#slightly less horrible drawing later

[warmer-gaze]

During the Calamity, Quajath (spawn of the Crawling King) wreaked havoc on the landscape of Eiselcross, before being finally entombed beneath its ice 🪱

Quajath, The Undermaw, for @artists-guild-of-exandria Calamity project! Go check out everyone else's beautiful work!!

[luveline]

hey love!!!! i hope you are doing well 🫶🫶🫶 if you feel so inclined could we get another coworker frenemies james?? i loveeeee him ☹️

thank u for requesting 💌 fem, 1k

James can’t fucking stand you, but in a fun way. You feel worse about him, he’s sure. He’s sitting in his car waiting for you to get out of yours, pretending to look for something rather than have to share the elevator up to the office with you. 

He hasn’t figured out a good comeback yet for what you’d said about his rugby pictures yesterday as you left, and he hates when you win, because you smile all smug and he finds it adorable. You don’t deserve a smile like that, you’re insipid, and annoying, and you take a full day to reply to his emails. 

He digs his hand into the door handle and pushes it out. The winter cold hits him hard and immediate, makes him wish he wore his thick coat with the hood even if Remus says it makes him look like he works in the deep arctic. 

There’s less slow on the ground than there has been for the last few days, snowdrift melting in the day and turning to ice at night when the temperature drops. There’s no sun out yet to warm him. He shoves his hands into his pocket and begins a careful trek from the parking lot to the stairs leading up to the office. 

You’re taking steps slow as his further in. He’d hoped you’d be gone. He’s stupid for not looking, now you both have to do an awkward shuffle where the other can see, what if he trips? You aren’t looking his way, but he’s sure it would draw your attention. If he trips in front of you he might quit, he—

You’re about two steps away from the flat entrance to the office building when you slip. 

In honesty, it's not as bad a fall as it could’ve been, your foot slips on the step and your knee hits the stone, then the other, your hand tight on the handrail but unable to save you. Your gasp is horrible, tight and too quiet, considering the surprise. 

James pauses. 

He could pretend he didn’t see. But if you turn at any point and see him, you’ll know he’s witnessed it, and that’ll be ten times as awkward as if he were to just keep on walking. 

He can’t walk past you. He never could. You don’t get along, but James isn’t the type of guy who can leave someone kneeling on the wet ground. 

Foregoing caution, James hurries across the last stretch of slushied ground to grab you. He feels cruel at first, his hand under your armpits and yanking you up, but the ice is dead slippery and you can’t find purchase, letting out another strange gasp as he rights you.

You turn your face to identify your saviour. 

“Oh,” you say, breathing funny, “of course.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“What?” you ask.  

“Are you okay?” he frowns at your frown, though they’re of two different calibres. You look angry. James is concerned. 

“What do you think, James?” 

You yank out of his arms and turn away from him. 

He shouldn’t have grabbed you without asking. He probably hurt you a little with the force of it, but he’d thought picking you up would be best. Less humiliating, perhaps. 

You sniffle. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. He wishes he could say he spoke gently, but your annoyance churns his own, and he’s starting to sound mad too. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Listen, sit down. You have a long coat, just sit for a second.” 

Your shoulders tighten, but you sweep your coat under your thighs and struggle to sit down on one of the icy steps. He can imagine the cold of it under your bum and your palms as you begin to fold in on yourself, and it’s only then he notices the blood on your knees. “Oh,” he says. (And later, years in the future, he might admit to sounding heartbroken). “Your knees.” 

You pull at your skin. “Awesome. That’s really cool.” 

You sound upset. James finds he can’t ignore that, either. He feels like a dick standing over you and so he crouches, and that feels worse, but he stays like that, facing across from you, hand begging to touch your poor scratched knees. Your eyes widen ever so slightly in response, their waterlines heavy with tears, shimmery and waiting to fall. 

“The last time I fell up here I thought I broke my arm.” 

A tear breaks free from your lashes, streaking heavy and slow down your cheek. “What?” 

“I smashed my arm coming down. It hurt for days, and I had a bruise in a line.” He raises his arm to draw a line across his sleeve. “Right here.” 

“I thought you were better coordinated than that.” 

“That’s not what you said yesterday about my photos,” he reminds you. 

You laugh under your breath. A second tear tips down the other cheek. 

“It’s easily done. The ice is pretty bad.” 

“Don’t patronise me,” you say. Your voice is missing its usual disdain. You just sound sad. 

“I’m not patronising you! You just take everything I say the wrong way.” 

“Then don’t say it the wrong way.” 

“Maybe we should go inside and find the first aid kit. How does it feel?” 

“I slipped,” you say hotly. “I’m fine.” 

Then why are you crying? Floods of tears on your cheeks, your hot breath a cloud that kisses your nose. If it were Remus sitting here in tears, James would already be hugging him. If it were Sirius, he’d have patted him on the back by now. It is so, so odd to see you crying. So weird. It makes his chest twist. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m fine! Just go upstairs and tell everybody already.” 

“Tell them what?” 

“I don’t know. That I’m a baby.” 

He tilts his head, can’t help it, leaning in mildly too close. “You’re a baby?” he asks, fondness leaking into his tone. “Because you fell? Everybody falls.” 

“‘Cos I’m crying,” you mumble. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone. Then you’ll tell everybody I cried when I nearly broke my arm, it’s a lose-lose situation.” 

He’s stupid for talking to you like this. Like you’re friends, and like you can stand to be near him. You don’t look disgusted as his finger brushes your leg, just below your sore cut, and you’re not mad anymore. The ferocity drains from your face and leaves behind a sniffly, embarrassed frown. 

“Won’t tell anyone,” he says quietly.

“Thank you.” 

James didn’t fall up the stairs the last time it snowed. He didn’t hurt his arm or cry, he’s too remarkably coordinated for that. He lied, and he’ll lie to Remus when he asks why it took you both as long as it did to get upstairs. You slipped and he helped you. There were no heart-hurting tears. It’s a secret he doesn’t mind keeping for you. 

[loveswrites]

Omg I loved ur poly volturi!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm pleading for more!

Uno~ Poly Volturi x reader

Time it took me: I can't even tell you that hell a month? 26 days?

Word count: 1454

To lovely anon: I so happy you loved it! Sorry I took so long I'm trying to get back into my self! Your guys asks always make my day! Just cause I haven't answered doesn't mean That I haven't seen it! I love just about everyone that comes in! <3

Enjoy!

Poly Volturi x Reader

"That's just stupid." Alec said huffing looking at the table in distaste.

"You have to draw four. That's the rules." You Said shrugging.

You, Alec, Jane, Felix and Demetri were currently playing Uno. It took a while convincing everyone to play. Sure you live in a huge castle with the love of your lives but you are still human. You get bored. While Felix was down to play immediately the others were disinterested in playing with you. You got responses like "That's foolish, I have much better things to do, my love." From Caius.

A simple "No." From Jane.

"I'm sorry but I'm busy right now, beautiful." From Demetri.

"It sounds like a waste of time." From Alec.

You even asked Aro and Marcus. Marcus just straight up said he was too old for that shit in so many words. And Aro said he was too hungry to play games but maybe later. 

All the rejection from everyone put you in a sad mood. It's not like you could have friends in the Castle that wouldn't eat you the moment you get a paper cut. The receptionist is a bitch. And there aren't any more humans you have access to. So the fact that everyone said no you were distant with everyone. They all noticed.

You stopped going to trails with Caius. You stopped attempting to give Jane love. You stopped asking Alec to use his powers so you'd be entertained by the dark fog. You stopped asking Felix for piggyback rides. You stopped attempting to play hide and seek with Demetri. 

It had been days since you spoke more than 2 words at a time to any of them. You knew it was affecting them because of the tension that rested upon the castle in a thick fog. They were quick to temper. Quicker than normal that is. And that's saying a lot. 

Marcus had asked you why you hadn't been to any of the trials lately. As it happened to be one of your favorite parts of the day. "I just haven't been in the mood." You told him. He's been on this godforsaken earth way too long to be able to know when to call bullshit. But nonetheless the less he let it go. 

After that you noticed that your love's would attempt to talk to you more. Not just brushing it off as human attitude as Caius would call it. It was small talk but it was an effort.

"Yes I'm fine Demetrius stop asking me." You huffed slightly irritated.

"Did you eat today?" He questioned a little squint in his eyes.

"Yes I eat everyday." You rolled your eyes, gathering the book you were reading from the cold castle floor you were sitting on.

There was the random corner in the Castle that you would just sit in and watch as people- vampires walked through the halls. It had a lot of traffic coming through it which was what you loved. Cauis had offered to have something built for you so you wouldn't have to sit on the floor all the time. But you would always shake your head and tell him "No, just keep it clean for me please." And so he did.

"I fed today. The humans blood was a bit bitter but nonetheless tasty." Demetrius said following you in your attempts to run away from the conversation. 

"You sound like a child."

"And yet here you are acting like one." He snapped.

"I'm sorry?" You said, stopping in your tracks turning to face him.

"You've had this horrible attitude for almost a week for the stupidest thing!" He stated staring at you with his sharp eyes.

"I have not!" You said in attempts to defend yourself.

"Yes you have, don't bother denying it, the whole castle can smell it!" He yelled.

"The lies you tell!" You practically screamed upset you were getting called out.

"Oh really?" Demetrius questioned before you could even blink he had grabbed you by your waist and next you knew you were in a room full of all your mates.

Once you finally felt your two feet touch the ground you couldn't help but get angry. 

"What the fuck is this an intervention?!" You screamed. 

“If that’s what you want to call it, then so be it.” Jane said in a straightforward tone.

“Oh my god what do you guys want?! I just want to be left alone but you all keep bothering me!” You yelled.

“Us bothering you? You were practically begging for attention a couple of days ago now you want to be left alone? Foolish!” Caius yelled, taking you back a bit.

He would yell but he would refrain from yelling at you the best he could. So him yelling at you right now kinda shocked you.

“You wanted to play that card game the other day right? That was when you started acting like such a brat, so we're going to fix that and play it.” Alec stated holding his head high.

“No thanks, I'm good on that.” You said going to turn around to walk away.

“Sit down!” Your mates yelled collectively making you stop in your tracks.

“Sit down please, I’ll shuffle the cards to start.” Felix said in a softer tone.

That was about an hour ago. To not even wanna be sitting here right now it was quite entertaining watching your mates fight with each other about the fact that another was kicking the others ass. 

“I will do no such thing. I've drawn four four times!” Alec yelled, upset he was losing.

“It’s the rules of the game you have to Alec.” Jane said, rolling her eyes at her brother's temper. She was just happy she was winning. For now..

You were all sitting at a grand dining room table. Well Alec, Jane, Felix, Caius and Demtruis were. You were actually sitting on the table. Caius put you up there in attempts to make it harder for you to run away if you tried. 

You did.

You almost hit your head on the way down. 

“I don’t see the appeal of such a game, the cards don’t make sense.” Cauis said busy reading the rules that were on the back of the box.

“Don’t look at my hand! That’s an immature thing to do!” Dem yelled at Felix who kept leaning over to see what cards Dem had in his hand.

You had won the first round so you were busy spectating.

“Immature!? It’s not like we're taking a test!” Felix yelled back, plopping down in his seat.

“You're trying to cheat!” Dem yelled back furrowing his eyebrows.

“Cheat?! I am no cheater! Tell him Amore mio!” Felix said, turning to face you.

“You were cheating, I saw you.” You said blandly.

“Your human eyes don’t under the actions of mine-”

“Her human eyes are perfectly fine!” Dem yelled coming to your defense.

Tuning yourself out of the conversation-well the constant bickering. You found yourself just watching your mates. All were yelling or frowning about something but you couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. Neither of them could stand human games. They hated it with the most of them. Minus video games Alec, Felix and Dem said that those don’t count. Though you always tell them they do, they insist that they don’t. A fight you could never win. 

All of your mates came together to do one simple thing that you’ve wanted to do for months. Once they saw how much the disconnection to just one human thing hurt you, They came together to try to make you feel wanted and seen. Though they can’t see the appeal at all there trying for you. And that’s all you could ever ask for. 

“That’s not four Alec!” You yelled when you saw him try to cheat his way into just grabbing two cards.

“Oh come on! I’m never going to win!” Alec yelled back.

“Not my problem.”

“Maybe winning is just not in your line of blood.” Cauis said with a slight smirk. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Jane and Alec said at the same time turning their sharp red eyes at Caius.

“I mean-”

“Nope! Nope! Draw two more cards Alec I’ll help you win!” You rushed out attempting to try to keep the peace. Well as much peace as it was going to get in the room.

“That’s not fair!”

“I need help as well, I deserve it!”

“So were picking favorites now?!”

“Felix, stop looking at my cards!”

“You can’t pick sides!”

You can’t even lie to yourself you had missed them so much. And the smile on your face told no lies.

[quietthoughtsandmusings]

Desperate Desires

I'm having too much fun with this so here is part 2 of Depth of Devotion from the readers POV.

Minors DO NOT INTERACT.

Mentions of female anatomy.

Art is from @k_yodaka_02 on Twitter

You were brooding on the couch. Your already horrible day was made only the better when your grocery bag ripped sending all your purchased wares scattering across the floor. You wanted to tear your hair out and break down right at that moment, you were overwhelmed and certainly overstimulated. You begin to pick up the fresh produce from the floor cursing each one when your behemoth of a neighbor, arms full of peppers and your restock of lotion approaches you. You look up at him and there is Adonis himself. The first thing you always notice is his eyes. Beautiful crystalline blue, the color of glaciers. Deep set and piercing, bordered with long blonde lashes. Aquamarine set in gold. Who gave him those eyes? He was absurdly handsome with his chiseled jawline, full lips, long romanesque nose that is slightly crooked to the left like it was broken at some point, short choppy auburn hair. Did he cut it himself? You wonder until suddenly you become aware that you were probably staring silently for a little too long and he's speaking to you. German, It's not pronounced but subtle. “Here,” he says holding out his arms towards you, “happens to me all the time.” He offers a sympathetic crooked smile. You huff and grab your things from his arms shoving them in what was left of the broken bag. Cheeks flushed from embarrassment and frustration. “Thanks' ' you reply curtly as you turn away to go to your apartment. Quickly sliding your key in and opening the door. You shove it shut with your shoulder making it slam more aggressively than you intended. What. A. Fucking. Day.

Later after having showered and changed into your comfort clothes you begin to burn with guilt. It wasn't König's fault your day was shit and you certainly didn't mean to take it out on him the way you did. The feeling was made to feel more intense by the fact you had a burning crush on him. Groaning, you rub your face with your hands when you hear him. You know it's him because only he has those heavy footsteps. Your head snaps in the direction of your front door as you listen, his footsteps are hurried. Like he doesn't want to run into you? Of course. You were an asshole to him for no reason! Then you hear the crisp shut of his door. Sighing you know you have to apologize especially were never one to shy away from your wrongdoings. Making your way to your door you open it as quietly as you can so not to draw anymore attention to yourself less the universe throws something else your way. You made your way to his door, each of your footsteps timid as your face began to burn hotter and hotter. Each encounter you've ever had with König always left you feeling frazzled in a way you weren't accustomed to. Taking a deep breath you raise your hand to knock on his door when you hear it, a moan? Curious and slightly concerned you lean your ear to the door to hear better and that's when you unmistakably hear König's voice albeit a bit more gruff “Show me how you play with it, show me” followed by a series of pants like he was in the throws of ecstasy. “That's a good girl, that's a good fucking girl” followed by a shaky moan. You pull yourself away from the door, mouth agape and breath shaky. You slowly back away before turning around and silently sprinting back to the safety of your apartment. Closing the door as quietly as possible. The walls were thin here but you never realized they were that thin. Your heart is pounding not just from the short sprint. Standing there you feel the desire burning in the pit of your belly. The desperate need for release forms quickly as your pussy begins to leak, your arousal soaking through your panties as you reflect on everything you just heard. Stripping out of your lounge shorts and panties you lay yourself down on the couch, spreading your legs.

You can feel your pussy lips parting exposing your cunt and slick to the air which makes you shiver slightly. Not just from the slight chill but the friction that causes your clit to throb. Closing your eyes you stroke your thigh softly before sliding up the side of your belly and down your public bone, slightly glazing your engorged, sensitive clit, to your wet hole. Your breath hitches as you push a finger into your warm, wet cunt. You wonder what his fingers would feel like. They were so large and his fingers thick. You imagine one of them would fill you to bursting. Slowly drawing your finger out causes you to jolt and moan lewdly. Hearing the squelching as your pussy tries to suck you back in. Taking the slick you gathered you begin to slowly rub your clit. “Show me how you play with it, show me” in that desperate lust filled tone rings through your head and you imagine König is there watching you rub yourself, chasing that blissful high. “That's a good girl, that's a good fucking girl” König's praise making you rub harder, faster. Feeling your hips buck in response, legs opening wider. You try and imagine König between your knees, his hands traveling down your outer thighs to grip your hips tightly. You work your bud in circles, the coil begins to tighten, breath shaky, muscles tensing. “Ko…. Oh God Ko. Please…” you whimper. Then there it is, the cork pops. You jolt and shake as your orgasm washes over you, bathing you in its warmth. “König!” You croak out, eyes flying open. You pant, feeling your hole spasming suddenly the fact he's not stuffed inside you makes you realize it wasn't enough. The desire is unsatisfied. You need König to fuck you senseless. You need to hear him praise you and your pussy. You need König. God, you need him. It started as a crush but now you've heard a snippet of what could be and now you need it all for yourself. All the shame you could have felt for accidentally eavesdropping on something private was gone, you don't care how lewd it makes you seem. You have needs, wants, desires. To be filed with his cum, to be utterly and totally his

[topgun-imagines]

Day Off

Requested: yes

Summary: Bradley spends his day off helping you feel better while you’re on your period.

Word count: 1.0k

Warnings: periods. Mention of blood. Cramps.

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x wife!reader

The second your eyes fluttered open that morning, horrid cramps began to wash over you in waves. It wasn’t unusual for you to have horrible period pains. The last few months you had been blessed with less pain, and you now realized you were a fool to think that something had permanently changed. Now, the pain was back 10 times stronger than it had been before. You let out a loud groan and climbed out of bed, heading to the bathroom to take care of yourself. The pain only grew more intense as you made your way into the bathroom.

Once you had finished up in the bathroom you returned to find your husband sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He grinned when he saw you, mustache lifting up slightly. You could only offer a small smile in return, the pain migrating into your lower back with each step you took. When you reached the bed you were ready to collapse into it, prepared to spend your husband’s day off cuddled up with him in bed. You could have cried when you saw the large red stain on your side of the bed.

Bradley instantly noticed the shift in your demeanor. The tears that lined your lashes that weren’t there a moment ago caused his eyebrows to draw together. His eyes followed your down to the large spot on the white sheets. The pilot cooed softly, instantly understanding why you were so emotional. He climbed out of bed before making his way over to you. Winding his arms around your waist, his chin rested on your shoulder as he hugged you from behind. He pressed a kiss to the side of your temple. When he offered to clean it up for you, you instantly began protesting, insisting that you could do it yourself. “It’s okay, honey,” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Let me help you.” The low timbre of his voice was almost enough to lull you to sleep while standing. You nodded softly.

Your husband directed you to the couch. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he laid you down before heading back to the bedroom. You lay comfortably on the couch, waiting for him to come back. You would be damned if you weren’t able to spend today cuddled up with Bradley. You decided that the couch would just have to do for now. Your eyes fluttered shut as you settled into the cushions. When you heard the telltale sound of the machine turning on, you smiled quietly. It seemed as if there was nothing that Bradley wouldn’t do for you. The thought almost made you want to cry. Stupid hormones.

Moments later you could hear his footsteps as he entered the room. Slowly, he made his way over to you before sitting on the coffee table in front of you. When you felt his thumb begin to trace delicate patterns into the soft flesh of your cheek, your eyes fluttered open slowly. “Hi honey,” He murmured quietly. “How’re you doing?” You leaned into his touch, causing him to grin softly.

“The cramps aren’t as bad,” You spoke quietly. Bradley’s fingertips began scratching your scalp, causing your eyes to flutter shut once more. He muttered something along the lines of ‘that’s good’ before you spoke again. “But now my back really hurts.” Your husband cooed at you softly. Before you knew it, Bradley was motioning for you to turn over. He helped you maneuver onto your tummy, careful not to put too much pressure on sensitive areas. Then, his thumbs began needing into your lower back, putting a delicious amount of pressure right where you needed it. You let out a loud, satisfied groan as he worked the knots out of your back. Bradley could only grin.

You stayed like that for the next ten minutes. Your head was buried in your arms while your husband continued to work his thumbs into the sore spots of your back. When you let out a particularly loud groan, Bradley dug his fingers in harder, applying a perfect amount of pressure while not hurting you. Over the last few years, Bradley had perfected the ability to work out every sore spot on your back. Needless to say, you were eternally grateful for it. By the time he finished, you had lost track of time, losing yourself in the glorious feeling of his skilled fingers pressing into your skin. Now he was simply rubbing your back softly, hands moving up and down in a soothing manner.

Moments later he tapped your hip, pulling you from your dream-like state. He seated himself behind you, arms winding around your waist and large hands splaying across your lower stomach. You instantly sighed in pleasure at the relief that came with his warm hands. It constantly amazed you that Bradley was practically a furnace. In moments like this, however, you would never complain. His body heat enveloped you, casting a cozy feeling over both you and your husband. His lips met the shell of your ear as he spoke quietly. “Get some sleep pretty girl,” If you weren’t so instantly tired, you would have swooned at the pet name. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” He murmured, pressing one last kiss to the spot behind your ear as he allowed his eyes to flutter shut.

You settled in, enjoying the lack of cramps. This was exactly how you wanted to spend your day. Bradley was curled up behind you, his soft breaths ghosting over your neck softly. You could hear him begin to start snoring softly as he allowed himself to relax with you, content in spending the day doing nothing else but spending time with his wife. You relaxed back against him, smiling slightly as his arms tightened around you subconsciously. One of your hands settled on top of his, tangling your fingers together as you finally allowed the temptation of sleep to pull you under.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed the short (but hopefully cute) fic! Thank you for reading! Requests are open.

[dearmura]

through my eyes

�� cw. some swearing, not beta read (horrible grammar)

☆ pairings. bf! Ni-Ki × gn! reader

☆ synopsis. Riki just finds you so stunning that he can't resist drawing you to capture your beauty

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Ki! The movie is set up! I made popcoorrn!" You stretch your last word out in an attempt to convince the boy to join you

Not even a second later, you hear the sound of shuffling growing closer to you, followed by the boy's tall figure appearing, rubbing his eyes adorably

"Did you say popc-?" His lit up face shifts as his jaw drops an awe, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Do I have something on my face?" You ask in a worried tone, opening your camera app

Titling your face side to side, you check for a bug or sauce stain to no avail

At this point, Ni-Ki is practically drooling, staring at you like you're the Mona Lisa herself

"No no, nothing. It's just...you're so stunning, f*ck, angel" He whispers his last words, almost as if you knocked the air out of his lungs

You chuckle softly, hiding your face in your hands

"Stop, I just did my nightly skincare. I'm barefaced and have my strawberry jammies on, Ki, and now is the time you decide to drool over me?" You deadpan with a giggle, still hiding you blush

He slowing approaches you, gently pulling your hands away from your face, cupping your cheek

"Please don't hide your pretty face, angel. And, for your information, I love your strawberry jammies" He whispers with a soft chuckle, his gaze never faltering

Your breath hitches, your face turning impossibly redder

Just as you're about to respond, he stands up

"Hold that thought, love. I'll be right back" He says before scurrying off into his room, leaving you in confusion

A few moments later, he comes back with a sketchbook and pencil, approaching you once more

"May I?" He asks, ghosting his hand under your chin, you nod with a gulp at his proximity

He gently tilts your chin upwards, softly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping back, doing that artsy thumb thing 👍🏻👎🏻

You giggle at his antics, trying your best to hold your position

He couldn't help but crack a smile after seeing yours, placing a soft kiss on your nose before sitting across from your figure

"Now, hold still for me, darling. Let me know if you're getting tired, alright?" He asks softly before starting. You nod slightly, not wanting to mess up his angles

You soon hear him scribbling softly onto the paper, finding the sound of the pencil hitting the parchment soothing

You smile in content, the blush never leaving your cheeks

"You're doing so good for me, love. That's it" He reassures, checking in with you, knowing how uncomfortable it must be for you to sit there so still

A few more minutes pass by and you hear his strokes becoming less frequent, signaling he was almost done

Your muscles started to slightly ache at this point, so you slightly tilt your head to crack your neck

"Heeyy don't move baby, I promise it'll only take a bit" He cutely whines with a chuckle, you knew he wasn't seriously upset

You can't help but giggle, trying hard to stiffle your laugh but failing when glancing at his little tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration

Before he can say anything, you quickly apologize, going back to your previous position

You see him smiling to himself like an idiot as he adds the finishing touches

"Aaand...done!" He punctuates his last word with a tap of his pencil on the page, tucking the notebook to his chest sneakily, his eyes meeting yours

You sigh in relief, he admires you with a gleam in his eyes as you get up to stretch

You mirror is position on the couch, staring right at him in curiosity

"Can I see?" You ask, crawling toward him slowly with a stupid smile on our face

He grips the sketchbook tighter to his chest, shaking his head cutely

"Only if you give me a kiss right, here" He teases, tapping at his cheek

You roll your eyes, placing a soft kiss where his finger was, hearing him hum in content

"And here" He points to the other cheek

You sigh, placing a peck on his cheek once more

"And h-" He points to his lips, about to finish but you interpret him instead

"I'll be the judge of that" You tease, trying to sneak a peak at his sketch

He sighs, "fair"

Slowly handing the sketchbook to you, he looks away, curling into himself in embarrassment

As you look down as his work, a tear can't help but roll down your cheek

Around your face were little hearts, along with arrows pointing out little details of your face, you read them one by one

An arrow pointing to your birthmark reads 'my favorite little chocolate chip <3'

An arrow pointing to your eyes read 'the most gorgeous ones on Earth, could get lost in them for hours'

Every strand of hair, scar and birthmark had little notes pointing out his love for each and every one

Another tear rolls down your cheek

He hears you sniffling and quickly cups your cheeks with a worried look

"Are you alright, angel? Did I say something mean? I didn't mean to offend you. Do you not like th-" His rambling it's quickly shushed by your lips

Gently putting his sketchbook to the side, you straddle him, sitting on his lap, never breaking the kiss

Playing with the hair on his nape, you can't help but smile into the kiss

"I'm not upset, Ki. I'm just so happy to have you. Thank you, love" you whisper before colliding your lips onto his, addicted to the feeling

His hands gently find their way to your waist, he whispers

"You mean the world to me y/n, you have no idea. When I saw you just then, it's like the world stopped for a second. You're so *kiss* so *kiss* f*cking *kiss* gorgeous, angel *kiss*"

You giggle, burying your face into the crevice of his neck, placing a gentle kiss below his ear, whispering

"I love you so much, Ki"

He softly pulls you from his neck and holds your chin, leaning his head so your foreheads meet

"I love you too, angel" placing a soft kiss on your temple, holding you close with a hum

I'm delulu pls help😓

[gaycrittercentral]

YESS WE WOULD LOVE TO SEE THE FANKIDS ‼️

Hhhhdhdgshgd I’m very shy abt them but I’m gonna be brave since a couple of y’all were curious!! :’> here they are!!

There’s four of em and their names are Maisie, Lacey (short for Shoelace), Crowbar and Junior. They were born tiny, hairless and wrinkly and developed the ability to zoom around and track smells before they managed to open their eyes so they start terrorizing Jimmy Two Teeth before they can even see him, they’re like a horrible mix of naked mole rats and piranhas lmaoooo

Also here is the first drawing I ever did of them :’)

When I was designing them I felt like there were already so many fankids out there that are a really perfect fusion of both of Sam and Max’s looks, and I wasn’t crazy about trying to do it myself so I just made an army of little maxlets. The Maxlings, if you will! But I did give them longer tails in later drawings and Crowbar has floppy ears like Sam, so they didn’t completely skip his genes jfkhsgs ^^; I have planned out how they came to be but I’ll probably put that in a different post (maybe I’ll even write a little thing for it teehee that might be fun). But I can describe them a little here!!

Maisie is the oldest (as in the first one to be found, they weren’t really born in the traditional sense so \_:p_/) and she just really loves sharp objects lmao. She is mostly non-verbal, but in kind of a Ferb way where she’ll occasionally throw out a cryptic one-liner and mostly remain silent with kind of an ominous stare. Her sisters and brother are completely unfazed by this and have absolutely no fear of her, but she loves being scary to everyone else. She constantly seems like she’s about to commit an act of incredible violence but she doesn’t like to be caught doing it, so it’s all off-screen. She feels like it’s scarier that way. Max is very proud of her.

Lacey (Shoelace, because she used one as a teething toy as a baby which is baffling because neither of her dads wear shoes where did it come from??) is one of the middle kids. She likes dressing up and bounces around between masc and femme and both and neither. She also likes chatting a mile a minute with Crowbar, and she’s less of a twig than her sisters. Later in life she might try and get a lil buff like Sam. She mostly likes to go along with her sisters’ ideas because her head is pretty empty a lot of the time, and she’s slightly less inclined to jump to violence than they are. But only slightly. She also maybe picks up Sam’s habit of grabbing random items.

Crowbar is the other middle kid and fairly precocious. She’s the first one to unlock language capabilities (I have a comic about that I can post later!), and she loves trying to imitate Sam’s vocabulary. Not that she’s, like, good at it yet, but she’s trying lmao. She’s always very cheerful and bouncy and probably the most likely to cry a little if something goes wrong, but also frequently swings back around to bouncy happy and tends to forget whatever upset her immediately. She swings violently back and forth between having zero thoughts and being head full many thoughts that she has to babble loudly all at once.

And Junior is the youngest, the smallest, the baby of the family. He’s very shy and sensitive, and his sisters are like his own personal bodyguards lmao. He has a lot of sensory issues that his dads make sure to help him with, like getting him soft clothes and a noise cancelling beanie (bc he ears not really suited to headphones) and shooting out overhead lights when they’re too bright for him hdkdhshs. He also likes napping in Sam’s pockets and under his hat and Max loves carrying him around like the baby he is. He’s also a creative little dude and he likes drawing (and also eating the crayons afterward).

All four of them are little goblins who have no concept of morality (like even Junior, he may be skittish but he still condones violence and chaos hdkdhshs) and will eat almost anything. They are truly their fathers’ children shjfjjdgdjshsh, and speaking of which Sam and Max are thrilled to have them around and completely obsessed with them hehe. They pretty much just carry on with their cases like usual except now they have a small pack of land piranhas that they can sic on difficult suspects lmaoooo

And I have some more sketches of them I can post, too!! So I’ll probably bounce back and forth between that and the virtues for a bit hehe :>

[hryniewiecki]

you know what? fuck it, I'm going to post everything I did for Arctober in slightly less horrible quality (may edit later), no matter how bad it is

it's just too special for me (this show and the challenge and new season coming up) so I'm putting all of my insecurities aside to show the unfinished, poorly drawn stuff that I'm ashamed of; join me on the painful journey of getting back to drawing (haven't done anything like this in pencil in two years or so, I'm basically missing all the basics)

above Rio it says 'poor cat' and the stuff I covered on the legacy page are some notes I've taken on what was hard for me when I drew it and what to improve ..oh, and on the very bottom on the 2nd Piltover page it says 'you fuckers will never leave Piltover', just don't mind it it's a Polish joke thing

[poryphoria]

dnt normally post oc stuff but i suddenly remembered an old one of mine that was inspired by @bogleech's harmburger stuff (particularly the variation in awful hospital)

idk if they had a name before but its Redbert now!! (Red "40" Bert for long)

they're a cheap shitty fast food megacorp's twisted experiment to make a "meat recycling program", so that when meat went rancid you could recycle it into edible stuff again, so they could save money on outsourcing their meat products! it worked but it also became alive and really really scared

they sound like the most stereotypical awkward "visibly bullied in highschool" nerd you can picture, however that manifests in your mind (i personally think of pete spankoffski from nerdy prudes must die but it's slightly different for everyone). they're pretty timid so it was easy enough for the fast food chain to convince them to work at one of their establishments, and they're technically company property so they didn't have much of a choice anyways, their sentience was entirely unintentional but ultimately means they can learn how to work a cash register and flip patties for peanuts and scraps so naturally they were put right to it!

they are technically food grade at all times- the experiment that birthed them was a success! said experiment being that they basically just threw a metric fuckton of meat in various states of freshness (from "severed, still-bleeding appendage" to "straight roadkill") into a giant vat together and blended it, and the combined hubris of this action alone plus everything else the company had done to get to how bloated it was present-day reviled the universe so badly that the thing was Immediately stricken with life if only to have an outlet for the sheer appall it felt at that microinstant.

it created this single homogenous kind of meat that immediately absorbs anything not resembling it (besides other meats), including bacteria, flies, debris and such, and just. Turns it into more meat. so it can't technically spoil bc any time something tries to break it down it just breaks it down quicker into more meat. that also means they don't really ever get less fresh than "literally still kicking & screaming"- they might get a little nasty being made to stand out in the summer heat but it'll digest back into more, fresher meat the second they get into some air conditioning! so it's totally safe for them to be serving people food & in fact they make the place cleaner just by kind of idly standing around (however they can't leave their bucket. that much contact with the ground might have consequences for the building's infrastructure eventually)

my horrible meat chicken they just wanna scroll thru youtube shorts in the break room

one of my friends asked me if they could lose mass and i said that you could in theory scoop some out of them but if you used your bare hands, it would start taking mass from you rapidly enough to actively feel yourself losing skin cells and the sensation will almost definitely jar you into dropping it on the ground where it'll either fall back into Redbert or crawl into them. sometimes they run under the fridge and we're not really sure what happens to those ones, but sometimes employees find them a couple weeks later hiding behind the grease trap. they hiss

but funny aside they will turn anything into meat eventually but they struggle to digest metal, so they probably get scooped semi regularly with some metal implements that are changed out when they wear down too far and the excess is made into burgers or something. it's to keep them from getting too big that they inconvenience the other workers too much, but i will note that they were in fact smaller upon creation and the scoopings have become more frequent as of late

they were made with my love of drawing long serpentine things in mind and also raw meat :> and chickens! they don't really have to look like a chicken they just reuse those limbs the most consistently bc it's the least offputting way they've managed to make themselves look (as part of their customer training they were made to carefully study how people reacted to their appearance upon using various arrangements of limbs, organs and bone fragments as facial features)

don't know if ill post abt them super often, i don't do a lot of oc stuff often, but maybe ill doodle them whenever i get bored and i have some spare time so ill make them a tag :V

have the old version of them + art i did of them as an animal crossing villager(??) under a cut bc it's Old!

[pastelmusings]

Newest OC so I can start building up my repertoire. So have some really messy headcanons (or just canons—?) about both him and his species, as usual pls interact or ask questions or anything ^^

Meet Ellis! He's a young dove hybrid prince (design loosely based off a wild pied ringneck dove, and I will draw a character sheet for him later cause he's a cutie), part of a sub species of Columbidavien hybrids known as Topeliaviens

-

• For appearance he's really pale (not allowed outside), with round brown eyes, big white and light brown wings, and the same colored hair, and he's like 5'3

• His species generally stays pretty small (average male height 5'4 or so, female being closer to 5'8) and has a general lifespan of 65

• He's a complete utterly sheltered mess

• Spent most of his life kept separate from pretty much everybody, so he latches onto people quick, and is real easy to get taken advantage of...

• Doesn't actually have any political power, since he's like the third son and it's basically a matriarchal species anyway

• Lots of bird tendencies

• Nesting, preening, courting, cooing and chirping, poofing up when trying to look big and intimidating (despite really just looking like a little ball of particularly loud angry fluff)

• His species mates for life and become really depressed when separated, which does shorten their lifespan

• Excessive stress also shortens their lifespan

• They're just a really fragile species—

• Though with the dimorphism in the species the women are bigger and general stronger and less likely to just die at the first inconvenience

• The males also need less sleep, and have a natural inclination to scatter sleep for a hour or so at a time so they can be hyper alert

• They can mate with non-avien humans, but it's not recommend cause humans don't exactly mate for life, and breaking up isn't something they can really do—

• Horrible with direction, they absolutely don't have any homing ability like their pigeon counterparts and will become hopelessly lost real fast

• He, in particular, is kinda constantly sad and clingy, like a soggy piece of paper in living form

• Also an obsessive mess and prone to never letting his darling out of his sight

• Displays his discontent very loudly (the bird boy is going to constantly screech for an hour, making it everyones problem)

• Surprisingly very impulsive, in the sense that it's his natural instinct to fight tooth and nail to protect his love from any perceived threat

• Once spent twenty minutes fluffed up and chirping aggressively at a tree branch that kept tapping the window, and he wouldn't let you move from under him to show it was nothing

• He folds so easily

• People pleaser to the max and will cry if you're so much as slightly unhappy at him, I'm talking big watery eyes as he trembles like a leaf

• Actively hates being touch by literally everybody except his mate, and will cling to you like a second skin

• He gets kinda stupid when his instincts cloud his actions, like he'll try to bite at any hands that get too close to you and will probably accidentally smack you in the face with a wing a few different times, bit always fusses over you after

• He's obsessed with pretty shiny things and constantly gifts you both complete worthless little trinkets and priceless jewelry, expecting you to have the exact same reaction for both

• He will cherish every little thing you get him of course, even if it's just a little scrap of shiny wrapping paper (the kinda guy who'd be over the moon over getting a 'shiny box', like no babe, the gift is in the box—)

• Needs you to smell like him, he will whine and cry if you don't let him rub his head against your neck until you don't smell like anything else to his keen senses

• He'll usually 'nest' by just making a pile of all the soft things in the general vicinity and calling it a day, which happens more often if he is super anxious about you being gone

• If you don't sleep in it he'll cry

• Adhd as hell, he has the attention span of a leaf and the memory of a goldfish, also can never get anything done ever

• This is getting long so I'll wrap up by saying wings are sensitive and petting them will turn him into a poor cooing mess

• (Also despite how pretty they are, he can't actually fly because they're clipped ;-;)

[blackjackkent]

Their first turn off the main corridor leads to a room piled high with corpses.

"Fresh recruits for Ketheric's army," Minthara says, peering around dispassionately at the carnage. "To a necromancer, a morgue is a muster yard."

"The stench..." Rakha mutters. "I wonder how many pilgrimages to Moonrise ended down here."

Indeed, the smell of this place is one of the worst she has ever encountered. It is a combination of rot and the metallic scent of blood and the sour-sweet smell of marinating offal. The air is sticky and hot, saturated with the stench till it seems to drip down Rakha's face.

The beast stirs in her head. Yesss... it purrs. This is like an image from the terrible dreams it sends her in the night. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

How many have died here?

Several of the intellect devourers crawl along the walls. At the center of the room is a bugbear, shirtless and sweat-soaked, wielding a heavy cleaver. He is in the process of hacking the head off of a corpse as Rakha approaches him.

He grunts, barely looking up.

Narrator: No will sparks behind his eyes. His mind has been hollowed out, to better echo the commands of the collective.

"A ghaik thrall," Lae'zell mutters disdainfully. "The only way to save it is to kill it."

Narrator: You could kill it. End its miserable life of enslavement. Surely that would be the humane thing to do. Or you could take advantage of its vulnerability and plunder what's left of its hollow mind for anything that could serve you.

These thoughts drift through Rakha's head, first as counterpoints to each other. But truly she doesn't see why they shouldn't do both.

[ILLITHID] Enter his thoughts.

Narrator: Pliant as well-worn boots, his mind turns to his work. Chop. Cut. Sort. Shiver of impact. Crack of bone. He removes the brains, digs free the squirming tadpoles. The unworthy ones, given over to the illithids. To become...

Rakha shudders at the images of gore, of flesh rended and bone shattered. "Become what?" she demands hoarsely.

"Part of One Mind," the bugbear answers haltingly. "Four little feet. Dancing. To same song."

Narrator: With a lurch, you realize he means the intellect devourers. Here the brains are harvested - made part of the hivemind.

"What is this place?" she presses. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Wyll looking around with horror, but for the moment she ignores it. This creature has answers, and she must have them too.

"Nur. Sery..." whispers the bugbear. "Here. They become..."

"What did you do to all these people?" she asks. She's uncomfortably aware that the beast in her head wants the answer as much as she does.

"Chop. Chop..." he says distantly. "Help them. Become?"

This is getting them nowhere. "I need to find your master," she says curtly. "Ketheric."

To her surprise, something seems to break through the bugbear's blankness for a moment. His eyes widen with distinct fear.

"Mas. Ter... No! Down... deep. One of Three. One of Three!"

Then the moment passes. His gaze fades out again and he says no more.

Rakha draws a slow breath, lets it out. She shoots a sideways look at Lae'zel. Yes. This would be a killing with purpose. The cult has broken this creature beyond repair, and he barely even provides any answers.

"Why don't I send you," she says, quietly, flatly, "to join all these creatures you butchered?"

Again his eyes widen. Again that brief flash of lucidity. "Yes," he mutters. "Yes. Please."

He has barely finished uttering the last word before Rakha's knife sinks into his throat.

-----

Later, after they have fought off the swarm of intellect devourers that rose up at this action, Rakha wipes the blood off her knife and thinks.

"Sometimes, killing is kindness, then," she says abruptly to Wyll.

He cocks his head, then nods slightly. "When living is the more horrible option, it can be. Yes. But that's very rarely the case." He pauses, then looks around uneasily at their surroundings. "...Though I'd wager less rare down here than otherwise."

He picks up a few blood-soaked sheets of paper from one of the butcher tables and looks at them.

"Damn," he mutters bleakly. "They brought children here to be carved up."

Rakha says nothing, and quietly hates the way the beast purrs contentedly at this thought.

[pellaaearien]

tell us more about the Oracle AU? <3

So uh... holy shit? I set out to write another snippet of something to give you and oops 1200 words later?

I haven't written that much in a LONG time.

So, yes, following on from the first ask, and following the series of asks sent into Gabe's blog, Dream starts to see horrible visions of war and destruction coming to the kingdom. He is eventually kidnapped by Burgess to pre-empt the war, believing Hob killed in his defence.

Hob is down, but he's not out, and the instant he's able to move, he goes to rescue his Dream.

Hob can’t separate the burning of the pain in his body from his rage. He probably shouldn’t be out of bed, much less wielding a sword and fighting multiple men. He ignores his body’s limitations with the ease of long training. He knows has enough in him to get to Dream; nothing else matters. He’d sworn Dream would be taken only over his dead body, and he isn’t dead yet, so his course is clear. Fortunately, he doesn’t meet any other guards on his way down the stairs. Hob breathes deeply, husbanding his strength. Rescuing Dream is paramount. Failure because his body gave out at a critical juncture is not acceptable. He pushes open a door at the bottom of the stairs. He sees cage bars and apart from a glance to see that there’s someone inside he doesn’t let himself look. He’s already having a hard enough time being in a fit state to fight. Instead, he focuses on the man in rich robes standing in front of him, with a guard to either side. His vision narrows, his arm numb so he can barely feel the sword in his hand. “Come now,” the king says, calm and composed, his voice ringing in Hob’s ears as his guards draw their weapons. “Surely an Oracle with such weak prophecies isn’t worth all this trouble. What use a foreteller who can predict nothing?” Hob doesn’t bother to answer, letting his dodge from the first soldier’s attack carry him into the second, cutting him down with a heavy blow that he puts all his weight into, bolstering his faltering limbs. He parries the first guard’s followup attack, overbalancing slightly, and is saved by the fact that the man presses too eagerly, leaving an opening that Hob can exploit. When both guards lie dead, Burgess is slightly less confident, his expression slipping. “Surely there’s no need for this,” he says, with a smile that shakes slightly in the face of Hob’s righteous fury. “You can certainly stay with him, if that’s what you wish. No need for all this unpleasantness.” Hob’s lip curls in a snarl. He’s sure Burgess would love that. Only a matter of time before he sought to use them against each other, and uncovered the secret of Dream’s powers. There’s a sound of metal striking stone; Hob’s hand releasing his sword, quite without his say so. Burgess’ smile widens, somehow believing he’s won him over. It makes it all the more satisfying for Hob to drive his fist into his face.

[octakiseronliker]

38. life or death kiss please please 👀

He almost misses the fact that it's happening. There is so much. He's never taken this much energy into himself. It incandesces for what seems like forever, inexhaustible, scorching his insides, half-blinding him. It hurts, all white heat and pressure, and it's hard to fight through even as he goes through it a mile a minute for fuel, but there is, unfortunately, an alluring power to it which Silas suspects he will have to spend some time in prayer and penitence later for even considering.

There are three people burning within him, more or less — maybe two and a half — and when one of these ropes of fire begins slipping out of his grasp he can scarcely tell, at first, who it even is, what's happening at all — this never happens, the feeling is entirely unfamiliar — whether it's a Lyctor trick, or the remnants of the Third cavalier melting into the muck of his necromancer's soul, or — or —

Well, that's simply not possible.

He cuts it off, cuts it all off, and drops to his knees with the force of the extinguishment. Colum's body staggers out of its automatic fighting stance and sinks, horribly slowly, to the ground, with a sickening, wet sort of crunch that Silas believes he will hear every day for the rest of his life. No one moves to catch him. He has gone past the gray of siphoning and looks a burnt-through shade of white.

"Are you beginning to see reason?" asks Ianthe Tridentarius, panting faintly with exertion but smug in her heresy nevertheless. Silas can barely hear her over the static buzzing in his ears. "I don't want to kill you, Eighth. As usual, you're being very dramatic."

"Someone make her stop talking," Silas barks, a little ragged, as though anyone in this room has ever cared to listen to him. He gets to his feet and is at Colum's side faster than he's ever moved anywhere, dropping back to the floor and dragging Colum half into his lap, as best as he's capable, given his physical frailty. He has none of the sanctified herbs that typically draw Colum home, nor does he have any means of procuring them. He is touching Colum's face. He glances up wildly. The Third is examining her nails. Her sister is still hysterical in the corner.

"Come on," Silas murmurs, "come on, Colum, I bid you return, I bid you — this isn't possible," he forces out, frustrated, "I know you have had trouble lately, I know you have been late back, I am sorry, but you can't — this is nothing, Colum, come on, I bid you — return, please, you've never — come on. Listen to me. Your necromancer bids you return. The head of your House bids you return. Get out of the River — I need — I bid —"

Colum produces a truly horrible noise. It's not his usual hacking cough as he forces himself back into himself. It's clear he is struggling badly to breathe. He sounds like a drowning man. Like something within him is seriously broken. He does not look quite there.

The only thing he does is fumble frantically, in silent urgency, for his rapier, which had fallen to the floor when he did; Silas scrambles to hand it to him, desperate, not sure what he could possibly want with it. He can't move much at all. Silas is rapidly becoming very, very afraid.

Colum jerks his head to the side just slightly. At first the gesture doesn't even seem deliberate, and Silas fears he is seizing — but then he does it again, with an emphatic sort of scowl, and Silas leans in very close to hear him speak. His voice is awful, sounding more than ever like a rusted, sawtoothed knife, barely even familiar.

"When I give this to you, Si," he says, scarcely audible, "I need you to take it. Take all of it. Not long — at all, I feel — Don't refuse me. Promise. Swear."

"Okay," Silas says, and it sounds strangely wobbly and wet, as though it's coming out of someone else's mouth. "W-what — anything, what do you need me to —"

Colum makes a low, interjecting noise, cutting him off immediately. He twists his head again, indicating that Silas should lean closer still. Silas obeys, trembling terribly. He does not know at all what to do. He can't remember the words of a cavalier's last rites — can't think about it so much coming to that, can't —

"I love you," Colum grinds out, reaching up and sort of searching, almost blind, until his hand finds the back of Silas's neck, "very much."

Silas is still trying to choke out a reply when Colum drags him down bodily, with all of his remaining strength, and kisses him deeply on his open mouth.

There are various sounds of surprise around them, which Silas does not hear. In the same moment, before he can respond at all, before he can pull away, before he can do anything — Silas had not been watching his hands, he will curse himself forever for not watching his hands — Colum the Eighth lifts his rapier and drives it hard and true into his own heart. Somebody screams.

The violent apopneumatic reaction that follows, ripping soul from body, forces something hot and bright and painful, like a star, into Silas's throat. It tastes like burning flesh. Even as he cries out, clinging desperately to what is rapidly becoming Colum's corpse, he has no option but to swallow. Colum is giving it to him, and he had promised he would take it. His body does it for him, without his permission. He had promised. It is finished.

The room goes very white.

[justrandomfanfictionskh]

A Blue Bird and a Black Cat pt 12

(Selina decides that Marinette would be better as the Cat than Adrien. Five years, later Dick is very confused about this Lady Noire)

ao3 Beginning Previous

If you had asked Marinette five minutes ago, if she thought Nightwing would respond to the phrase “I need a distraction,” by jumping on top of a building and doing the Macarena, then she would have laughed and said no. After all up until that point, Nightwing had always been this cool, serious leader, exasperated by Lady Noire’s antics, but kind to her struggles. Sure he had gotten a little snarky while she was taking his measurements, but he had always clearly been a soul of order.

And then she, as Ladybug, had taken control of the battle field, and felt it. The black and blue hero’s energies shifted just as hers had shifted on the roof tops of Gotham. Once she had taken charge, he immediately adapted and the order that was directing his movements became chaos. She told him to lead Dr. Light into the closest intersection anyway possible, while she directed Raven and Robin into setting up her trap.

She was just placing the banana when music began echoing off the buildings. She froze and looked up to see Cyborg blasting music out of his speakers, as he, Beast Boy, and Kid Flash followed Nightwing in an impromptu flash mob. To further draw out the villain, they began taunting the giant light monster as they sang horribly off key.

“What?” she said stunned.

“It’s your fault,” Starfire said landing next to her with a fond if exasperated smile. “You gave told Nightwing to distract him.”

“But why?!”

Starfire just shook her head and said, “That’s just him.”

Ladybug shook her head as she got into position, but she couldn’t stop smiling. It was absolutely hilarious! Suddenly, she was back in the early days, when her powers were exciting, and Chat Noir’s jokes were actually funny and not outright creepy. Back then his chaos would bring joy to the battle field, exciting hope and ease in everyone around him, including her. And then…She shook the thought away. She needed to focus, even if the Lady Noire in her was howling with laughter and begging to join in.

But she couldn’t. She was Ladybug and she had a job to do. So, when the Light Monster raised his fist against the jeering boys, she cried, “Now!”

Raven leapt from her hiding place and summoned her shadow. The black raven seeped into the ground and grew as it began to swallow the giant. The giant started back, but Ladybug threw her yoyo and willed it into a cage blocking the villain off from the surrounding streets. Now there was only nowhere as Robin, Blue Beetle, Starfire, and Raven stood at the head of each street and began to pour their power into the beast. Sensing the danger, the light giant turned to the one he deemed the weakest, and shrunk to his regular size in order to pass through the wires. But as soon as he landed in front of Robin, he stepped on the banana peel and fell backwards into the restraints the vigilante had placed their earlier.

It took Ladybug less than ten seconds to land on the villain and strip him of his miraculous, a yellow and brown bracelet with a gem carved into the head of a lion. In a flash of brown and yellow light, the glowing armor of the avatar was gone, and there lay a man in one of the strangest suits she had ever seen. He immediately began to cry, begging for the magic bracelet. He was blubbering incoherently, begging for the gem, when Robin came forward and knocked him unconscious.

“What was that?” Robin asked. “Usually, Dr. Light has slightly more dignity than that.”

“He was incompatible and unbalanced,” Ladybug explained as she put on the bracelet. “That combined with a magic that is powered by aura and channels cosmic energies, creates a volatile and addictive combination. He must be especially incompatible, to become addicted so quickly. But he’ll be fine. He didn’t have the jewel for long, so it will pass in a few days.”

“Good,” Starfire said, as the rest of the Titans gathered around the subdued rogue. “I’ll begin coordinating search and rescue with the first responders. Kid Flash—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Starfire,” Ladybug said with a smile, “But that will not be necessary. Here, Miraculous Ladybug!” Ladybug closed her eyes, “Kwami!” she thought, “It’s been too long!”

Pure creation energy poured through her and into her lucky charm filling her to the brim with pure light. Ladybug had often felt that it was one of the most beautiful feelings in the world. It was as if for a few moments she had turned into a ray of light, and was now dancing with all of creation. She opened her eyes to see the waves of magic ladybugs fill the city, but what she found truly spectacular, was the Titan’s reactions. Even Robin was staring in open mouthed wonder as buildings were restored with less effort than blowing out a candle. It was truly a miraculous sight, and no one could deny it.

When the spell had been cast they all turned to Ladybug, but it was Raven who spoke first, her face alight with pure joy. “That was incredible!” Raven cried. “I have never seen so much pure creation energy in one place before. It was so concentrated! How do you maintain that without bursting into flames?”

Ladybug chuckled, “Well it helps, that most of the work is done by the goddess of creation. I’m just the conduit, or grounding rod, the energy is focused through. Tikki does all of the work.”

“But you don't go insane,” Raven said in wonder. “Does that mean…are you an Order Soul?”

Ladybug shook her head, “Sometimes I wish I was. But no. I am a fluid soul that is balanced between order and chaos.”

Raven’s mouth dropped open, and Ladybug thought she might start bowing again. But instead Beast Boy said, “Is that important?”

Raven spun on the green boy in a fury. A manhole cover exploded into the sky as the shadows of her cloak deepened. “Is that important?!” she scowled. And Beast Boy turned into a monkey and went to hide behind Starfire.

Ladybug quickly calmed the girl with a touch on her shoulder. Raven immediately began taking calming breaths, as Ladybug smiled fondly at her. It was not uncommon for magic users and magic creatures to treat her with reverence, and then proceed to defend her against any they deemed disrespectful or dangerous. Apparently, as wielder of the Black Cat, Ladybug, and Guardian of the Miraculous, she had a magic signature that screamed, “Cosmic Power Bow Before Be!” Lady Noire found it hilarious, while Ladybug couldn’t care less so she calmly explained, “There are many different types of souls. Incarnated, ethereal, demonic, and manifested.”

“Technically,” Raven said now that she had composed herself, although there was still an edge of bite to her voice. “I have a demonic soul, but thanks to my time in Azarath, I am also ethereal, making me dual soul capable of wielding both types of magic.”

“So souls can be changed?” Nightwing asked.

“Don’t pretend you understand any of that!” Kid Flash exclaimed.

“Just because you’re small mind in incapable of holding a complex conversation—” Robin began.

“Hey!” Kid Flash yelled.

“Enough!” Starfire stopped them, “Ladybug if you will continue.”

Ladybug smiled and said, “In answer to your question, Nightwing, yes souls can change and quiet easily too. But to keep things on topic, the rarest type of soul is a manifested one. Basically it means that this individual is capable of embodying the ideal and power of one or more of the cosmic forces.”

“The rarest are Order, Chaos, and Fluid,” Raven explained. “Fluid meaning that this person can embody more than one type of cosmic power.”

“So if Order and Chaos are rare,” Cyborg mused eyes widening in wonder, “Then a soul capable of both.”

Ladybug smiled and shrugged, “Apparently, I’m the type of being that only comes along every hundred years. The perfect Guardian as I am incapable of giving preference to one kwami over the other, at least not without becoming imbalanced and falling into a suicidal spiral that destroys my very existence.”

The Titans just stared at her wide eyed and horrified. But Raven just floated forward with shy anticipation. “Can I meet the kwami? If that is out of line, then I—”

Ladybug laughed and smiled. “I’m afraid you can’t meet Tikki or Plagg, since he’s with Lady Noire, and I’m not quiet ready to reveal myself. But you can meet the lion kwami…but perhaps not here…um.”

“You are most welcome to come to Titan’s Tower,” Starfire said serenely. “I have a feeling you and Raven have a lot to talk about. She has been a fan of yours ever since the Justice League—”

“Star!” Raven growled quietly. But Ladybug couldn’t stop smiling. She had nothing but respect for the half demon, especially once she heard about her battle with Trigon. And it warmed her heart to see the powerful magic user act like a teenager. A shy, quiet, but still passionate, and incredible teenager.

“It would be my honor to spend the day with you,” Ladybug said with as much sincerity as she could. “And Raven, I would gladly answer any question that you wish to ask. I myself have been a fan of yours ever since I heard about your battle with the Cult of Cthulhu.”

Raven started in surprise. “But that was years before Trigon. How did you know about that?”

Ladybug just smiled and winked, “Let’s just say I try to keep tabs on those who seem to have…an affinity with my charges. Remind me to introduce you to Nooroo one of these days.”

Raven seemed to have frozen in shock, as Robin sighed, and began directing her back towards the Tower. The rest of the Titans followed suit until chatting and laughing about their latest battle, and how good it felt not to have to rebuild the city…again. Ladybug found herself falling into step with Nightwing as Starfire flew off to explain the magic insects repairing all of the damage to the first responders.

“Nice work back there,” Nightwing said with his usual bright smile.

“Thank you,” Ladybug said returning the expression. “You too, but if I’m being honest, when I told you to lead him into the trap, a macarena flash mob was not what I had in mind.”

“Hey it worked didn’t it!” Nightwing cried with a laugh, “Besides, it’s good to cut loose every now and then, even in battle. If we can’t enjoy our work, then what’s the point of choosing this life?”

“True,” Ladybug mused, as she internally played with her Lady Noire mask. “But is that always how you have fun?”

“No,” Nightwing admitted, “That was a Titan’s special. When I’m with my brothers, we have competitions. Who can take out the most minions, or who can stay in the air the longest.”

“Clever,” Ladybug admitted.

“What does Lady Noire do to keep your missions interesting?”

Ladybug turned and raised an eyebrow at him. His was the face of innocence, even with the domino mask. But she did see the spark of something in his eyes, that told her this was more than just passing curiosity. She did not want to lie to him. So she told him the truth.

“To be honest Lady Noire and I haven’t fought that many battles together. She only took the Cat Miraculous, after the fall of Hawkmoth. The previous holder was…less than compatible. Selina found it absolutely offensive that he was the wielder of the cat, and convinced me to switch users once the battle was done. After that…well between rebuilding the Order of Guardians, her commissions, and the quest for the Miraculous, well…you can see how things can get in the way of team bonding.”

Nightwing nodded but his brow was furrowed in concern, “I see. But you still get the time to interact right. I mean teamwork only works if—”

“I can assure you Nightwing,” Ladybug said and she couldn't stop the amusement from seeping into her voice. “Lady Noire and I get every possible moment we can together. I doubt you will ever find a team more in sync than us.”

Nightwing nodded in consideration studying her carefully before catching her off guard. “Are you too sisters?”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s just…well, I’m trying to picture you without the mask, and it seems to me that you too could be related. You look so much alike. And you two seem really close despite not being together often. So…”

Ladybug grinned. She couldn’t help it. Whether he realized it or not, Nightwing was subconsciously recognizing her. And in battle he had filled the role of chaos so well, that she barely felt any changes in her energies even after pouring out so much creation. The Lady Noire in her just wanted to rip off her mask and laugh at his reaction. The Guardian wanted to maintain their strict anonymity. But in the end she was Ladybug. So, she just smiled and said,

“Lady Noire and I are not sisters. But I doubt it would be possible for anyone to know each other as well as we do, or to be closer in mind, body, and soul. And before you ask, we’re both straight.”

“Ah!” Nightwing said in both satisfaction and confusion. They went on in companionable silence. Swinging between the buildings, as the rest of the Titans flew or ran beside them. It only took three swings for Ladybug to notice, how in-sync she was with Nightwing. They danced on top of the buildings in a perfect rhythm. And when one did a trick, the other complimented them with perfect timing. The other Titans watched in wonder and awe. And more than once they thought, “are we sure Dick can’t fly?”

Dick collapsed onto the couch of the Titan’s Tower, exhausted. The kwami of the Lion Miraculous, Rexi, was adorable. But being around them seemed to amplify the worst qualities of the rambunctious teens. Mainly, Garth’s natural ability to get into trouble, Bart’s competitive edge, and Damian’s incessant need to adopt every cute animal he saw. And Rexi was probably one of the cutest things within a ten mile radius at the moment.

So as Dick was caught up wrangling the boys, the girls had disappeared into Raven’s room leaving him and Vic to keep the Tower together all by themselves. They were going to owe him for this. It was supposed to be a quiet weekend away from the crazy! Only now he had fought a giant light monster. Met Lady Noire’s elusive partner. And spent the entire afternoon trying to keep his brother from pissing off probably one of the most important magic leaders in the world. He just wanted to sleep!

But before he could pick himself up to drag his sagging body into his room, someone popped themselves beside him. He cracked an eye and saw Kori smiling at him. “I’m sorry about your weekend,” she said with her gentle smile. Dick groaned but flashed her a smirk to let her know that he wasn’t holding it against her.

“I should have known something like this would happen,” he said sitting up. “A mask asking for a day off is just asking for the apocalypse.”

Kori hummed in agreement before saying, “Ladybug seems nice. I told her about her standing invite to join the Justice League. She said Hippolyta already told her. Apparently the Queen of the Amazons trained her in her dreams, since neither of them could leave their homes during the Reign of Hawkmoth. Did you know she was one of the first Ladybug’s in history?”

“Kori,” Dick said, “I didn’t even know there were such a thing as Miraculous until Lady Noire stole one from the Gotham Museum. Right under my nose by the way!”

Kori laughed and nodded, “Yeah she told us about that too. She also told me the Lady Noire is very interested in getting to know the Waynes. Especially, certain members, who might need a few lessons in fashion. Which Lady Noire would very eagerly like to give.”

Dick shook his head, in an attempt to hide his growing grin. “Lady Noire is a pain in my ass.”

“And you weren’t a pain in mine when you were flirting with me?”

“Exactly! I’m supposed to be the one teasing! This is new territory for me.”

“In a bad way or a good way?”

Dick shrugged and ran a hand through his growing hair. “I don’t know Kor. She’s an amazing woman, funny, talented, kind, badass, beautiful. But whenever I’m around her, I can’t help but feel as if I’m missing something. It’s like looking at a puzzle, and you just know your missing a piece, but you have ten pieces left so you have no idea which one it is!”

“Have you tried talking to her about it? Maybe if you got to know her? You know…ask her on a date, or something.”

“I don’t even know if she’s interested in that. Last time we talked, I kinda got the impression that she’s had a bad experience with relationships.”

“So take it slow,” Kori said standing, “And get some sleep before heading back to Bludhaven, or Gotham, or wherever you’re based these days. And hey, if it doesn’t work out with Lady Noire, I have a feeling Ladybug might be interested too.”

Dick blinked in astonishment, “Seriously?”

Kori nodded with a smirk, “I think you impressed her with you dance moves. So, congratulations, you have successfully gained the interest of the two most influential magic users in the known galaxy! And if you mess it up with either of them, I think Raven is going to send you straight to hell. Good luck!”

Dick just stared out the window as Kori walked away laughing to herself. What was he even supposed to be doing with that information…Sleep. He needed sleep. With his luck this would all end up being some sort of crazy dream, and he’d wake up back in his Bludhaven apartment. But even as he tromped towards his usual room, he couldn’t help but think, “God, I really hope this isn’t a dream.

Next

@tails-and-scales @the-ghost-trader @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @the-dumber-scaramouche @yoonjae20 @robyalix @seraphichana @iglowinggemma28 @taewinterbear95 @heretopasstimebi @littleblue5mcdork @quotesandanime @komatsuna-yuki @attractivemyfoot @deathssilentapproach-blog @vel-vee @vixen-uchiha @lady-bee-fechin @qualityhistorygamingwinner @its-maemain  @meira-3919 @raven-ette @doglover82 @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @laurcad123 @crazylittlemunchkin @iamablinkmarvelarmy

[talesofsorrowandofruin]

Seven Snippets Seven People Tag

Thanks for tagging me, @imaginationxlost! :D

Rules: post seven snippets from a WIP and tag seven people. I’ll do this for Like Snow on Hungry Graves:

1.

Konstantine had learnt as a child that he could unnerve people with his eyes. It was part of his inheritance from his mother. Unlike her he couldn't cast a spell on someone by looking at them, unlike her he couldn't make them say everything on their mind, but he could stare at them until their skin crawled and they spoke just to make him look away.

2.

Konstantine felt his skin crawl as he looked up at his father. He couldn't keep the disgust off his face or out of his voice. "So you have summoned me to replace my soon-to-be-murdered brother."

"Oh no." A ghastly smile crossed the emperor's face. "No, I would never throw away the life of one of my true-born sons."

Light began to dawn. "So you see a way to get rid of your unwanted half-breed bastard."

The emperor nodded, his self-satisfied expression returning. "Exactly. I'm glad to see we understand each other."

3. 

Hariye was never sure afterwards what had made him jump into the river. He'd intended to walk along it until he was safely out of the city and could find another way to travel. But somehow, illogical though it sounded, the water had called to him. He answered that call without thinking.

Then he got a nasty shock when he found himself in deep water for the first time in his life. He promptly got another slightly less nasty shock when he discovered he knew how to swim even though no one had ever taught him before. In fact he'd never even been in any water deeper than his bathtub or the swimming pool for the princes. But the biggest shock of all came five minutes later.

It didn't register with him at first. All he thought about it was, Hmm, I've been underwater for a long time.

Then he realised: I should need to breathe.

And that led to the earth-shattering discovery: I am breathing! I can breathe underwater!

4.

A hand grabbed the boat's side. Ketevan recoiled with a yelp. It was a human's hand, but with webbing between the fingers and strangely sharp, pointed nails. The skin was dead white with hints of blue and green. Horrible ideas of drowned people returning as ghosts filled her mind. She reached for the nearest oar. Then all thoughts of ghosts disappeared, because another hand joined the first one and their owner pulled themselves up so they could see into the boat.

No living human had ever seen a mer. The only surviving evidence of their existence was in the drawings in historical documents and the jewellery made from their iridescent scales. But Ketevan had seen enough of those drawings to know what they looked like. They had gills at their neck, patches of scales on their face, upper arms, and torso frilly fins along their arms and back, and below the waist they had a long tail like a fish's.

The person staring at her over the boat's side looked as if he had stepped right out of those drawings.

5.

It wasn't far to the beach. Ketevan stumbled out onto dry land in a way that even she had to admit was clumsy -- though only to herself. She turned, expecting to see the mer had gone back to the sea, and got yet another shock.

The mer had followed her onto the beach. But he was no longer a mer. His gills, scales and tail were gone. In their place was a perfectly normal, apparently perfectly human teenage boy. He was pale, yes, but it was a normal, human paleness without any corpse-like undertones. He tried futilely to wring the water out of his hair and shirt before giving up.

6.

Events of the next few hours strengthened Ketevan's idea. Hariye never mentioned his mer form. He had apparently never visited the sea before. He had no clear idea of where the nearest town was, and once they found it he didn't know where the nearest port was. When she tried very carefully to ask how he was able to swim so well he shrugged and said he'd been surprised too. It looked more and more as if he honestly didn't know he was a mer, or else had only just discovered it and didn't understand the full implications of that.

Two ideas warred in Ketevan's mind. One, whoever had a fresh supply of mer scales would become one of the richest and most powerful people in the world. If she forced him into his mer form she could harvest his scales. Two, he'd saved her life. He was young and naïve and had no idea he was in danger from people who would want his scales.

7. 

Hariye had spent his entire life under the watchful eye of someone. If not his nursemaid, then his siblings. If not his siblings, then his father. If not his father, then his servants. If not his servants, then the palace guards. Even when he was physically alone he knew other people were never more than a few rooms away and would come running if he gave the slightest indication he needed anything.

At some point he had realised that he was treated differently from his half-brothers. They could go anywhere they liked and were left alone when they wanted to be. When he was younger he'd asked his older sister why he wasn't allowed to behave like them.

"It's because you're so much more important," she'd said. "We have to keep you safe at all costs."

Back then Hariye had accepted this explanation without question. He'd spent weeks being insufferably smug because he was more important than his brothers, in fact. Now, after being away from his family for almost a week, he looked back at that and began to wonder. What on earth was so special about him that he was treated like he was made of glass? And for that matter, how had he managed to sneak out unseen? It had seemed like extraordinary luck at the time but now made him wonder if his servants had just plain been sick of watching him all the time.

Tagging @saltysupercomputer, @itsaprildaydreams, @junypr-camus, @words-after-midnight, @creatrackers, @spuddlespud, and anyone else who wants to do this! :D

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 6: The Reef

Chapter 33

I am so wildly depressed. I don’t need Katniss’s mother to tell me that. But she does, with reassuring words and a kind smile and simple instructions to do something I enjoy even if it’s for ten minutes a day. I ask her if I can have some paper and a pencil. I want to draw.

That night, when I get back to 405 for the scheduled half-hour of down-time before supper, I find a whole empty notebook and three pencils on my bed. Katniss’s mother is the real hero in District Thirteen.

I don’t know how long we’ve been here.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Alvan tells me it has been three weeks since I moved into 405 as we leave the classroom after an hour lecture on nuclear history. I spent it making imaginary doodles, drawing on the desk with my finger. I couldn’t care less about nuclear history even before I lost everything that mattered.

We go down to lunch and sit at our usual spot at the end of the long table. Gloss takes the end, I sit next to him, and Alvan sits across from him. We’ve found it works best to create a buffer between Gloss and everyone else. He’s the least popular person I know of in Thirteen and most people will sit literally anywhere other than next to him.

Today, though, a little boy with that distinct Twelve look sits down next to Alvan across from me. A slightly younger boy sits next to him, and a tiny girl sits next to me. About a minute later, a woman who can only be their mother sits next to the girl, and a young man joins the boys. Him I think I recognize, but in the stupidest possible way.

“You’re Katniss’s cousin. The one they interviewed during her Games.”

He looks confused for half a second, then nods.

“You’re not really her cousin.”

An impressed grin flashes across his face. “I’m not.” Then he leans forward, stretching a hand across the table. “Gale Hawthorne.”

I shake the offered hand. “Annie Cresta.”

“I know,” he says, still friendly. I can tell he doesn’t care about all the stuff that comes with me being Annie Cresta. He just cares that I’m here, and that even crazy Annie could see through the Capitol’s lies about him. Then Gale’s gaze flickers to my side and I glance over to see the little girl staring at me.

“Posy,” the woman says, “We don’t stare.”

Posy ignores her and instead says, with the widest eyes I have ever seen, “Your hair is beautiful.”

I smile. If these little kids aren’t terrified of us, maybe life isn’t so bad. “Thank you.”

One of the boys next to her says, “Is it true you treaded water for eight hours?”

The woman turns to glare at him. “Rory, give the poor girl some peace. The last thing she needs is reminded of that horrible time.”

Rory hangs his head. “I was just wondering. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright,” I say. I may as well get used to people asking questions like this. At least they’re talking to me. And sitting with us. And at least kids don’t judge. “I did. It made me really glad I was good at swimming.”

“What’s your favorite kind of fish?” the other boy blurts. “We only had one kind we ever ate in Twelve and it wasn’t very good.”

The woman seems to have given up. “Vick…” she sighs.

Down the table, Gale is chuckling. “Sorry about them. When we came in, I told them who you were and now they have a million questions.”

I smile. “That’s fine.” I lean toward Vick. “They’re not technically a fish, but shrimp are my favorite. Spicy shrimp rolls on a rainy winter day… mmmmmm.”

“What do they taste like?” Rory jumps back in.

I frown. What do shrimp taste like? How do I explain them to this poor kid from Twelve? Shrimp taste like whatever you cook them in, which is usually butter and garlic, at least in my house. “Butter and garlic,” I say.

He’s an octopus, he’ll taste like whatever I cook him in. Beck and Mags are laughing at an indignant Finnick. I laugh with them. The great Finnick Odair, reduced to a terrified quivering mass by an annoyed cephalopod.

“Annie?”

I snap to attention. All three of the kids are staring at me. Wide-eyed, I turn to Alvan.

He gives me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. We’re here. You’re safe.”

I don’t know what happened and I’m not about to ask, but the sudden silence around the table means it unnerved these poor kids. All they wanted was to learn unimportant little details about me, and instead they got full-sails crazy.

Gale saves us from the impending silence. He leans forward around the boys and says to Alvan, “Alvan, right?”

Alvan nods, leaning back and extending a hand around Rory and Vick. “Pleased to meet ya.”

“You too.” Gale shakes his hand. “Met Dalton yet? He came up here from Ten a few years ago, I guess.”

“Yeah, turns out I used to work for his uncle.”

Alvan and Gale dissolve into some discussion about raising cattle, and Vick and Rory quickly get bored with that and start telling me all about themselves.

“I smashed my finger yesterday!” Vick says.

“Smashed your finger?” I slip into that intense interest that I haven’t used since the last time I saw Cassia Vickers. I start to wonder what is happening to her these days, but force myself to pay attention to the boys across from me.

Vick nods, holding his hand up so I can see the blackened fingernail on his pointer finger. “My class was helping carry supplies from one level to another and I got bumped around and smashed it between the box and the wall.”

“You must be pretty tough,” I say.

He puffs up. “I am.”

“So am I!” Rory says. “I won the wrestling contest for my class last year at school!”

“Did you?”

Rory and Vick spend the next twenty minutes telling me about their various achievements and leaving me little time to respond, which means I can just listen and eat my flavorless soup and handful of grapes and nod or gasp when appropriate.

When our scheduled lunch time is over, we all stand.

“Rory, Vick, Posy, it was nice to meet you.” I give them another smile, then glance at the woman. “And… I’m sorry…” I don’t remember hearing her name, but as reliable as my mind is, it’s hard to tell.

“Hazelle,” she smiles. “I’m Gale’s mom. And these three’s,” she rolls her eyes affectionately.

That makes sense. “It was nice to meet you too, Hazelle.”

She nods. “You too, Annie. You’re always welcome to eat with us, if you can stand it.” Then she extends her smile to Alvan and Gloss. “And you two as well. We know what it’s like to be the outsiders.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Our meal times don’t always match up with the Hawthorne family’s, but when they do, we make sure to sit together. Those kids are amazing, and I tell Hazelle as much one day when they leave before the rest of us to get to class.

“I’m serious. Nobody else will even look at Gloss, and they’re not much better to me and Alvan.”

“I know,” she says, sounding sad. “It’s hard to… Twelve had nothing. It’s hard to look at a Career being mopey and feel bad for him. And Alvan… I know what happened to him, but… he did kill his District counterpart, and that’s hard to overlook in the poor districts. But the kids,” now she smiles, “the kids don’t know that. They just want to hear about life in other places. And now that I know what you’re all like, it's much easier for me too.” Hazelle puts a hand on my shoulder. “I wish you all the best, Annie.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Peeta is on TV, talking to Caesar Flickerman. Peeta is alive. Caesar asks him a question, but all I hear is, “Mags! You wouldn’t lie to us. Do you eat whale in District Four?”

No one has any idea how many victors are still alive, after twelve of them were lined up and shot. The Capitol hasn’t announced any deaths among the others, but maybe they wouldn’t. Or maybe they did and I forgot. Or faded out and didn’t hear. All of those people. My friends. Where are they? What’s happening to them?

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

The next day, we are all called to an assembly in the Collective, a huge room that easily holds the thousands of people who show up. It had to have been built for large gatherings, but since the pox epidemic that Dalton told us about at supper either yesterday or three weeks ago, they can’t have had any need for such a large space. Now that everyone except those with essential jobs are gathered together, I can see how widespread the fallout from the pox is. There are scars everywhere, and the children are few and far between, and most of them slightly disfigured.

Then Coin approaches the podium, calls us to attention, and begins. In the shortest speech I have ever heard, she tells us that Katniss has agreed to be the Mockingjay, provided the victors we lost to the Capitol—Peeta—the crowd is unimpressed by this—Finnick, Johanna, Cecelia, Cashmere—here she starts to lose the crowd to rumbles of dissent—Brutus, and Enobaria—as well as any other victors that are still alive and in the Capitol’s control, will be granted full pardon for any damage they do to the rebel cause.

The crowd’s hostility grows. I can tell exactly where Katniss is standing among them by following the funnel of angry looks.

But Alvan turns to Gloss and me, smiling broadly as he mutters, “Hear that? They’re takin’ care’a y’all.”

Indeed they seem to be. I smile as well. Katniss has demanded Peeta back for herself, but she has also demanded Finnick and Johanna, and Cashmere for Gloss, and Cecelia, and even Brutus and Enobaria, who tried to kill us.

Katniss Everdeen is perhaps not so unfriendly and aloof as the Capitol would have had the rest of the victors believe.

Coin goes on. “But in return for this unprecedented request, Soldier Everdeen has promised to devote herself to our cause. It follows that any deviation from her mission, in either motive or deed, will be viewed as a break in this agreement. The immunity would be terminated and the fate of the victors determined by the law of District Thirteen. As would her own. Thank you.”

Now I hope Katniss is good at listening to instructions and playing the game. Because I’m not losing them again.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We are all quiet at supper that night. Even Posy, Vick, and Rory.

Finally, even though I know a discussion of hypotheticals won’t make me feel better, or guarantee Katniss will play nice with Coin, I look at Alvan. “Why didn’t you go after them too?”

“Katniss was never my job.”

I frown. He was in on it though, wasn’t he?

Alvan smiles a little, reaches across the table, and squeezes one of my hands. “You were my job. We knew you’d stick with Finnick, but we knew he might have to chase down Katniss or somethin’, so we needed someone-”

“Someone I’d trust.” I smile back at him. “Thank you.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

The next morning, our wrist schedules don’t print the usual nightmare of classes and organized exercise. Instead, it is breakfast, and then Command.

“That’s new.” Gloss frowns at his.

I nod, watching mine print on as well. “You think we did something wrong?”

Alvan shakes his head. “I think Coin remembered she’s got more victors. They’re gonna make us an offer.”

“Or a threat,” Gloss says darkly.

“’N’ what’ll ya do if they do?” Alvan asks as we leave 405 to go to breakfast. “Tell ’em no? With nothin’ to bargain with?”

We eat breakfast in silence. I am digesting what Alvan said, and what he didn’t say, what was left on the fringes. I have less than nothing to bargain with. All I have is things they can use against me.

I’m not Katniss.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

We enter Command together, after showing both guards the schedules on our wrists, and a third guard checking something on his computer. Apparently after the stunts Gloss and I tried to pull, they’re keeping tighter tabs on us when it comes to what rooms we try to get into.

Inside, sitting around a rectangular table, surrounded by TV screens, are Coin and her bodyguard, whose name I don’t know, Plutarch, and his assistant Fulvia. Coin gives us her best look of neutral displeasure.

Plutarch, however, smiles and gestures for us to sit.

I sit in my usual spot next to Gloss, like I would at meals, only to find Alvan sitting down on my other side.

You were my job.

Alvan apparently takes his jobs very seriously.

I brace for terrible news, for threats against my family and friends, for everything Snow has said and would have said if he’d had one more meeting with me.

What I get is something entirely unexpected.

Coin leans forward, steepling her fingers in front of her chin as she leans her elbows on the table and scrutinizes us. “Will you fight?” she asks.

I blink.

“Fight?”

“What?”

Plutarch jumps in. “We have our Mockingjay. We have…” he takes a deep breath, “Haymitch, who knows how to work with her, and is very smart despite how he sometimes acts. We have Beetee, developing weapons and technology. And we have you three.”

I want to make some joke about how we’re the two they didn’t want and one they wanted the rest of us to kill, but Plutarch goes on.

“You are victors,” he says.

This feels like a trap. Like I just ran out of water tablets and Plutarch is promising me more if only I’ll walk around this blind corner, jump into this murky water, swim into this cave. He is a Gamemaker, after all. I frown.

“Why?” Alvan asks quietly. “Ya got your Mockingjay. Haven’t we fought enough?”

Coin opens her mouth, but Plutarch beats her to it. “We don’t need you to go to the front lines. We just need you to look like you’re fighting. We need your faces and your support.”

“You need us to be your Peeta,” I say, surprising even myself.

Plutarch nods. “If the districts see other victors standing up with Katniss… Well, it could turn the tide.”

“I’m not the moon, Plutarch.”

“Agreed, but everyone loved the Tiger Shark.”

His statement hangs in the air for a while.

I look at the table, thinking. I’m not sure I can trust myself to do anything. It’s not life-or-death anymore, something I have to do to survive, and I don’t have Finnick to keep me grounded.

Finnick.

Like I’ve willed him into existence, I see his name on the table. I frown. Then I realize it is Coin’s speech from last night. The hard copy, laying here on the table in front of us, a promise and a threat, hanging over our heads.

I nod.

“I s’pose,” Alvan says. “Who knows what y’all’ll do to me ’f I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Gloss says.

“Excellent!” Plutarch claps his hands together. “Fulvia, we’ll need those costumes as soon as possible, and we’ll have to get with Beetee for weapons, and-”

Coin is still giving us the neutral look of displeasure.

“What?” Alvan frowns back at her. “Y’ain’t so sure now that ya got us?”

The neutral look of displeasure deepens to a real frown. “You may be victors to the rest of Panem, but here you are citizens like the rest of us. I assure you, I have made no promises to anyone for your safety. It would be unfortunate if I had to arrange for an accident to befall any of you if you were no longer useful.” Then she stands and leaves.

Alvan stares after her. Gloss stares through the table.

My hands are shaking. I’ve heard this before.

It didn’t matter what they threatened her with. It never has. I guess this was the easiest solution.

The door closes.

“I don’t want to be Megary,” I whisper, before I can stop myself.

“Ya won’t.” Alvan grabs my wrist. “Hear me, Annie? No more Megarys.”

Gloss’s head whips around to stare at Plutarch. “I’ve played this game before,” he growls, “and I don’t want to play it again.”

Plutarch watches us for several seconds. Then he nods, very slowly. “Nothing bad will happen to any of you, I give you my word. And I won’t let President Coin threaten any of your people to make you cooperate.”

“I don’t have anyone she can get hold of, Plutarch,” Alvan snaps. “That’s the only reason I’m still fightin’.” Then he stands up and storms toward the door.

I follow, Gloss right behind me.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Fulvia tracks us down in minutes and sends us down to Special Weaponry, where four guards verify our identities, and Fulvia’s, in four different ways, before finally letting us through the door.

Beetee, sitting in a wheelchair, meets us inside. “I see you decided to join up,” he says with something close to a smile. He turns his gaze to Fulvia. “Thank you, Fulvia, that will be all.”

Fulvia nods and leaves.

“This way.” Beetee wheels away, off toward a wall with a big work table in front of it. On the table is an assortment of knives, two swords, and two spears. On the wall hangs what I can only call a cornucopia’s worth of weapons.

I catch myself approaching the table, trailing my fingers along one of the copper-colored spears.

“They collapse,” Beetee says. “I wanted them to be as easy to carry as possible, should you need it.” He picks up the spear near the point. “Just twist-” he twists the top eight inches one way, and the rest of it the other way, “-here.” The spear sucks in on itself, shrinking to maybe eighteen inches long, with the point still sharp and ready. It’s still a weapon, but now it’s a shank. Beetee passes me the other spear and lets me collapse it myself, then expand both by twisting them the other way.

I nod. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I hope the weights are correct.”

I hold one, feeling out the balance. “A little heavy, but I’m a little out of fighting shape.”

Beetee gestures down the room, to a dummy range down the long wall.

“Hm.” I heft the spear in my hand, take a few steps forward in a wind-up, and hurl the spear toward one of the training dummies. The spear sinks into its stomach with a satisfying thump. I smile. At least I won’t be defenseless when Coin tries to make me into Megary.

I throw spears—my own collapsible pair and a half-dozen normal spears Beetee has laying around—while Beetee talks Alvan through the pair of swords and their slight differences and Gloss through his choice of throwing knives, and a nice belt to carry them on.

Before too long, Gloss is next to me at the dummy range, throwing knives with an accuracy that is both terrifying and comforting. I tell myself the dummies are fish. Big swordfish, on the line for hours, on the fight. It’s easier that way.

We only quit when it’s time for supper. My muscles are pleasantly sore. And I have no idea what they want us to do with our new toys that we had to leave locked down in Special Weaponry.

****

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