling? How could they have stopped the wolfs from sneaking up on them? Why did they split up?

He ran a full risk assessment and eventually had to conclude that there was no-one to blame. While Jake had warned them that the wolfs were coming, every step that led up to the fight was necessary for Renesmee's survival and (hopefully) Bella's successful transformation.

In the end, all he can do after the fight is be thankful for how it turned out and file the event away under 'times Edward's obsession endangered my wife', alongside the Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse-incidences. He definitely regrets letting Bella live about now and all the incidences are the fuel for why he wants to leave in Breaking Dawn.

(I headcanon that Alice was only able to see them travel South and find Huilen & Nahuel because the moment she mentioned the Volturi coming, Jasper decided to leave and that decision was final.)

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 2: All Hell Breaks Loose

Summary: Alright y’all the smut is here. After making your escape from the gala, you, Whiskey and Frankie are left with a new dilemma: you’ve all been exposed to whatever amorous agent was released at the gala, and Frankie’s ability to focus on flying is running thin. Fantasies are fulfilled, but new concerns arise.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex Pollen, dub con (a given with sex pollen but it’s all good), bondage, MMF, P in V, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all), oral (M & F receiving), mild injury due to improper usage of a lasso, mentions of prior drug use, a smattering of spanking (I think a grand total of 2). If I’m missing anything, let me know.

A/N: Here we are at some smut, courtesy of a sex pollen-esque device. I HC that Frankie is a total switch in this verse. There’s a touch of angst towards the end. Also, it’s worth noting that in this verse, while Frankie was engaged, he does not have a kid. Special shout out and thanks to my friend E, now going by Agent Capri Sun and my amazing esposa, @danniburgh​ for the beta and encouragement! ~5.9k WC

Chapter 1: Reunions & Things Past  [AO3]

Whiskey is beyond impressed with Frankie and the fact that they’re still in the air. His gaze flickered down to Frankie’s lap where Whiskey could clearly see his cock straining against the slacks he wore. Your moan pulls Whiskey’s attention away from Frankie. Looking over, he sees you trying to paw your dress off. Hanging his head for a moment, Frankie opens his eyes and exhales.

“Get her off the headset, I can’t--  fuck!”

You moan again and Frankie’s hips buck involuntarily.

“¡Mierda! Get her off the fucking headset. C-can’t concentrate, just wanna…”

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the thought of sinking into you. This prompted Whiskey to move quickly, needing to get you out of Frankie’s ears if they wanted to land safely. You felt Jack’s large, warm hands grip your arms, and you whimpered at the way they seemed to burn through you. He gently pulled the headset from your head and set it down to the side.

“Jack… Please, it’s so hot. Need you to-“

Whiskey shudders at your words and the feel of your skin under his touch.

“No sweetheart, we gotta wait. Hang in there, darlin’.”

By the time they finally touch down, Frankie’s breath is beyond ragged, he looks over his shoulder at you grinding into your hand and playing with your tits, a low growl bubbling up from his chest.

“Go! Take her inside. I gotta cover up the helo!”

Whiskey nodded, picking you up and carrying you into the safehouse while you clutched at him, kissing and nibbling at his neck. You whimper when he turns to leave. Your body is on fire, the overwhelming desire --no, overwhelming need-- to have Jack everywhere, most importantly, inside you, is raging and wreaking havoc.

“Shhh, sweetheart, I know it hurts. I’ll be right back. Gotta go check on your pilot first, baby.”

Images of both Frankie and Jack come to mind. Feeling their mouths hot yet soothing on your skin, sliding through your folds, and their cocks driving inside of you, pushing you to new heights of pleasure. You moaned out Frankie’s name and Jack chuckled. He had an inkling as to what came to your mind, having coaxed you into spilling your fantasies while he was buried deep inside of you.

Outside, Frankie was stumbling, trying to get a camouflaged tarp over the helicopter to hopefully prevent any drones from noticing the aircraft. Whiskey hurried over to Frankie, taking one side of the tarp and running it to the front, cinching it down near the nose of the helicopter. He heard Frankie let out a loud groan, watching as the man sank to his knees, the final remnants of his resolve crumbling at Whiskey’s feet. The Statesmen agent was once again reminded just how tightly Frankie had been clinging to his sanity, pushing his pain and bodily needs aside until his job was done. Whiskey’s own thoughts were pushed aside, however, when Frankie started to frantically paw at his belt and slacks. He whined while he palmed himself, completely uncaring, on his knees, outside, seeking some sort of relief, only a few feet away from Whiskey.

“Hey, Flyboy!”

Jack shouted, trying to break Frankie’s concentration for a moment, only to be met with dark, hazy, lust-blown eyes and another whine.

“Well shit, if that ain’t one of the hottest things I ever did--“

Whiskey cut himself off, grunting as he readjusted himself and hauled Frankie up by one arm.

“C’mon, gotta get you inside, Flyboy.”

“Y’gotta tie -mmmmfuck- me up… Don-don’t wanna ta-take ad-whine- advan--“

Whiskey swore. Frankie’s small whimpers were making him want to shove the pilot to the ground and take him right there. His hold on Frankie’s arm tightened to a bruising grip, and he nodded in agreement. Despite the fact that you had voiced your fantasies, Jack didn’t want you to do anything that you hadn’t explicitly stated you wanted.

The sight that greeted them stopped them cold. Your dress had been tossed to the floor, and your fingers were plunging inside your cunt, desperately seeking your release. Frankie’s body stiffened, standing up straight. He took a step towards you before Whiskey tugged him back, putting him in an open chair. Very aware of the more than dull ache of his erection and your delicious moans, Jack worked quickly, hastily tying Frankie’s wrists to the legs of the chair with his lasso before turning back to you. The hungry look in his eyes prompted you to moan for Whiskey, a predatory smile split his face and Frankie whimpered in response to your moan.

“Lo siento, hermosa. El te va ayudar.” [I’m sorry, beautiful. He’s going to help you.]

Frankie’s words came out strangled, hips bucking and hands struggling at Whiskey’s lasso keeping him bound.

“I’m here, baby, Jack’s here, shhhh.”

A cry leaves your lips when you finally feel Jack’s mouth latch onto one of your nipples, his moustache tickling the turgid skin damp from his tongue, and rough, calloused fingers tweaked your other nipple. Teeth grazed your clavicle, breasts, tummy, hips and thighs, each nip soothed by his sinful tongue.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby girl. You want my tongue in that sweet cunt?”

Frankie’s cry of frustration eclipses your own cry of pleasure. Whiskey’s tongue finally delves between your folds, lapping at your slick. Tied down to the chair, Frankie can do little more than buck helplessly and watch as you tug Whiskey’s hair, your nonsensical pleading only increasing, breaking into keening moans when his thick fingers finally dip inside your soaked cunt. Whiskey’s moans echo your own, loving the small pin pricks of pain as you tugged his hair, egging him on and begging for more.

Your sharp gasp cuts through the wet noises Whiskey encourages from you as teeth graze your clit. Crying out for him, your fingers twist and grip him tighter, holding him to you, his fingers pumping in and out in a way that has your chest heaving, desperate for air. Your voice catches in your throat when he curls his fingers inside of you, his lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves. You swear for a moment you’re blinded when you finally reach the high your body had been aching for since escaping the gala. Jack’s fingers and tongue are the only things keeping you grounded to this plane, gently stroking you through the pleasure cascading through your body, his tongue greedy for your taste. Your orgasm is searing in its intensity, yet for a brief glorious moment, there is relief from the burning stoked deep inside of you by the amorous agent.

Jack’s hum of approval sends a shudder up your spine. You whimper when he slides two fingers back inside, a smirk playing at his lips after he savors your taste. Standing, he gathers more of your cum on his fingers and steps over to Frankie. Frankie’s mouth opens without question, a pained moan sounding around Whiskey’s fingers, tongue twisting and sucking fervently. Curiously, Whiskey pushes his fingers further into Frankie’s mouth, breath catching when the pilot’s eyes roll back a little. Another low moan rumbles from Whiskey’s chest in response.

“Well, shit, Flyboy.”

Frankie looks exquisitely debauched, belt hanging undone, slacks unbuttoned and askew giving you a view of his straining boxer briefs stained darker by a growing wet patch. The way his arms were tied behind his back pulled his shirt tight across his broad chest, exposing a bit of his stomach and a sparse trail of hair that dipped below the waistband of his underwear. His jaw worked greedily around Jack’s fingers. Yes, he looked exquisitely debauched. You could feel the burning need start to build again at the sight. While yes, you had certainly fantasized being with both Jack and Frankie, you also wanted to see them enjoy each other. Breaking from your fantasies, you slide off of the bed and move over to Whiskey. A smirk teases at your lips while you snake your arms around his waist, undoing his slacks and shoving them and his boxers down. Frankie groaned again, watching intently as you stroked Whiskey’s hard, thick length, a hunger in both yours and Frankie’s eyes at the sight of it. Jack pulled his fingers from Frankie’s mouth, smirking at the whine left behind in their wake, then turned his attention to you and your ministrations.

“Remember what we talked about the other night, Jack?” You purred.

A low, hearty chuckle erupted from him. He nodded permission but gripped your wrist and nuzzled your shoulder before you could move.

“I’m gonna fuck your tight little cunt while you do though, Sugar.”

A shudder ran down your spine at his low, gravelly voice. You moaned at the thought before nodding and turning to Frankie, his chest heaving as he watched the two of you.

“Can I have you, Frankie?”

“Fuuuck me, yes hermosa [beautiful], por favor.”

Frankie’s hips sought your touch, your fingers burning him as they connected with his skin. You tugged on his slacks and boxer briefs. Without needing to be asked, Frankie planted his feet to give himself the leverage to lift his hips and provide just enough room for you to drag his bottoms down to his ankles. He hastily kicked them and his shoes off.

Frankie moaned. His cock finally sprung free, the dull thud of it smacking against his belly making you lick your lips. He’d always been modest, usually not one to rise to the dick measuring contests Benny and Pope would instigate, but you’d known there was something more than just his charm that made the ladies at the base giggle about him, and boy, was there. His thick cock twitched and leaked under your gaze.

“Wow, Frankie…”

Frankie’s gaze was dark and needy. He would have preened more at your words had he not been so desperate to feel you. A sharp slap to your rear pulled you from your ogling. With a yelp, you turn to Whiskey, wondering why he could be jealous all of a sudden, only to find glowing mischief and lust in his dark eyes.

“Well, don’t keep the poor man waiting, sweetheart. Have some mercy and show him how good your pretty little mouth feels.”

You push back into Whiskey’s hips, grinding into him as you bend over, bracing yourself on Frankie’s thighs, moaning when he lets out a sob of relief as the heat of your mouth envelops the head of his cock.

“Ohhhh shit, shit, Halcón-“

Frankie keens your callsign, drawn out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Looking up as you bob up and down, you can see him straining against Jack’s lasso, his upper body bending forward as much as he can, desperate to touch you, to be closer to you. You run a hand over his bare thigh, marveling at the way the muscles tremble beneath your touch while your tongue swirls around him. Another sharp slap on your ass makes you pause and look over your shoulder.

“Christ, Sugar, I said have some mercy on him, not tease him to death.”

Whiskey’s hands were at your hips, kneading gently as you took more of Frankie in your mouth, establishing a rhythm that had him bucking up into you. Jack took the opportunity to push into you, thick cock splitting you open and pushing you forward, making Frankie’s cock inch deeper down your throat.

“Damn, baby girl, look at you taking us so well. Does he feel as good down your throat as you thought he would?”

“Fuck!”

Frankie cries out when you moan around him, watching wild-eyed as Whiskey leans forward, pinning you down on Frankie’s cock. Whiskey cups your throat, squeezing slightly to feel the bound and desperate man’s cock moving in and out.

“Oh, fu- I’m- ¡mierda! Baby, I’m gonna-“

Frankie’s body tenses, muscles coiling in anticipation, his arms and wrists tugging, thrashing at his restraints. His hips giving one final thrust as he pitches forward. Whiskey moans, feeling Frankie pulsing down your throat, waiting until you’ve swallowed everything Frankie has to offer before he pulls back to let you gasp for air.

“Fuck, hermosa, that was… amazing.”

Frankie wanted so badly to touch you, the thick emotion in his voice vibrating throughout your body. Not able to restrain himself any longer, Whiskey adjusts his grip on your hips and begins thrusting into you in earnest.

“We ain’t done yet, Sugar.”

Each word is punctuated by a thrust as Jack builds a steady but brutal pace. Your arms were tired from bracing yourself, but Whiskey seemed to understand and held you to him with an arm around your waist. His other hand, however, buried itself in your hair and tugged sharply, forcing your gaze to meet Frankie’s. You clench at the sight, his normally soft brown eyes glittered just as darkly as Jack’s. Frankie ducked his head to kiss you, moaning into your mouth while he claimed you with a hunger born of years of wanting to feel your lips against his.

“You want your pilot in your cunt next, baby girl? Gonna cum in you, sweetheart, then you can ride him. Let him feel how wet and tight this gorgeous goddamn cunt is.”

Frankie let out a low grunt, as if the air had been punched from his chest. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d actually be able to feel you around him. The pained grunt from Frankie and the feeling of your tight walls fluttering around him were all it took to send Whiskey over the edge. Whiskey gritted his teeth as you clenched around him, cumming hard around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it!“

His hand disentangled from your hair to find purchase on your shoulder, giving him the leverage he craved while he fucked you through his orgasm.

You would have collapsed onto Frankie if it weren’t for Whiskey’s arm keeping you upright. His deep, hard thrusts gave way to shallow, gentle ones as he came down from his high. Gently, Whiskey rubbed your hip with his thumb then pulled you against his chest, nuzzling and kissing your shoulder.

“You ok, Sugar? Hmmm? You got more in you?”

You hum and nod, steadying yourself against Jack. He slipped out of you with a groan, hands still at your waist. Having not been as exposed as you or Frankie, the unbearable fire from the amorous agent had died down and Whiskey’s head was much clearer. The same could not be said, however, for Frankie, his lust-hazed gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

Stepping forward from Whiskey, you straddled Frankie’s thighs, fingers quickly working to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, giving you access to his toned, golden chest. The muscles in his stomach trembled under your inquisitive fingers as you pushed the fabric away from him until it hung, bunched up at his biceps. Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you look up at him and adjust so you can slide down his girthy length. Nothing could have prepared him for the sheer ecstasy he felt as you took him in.

“Mierda, amo- fuck you’re so- mmmm, so wet, feel so good, baby.”

Whiskey walked around behind Frankie while you began to bounce up and down on his cock. The pilot was straining against the lasso in earnest, now that he was finally inside you, he had to touch you. He moaned in surprise, feeling the tension of his restraints disappear as Whiskey released him. A wave of guilt crested over Whiskey when he saw how raw Frankie’s wrists were. The pilot seemed not to notice, though, as he quickly tore his shirt the rest of the way off. Whiskey’s attention was brought from his wrists back to you by the feral growl Frankie let out at finally being able to grip your hips and truly leverage his thrusts into you.

“Frankie!”

His name rips the breath from your lungs and you see stars with each Earth-shattering thrust, clinging to him while he fucks you like his life depends on it.

“Yeah? Estoy- Mmm, I’m right here. ¿Que quieres? Dime.” [What do you want? Tell me.]

You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, breath hitching and cunt clenching at his rough cadence. You had never heard his voice or seen him like this before, uninhibited and wholly surrendered to the give and take of pleasure. A gasp fell from your lips when Frankie’s mouth latched onto one of your breasts.

“Our girl’s wanted this, to have the both of us, for a long time, Frankie.”

Frankie moaned, then shuddered at the way Whiskey’s mustache ticked the sensitive skin underneath his ear. His words ‘our girl’ echoing in his mind.

“Tell me how good our girl feels, Flyboy.”

Whiskey smirked as Frankie moaned, teeth grazing the pilot’s neck while you watched and clung to Frankie’s shoulders, arousal pooling at how responsive he was to Jack’s teasing.

“S-so fuck- so good, Whiskey. A goddamn dream, always wanted to- always wanted to do this.”

Frankie brought a hand from your hip to the juncture between you two, his thick, calloused thumb finding your nearly oversensitive clit and rubbing quick circles in time with his thrusts. An almost overwhelming wave of pleasure starts to build even higher in your abdomen. You were lost to the pleasure surrounding and filling you, lost to the feeling of Frankie’s thick cock thrusting into you, his fingers working in time with his pace and Jack’s husky encouragement in Frankie’s ear.

He’s so close, and knows you are too from your gasp as he holds you down and grinds into you roughly. Then, all at once, your second orgasm bubbles over and crashes down on you with a cry and Frankie’s name on your lips. He does his best to work you through it, but he can barely hold on with the way your walls are fluttering around him, squeezing and coaxing him higher and higher.

“Mmmmm- Así mero, amor [that’s it, love]. Fuck you feel- you feel so good. Mierda, ¿donde? [Shit, where?] Where can I?”

“Inside Frankie, cum inside me, please!”

A growl erupted from Frankie, his large hands holding your hips in a bruising grip and his head thrown back in pleasure. He was the vision of oncoming ecstasy.

“C’mon, fill her up, Flyboy.”

Before Frankie could retort, he felt the other man’s teeth sink into the crook of his neck. A coarse grunt of pain and pleasure rumbled deep within Frankie’s chest, jaw open yet tense as he pumped rope after rope of his cum deep inside you. A small whimper broke Frankie’s silence as Whiskey’s tongue soothed the angry bite mark on his skin. While he enjoyed Jack’s soothing ministrations, Frankie lavished his attention on you.

“You were so good, cariño.”

His lips ghosted over your breasts.

“Que linda.”

A kiss on your clavicle.

“Hermosa.”

His strong hands traveled up your spine and Whiskey watched, entranced by the reverence of Frankie’s actions.

“Querida.”

His hot tongue left a languid, rapidly-cooling trail from your sternum to the base of your throat. Your soft moan filled the air between you and Frankie, gentle fingers intertwining in his hair and tugging. A smirk plays across your lips at his moan. Frankie pauses, regarding you for a moment with a raised eyebrow and smirk of his own.

“¿Quieres más amor? Hmm, ¿estás segura? Whiskey?”

Frankie turns to face Jack, wanting reassurance that this was still ok. Smiling, Whiskey pulls Frankie in for a kiss, one of his hands gripping Frankie’s soft curls while you brace yourself against Frankie’s chest and roll your hips gently. Your and Whiskey’s eyes meet, and you nod, smiling.

“Now, how could we say no to that, Flyboy?”

Yours and Frankie’s moans echoed together, and Frankie began to grind into you again. A dull ache emanates from your thighs. You’re not sure if Frankie sensed it or if you had let out a whimper, but you feel one of Frankie’s hands press in between your shoulder blades, pulling your body into him to relieve some of the pressure. He adjusted the hand on your back slightly to curl over your shoulder for leverage and began thrusting into you with a new intensity and ferocity. You squeak in surprise and bury your face in the crook of his neck, opposite of where Jack had left his mark, each thrust pushing a soft cry from your lips. Whiskey held Frankie’s hair firmly in his grasp, tugging and eliciting gorgeous little moans of pleasure and pain from his mouth.

You were beyond oversensitive, each thrust grinding your clit against Frankie’s coarse curls, leaving you shuddering and so very close. Whiskey could tell both of you were almost there, needing just an extra nudge and knowing just what you needed to get there. You weren’t even aware of Jack moving, all that existed in the world to you was the sweet drag of Frankie’s cock inside you, his strong grip, the rough catch of his beard against your cheek, and the way your breath tickled the nape of his neck. Both of your slick bodies tensed, breath quickening. Whiskey’s hand on your shoulder brought your attention to him.

“Look at you, so damn gorgeous. You wanna cum, don’t you baby?”

His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Don’t you?”

Whiskey hummed, watching intently as your eyes fluttered close, and you gave a desperate little nod.

“That’s it, be our good girl and soak his cock one more time.”

His sinful voice carried those words straight to your core, and you clenched down on Frankie, the coil inside you snapping as you gushed all over Frankie’s cock with a muffled cry.

“F-fuck y-yeah, baby, such a good girl. You feel so good, so tight. Look at you, fucking soaking me.”

A few more thrusts and Frankie follows you, pumping another load inside you with a grunt and broken off curse. Whiskey removes his hand from your throat and gently strokes your hair, while Frankie alternates between planting soft kisses on your shoulder and nuzzling your neck. Both murmur praises in your ear. Once his breath evens out, Frankie nuzzles you again. The fire that had held both you and Frankie captive had finally died down leaving exhaustion in its wake.

“Halcón, put your arms around me.”

You’re just on the cusp of consciousness, your body well worn out from the day’s activities, but you manage to follow instructions and cling to Frankie as he stands up, strong arms holding you to him. He smiles down at you, kissing your forehead as he places you down in the middle of the bed. Whiskey appears silently with a warm washcloth, gently wiping your tender folds clean despite your soft, protesting moans.

“Shhhh, we’ve got you, amor. We’re going to take care of you.” Frankie murmurs.

You’re asleep almost as soon as Whiskey is done, Frankie taking your soft snores as his cue to get dressed again. He slid his boxer briefs and slacks on, hissing slightly as the fabric brushed against his wrists.

“Hey Flyboy, now, don’t think I forgot about you. C’mere.”

A similarly half-clothed Whiskey patted the spot on the bed next to him, a med kit in his other hand.

“What do you mean?”

“Come here and let me see your wrists, Flyboy.”

Frankie glanced down at his wrists and tucked them behind him. He suddenly felt a warmth threatening his cheeks at what Whiskey was offering: an entirely different kind of intimacy that he hadn’t been anticipating.

“Oh, y-you don’t need to, Whiskey, I-I’ve had worse, much worse. I mean I was in Delta Force, I got shot, y’know.”

Whiskey’s gaze burned into Frankie and raised an eyebrow at him.

“It wasn’t a question, Catfish. This wasn’t war, and I know better than to not dress a rope properly to keep from shredding your wrists. Besides, what kind of gentleman would I be to not offer any sort of aftercare?”

There was an edge to Whiskey’s voice that left no room for argument, and Frankie relented despite the latter half of the statement sending a blush to his cheeks. He gingerly took a seat next to him and offered his left hand to Whiskey, who took it in his own, gently applying ointment to the pinched and raw skin. Frankie winced, then shuddered, unable to hide the hitch in his breath. Whiskey smirked.

“Yeah? I thought so, Flyboy.”

Frankie bit his lip and ducked his head, as if he and Whiskey hadn’t just shared you, as if not long ago he hadn’t fallen to his knees in front of the other man, so overwhelmed with the need to relieve himself he had whined while palming his cock. He cleared his throat, fidgeting, then started to get up to grab his phone that lay discarded on the floor.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Whiskey’s hand was lightning fast, catching Frankie’s arm and keeping him from going any farther.

“We’re not done yet. Give me your other hand, Catfish.”

Frankie let out a sigh, reluctantly sitting back down and offering his right hand. The Statesmen agent sucked in a sharp breath. Frankie’s right wrist was considerably worse. A pang of guilt speared Whiskey in his gut.

“I’m gonna have to clean this out and bandage it up.”

Frankie nodded, a tense groan that tapered into a whine forcing its way from his mouth as Whiskey flushed the torn skin.

“Easy, Catfish, I thought you said you’ve had worse?”

Whiskey chuckled lightly, and Frankie just grunted a response while his wrist was wrapped. Once he was done, Frankie smiled and ducked his head, his left hand going to the back of his neck in a self-reassuring gesture. When his eyes were drawn to Frankie’s shoulders, he saw his bite mark remained, and Whiskey fought the primal urge to mark him again.

“Thank you… I-I need to check in with Pope. Let him know we’re good.”

He snatched his phone up from the ground, sighing and rocking back on his heels. He had several missed texts.

Pope: Gas?

Pope: Avoided and clear

Pope: Status report?

Pope: Fish?

Frankie: Took the helo. Safe now with Halcón & co.

Pope: Jesus Cat, took you long enough.

Frankie: Got hit by the gas...all clear now. I’ll call tomorrow.

Pope: Copy

Frankie shoved his phone back in his pocket and let out a sigh. Noticing Whiskey’s yawn, he gestured for him to lay down.

“I told Pope I’d call him tomorrow. I’ll take first watch, you get some sleep. I’ll wake you up in 6 hours.”

“Hey now, just hold on a minute--“

“Don’t worry about it, Whiskey, I’ve got too much adrenaline going through me still.”

Whiskey frowned then nodded, turning off the lights and crawling into bed next to you. It wasn’t long before Frankie could hear even breathing and soft snores from both you and Jack. He let out a long sigh, scrubbing his face with his left hand.

Some fucking day it had been.

The moonlight greeted him as he stared out the window. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he’d run into you at the gala... or at all, really. It had been four years since he had last seen you, and he had been an absolute mess. Not that anyone would have expected Tom’s funeral to be a joyous affair, but he had just been getting off of (and beginning another) bender. He could barely find it in him to not be absolutely high out of his mind as they lowered Tom’s casket into the ground. He had provided cover fire for Tom back in Colombia and fired into the crowd of villagers too. It could have just as easily been him finding a permanent resting place six feet under.

As you took in his appearance after the funeral, the tears in your eyes speared him to his core. Your sad, knowing smile had shattered him when you squeezed his arm and said goodbye. It was worse than getting home from Colombia to find his fiancée gone. Worse than finding Tom dead and bleeding on the rocks in the Andes.

Some insane part of him almost told you how he felt about you when you were in town for the funeral. He thanked whatever shred of common sense he had that he didn’t tell you. He was an addict, and you were a year into your new job. You didn’t need, didn’t deserve to even have him consider putting you through his shit.

A lot had changed since then, namely, he’d gotten clean and had his pilot’s license reinstated. He hated flying tourists. It bored the hell out of him, but with his record, most people weren’t willing to give him a second look. At least picking up jobs for Pope gave him a taste of the real flying that he missed. Frankie let out another sigh, then swore. He had only taken the one day off, and who knew when he’d actually be able to go home after this fiasco. There was definitely more going on than anyone had anticipated. Groaning, he pulled out his personal phone to text his boss.

Frankie: Hey Kevin, I need a few more days. I ended up coming down with something.

He let out an exhale as he pressed send. It wasn’t too far from the truth, at least. To his surprise, his phone buzzed barely a moment later.

Kevin: Are you fucking serious Morales? First you barely give notice and now the night before you’re calling out?

Frankie: I know, I’m sorry I just want to make sure I’m not contagious.

Kevin: This is your last shot Morales, you piss hot or if I can’t find someone to cover for you then you’re done.

Frankie hung his head, pinching the bridge of his nose before he responded.

Frankie: Copy

He looked over at where you were on the bed, just barely making out the outline of you cuddled up against Whiskey in the moonlight. A pang of regret tore through him. He should have gotten his shit together sooner. At least you seemed happy now. He knew that what had happened tonight was a one-time thing, at most, your fantasy fulfilled. A fantasy of his had very much been fulfilled as well. Closing his eyes, he could still taste you, feel the ghost of your touch, and hear the echo of the sounds you had made. Groaning, Frankie checked his watch. Another four hours to go. Four hours for him to torture himself with what-ifs and what could have been, four hours of thinking about the way his chest tightened every time you breathed his name.

Fuck.

Jack woke with a start, a foreign hand on his shoulder. His hand automatically reached for and whipped out the revolver under his pillow. The muzzle connected with soft flesh, and the other person grunted in surprise.

“Whoa, tranquilo [calm/easy]… It’s me, Frankie.”

Jack let out a breath and sat up, lowering his gun and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Apologies, Flyboy.”

Frankie grunted again and yawned.

“ ‘S 04:00, she’s been through the ringer… Didn’t want t’wake her up.”

Whiskey nodded and looked Frankie over in the early morning light, noting how exhaustion slurred his words. He looked like shit. Standing, Whiskey tugged on his white undershirt from the night before.

“I jus’ need…”

Frankie flopped down in the spot Whiskey had been occupying seconds earlier.

“Cinco…horas…”

The man was asleep practically the second his head hit the pillow, maybe even before. Whiskey smiled at the way Frankie instinctively wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. Whiskey carded his fingers through his hair then moved to the window, dialing Ginger as he went.

“Whiskey?! Are you and Bourbon… ok? We lost track of you both, but we determined an amorous agent was used at the gala. Has it worn off?”

“Yeah, Flyboy got us out and he took first watch afterwards… Anyways, we’re at a Statesmen safehouse. Bourbon is still sleeping. We got here by helicopter, can you clear us to land at the New York office later today?”

There was a pause and Jack could hear Ginger typing.

“Wait, who’s ‘Flyboy’?”

Whiskey glanced over at the bed, not wanting to disturb you or Frankie.

“Frankie Morales. He was part of the private security detail at the gala last night. He served with Bourbon and is a pilot, probably the most self-disciplined pilot I’ve seen, that’s for damn sure. Somehow he flew us out of there after a canister landed at his feet.”

Ginger blinked in surprise. Preliminary intel from the gala had shown attendees and the rest of the private security detail completely incapacitated in a matter of minutes.

“Their unit was no joke, Whiskey, but it’s amazing he flew and landed in the state he was in. What does he know about Statesmen, given that you’re holed up in one of our safehouses?”

Whiskey let out a sigh. He had wondered as well, thinking back to how Frankie had asked them for coordinates to their safehouse.

“I don’t know, I don’t think he knew before the gala. He definitely didn’t buy Bourbon’s cover that she was my executive assistant. I reckon it’s like you said, their unit was no joke. He’s smart and he knows Bourbon. Frankie’s on the up and up though, Ginger.”

Ginger let out a reluctant sigh, letting the silence hang in the air for a moment before she continued.

“Ok, you should talk to him about it before you come back, but we trust your judgement, Whiskey. I’d rather have been able to put you all under medical observation after what you went through, but all I can say is you three need rest, and a lot of it.”

“Don’t I know it, Ginger. Flyboy had a canister go off just about on top of him, and Bourbon wasn’t far from him. I lucked out and didn’t get it that bad. He said he only needed five hours, but the poor boy could barely stand when he woke me up this morning.”

“I’ll let Champ know you’ll debrief this afternoon.”

“14:00 should be fine. Could you also get a hold of Santiago, callsign “Pope”? He’s another friend of Bourbon and Flyboy, co-owns the private security company that was attached to the gala last night. He should be there for the debrief.”

“Consider it done, Whiskey.”

“Thanks, Ginger.”

He ended the call, turning and taking a moment to watch you and Frankie. It was obvious there were feelings between you two, and he wondered why you had never acted on them. You certainly hadn’t been shy with him once you both finally decided to jump headfirst into a relationship together. The times that you had mentioned Frankie, Jack noticed your eyes had been tinged with sadness. Whatever it was, they would get to the bottom of it together. While this was far from how they had discussed reaching out to Frankie, it had happened, and he could only hope that morning wouldn’t be too awkward or snuff things out before they had a chance to get started.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! If you’d like to be added to the taglist just shoot me a message!

Taglist:  @danniburgh, @pascalslittlebrat, @yespolkadotkitty, @mothandpidgeon, @mouthymandalorian​, @phoenixhalliwell​, @itsme-aj467, @kesskirata ​, @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads, @driedgreentomatoes ​ ​, @pintsizemama, @neganwifey25-blog

[ninjabelle]

Berserk meta: future hill of swords type scenes, predictions and wishes.

Ok so as all my great berserk meta starts this is a direct reply to @bthump 's reply to me being a poorly concealed anon in this post.

I like to think in rules of 3 when it comes to Great Moments in Media so if we take hill of swords as the first major griffguts scene post eclipse then there will be another 2 at least before the end of the manga.

I agree with bthump that if they meet a second time Guts would absolutely get lost in his rage and despair over Griffith, not forgetting his urge to kill so much as forcing it to consume him so he's able to attack efficiently. In true Guts fashion molding his emotions and feelings in what they should be instead of what they are. In an ideal version of the story Griff accepts this with a sad sense of finality because he too is a master of pretending over acknowledging. BUT then just as they're really going at it an outside threat shows up, a player 3 if you will and Guts is so comsumed by the beast he sees nothing but Griffith and completely misses player 3 going for his throat so Griff- as Femto with his superhuman reflexes and world-bendy-magic bs entirely on instinct places himself right between Guts and the threat, getting impaled or at least badly wounded in the process. I mean, he's Femto so he won't die but there's BLOOD so Guts, shocked immediately out of dark mode stops fighting, drops his sword and goes to Griff's side before he even registers he's doing it.

Now something like this accomplishes 2 things: one, Guts sees Griffith isn't as free as he claims to be and does not actually want him to die and two, Griff sees the naked concern in Guts' eyes mirroring the hundreds of ways Guts had always looked at him and the penny just drops, that maybe he was wrong about Guts' resentment of him all along.

Of course this is still Berserk so they won't be given an opportunity to discuss this because with both of them distracted by their internal revelations player 3 goes ham and they beautifully team up like old times to defeat it. THIS even more than them realising the others feelings is something I neeeeeed for a future griffguts scene. Them fighting together just one more time. Body instincts overriding all the emotional responses, them back to back like before with everything that's happened between them not forgotten but just- put aside for a brief moment to defeat a common enemy or whatever.

I just want to see their internal monologues as they're depending on the other again out of necessity complete with the acknowledgment that both of them have MISSED THIS, no matter how much they wish they didn't.

As for the 3rd time they should meet, I gotta say that in my eyes that's also the entire climax of the story, the very ending so it'll be their last time together.

I love how bthump sees them falling together to their deaths, with Griff coming willingly where he could have otherwise chosen to live if Guts died.

But that's not an option, not when Griffith knows that Guts accepted him and cares for him still. No matter the dream or achieving that utopia I firmly believe he couldn't bear Guts going somewhere he can't follow again, so dying together is the only option. Griffith wouldn't even hesitate.

My perfect ending is very similar, except tragically I always see Guts being unable to stop fighting. Be it because of fate, or the beast of darkness or just not knowing what to do with himself if he were to stop and chose a different path. This, in sad contrast to Griff who I think if he fully awknowledged his own heart would drop everything he was doing, deeming it meaningless now that he's finally being true to himself. But at the same time realizing that he and Guts can't turn back time or change the destiny they've set in motion, keeping up with Berserk's themes.

So they fight brutally and Guts can't stop but deep down wants Griffith to stop him and this goes on for a painful while until Griff drops out of his Femto skin and lets Guts run him through with his sword.

Guts realizes Griffith's not blocking his blow too late and suddenly they're face to face and Griff is cupping his face like when they first met, and Guts does the same to him with shaking fingers. Now you're mine, now I'm yours. They sink to the ground, Griff goes out smiling and Guts stays there holding him, choosing to succumb to his wounds.

ROLL CREDITS!

Honestly though any ending where they wilfully choose to die together works, I just enjoy the thought of Griffith getting a big hole through his chest as a visual metaphor, which is why in my ideal versions he's always getting stabbed. As for Guts, I want him to stop fighting and settle down and be happy, sure, but within the story that just doesn't work for me. It's in his bones, it's who he is. He would only ever stop in my book if there was no longer any reason to. Which always comes back to Griffith since he's his reason, no matter how you look at it. Guts fought for him before, for his attention, then for his vengeance and regret and finally because there's nothing else left for them and that's how it should end. And it's a sad end, but I very secretly hc that Griff as Femto can absolutely fuck with timelines so who knows, they might get a second chance to do it right at some point!

Anyway those are my thoughts, I have a million more, many with Casca getting sick of both their shit and just triggering a behelit to kill them and everyone else as collateral, but that strays off topic lol.

If anyone has more cool significant griffguts scene predictions or ideas let's hear em!

Ninja out~

[metalbatandzenko]

Thoughts on the esper sisters? Any personal hcs? owo

owo thank u,,,

Ok so I love the esper sisters. I think they’re really fun, interesting characters, and their dynamic is really cool.

I think Fubuki’s struggle is so interesting because...without Tatsumaki there, she’d be considered a prodigy, and probably consider herself one too.

But her own skill is completely eclipsed by Tatsumaki because Tatsumaki is just. an absolute monster that’s in a league of her own.

So there’s this interesting tradeoff for Fubuki of her being this really gifted esper while also thinking she’s weak because she’s been compared to a one woman apocalypse her entire life.

And I think it’s fun because she claims that she has the street smarts and charisma her sister lacks, but...she really doesn’t jshflkadjhsf 

Like she’s pretty, and strong enough to brute force her way into having subordinates, but without the threat of violence/when she’s talking to people who outclass her in strength, she has a really hard time navigating social interactions. So you have this clever, enterprising woman with a whole gang dedicated to her who has...no clue how to make friends or make people like her.

She’s more like Tatsumaki than she realizes.

ANYWAYS

Headcanons for their childhood:

Tatsu’s been an esper since birth, and used to float objects around her as an infant. While having an esper as a child was rare in and of itself, Tatsu’s powers really did not begin to set her apart from other espers until she was a little older. Most espers that existed could levitate one or two things at a time, but not much else, so her parents didn’t think much of it.

My guess (based off literally nothing) is that Tatsu was about 6 when her powers started ramping up.

Her parents figured out that she wasn’t a normal esper when they found her using her telekinesis to fly around her room.

Tatsu, now 6, was getting impatient with baby Fubuki (who was 1)’s seeming lack of psychic ability. She hadn’t levitated any blocks, she couldn’t disrupt Tatsumaki’s own abilities, she cried when Tatsu levitated her in the air so they could fly together.

Their parents had to explain that not all babies were espers, and Fubuki might not be one.

Tatsumaki didn’t believe them, but due to [REDACTED WEBCOMIC SPOILERS] she wasn’t around from the time Fubuki was 2-5. By the time she came back, she found to her delight, that Fubuki was in fact an esper.

In her excitement to see her sister again, she’d levitated both of them into the air so she could hug her, ignoring Fubuki’s pleas. Tatsumaki continued to fly them through the air as Fubuki became more and more distressed, until finally she felt a new psychic signature tear through her telekinesis and she saw Fubuki plummeting to the ground.

It was the first time Fubuki had ever used her powers (she didn’t even know she’d had them), and the fact she’d been able to disrupt Tatsu’s telekinetic hold convinced Tatsu that her sister was a prodigy just like her. 

(In actuality, it was the combination of Fubuki’s raw terror and Tatsu having her guard down)

So she appointed herself Fubuki’s mentor, and began to try to train her to be stronger, so she could protect herself from those who could hurt her.

Headcanons for them now:

Despite not being super close anymore, Fubuki makes an effort to have coffee/tea with her sister once a week or once every two weeks. If she goes more than two weeks without contacting Tatsumaki to schedule it, Tatsu will invite herself over, assuming something has happened to Fubuki.

Fubuki has learned that she cannot let Tatsu have alcohol. If they ever go out for dinner, she makes sure their waiter doesn’t even give them an alcohol menu because...what happened at the onsen with drunk Tatsu was honestly on the tame side.

Both Tatsu and Fubuki have separation anxiety. Fubuki wants to live out from under Tatsu’s thumb, but she also gets anxious when she hasn’t seen her sister for a while, especially when she can sense that Tatsu has used a good chunk of her power during a fight. She might be a tyrant, but she’s still Fubuki’s sister.

Tatsu honestly has worse separation anxiety than Fubuki. Fubuki has other people in her life who care about her. Tatsu—by design—only has Fubuki.

Fubuki will occasionally invite Tatsu over to watch cheesy romance movies, because it’s the closest thing to neutral ground for them, though it does lead ti Tatsu prying about her love life/trying to set her up with someone.

[anxious-art-block]

NNT Headcanons Part 6 Quarantine Edition 2: Electric Boogaloo

Tristan and Lancelot did the whole swan princess thing where starting at around 10-11, their families would take turns spending summers in the other’s kingdom with each other( not for like a marriage thing) like the first summer Lancelot spends the summer in Liones and then the next one Tristan goes to the Faerie realm for the summer and vise versa

!!Socially Awkward Tristan!!

Absolute bookworm Tristan too. Like once he can read he always has a book, think Belle or Matilda except his family actually doesn’t care about the fact that he reads so much. He comes down for breakfast with his nose in a book and he runs into a chair almost every time until he eventually memorizes where they are so he’ll stop

His dad made sure he could read by like two

I like the idea that Lancelot has Elaine’s blond hair and Ban’s eyes so King and Diane’s kiddo calls him Blondie 

One time when Tristan is over at the Faerie realm he gets annoyed that Tris was spending the whole time reading and not spending time with him so he picks him up and jumps out the window and takes for a ride

I see that everyone pretty much has agreed that Lancelot got fairy wings so

!!Astronomy nerd Tristan!!

This hc list is pretty much gonna be him

He has his room, then he has an observatory off of his room next to his closet

He drags his Mel and Ellie out at like midnight to see eclipses, planetary alignments and meteor showers and such

Tristan wears his hair in a high ponytail when he’s older. He went from always keeping it down, to having it braided a lot, to having it tied up messily

!!Artist Lancelot!!

He likes to sketch animals(primarily birds) and draw landscapes

Tristan is really good at cards, like any game of cards he will win at, why? Who knows

He is a total momma’s boy

But I think we all knew that

Moving on

I have an oc kiddo for Gelda and Zel named Beatrix so imma include her

She was adopted at 8, nobody saw the two for like two years cause they took that time to help her get used to like royal life(start of it anyway) and just having parents, and she meets Tristan when they’re both 10

Tristan is super nervous and like hiding behind Ellie and she just stares at him, like, 0_0

For two minutes 

Then he whispers a hi and she shouts “HI THERE” and he screams

Great first impression but they hit it off once the parents leave them to it

He helps teach her to read, cause while Zel had started, he didn’t wanna throw that on her super quickly so when Beatrix see’s Tris reading he asks him what like 5 words say and he eventually asks her if she can read

And she’s like ‘lol no’ so he teaches her as much as he can within a 72 hour trip

She’s a daddy’s girl

And while not by blood, is DEFINITELY her father’s daughter, full of stubbornness and pride

Beatrix’s favorite thing about her family is that their colours consist of red, black, silver, gold and really really dark grey

When they get older, her and Tris are known as the ‘brains and the brawns’ thing

With Beatrix as the brawns and Tris as the brains

While they both can fight he is just smarter than her so that’s why he earned that title

Ellie passes out after Tris was born, she wasn’t out for long but she got overheated so she fainted like seconds after she heard his cries

Luckily she recovered like really quickly afterwards cause ~goddess magic bs~ 

Who likes angst? I like angst

King and Diane were the first couple to end up with child, it was technically accidental but they were happy nonetheless, and it wasn’t to long before Ellie and Elaine ended up pregnant

No one was shocked honestly that it was them first, since they were the first to be wed

It was a little boy named Gil(meaning happiness in Hebrew), he had his mom’s chocolate hair and his dad’s amber eyes, with freckles dotting his nose, he was their pride and joy

They lost him to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome

Diane was numb for weeks afterwards, she wouldn’t eat, her sleep was filled with nightmares and she refused to see anyone

Harley wasn’t doing any better, the only person he let see him was Elaine for a while. All he did was cry, so much at one point he gave himself a fever and he passed out 

It took almost two maybe three years for them to try again and when Diane went into labor she was hysterical and Harley was having a panic attack that Mel had to talk him through

Diane wouldn’t let the second baby out of her sight for the first year and a half, and when six months had hit she was most anxious cause Gil was six months old when they lost him

So they’re kiddo is the youngest of the four kiddos by like a year or two

When they lost Gil, Merlin had even come around cause it was the most heartbreaking thing in a while

Wow I actually almost made myself cry

But angst is my specialty so

You’re welcome, and remember 

Canon is mine to mess with and twist

[trickstermelon]

Post your ideas! I'd love to hear them!

Here’s a snippet I wrote a while back as part of my HC where Durbe met all the other Barian’s in his past life. Here’s Alit’s backstory and their brush together (From Alit’s perspective)

Okay so Alit doesn’t even come out of a good relationship. His mother was a slave as well, a Jewish woman stolen from Libya. From a young age he pretty much serves his father and his ‘actual’ family. He’s not treated too poorly for a slave (hah), but still it’s far from a fun childhood. He takes interest in sports, one of the few things he’s allowed to do freely when not working, and when he can get his hands on some, he reads epic poems and dreams of adventure. 

But by the time he’s 13 he starts to get in trouble; wanting to go to school and be around others, blatantly disregarding his status. His mother tries to keep him out of harm, but she has become sickly and it only fuels his desperation to be free of the stupid hierarchy. He never gets his freedom, but as his mothers last request, his father does allow him to go to school. It’s not pretty. He’s obviously not pure Roman, the only black knight in a sea of white chess pieces. He gets bullied near constantly, but he doesn’t let it get to him because he’s there to better himself fuck what everyone else says. He can beat them any day. And sometimes he literally does, if their words strike him too deeply. Sadly it’s his downfall– the teachers are looking for any excuse to throw him out no matter how rich his father is. After the 3rd fight, Alit can no longer return to public schooling.

Now with a son that’s too defiant to be a slave, too rowdy to be a scholar, and no mother around to convince him otherwise, Alit’s father no longer wants the boy. But he can’t let him go to waste. By 16, Alit is sold for a hearty sum to the gladiator rings. The only kindness his father shows him is allowing him to keep his novels. They’re almost ruined by his tears, sobbing as chains wrap tight around his wrists, a noose around his neck. Never has his position in life ever been so real to him as he watches his own parent sell his freedom for a bag of drachma.

As always, he has to adapt to his reality quickly. He finds that he actually enjoys the burn of the training regimen all new gladiators are put through– after all, their masters don’t want to waste such a large investment. For once he feels like his body can match the strength of his heart. That’s about the only silver lining. After that, it’s literally life or death. 

Alit takes his first life when he’s 18. Before that he fought to stay sharp, to debilitate or wear his opponent till they gave up. He fought animals– something he was always torn about because it wasn’t their fault they were starving and abused, but to defeat a lion meant meat on the table for a week so he tried to push the morals of the deed aside. But when he snaps a grown mans neck, no matter how much he tries to rationalize it, Alit can’t stop shaking for the rest of the night, can’t sleep, can’t move without dry heaving. 

By the 10th, he’s terrified of how desensitized he is to death. How can people enjoy this, how can the crowd cheer his name? But still he wears a smile. He’s alive (don’t think about the others who are not) and he is favored. The more he wins, the more privileges he gets, and he doesn’t always have to kill for it.

He makes it to the Coliseum, and that’s where he first sees his Prince, something that nearly gets him sent flying across the ring because he’s so distracted trying to squint through his better left eye. Leon glows like the sun. Match after match, that’s basically all Alit can think about for the rest of the month as he claims his prizes, meets his fans and goes about his normal after-match routine. Except today something breaks it, and his thoughts are now filled with the moon.

Alit knows he falls in love easily, always has since he was a kid, and this times no different. He probably shows off a little more than is necessary when a mysterious stranger visits the bathhouse and says he’d like to speak with him– especially ‘cause this guy seems really uncomfortable. Alit thinks it’s adorable and more than a little funny that this Knight cant handle a little nudity when making introductions. When Durbe tells him that the Emperor himself has requested Alit’s presence it’s like a solar eclipse. He’s blown away by his luck. 

So he may or may not be flirting the entire ride to the capital– between ogling all the new sites, all the free people who take their privilege for granted, knowing that today, technically he is one of them. Durbe may or may not flirt back now that he’s more comfortable and Alit simply can’t believe his fortune.

They talk of serious matters too. Particularly of how someone like Durbe came to such a high standing— he may have light hair and eyes, but the slant of them isn’t Roman, nor the slope of his nose nor the curve of his mouth and maybe Alit is getting a little too close as they pull through the gates. Durbe promises to tell him another time– Alit has someone much more important awaiting his arrival. Alit’s disappointed when Durbe leaves him to the guards to be escorted, but it gives him time to take in the wonders of architecture as he’s brought to the great hall. There, across the great foyer, he can make out the Emperor, glittering on his throne. As the guards leave him at the steps, Alit suddenly feels small, burning under Leon’s gaze with ghost pangs of iron around his wrists.

Then Leon grins and suddenly it’s like he’s back to the summers when his childhood was peaking, close to freedom and equality to his siblings as the sun danced on their backs. Leon takes him back to more private rooms and tells him why he was requested– how he admires Alit’s abilities (Alit tries not to take it as an insult, Leon probably doesn’t know what it really takes to be a gladiator, shielded as he is by gold leaf and marble walls) and more importantly, his enthusiasm with his fans.

Alit feels comfortable and restricted all at once as their conversations go into the night. Leon sees him as an equal (and isn’t that amazing, leader of and empire equal to a simple slave) but Alit still feels like he has motives unseen, paranoid due to all the promises broken in his past. They meet much more often after that and Alit feels less of their distance, stops doubting Leon and sees that he is honest. They share tests of strength, as well as mind, Leon learning of his love of reading and opening the libraries to him whenever he feels, allowing him to debate logic and opinions casually. Sometimes Durbe is there, helping him read when it becomes difficult, cheering Leon and Alit on as they spar, and Alit is content until his next match. 

Eventually he must return to reality, Durbe’s farewell kiss to the back of his hand as he drops him off at the housing the last moment of magic for a while. The others see it and are jealous. It was hard to make friends there in the first place, now there’s not much hope of keeping them. This cycle goes on for months, time when he’s off spent in the arms of the Emperor, blissful to ignore just how much it hurts when he must go back. Alit is many times tempted to ask Leon why he doesn’t make their relationship permanent and free him, or at least make him a personal slave at the palace– what even is their relationship? So secret yet so bold all at once. He never asks though, always covering his pain with a smile. Durbe helps in the times when he must be a gladiator, you already know of their affair. He loves them both and they both love him but in such different ways, Leon is so passionate and exciting, whereas being with Durbe is almost an odd sort of domestic that he never had.

When Durbe leaves, Alit is heartbroken. He likes to think he understands why– Durbe never told him the full truth of his past. Alit could see the wholes in the plots Durbe spun, he knows Durbe was running from something. At least he left a note.

Leon can tell somethings up with Alit, probably suspects the truth. Durbe’s disappearance and Alit’s sudden depression can’t be coincidence. But he never asks. He keeps smiling, and Alit is grateful because he doesn’t know how Leon would take the truth.

The pain subsides eventually, and life goes on, (he may or may not find himself soon falling for the green haired, golden eyed healer assigned to take care of him). Alit’s pretty sure Leon knows of her this time, but again, he never asks. 

In the end, Alit wonders if his love is the reason for the axe.

[lord-of-dawn-blog]

My HC Background for Bondrewd (Long)

Around 50 years ago, there used to be a small town called Vancrose located in the far north. There were stories of how it was once a vibrant city full of hope, with a rather robust mining operation that brought profit to all. Yet, one day, the well suddenly ran dry. All that could be found was stone and dirt, the last rich veins of ore disappearing as if over night. Within months, the once large city had dissipated to that of a small town. The rich fled to Seleny or elsewhere, and those that were too poor to leave simply had to stay, praying that they’d find something within the useless earth. It was during these times that Bondrewd was born, during the towns dying days. 

He was born into a world that had no need of him, his mouth being simply one more to feed. His family consisted of only his mother and father, both hardened miners who were too hopeful about the city returning to what it once was to leave. While they were kind to him, they were also dismissive and cold. Too often, they’d refuse to even look at him, instead only choosing to stare longingly at the mine in hopes things would improve.

Every year, things got worse. Crime increased, and food became more scarce. The town had started to fall apart when he was twelve, and his mother and father had been inflicted with some strange new illness the doctors couldn’t cure. Bondrewd could do nothing but stare at them, watching as they slowly died as the winter came and went, surviving off of what they’d left for him strewn about the home. 

It was on the night that the snow finally stopped falling that he found them dead, their bodies bloated with boils and lumps covering their entirety. While a normal child would’ve been repulsed, something changed in him that day. They looked so... strange. As if they weren’t even humans anymore. Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed a knife, returning to their bedroom.

He was found a few days later by the local doctor who’d stayed behind, caked in their dried blood. In his hands, their rotted organs lulled between his fingers, his eyes fixated on how they moved and squished under his ministrations.

The Doctor was horrified by the discovery, but soon found himself without options. From what he knew of Bondrewd, his parents were the only relatives he had, at least within the village. He’d had no choice but to adopt the young Bondrewd, at first planning to only keep him for a while until an orphanage opened up. Yet, the more he talked to the young child, the more he found himself caring for Bondrewd, thinking of him like a son he’d never had. Taking him under his wing, the man taught Bondrewd all he knew about medicine and the art of surgery. For someone so young, the child seemed to absorb everything said to him like a sponge, quickly becoming a useful assistant to the Doctor as he worked on various patients.

However, the Doctor always knew what he saw... what Bondrewd had done to his parents. Every time he looked upon Bondrewd, that memory flashed in his head, that image of him holding their organs... Even if loving him like his own son, there was something wrong with the boy, something that he could never solve. 

Once Bondrewd had hit eighteen, the Doctor told him it was time for the boy to make his own adventure. He couldn’t keep him there forever, and Bondrewd couldn’t help but agree. By then, the town’s population had dropped to the double digits, and everyone knew that it was only a matter of time before the town itself was whisked away by the wind. But that wasn’t the only reason. He was hoping that if Bondrewd explored the world, he’d iron out those odd kinks of his, like the way he stared at corpses and examined them like they were simply objects, not former people. Giving Bondrewd a few weeks supplies, and almost all the savings he’d accumulated, the Doctor sent him on his way, waving him goodbye as he eclipsed over the horizon.

After a week or so of wandering, he came across a nondescript port city. Docked in its harbor was a medium sized ship emblazoned with over a hundred nations banners. When he asked a local about the ship, they claimed it was one of those foreign medical ships that sailed around sharing their knowledge with local towns people, healing them, and giving them supplies. It was supported by several nations who had gathered together as some type of humanitarian act, and there was at least a few dozen ships like it sailing the seas.

With a small amount of money to his name and the clothes on his back, Bondrewd approached the ship and asked if they would be willing to take on a new doctor. While at first skeptical of his skill, with a well placed bribe and the exchange of most of his provisions, they agreed to take him aboard as one of their own. 

With that, he signed himself up with a foreign medical ship and sailed around the world until he was 20, where by then he’d become an avid inventor and practitioner. He could just as easily construct a complicated mechanism for best lifting crates as he could slice open a body and save someones life. It was during all of this training, however, that he came across word of the Abyss. The words ‘mystery’, ‘riches’, ‘knowledge’ came to his mind as the sailors exchanged tales between themselves. It was at that moment he knew what his destiny was to be; he like many others would become a Delver.  

When the ship one day came to Orth, Bondrewd quickly abandoned his shipmates and sneaked his way into the city, disappearing into the Wharfs. Once his former crew members had given up trying to find him, Bondrewd began to scrub his former identity away. Changing his name, changing his looks, changing his entire history. After two years of submerging himself in the culture of Orth and earning the trust of those who lived in the Wharfs, he went to the Delvers Association. With plenty of witnesses who thought him a long time resident and plenty of character references, he portrayed himself as a humble man born in Orth who was simply down on his luck. They believed his story without too much hesitation.

It only took him four years to become a Black Whistle, something that would normally take ten years or more of rigorous training and practice. Astounding climbing technique, excellent observation skills, and an insatiable lust to learn lead to him being a favorite amongst instructors. Many fellow delvers lauded him and his potential, saying that he’d easily become one of the most influential delvers of the era at the rate he was going. He was a literal sensation for the time, and when he was given the position of command over several Black Whistles, hardly anyone complained. 

Yet, what was suspected to be a new age for Orth quickly fell into one of its darkest years.

The mortality rate of Delvers began to sky rocket. 

More and more were found dead and discarded in varying layers of the Abyss, their camps and temporary bases ransacked and searched through. The injuries covering their bodies were obviously man made, either through daggers or through relics. Many suspected a foreign nation had invaded the Abyss and planned for a hostile take over. 

But, just as soon as it’d begun, the murders stopped. 

There was only two mysteries that remained; where were the murderers, and where did Bondrewd’s team go? It’d been months since anyone had seen him, and while many thought he was still down there, a feeling of unease began to permeate the city. Was he and his team killed? Were they the murderers? It was impossible to say... 

 As these Delvers desperately tried to unravel just what had happened, a new set of mysteries began to unfold; the Soul-Slave Machine Zoaholic had disappeared from its last recorded location. Several people in the Wharfs had identified several shadow clad men carrying a large box through the area, seeming to have tossed it into the Abyss before following after it. Soon afterward, talk surfaced of what seemed to be a small team of men setting up camp within the Sea of Corpses, the group of them lead by a White Whistle. All of them wore strange protective garments, and on their faces were fastened metal glowing masks of varying shapes and sizes. Just who were these strange men? Just exactly was going on in the Abyss? 

The Delvers Association hurried to make a response to all of these rumors, rumors that surely should have never reached the public. Fear began to fill the streets as many though that this was just the beginning of an attack; or perhaps it was the Delvers Association trying to push for more control? They certainly had enough already. Maybe there were ghosts, ghosts of the dead that were haunting the town. The rumors didn’t end for several months.

Yet just as the Delvers were preparing to go and confront these mysterious figures hiding deep within the Abyss, the elevator in the center of town began to rumble. What was that? A triumphal return? That was only used for glorious occasions, such as a Black Whistle returning with Special Grade Relics... or a White Whistle returning home. 

People began to gather within the center of town as the elevator reached the top. From within, several shadowy figures shuffled about, their skin hidden from the sunlight by leathers and masks. As the door swung open, he appeared.

Gasp and awe came from the crowd. ‘A White Whistle?’ they whispered ‘Who are those men with him?’ they asked between themselves. He let them murmur in confusion for a few moments before letting out his first few words. “Ah, a glorious morning. I would like to introduce myself; I am Bondrewd, and it is a pleasure to meet all of you.” The crowd fell silent, an icy feeling running over their bodies. There was no White Whistle named Bondrewd. There wasn’t even a Delver named Bondrewd.

Fear seized the hearts of Orth’s citizens once again as the Delvers Association representatives approached him. At first, their voices were full of rage, but they soon fell silent with a single touch from the masked man. “I am your new champion, your new hero. I’ll return once my base camp is finished. Please, feel free to come by.” And with that, he simply took a step back within the elevator, diving deep into the Abyss once again.

True to his word, four years later Bondrewd returned carrying relics before unseen, accompanied by his mysterious Black Whistle followers. By then, the Delvers Association had no choice but to accept him as he filled their coffers with easily over a hundred relics of different quality. “Please, send the other White Whistles to the Fifth Layer once you feel it right. I have established a permanent base camp there, and have discovered a way to the sixth layer. Now, I’ll be leaving my Praying Hands here to construct a new device, a new elevator down to the Fifth Layer for my own personal use. Have a good day.” 

Ever since then, the relationship between he and the people of Orth has been strenuous at best. They’ve all heard the stories of what he does down there, of the terrible things hes done in the face of mankind... yet they can’t do anything but revere him. For someone to be so evil, so awful, and to be so powerful... if that was what was required for Orth’s prosperity, than so be it. 

As long as he provided them with information and riches, the people of Orth would shake hands with the devil. 

[pikapeppa]

Day 7 of Reyes Vidal Week: The Charlatan and the Archangel

Today’s fanfic prompt was either Cannon or AU, and I’ve gone totally AU. 

My biggest HC is that Reyes learned all his Charlatan tricks as Aria T’Loak’s protégé, then eventually escaped her by joining the Andromeda Initiative. This is a short story of what might have happened if Reyes had stayed on Omega as Aria’s number-one man instead of joining the Initiative. Some of it is adapted from my original Aria T’Loak/Reyes Vidal story.

Fair warning: I LOVE Reyes and I LOVE Garrus but in this story they go head-to-head. Oh dear oh dear oh dear what have I done...

2183 C. E.: Omega Station, The Milky Way

BLAM. A third and final shot rang out, and the merc towering over Reyes crumpled, bits of skull and blood sprinkling over the docks as he fell. Jesus, that was a close one, Reyes thought with relief as he stood shakily, but he wasn’t in the clear yet.

Being followed and jumped by three armed mercs on a deserted dock on Omega was not Reyes’ idea of a good evening. He probably could have handled the mercs by himself, though it would have been a close shave with them all being armed; but the person who had ‘saved’ him - clearly a sniper, from the precision of the shots and the fact that the shooter had not yet revealed themselves - introduced a new, totally unknown element of danger.

 There. At the upper level ringing the docks, Reyes caught a hint of movement. A figure stood - a male turian, from the distinctive crest. He slung a Black Widow sniper rifle smoothly over his back, then made his way towards the stairs that led down to the docks level as he spoke. “Walking around Omega’s deserted docks at this hour is a good way to get yourself killed.”

Despite the turian’s blunt words, his polyphonic voice sounded kinder than the average turian’s… and unusually kind for Omega. He’s not a local either, Reyes thought. He slapped on a dorky, naive smile and replied, “Yeah, I’ve only been here a couple months - still don’t know where I’m going half the time. Don’t know how to thank you - I’d be dead if you hadn’t stepped in.”

 The turian drew near, and Reyes examined his saviour curiously. The turian sniper sported blue clan paint over his malar carapace, and a distinctive, minimalist visor over his left eye - probably helps with aiming, Reyes thought with interest. The turian looked him over suspiciously and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Reyes shook his head. “I’m good, thanks. Really. That happened so fast.”

 The turian continued to study him, a frankly mistrustful look on his face. “I’ve seen you with Aria T’Loak’s people. You’re falling into a bad crowd there. Maybe I should take you out as well.”

Fuck. Me, Reyes thought with a surge of anxiety. Time for some smooth talking. “I’m with the Alliance. I came here on a mission, but everything went wrong. Aria kept me as a prisoner and now I’m working for her… I didn’t know what else to do.”

 The turian sniper eyed him with open suspicion, then gave a small nod. “Get off this station if you know what’s good for you,” the turian said sternly. He stared intently at Reyes, and there was a gleam of hardness in his eyes. “If I catch you involved in any criminal activity, I won’t be so lenient next time. Go.”

 Reyes nodded emphatically. “Yeah, I’ll try and get out of here. Thanks again, I really…” But his turian saviour was already walking away purposefully. As the turian disappeared into the shadows, Reyes swallowed, then remembered that Anto, Aria’s second-in-command, must be waiting somewhere on the docks for him. He called Anto on his omni-tool.

 Anto answered almost immediately. “What the fuck was that?” he hissed. “I hid when I heard the shots. How the fuck did you get out of that alive?”

 “Some fancy talking,” Reyes replied, as relief began to finally wash over him, making him feel giddy. “Fanciest fucking talking of my life. Who even was that guy?”

 Anto grunted. “We’ve been getting reports about that guy. You’re lucky you’re not dead, Vidal. You just talked your way out of being sniped by Archangel.”

 ********************

 Garrus Vakarian melted into the shadows, the Black Widow on his back a comforting weight that reminded him of his purpose. Before she had died, Shepard had jokingly used the phrase ‘taking out the trash’ in reference to criminals getting what was coming to them. With a pang of grief, he thought of how she would have made some kind of joke about him being a garbage-man if she could have seen him now.

 Three criminals down for the count in one night, Garrus thought to himself with grim satisfaction as he slipped through Omega’s alleys and corridors to his shitty studio apartment. That human that they’d been targeting, though… Garrus would have to keep an eye on that one. Maybe he was just an innocent, caught up in Aria’s criminal dealings… But innocence and good intentions could be sullied by greed and corruption in a heartbeat. Garrus had seen it too many times to really have faith in anyone anymore. Especially on Omega.

 He stepped into his apartment and engaged the omni-lock, then fastidiously cleaned his Black Widow before racking it carefully on the wall. He was just preparing a light meal when his omni-tool pinged: Lantar Sidonis had arrived. Garrus swiped his omni-tool to let his compatriot in.

 Sidonis stepped in and the two turians nodded to each other sharply, then Sidonis sat at Garrus’ spartan dining/kitchen table. “How did you fare today?” he asked. Garrus and Sidonis, friendly though they were, rarely bothered with small talk.

 Garrus handed him a glass of water, then joined him at the table with his food. “Took out three would-be murderers today. Eclipse lackeys; no loss. Gathered more info on that protection racket in the Blue Suns’ territory, too. It’s run by a batarian named Niall. But it might be a while before we can take it down. I managed to help out a couple of the families in the meantime.”

 Sidonis lowered his glass and gave Garrus a stern look.  “You’re going to go broke if you keep doing this, Vakarian. You have to stay alive on this station, too. That means having a few credits in your pocket, not giving them all away.”

 Garrus grunted. Sidonis wasn’t wrong; Garrus was dipping into his own savings to pay the families’ protection fees, and soon his credits were going to start dwindling dangerously. But Garrus didn’t see an alternative at this time. If I stop paying their fees, the parents will get murdered, then those kids will become orphans, then they’ll get picked up by the gangs… This is the only way to stop the cycle. Even if it’s temporary.

 SIdonis eyed his friend for a moment longer, then chuckled, his flanged voice warm. “I understand you, Vakarian. I do. Once we have a bigger team, we’ll be able to do more. Just hang in there.” Garrus sighed and nodded, his mandibles flaring in a slight smile. Finally, he took a bite of his dinner. “What’s the progress on the team?” he asked Sidonis. Sidonis had told him he’d found another disgruntled justice-seeker who was sick of red tape and might be willing to join their crusade.

 Sidonis nodded and brought up his omni-tool. “It’s looking good. I’ll send you the dossier. Here’s what I thought…”

 The two turians worked into the night, planning their various missions to sweep Omega clean of crime. Garrus savoured the joy of justice, the grim satisfaction of having a clear purpose. And if sometimes there was a wave of another emotion, something darker and more tragic, accompanied by the bittersweet memory of a certain N7 commander with short black hair and intense green eyes, Garrus shoved it aside.

 There was no time or place for grief or regret. Archangel had a purpose. He had to keep his mind, and his aim, sharp and focused.

 ******************

2184 C. E.: One year later…

 Reyes tapped the counter of the bar in Omega’s marketplace and held up two fingers - two fingers of Macallan - to the quarian bartender. The bartender nodded briskly and slid a tumbler across the bar to Reyes, who lifted the tumbler and sipped it leisurely. Today was a relatively relaxed workday; he’d helped Cassian out with a quick interrogation this morning, signed a couple of smuggling deals, and now he was doing some casual info-gathering in the market, listening out for anything interesting - or treasonous - that could be valuable. After all, as Aria always liked to remind him, information was power.

 Reyes was unobtrusively listening to the conversation of a couple of salarian businessmen when he felt someone sidle up beside him at the bar. He glanced to his left… and almost choked on the whiskey that was halfway down his throat as he recognized the person at his elbow.

Archangel. It had been something like a year since Reyes’ encounter with the turian vigilante. In that time, Reyes felt like he’d become a new man, stronger and harder with better survival instincts. Being Aria T’Loak’s number-one agent and fuck buddy could do that to a man. But Reyes had never quite been able to forget the night his ass was saved - and then almost killed - by the turian sniper with deadly accuracy.

 Archangel stared down at him intensely. Turian facial expressions were not Reyes’ forte, but the look in Archangel’s blue-grey eyes was unequivocally hard and unforgiving. “I told you to get off this station if you knew what was good for you,” Archangel said. The hint of kindness that Reyes remembered in his voice was gone. I’m not the only one who’s changed and hardened over the past year, Reyes thought, at the same time as a chill rippled down his back at the turian’s obvious hostility. Reyes mastered his trepidation and gave Archangel a charming smile.

 “Sorry, must have forgotten. How have you been? It’s been what, a year?” Reyes said smoothly, holding up a finger to the bartender and jerking his head at Archangel. The bartender immediately slid Archangel a shot of pale green liquor, but he ignored it, his attention fully on Reyes.

 “You’re one of Aria’s main thugs. Your little story about the Alliance was a lie.”

 The scorn in Archangel’s voice was like a whip, but Reyes ignored it. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was Aria’s prisoner a year ago, but he was starting to feel annoyed by the turian. Who the fuck did Archangel think he was? The ethics police? He wasn’t exactly innocent himself. After all, he’d shot three men in cold blood that night. Reyes was annoyed enough that he wanted to return the favour and annoy Archangel in kind. So he pouted mockingly. “That hurts my feelings. I like to think I’m more than just a thug. I’m a man of many talents. But you seem to know all about that already.” Reyes purposely looked away from Archangel, his facial expression bored as he sipped his whiskey.

 He almost jumped at the sound of the turian’s flanged voice close to his ear. “The only reason you aren’t dead right now is that I don’t want to start a public brawl in the middle of the afternoon.”

 Reyes felt a simmering rage at the turian’s holier-than-thou attitude. Quick as a flash, Reyes pulled a short knife from the sheath on his thigh and held it against Archangel’s abdomen… right in the space on the turian body that melted from carapace into more penetrable skin. Reyes stared up into the turian’s eyes, all pretense of joking charm replaced by a cold hardness that would have made Aria proud. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t have those kinds of qualms. So back the fuck off of me before I give the marketplace an in-depth lesson in turian anatomy.”

Reyes could feel Archangel’s stillness at the threat of the knife. The two men stared at each other, their eyes hard and furious… then Archangel took a small step back. Reyes quietly released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. When the turian spoke again, his voice was flat and ice cold. “You’re a dead man, Vidal. It’s just a matter of time. As soon as I catch you alone… you’re done.” Without another word, he strode away, blending seamlessly into the market’s multispecies crowd.

Reyes turned back to the bar and shot the rest of his drink in one gulp. The little altercation between himself and Archangel had gone unnoticed, but Reyes had to forcibly quell the slight tremble of his hands. Nowadays, death and dismemberment threats were a dime a dozen for Reyes Vidal, but somehow it was different coming from Archangel. That guy is dead serious, Reyes thought. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the turian during the year since they’d met. Archangel had been a vigilante, but his threat today had seemed more… personal.

 Reyes shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. He’s just some washed-up vigilante, Reyes told himself as he swiped a generous tip to the quarian bartender and headed back to Afterlife. And yet, Aria had thought he’d be dead within weeks to months… and here he was, a year later, still going strong.

 Maybe I’ll start taking more populated routes home, Reyes thought to himself. Just in case.

 *********************

 2185 C.E.: 8 months later…

 Reyes sat back in the shuttle, totally at ease in his light armour and heavy weaponry. Fucking Archangel is done, he thought smugly. That asshole has shot me for the last time. Over the past few months, Archangel had made two attempts on his life. The first time, he’d shot off a chunk of Reyes’ left ear, and the second time he’d grazed his shoulder. Reyes’ paranoia and environmental awareness, and sheer fucking luck, were literally the only things that had saved him.

 When Reyes had heard that the Blood Pack, Eclipse, and the Blue Suns were collaborating to take Archangel out, he had bought a bottle of whiskey for Anto and the boys to celebrate. And when he’d heard that the gangs were recruiting freelancers to join in the effort, he’d signed up immediately. Aria had given him one of her trademark you’re-a-fucking-idiot looks when he’d told her. “You’re going to die. Archangel’s already taken out dozens of mercs. It would be amusing if it wasn’t such a fucking waste.” She’d leaned back in her office chair, naked and post-coital, and eyed him skeptically. “You’re just going to be so much more rotting meat on the boulevard if you go.”

 Reyes had leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth, then left, his stride purposeful. “I’ll bring you back a piece of his carapace as a souvenir,” he called cockily over his shoulder. As the door closed behind him, he’d laughed at her response: “I’ll start interviewing replacements for your job.”

So now Reyes sat in the shuttle with a handful of other mercs, flying out to the rendezvous point. Across from him sat a striking woman in her early 30s wearing an impressive set of blood-red heavy armour, incongruously flanked by a pretty, wide-eyed asari and a gorgeous dark-haired human woman in a skintight black-and-white bodysuit. The armoured woman nodded briefly to him, her green eyes watchful and calm. “What brings you on this mission?” she asked him casually.

 Reyes smirked and pointed to his mutilated left ear. “Archangel took a piece of me. Figured it’s time I returned the favour.” He cocked his head to the side. “You?”

 The woman gave a faint smile. “Credits. I’m hoping for a big payout from this.”

 “Nice try,” Reyes drawled, his eyes sliding over her, from her short crop of black hair to the tips of her blood-red armoured toes. Her gear was high-end with hardly any signs of wear. “Your shit is brand new. What’s your angle?” Reyes’ tone was playful and flirtatious, but he was genuinely curious… and a touch suspicious. Wouldn’t hurt if he could gather some intel on this woman in case Aria wanted to keep an eye on her.

 The woman in red smiled, and her eyes sparkled playfully. “Aren’t you the curious one?” she remarked, the sound of her calm, throaty voice making Reyes smile. “Maybe I wanted to meet the interesting rabble who would sign up for a suicide mission.” She raised one eyebrow, and her dark-haired colleague gave a tiny cough that somehow managed to convey a lifetime’s worth of disapproval. Reyes laughed, reacting to both the woman’s banter and to her colleague’s displeasure. This woman in red was so self-possessed and confident. Reyes liked it.“You might think I’m rabble now, but I’m sure I’ll change your mind,” he purred, then impulsively he added, “Let me buy you a victory drink after this.”

 The woman exchanged a tiny, sardonic smile with her asari companion, who smiled back innocently. Then she turned back to face him. “A victory drink. It’s a plan,” she said, and there was a clear undertone of amusement in her voice. Reyes winked at her, amused when the brunette rolled her eyes. “I’m Reyes, by the way. Reyes Vidal,” he said, extending a hand to her.

 She took his hand with an impressively firm grip. “Adriana. Adriana Shepard.”

*******************

 Garrus slumped behind cover, taking a moment to catch his breath. He was exhausted. He was running out of ammo and genuinely wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out against the gangs’ onslaught. It was clever for them to recruit desperate mercs; throwing bodies at him was an extremely crude strategy (Garrus could hardly bear to call it a strategy at all), but unfortunately effective over time. He was starting to wear down.

 Another surge of rage towards Sidonis blew through him, and he took a measured breath to control his anger. If I get out of this alive, I will make it my life’s mission to hunt that traitor down, Garrus thought to himself. But first, he had to get out of this alive… and therein lay the problem.

 Another wave of mercs was advancing along the boulevard; Garrus could hear them coming. He using his scope, he peeked over his cover to get a look at what he was facing. A scattering of LOKIs, a handful of ragged batarians, a turian or two, a heavily armoured human... Wait. That garish red armour.... Garrus used his visor to zoom closer on the tiny emblem at the collar of the armed human’s breastplate.

 Wait. Is that…? No. It can’t be.

 The tiny emblem on her red armour: N7.

 Garrus experienced a rush of adrenaline so strong it was practically orgasmic. He only knew one person who wore that eye-watering shade of red armour. But he still couldn’t believe his eyes. Shepard’s dead. She’s dead. She can’t be here… How is that possible? Hope and pessimism warred in his chest as he watched the red-armoured figure more closely. Spirits, he thought in growing amazement. The way she moved, even the twitch of her head to the left then the right before she began to lope up the boulevard…

 It’s her. Shepard is alive.

 Garrus was galvanized. His energy and determination restored, he looked through his sights with fresh focus… and recognized another familiar human. Reyes Fucking Vidal. In his excitement at recognizing Shepard, Garrus had ignored the man she was running beside… the man who was unwisely not wearing a helmet. Reyes smiled and said something to Shepard and lightly hit her in the arm, and Garrus narrowed his eyes and the slimy, charming vorcha.

With renewed focus, Garrus loaded a round into his faithful Black Widow, focused his aim at Reyes’ dark-haired head, and smiled.

 This time, Archangel wouldn’t miss.

Art credits: Garrus pic from http://torron.deviantart.com/art/Garrus-Vakarian-You-ll-Never-Be-Alone-369719464; Reyes pic from @life-is-no-sugarlicking!

[fireandgloryrpg]

Congratulations Bah and welcome! We’re so happy to accept your application to play Fergus Fitzgerlad with the faceclaim of KJ Apa in Fire & Glory RPG! We can’t wait to begin roleplaying with you so please remember to look over our checklist!

!!! tw: blood and implied torture and child abuse !!!

Out of Character Information:

Name: Bah, They/Them

Age: 24, rip

Timezone: GMT – 3 (I ALMOST FORGOT THIS AGAIN)

Activity: I can give y’all a solid 7, I can be on a little every day and more on the weekends. Y’all know me and how it goes.

Anything Else?: Also! You can delete whatever comments I make between parenthesis down this app, this is basically just the reviewed application SINCE I HAD NO IDEA Y’ALL WERE BRINGING F&G BACK I finally had the time and patience to sit my butt down and actually go through family trees and background plots with others so I got a better gist of revamped Fergus. Also I’m sitting alone in an empty apartment surrounded by boxes cause we moving so I had the time and nothing else to do.

Original Character Application:

Name: Fergus Rowan Fitzgerald

Age and Birthday: 18, 01/10/1999

Faceclaim: KJ Apa / Taron Egerton

Heritage: Son of Oceanus, Legacy of Venus (4 Generations) & Luna (5 gen) (Basically since this is the reviewed app, I went through the whole family tree (s/o to Olivia) and it’s Olden Roman so there’s a bunch of weird Godly Legacies there, only Venus and Luna are relevant here.)

Affiliation: Centurion of the 2nd Cohort, Unwilling* member of the Cult of Romulus (* He joined due to familial pressure.)

ABILITIES:

[From Oceanus] Hydrogenesys/Hydrokinesys – The simples and most common ability to children related to Sea-Gods, Fergus can create, control and shape water however he wants. Well, maybe not however he wants since it’s like a muscle he should practice and he tends to ignore his water-based powers, it’s still an ability he has inherited. His father’s powers are much alike those of his nephew Poseidon. It’s directly related to atmokinesys, the ability to control the weather, such as hurricanes, being another power he does not have any interest in pursuing or practicing with.

Monster Talk – Fergus cannot control Sea Monsters but he does speak their language and senses them much easier than any other kind of monster. He can also communicate with any sea creature, though he can talk better to the deep sea ones. He can also understand, though not speak, the Old Times language, spoken by the monsters, titans and beings before the Olympian Gods. Despite talking to the fish in the aquarium at home, he’s never put any of those abilities to test, nor intends to.

[From Luna] He hasn’t quite inherited any direct powers from the moon goddess but her blood influence on him and the fact the tides and the ocean are deeply connected, grants the fact his powers get much stronger during a full moon and much weaker and vulnerable during a New Moon. Eclipses are variants.

[From Venus] + Oceanus What Fergus did inherit from his Venus blood, added to being a demi-titan was his father’s shapeshifting abilities, though he lacks any kind of control or even awareness over it, his body can change to adapt to certain situations. Oceanus’ original form is that of a merman and so Fergus should be of the same nature, he has never been in a situation that demanded so and doesn’t swim often, let alone to deep waters that’s where his body should change. One situation that his body adapted however was the transitioning, the moment Fergus’ started hormone replacement therapy his body swiftly adapted to the biological human male form.  He also has a variant of charmspeak, much similar to that of sirens and mermaids in the myths, he can sing and project suggestions, orders or emotions into the song and have whoever’s listening under a kind of trance, a form of teleempathy per say. Fergus is keenly aware of that and it’s one of the skills he has honed, though he has no use for it and is too shy to sing in public.

Headcanons: 

[My Heart Belongs To The Sea] Son of the Ocean, legacy of Luna and somewhat down the line of Lelantus mostly means Fergus biological clock is opposite to day people and that his powers are always stronger from 6PM to 5AM, just like the tides. He is, indeed, ruled by the rising and retreating tides, his mood is deeply connected to the marine weather. Instead of him having power over the Seas, it’s more of a symbiotic relationship. Whereas Fergus bad mood could cause storms, the naturally occurring ones make him cranky and hostile, and so on. Though he has adapted to the Legion’s strict daily schedule, it’s no wonder people think him hostile and sullen most of the day, it’s when his energy is at its lowest, specially between 12 and 4 PM. It’s not uncommon to find Fergus napping during the day between whatever duties he has to tend to. 12AM on Full Moon nights are when his power and energy take him the closest to his Godly heritage as possible and thus when Fergus avoids being anywhere near the Ocean. The fact his personality and mood is so deeply tied with the Sea and its nature, he’s see as an absolute asshole most times, with a fickle personality. (See HC below.)

[Jerk With A Heart Of Gold] Fergus is a big asshole. Maybe not entirely unwarranted, most times he’s stern, rispid, sullen, hostile and with a bad temperament. He doesn’t talk a lot and solves most of his problems either by himself. Though most people may think it’s just because he’s an asshole, he is one but not out of spite, and simply because he does not know how to deal with people, two parts abuse and one part tied to the asinine personality of the Sea. He wasn’t properly socialized as a child, always focusing on training and being the best soldier he could be, he is great at war and he is excellent at teamwork but he’s God-awful at socialization. He doesn’t know how to read social cues, he doesn’t know how to deal with people’s feelings and emotions, considering he doesn’t know how to deal with his own. Anyone who gets any closer to him soon realizes he doesn’t mean to be a dick but rather he was made out to be one.

[Denial Is Not A River In Egypt Only] Fergus denies his entire heritage from Oceanus – everything else, Luna, Venus, Lelantos, Mars, whatever’s on the Fitzgerald family tree, he’s alright with it, but he’d rather pretend he’s nothing but a long standing legacy than admit he’s the son of a Titan. Not only for the fact he was never officially claimed, plus the fact his father was in the “wrong” side of the second Titan war, but the Ocean is too dangerous to be related to. In an incident as a child, on a temper tantrum he created a small scale tornado, destroyed half of the Fitzgerald estate, killed two dogs and almost drowned some relatives including his mother. Ever since he’s dedicated to control and suppress anything water-related, he despises his water powers and his relationship with the ocean. That can and will eventually lead to something that’ll only cause him harm but so far, he’s living with it.

Biography: 

A direct descendant of the original Deirdre of Sorrows, the Venus daughter from over 600 years ago whose beauty waged wars among men. She fled the Éire after the conflicts caused over who would wed her and moved to a Roman settlement in England at the time, being guided by her mother. Fergus Fitzgerald followed her suit and later they married.

The Fitzgerald family has been with the Roman group of demigods ever since, though they chose to keep their last name such as not to shed the family’s origins. Some of Deirdre’s grandchildren also returned to Ireland later and part of the family also remains there, including legacies from other gods that were born into the family. They live in a place named Valley of Love, a much smaller version of places like Camp Half-Blood and New Rome. The borders have protective magic and the valley itself was blessed by the goddess of love herself.  

The Fitzgerald’s have been actively participant in the formation of New Rome ever since they settled in San Francisco, before that many of the family were part of the civil war against the greeks and such. They are known for being passionate and honest to the point of bluntness in their ways.

Rowan Fitzgerald was the third child of Venus to be born in the direct descending line of the family, being Oleana Fitzgerald’s grandfather and Fergus great-grandfather, he was a Centurion of the First Cohort and known for his beauty. He was considered “a distraction” on the battlefield and used it. The family is well-known for their beauty and while there was mockery among their Roman counterparts in the beginning, it has long delved into most respect and admiration.

Oleana was a prominent centurion of the First Cohort, as harsh as she was pretty, she had a meteoric military career but when turning 21, during war games she was thrown off a tower by accident and that was the end of it. She almost died and while mostly recovered, her spine was fractured in three different points. She had dreams of becoming Praetor and those were crushed along with her spine. While her mother was part of the Roman council, frustrated and angry, Oleana left to Ireland where some of the family remained, to step away for a while.

Bound to a wheelchair, she still had a too-wild spirit and didn’t quite accept set backs. She became a Mixed Martial Arts Instructor, taking her frustration and anger out on her trainees. Trying to find herself again, while her anger started to subdue, she became friends with the homeless man that lived by the sea near the Fitzgerald’s house in Belfast. Their friendship lasted three long years and she never realized he was the ocean Titan. Though most people tended to avoid him, Oleana hadn’t. She wasn’t afraid, nor repulsed. There was no romantic love but there was deep respect between the two of them, forces of their own right. She was set to return to New Rome and decided to tell her “homeless friend” whom she actually was – so he revealed who he truly was as well.

It wasn’t a romance but more an agreement on the parts, they were friends and he could not heal her, but he could give her something to be equally proud of, rather than a career. A powerful child to carry on her family’s legacy and to carry on her dreams. He warned Oleana he was never going to be around and unlikely to ever meet his child and if he did, he had never loved any of his children. To that she didn’t mind, she could love a child for both of them and raise them to be a demigod like New Rome had never seen.

Returning to New Rome, Oleana turned into the political life like most of the women in her family – she gave birth to Deirdre eight months later due to a very complicated and fragile pregnancy. When her child was a year old she also married the daughter of Phoebus Apollo, Dana, who helped her through it all. Together they were set on raising the baby girl as happy and as dutiful as any roman family would. Maybe Dana was the one most responsible for the happy part and Oleana too set on raising a good child.

The demand and expectations were high from the moment the child learned to walk and talk – child of a Titan, legacy of other Gods, from a prominent family, Fergus started to learn how to throw a spear even before he knew how to properly write down his name.

Speaking of names, from age eight he was categoric in the fact he did not like being called a ‘she’ nor appreciated the name ‘Deirdre’. While most of his family deemed it a phase and let go, as long as he was a good soldier, his mothers kept a close eye to make sure he wasn’t going to suffer any more for it.

The moment he went to join the First cohort following on his mothers’ footsteps, Fergus donned the name of his ancestor for the first time. He also desired to be addressed as a male, had his hair cut and presented as such. From then on, his mothers were nothing but supportive as they followed through with even the appropriate paperwork.

Though he only always had the support of his family, Fergus felt he had to prove himself twice now – from the shadow of his mother to the fact he wasn’t biologically male, also going through the fact he was never claimed (technically, even if it was no secret), he was insecure and anxious about his place in the Twelfth Legion, which only made him grow stern on the outside.

It was no surprise to anyone when he became Centurion for the Second Cohort, trained since age five, ten years down the line he was an outstanding legionnaire. Loyal to the legion and his Cohort, stern and with moral standards almost too high to demand from anyone. Fergus set the highest bar for himself and a bar almost as high to everyone else.  

Para Sample: 

tw: blood, implied torture, child abuse

“Are you going to talk back?”

Her voice was harsh as he stood there, his chest stripped bare and he knelt on the stone ground of the courtyard, in response to the phrase he merely shook his head. It was a cold, dark night, the sky lacking any sign of moonlight with only the shadow of the New Moon. Fergus stared at the barely distinguishable shadow of himself on the courtyard ground and gritted his teeth, it was immediate. A swift, quick sound and the loud smack against his shoulderblades – he could feel as the whip simply ripped a strip of skin, immediately followed by a bucket of ice-cold water that had him consciously stopping himself from trying to control said water.

He gasped silently and dared not close his eyes. It was for his own good. He was going to go through the Cult trials. He didn’t care for the Cult, truly, he didn’t want it at all but it was just another thing he owed his mother. Like the good son he was, he couldn’t let her down. She had loved and raised him after all, the least he could do was not disappoint, right?

“Fergus, baby, are you okay?”

He looked up as her voice had softened, she sat in her chair in front of him and still, he’d always see her standing tall and proud. Part of him wondered if he would ever be like her, if he would one day ever live up to her legacy. Actually to all of his family’s legacy. His entire body was stiff as he hadn’t moved in a good hour, kneeling in the hard cold pavement and letting her beat him senseless. Well, not her but his older cousin Saoirse, who was only following his mother’s commands.

He didn’t feel hate, or anger, he only felt the hard pain in the pit of his stomach – was she pleased with how he was enduring? Would he pass the cult’s trials ahead? Was he good enough? He couldn’t know and her eyes would not tell. But alas, he endured, unmoving like a stone, lips pressed together into a thin line, feeling the cold water mix with blood and sting down his back.

“You can respond.”

Finally. He sighed loudly and still didn’t move but his lips felt almost glued as he opened his mouth to respond. “Yea ma’, I’m good.” He wasn’t good exactly, he could definitely be spending his time better than being tortured on his house’s pateo but then again, if this would satisfy his mothers, he could do it over and over. Mother looked down on him and he could see the twisted feelings in her eyes. She didn’t take pleasure in doing this and he didn’t enjoy it, of course he didn’t, but it was needed, right? It was out of love. At least that’s how he’d always justify it to himself.

“Okay, get up then.” She commanded and he followed. It was in the flick of a moment, he didn’t have time to will away the stiffness set in his bones. Mother had simply flicked one hand towards his direction and he barely had time to hold up his hand before Saoirse’s foot was well on the direction of his chin. It hit him but not square on the face as he was practically thrown away and staggered. He looked down and spit blood on the floor.

“You expect a fight to be fair, it will never be fair!” She shouted back at him and he could hear the anger on her words. Fergus winced as Saoirse stepped back and mother glared back at him. So, he had failed again.