#slowly but surely figuring out this procreate thing. maybe.

[raiiny-bay]

redhead :-)

[sunsetsands]

Almud Masterpost

Seemed like a good idea to create a place to compile information about the main planet project I have going.

Most of the pictures here are hand-drawn. I have slowly been improving at digital art, so I do intend on gradually replacing them with procreate recreations, but until then, have these messy pencil illustrations.

The planet’s name is Almud (pronounced “awl-MOO-duh�� (yes, the D at the end is its own syllable)). It is the second planet from its star, an orange dwarf. Conditionswise, Almud is very similar to Earth, just a lot warmer and wetter, and without a single large moon. Instead, it has a somewhat recently-formed system of rings. These rings are made of the debris from the planet’s former moon, which floated in past the Roche limit a few dozen million years ago and got torn apart. Almud may or may not also have a smaller moon or two somewhere further out. I haven’t decided on that yet.

This is a map of Almud’s entire geography, which is slightly outdated. I’ll probably make an updated version at some point eventually possibly maybe. If you’re curious, those numbers on the continents were so I could keep track of continental drift to make sure everything made sense. I care way too much about tiny details.

This is a rough (and I mean very rough. Not proud of my craftsmanship on the outlines here) approximation of what Almud’s surface looks like. The foliage uses a teal pigment to photosynthesize, and the sky appears pink during the day. Obviously, not all of the planet is wetlands, but there are definitely more wetlands than there are on Earth thanks to the much higher humidity.

I have spent a lot of time trying to figure out what Almud’s animal-equivalent life should be like. After several failed attempts, however, I think I have gotten it to a point I am satisfied with. Below is a phylogenetic tree of all of the “animal” phyla present on Almud, and an overview of what each phylum has going on. I tried not to rip off Earth's phylogeny too much, but there are some notable parallels.

Vaxistoma (roughly "vaccine mouth"): Small fishlike creatures that feed through a proboscis with an extendible needle-tooth-thing inside of it. The rest of their body is covered in thick, hard scales. They mainly inhabit deeper waters where aquatic duossei are less common.

Duosseus ("two skeletons"): The closest equivalent to vertebrates. First members were fishlike, with calcified plates covering the outside of their bodies and rod-shaped bones supporting the inside. The outer skeleton atrophied mostly in the terrestrial members, but most classes do still have notable remnants, as shown in the small drawing above.

Limosus ("muddy, slimy things"): Soft, squishy creatures without much in terms of an internal skeleton, but most groups do have some external armor like their relatives listed above. Can be accurately summarized as "molluscs, but more alieny", though a few members are more like worms or sea stars.

Jocomodivirae (very roughly "funny little guys"): Small velvet worm-esque invertebrates with a thick, leathery pad over their back. A very diverse phylum with many, many members. Definitely not just insects with no exoskeletons.

Planagelattae ("flat jellies"): What if flatworms had three eyes?

Xenigmalus ("strange, mysterious things"): I can't think of a good way of describing these, which is pretty fitting for what they are. Body plans vary wildly here, but are almost always some combination of fins, tentacles, and a big translucent sack. Like the vaxistomans, they usually inhabit deeper waters.

Cornivermia ("horned worms"): Pretty self-explanatory. The flat, hard bits at the fronts of their heads help them dig through softer areas of soil. Some groups use these growths instead as something more akin to pincers, fins, hooks, or shells.

Carniherbae ("meat plants"): You know those animal-fern things from the Ediacaran era? These are just those, but not extinct.

Vivitria ("living glass"): Soft, feathery insides protected by a crystalline silicate shell. Many species in this phylum are colonial, which tend to look like colorful, floating geodes. These colonies often have surprisingly complex sensory capabilities, and some have been found to be about as intelligent as Earth cats.

Xylovitria ("wood glass"): Terrestrial relatives of the vivitrians, almost all of which are colonial. The defining feature of this phylum, besides their terrestriality, is their symbiotic relationship with a wide range of plant-equivalent species. The xylovitrian colony forms a protective, glassy wall around the plants' branches, as well as a system of feathery roots beneath the soil which serve to both gather nutrients for their plant partner and exchange gametes with other colonies to create new, empty xylovitrians for the plants' seeds to land in. In return, the plant gives the colony some of the byproducts of its photosynthesis.

Chiforma ("X-shaped"): Four-sided radially symmetrical creatures. Contains such captivatingly creative groups such as "squids, but four", "clams, but four", "eels, but four", and, most creataculiciously of all, "coral, but four". A shining example of the innovation that specbio nerds are capable of.

Nodovellis ("tangled hair"): Formless, sessile filter feeders. Basically a slime mold trying really hard to be a sponge, but the closest it could get was becoming a loofah.

(Feel free to give critiques or advice on the scientific names I made. All I really did here was mess around with google translate. I know there are guidelines and policies for what is and isn't an acceptable phylum title, but I've never been able to understand what any of them mean. If anything immediately makes you go "That's not how that works!", let me know)

For some additional information, I imagine that life on Almud began in freshwater rather than saltwater. This made the transition to land pretty easy for most of the animals, since they could afford to just flop around in muddy wetlands without any risk of drying out. This does mean that their skin is very, very sensitive to salt, however.

There is one sapient species on Almud: These slug things. Their actual species name is Akada, if that's important. Akada are descended from a social burrowing species that learned how to cultivate the many plants and molds that thrived in the dark, wet conditions of their tunnels. They are herbivorous, have a herd animal-like social structure, and currently have a level of technological advancement similar to ours. For more miscellaneous and mostly jokey info on them, please look here.

I will expand on all of this when/if I find the time and motivation.

[disregardcanon]

npmd nbc's community au

these aren't exact roleswaps or anything, more approximations

Grace as Shirley

Max as Troy

Pete as Annie

Richie as Abed

Ruth as Britta

Steph as Jeff

Ziggy as Duncan

grace is in her mid-twenties instead of her thirties, but she still has kids. we're going with a four year old and a two year old. she recently left her her husband because he's trying to go like... fundamentalist as opposed to her very evangelical roots. think quiverful and stop being active in community life shit. and grace is like??? uh... no? we are having Four Children and i have Very Important Things to Do and When Our Kids Are In Grade School I'm Going Back to School and Into the Workforce, jerk? (the jerk is gabe.)

she decides to divorce him and is suddenly... a single mother with two young children and no work experience. oh boy. mark and karen aren't HAPPY about her divorcing her husband, but they also trust her judgement and aren't actually from the very patriarchal and Procreation Is the Only Way to Honor God school of fundies. the chastities only have one kid, after all, and for all their faults... they seem like a loving couple. i dunno. i'm giving them the benefit of the doubt on this one.

so grace, mother of two and recent divorcee, enrolls in greendale community college and moves back in with her parents, who help her take care of the kids.

steph- as jeff. this is not because the names rhyme but that IS kind of funny. she's in her mid twenties and just got disbarred for Not Having A Law Degree, How the FUCK Did You Fake That?!?!?!?!? hint: her dad is a lawyer both before and after becoming the mayor and steph is very good at just. making shit up and trying to sound like she knows what she's talking about.

she ran away from home late in high school and slowly built up a life for herself and a job and a string of partners that she couldn't really connect with because, huh. maybe lying about your age and your schooling and your everything makes it difficult to connect with people emotionally? who woulda thought.

her friend ziggy is a professor at the school and is able to get her in, and she realizes that since she's actually here. in school. she has to figure out how to scrape by. a... study group? maybe? ugh. she hates that idea.

pete- as annie edison. he's 20 years old and still trying to cling to his high school dreams by his teeth. unlike annie edison, he was bullied extensively, but JUST like annie edison he was very successful in high school and a lot of that was because of misuse of stimulant medications.

due to an overdose during high school finals week, he's able to graduate but lost his spot as valedictorian because he got zeroes on his finals and final projects due to missing it. he also did not get to walk at graduation because he was. hospitalized. as the doctors tried to figure out how to wean him off these things and deal with the interactions between his diabetes and a constant misuse of stimulants for over a year.

rehab took almost a year, and his parents are so unpleasant about his failures and the fact that he lost out on all these amazing schools he applied to for getting caught that they can't even. be kind about him recovering at all or getting into community college SO that he can go to a university like he hoped. it gets so nasty with his parents that he packs it up and moves onto ted's couch, which at least. is better than being guilted for breathing at home.

HE is the first one that steph approaches about a study group, but not as much because she wants to sleep with him (like jeff and britta) as because he seems like he'd do her homework for her and "a group" that's only them will make sure he doesn't think this is a DATE but also if she doesn't look for anyone else she doesn't have to deal with that.

ruth- as britta, but she's the one who least easily maps onto her character. a lot of that's because britta is a lot less well written than the others? the big thing we're going with for ruth is that she's done a LOT but she's been unsuccessful with stuff. protests, relationships, acting career, community organizing, relationships. she's in her early thirties and back in her hometown trying to take care of some gen eds so she can get licensed to teach acting and make some kind of consistent money.

she is VERY horny, she is actually quite talented, and now that she's not a bullied high schooler anymore she is actually super hot. that's the reason that when she says she wants to join the "study group" when she overhears steph pitching it to pete steph decides to actually go with it. (they have an on again off again thing for a while but it doesn't really work out. steph and ruth end up making each other MORE insecure and really digging into each other's tender spots.)

richie- as abed! he has so much autism! he draws manga and relates to the world through anime! he decides to attach himself to steph very early on because he's like "now that's an anime protagonist right there ladies and gents" and she's like i don't know what that means. and he's like!!!!!!! YOU!!!!!! iT MEANS YOU!!!!!!! his relationships with everyone becomes the heart of the story and he is NOT a loser.

max- as troy. he took a terrible fall right before his team went to state. they probably would have won if he was playing, but he wasn't. so they lost. he was injured so badly that he spent a month in a wheelchair, a few months on crutches and then a long time in physical therapy. he kept thinking that maybe (maybe!) he could still play college ball and trying to pitch himself to schools desperately over the summer, but he can't and his grades were shit. so he was only able to get into greendale.

he doesn't still do physical bullying (largely because he's still shaky from his injury) but he is VERY mean and joins the study group for two reasons: grace decided to insert herself into the situation and he thinks it's really hot she turned him down and is older, and two: he knows he won't make it through this community college thing by himself. he doesn't have any leeway anymore from being a sports star and he knows he's bad at school.

pete doesn't want to let him in because they went to high school together (like annie and troy) but max was his bully instead of his far off crush. so he's like yeah no thank you i am not interested in this. if he's here i'm leaving. and the whole rest of the group knows that he's going to pull them through this by the teeth so they're like maxwell jagerman if you do not Make Amends to that boy we aren't gonna let you sit at our lunch table. he's almost ready to see if he can just bully someone else into tutoring him instead, but then grace gets flirty like If You Repent Maybe I willllll go for you. so he tries to make things better and they become A Study Group

slowly, he starts to grow as a person and open himself up to having fun and being kind. he and grace have a romantic entanglement that the whole group just HATES that eventually dies, and then he and richie get into a Whatever Troy and Abed have going on. i think it's qpr but interpret how you wish

ziggy is a botany professor and what? of COURSE they're not growing weed in the greenhouse to sell to emma perkins and her dispensary. hahaha you've got this all wrong they are an UPSTANDING professor of an UPSTANDING subject! which does not include marijuana!

grace and ruth, actually, eventually end up together after their entanglements with max and steph respectively. ruth is amazing with grace's kids? and she's also very very sexy and their roleplay helps grace feel... less bad about herself and her desires? she works through some internalized hatred for both having sexual desire and being bi and ruth both finds it all very attractive and is mature enough to help her through it? they both have The Life Experience that max jagerman and his very limited emotional intelligence... did not

steph and pete keep accidentally being attracted to each other and getting VERY upset about it because that is a guy that wears bow ties and is still so tightly wound he might snap and that's a girl who cheated her way through two degrees and a bar exam. the age difference is a little less than jeff and annie since i aged pete up a little and steph down a little, but it is still VERY weird and they cannot figure out if either of them even want to be in a relationship or if it would be good for them or what. but by god do they keep gravitating towards each other. and each time they collide again they're a little more compatible (I NEVER WANTED YOU AAANNNYYYWAAAYY)

[tangy-soup]

Hii lookie! Even though I only made like 4 fully rendered pieces this year, I'm happy with what I've done this year!

(For months where I dont't have fully rendered finished pieces I put in the next closest thing I have that month.)

Ramble under the cut where I try to go over each month

General overview:

Funny thing I've noticed is how often I used cool tones this year bc my older art (that ive never shown from like 2 years ago) was characterized by warm tones

Even though I work through fully rendered pieces super slowly and barely come out of the year with any, I'm super proud of my progress this year! I've learnt and grown a lot as an artist and have also realized my potential. With that though also comes my fear of not being able to top what I've done, which I'm trying to work on! My issue is I tend to produce a lot of art when feeling highly inspired by a media, and right now I don't exactly feel the same kind of spontaneous and passionate inspiration as I did during the year. I'm definitely dealing with some sort of mental block right now when it comes to digital art and I'm hoping to get through that soon because I miss the process of making something I love through drawing!!

January:

honestly thought the boatem piece was done last year so I was surprised to find it in my January files! This piece was kind of a turning point for my art as it was my first more complex pieces (i had not previously done a piece w more than 1 character in it really). It was a lot of work and I was very nervous about it but I'm quite proud of what I was able to do!

Late january is also when i started sketching out the ethubs piece actually (i work slow)!

February:

I didn't actually do a ton of art this month, as I tend to take a break and slow down right after finishing a piece. At this point I was very keen on doing pose studies traditionally. I posted some of these and most of them were desert duo.

This month i started to really figure out my dnd character Ethe's main design as our campaign was starting. So, i did a portrait of her for that. The rest of February was working on ethubs and studying how to paint grass and clouds and just sketching here and there. I think desert duo brain rot was strongest this month

March:

March was also a mix of pose studies and random sketches and FINALLY FINISHING ETHUBS. I was also doing some art for dnd ^_^

April:

I finished the dragonborn npc centered dnd piece this month, and also began sketching out the cleo piece. In between working on cleo I did some joe art including an animatic featuring the wordle boarder and the sketch for biblically accurate joe :D

May:

Pretty much anytime i had procreate open in may I was working on Cleo. This is the most ambitious art project I have taken on and I wasn't sure if I was able to make it how I wanted, so I was kind of slow and on and off with it. I ended up putting it down towards the end of the month and did some more personal illustrations

June:

Big month for my dnd blorbos tbh! I introduced a sister for Ethe and was working on her design and their interactions. I also got a bigger sketchbook this month and did a bunch of traditional studies. I finished the flats for cleo this month and took a break so most of the art I did were sketches

July:

I was in the home stretch for cleo and with the help of my friends telling me to finish it i finally pushed through and finished it. I couldnt be happier w the results!! it's one of my proudest pieces this year and I put in so much work for it. But after I finished it i took a huge break from mcyt art and focused on dnd art yet again.

August:

My work for the multidimensional big bang started this month!! I worked out the character design early august and had a sketch for the full piece by the end of the month. In the meantime I was actually working on a cat painting I never posted... maybe I'll post it in an end of year art dump

September:

This month was all about the big bang piece. I had so much fun doing it and am super proud of the finished product. Im especially happy with the composition and inclusion of the background characters!!

October:

Again. Major break from making full pieces after finishing a huge one last month. I think I spent more of my creative energy elsewhere like my writing. Also school started again and I had moved apartments and there was a lot of irl stuff preventing me from drawing. I did try to do traditional studies if I could

November:

Kind of a dead month for drawing. Super busy w school, chugging my way through Ethe's ref sheet i started months ago.

December:

Literally haven't drawn anything new besides a new years illustration for greeting cards. I picked up crocheting again and have been spending a lot of creative energy on that instead, but to keep my drawing going I've been doing more figure studies in my sketch book i guess!

[kate-komics]

Okay, so I LOVE your comics SO MUCH!!!! So much so, that I wanna make a comic of my own too. I also use Procreate for a lot of art stuff, but are there any tips on comic layout and shadowing, lighting and drawing peopl? I'm having the most trouble with how the hair should look and lighting in the face.

Okay I can finally answer this one! I had to gather my MATERIALS...

First off, thank you so much for reading my comics and I’m so happy you want to make one! So , let’s get into the process!

So, I write my own scripts and figure out what each page will have and what each panel will contain. The internet’s full of good comic script examples. Some good advice I’ve gotten for figuring out your panels is thinking of it ‘cinematically’, because what are comics besides still movies, really? So when I say cinematically I just mean stuff like close ups to show a lot of dramatic emotion, long shots to establish your environment, different angles for different emotions and so on. I highly recommend finding some crash course in filmmaking. I’m sure YouTube is full of them 😂

As for layouts I don’t have too much to say. Those are really up to the artist style. Like, I usually stick to grid-ish layouts and hardly ever do any diagonal or circular panels. It’s just what I like. Some artists have pages of only crazy dramatic panels with characters bursting out of them everywhere and a bunch of slanting borders of emphasis and over lapping images that look cool.

It. Is. Up. To. The. Artist.

I really really like the way Mike Mignola and Duncan Fegredo lay out the Hellboy comics. Their my main story telling inspiration and I look through their comics often for inspiration on layouts. I thing I often consult is this...

It’s a bunch of examples from Jack Kirby (the king of comics) and layouts he frequently used. It’s saved my ass SO many times. Just keep reading comics and you’ll get a feel for the kind of layouts you like 😘

In the same vain I also come up with 2 or 3 thumbnail ideas for a pages layout and try to figure out which one shows the story the clearest. It’s all about telling a story clearly in the end. Once I get that figured out my process looks something like this...

Tell a clear story. That’s all the goal is. Don’t worry about the quality of your art or your style. Just tell a good story 🥰

So, I can’t give you much advice on drawing people since that is a journey every artist has to endure and it’s different for everyone. Keep practicing and get out of your comfort zone with some crazy poses and props!

BUT... I can tell you some stuff about my shading method that I wish I knew when I started going digital.

First of all, I’d like to say there are...SO many coloring techniques for digital. This is just the way I do it and it works for me.

So, I do all my shading with the magic of the ‘Multiply Mode!’ If you don’t know the coloring modes it’s a very easy one second google. So when I’m shading I use more of an unsaturated color of the environment around them and that looks something like this...

God, I use pale purple for almost everything 😂 but what’s nice about using multiply is that you don’t have to guess at colors and figure out color theory and what not. Your shading with one color that helps unify the whole piece. And you can layer a bunch of multiply layers for deeper shadows or use darker versions of your color as well. And it’s easy to edit the saturation and tone so there’s that too, as a bonus.

And it also really helps set the tone of the environment too! Like if it’s cool or warm, dark or really bright. Here’s some better examples of that...

So yeah....multiply is magic and maybe learn a little bit about color theory to help you along 👍🏻

And finally... shading the face! I’ll be honest, I don’t think I do this that well but here we go anyway. So, the dumb thing about the face is it’s just a bunch of weird recognizable lumps that we have to make sense of and there’s so many lighting angles that cast so many weird shadows and while you’re drawing it you’ll be thinking the whole time “Is this right? This looks really weird.” Lighting a face is HARD, but if you just remember the important areas of it you can make out petty well.

Of course the shading changes with where the light source is coming from, but if you just remember how the ridges of the face slope you can figure out stuff like ‘Should the shadow go on top of or underneath the cheek? The light is really dramatic here so I should make the shadow by the eyes really dark. This character has a very smooth and round face so they don’t need much shading around their cheeks and chin.’ Slowly but surely it will come.

My final advice...

Please....please use references. If you don’t understand something then look it up or look at yourself. Pinterest is a PLETHORA of amazing artistic references, there’s free use 3D models, there’s a timer on your phone camera and there’s the world around you! Reference is so key when it comes to being an artist. Use the tools around you ❤️

And I think that’s all I got. I hope this helps! Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Good luck creating!

[littlefreya]

The Way To Hell - Final Chapter

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man on earth. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped while a trained assassin is sent to bring him down. 

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k (including epilogue) 

Warnings: 18+, smut, boomer Walker, some fluff, sexual intercourse, cock-warming, mentions of torture, implied insanity, slight mentions of gore, violence, murder, mass-shooting and death. Please proceed with caution  

A/N: The ending is here and I hope I did it justice, I hope I did right by you. I will reblog my kudos, but first I must thank @agniavateira for being my beta and a source of inspiration and @raspberrydreamclouds for the cover art. 

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Now allow me to die out of stress and anxiety.

Title: See You in Hell

Down by the valley, there is a serenity that exists only in fairy tales. Damp grass caresses her naked back, the pointy little tips ticking the base of her spine, leaving a fresh trail of dew. Pure mountain mist breathes life through blue hills caked with ice; white fog vales over the forest’s lush greenery and looms above the lake’s water like a lost-love phantom.

Lying with her eyes shut, she listens to the harmony of life surrounding her: the little fish bouncing in the river, the butterflies procreating mid-air and the hummingbird chirping with bliss. Yet the most beautiful sound is the low, melodic baritone humming and reverberating against her inner thighs. 

”Angel, With those angel eyes Come and take this earth boy Up to paradise.”

”Boomer Walker…” she teases, “Is that a song from your time?” 

Ascending a trail of kisses up her pelvis, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I’m starting to suspect that you have a kink for older men,” he answers with a throaty growl, shifting his weight further over her abdomen. The soft fur of his torso grazes between her thighs, and she sighs with pleasure. 

”Do you want daddy to fuck you?” 

”That’s gross!” she curls her nose and tries to hit his head playfully, but August snaps at her wrists with perfect instinct, pinning her hands against the wet meadow. His tongue flicks over the slant of her neck while he aligns his cock at the little piece of heaven between her legs.

Sensual yet rough, his massive girth splits her walls while his lips shower her with honeyed kisses. Ingvild throws her head back, lacing her fingers with his and coils herself beneath his large body. 

“August...” she pants, feeling the air gradually diminishing from her lungs with every thrust, “I think I’m dying...”

Never halting or slowing his rhythm, August lowers his head to peer into her eyes. Fingers drenched with blood snap at her jaw.

“Stay with me, Ingvild.” He demands, letting out a husky groan, though his voice is but an echo.

A grey, thick mist wafts around the darkening forest, covering her with a bone-chilling breeze; his calling carries on the distance.  

“Stay, princess...”

“Don’t leave...”

“Stay. We’ve only just begun.”

Ice bites its sharp fangs into the little creases between her cracked bones as another bucket filled with frosty water showers her trembling body. The stabbing pain lasts for a lingering moment, reminding her that she’s still very much alive.

It must be the 10th bucket, or maybe 12th? She lost count at some point. Day and night melt into one another in this place, and the hours don’t make much sense.

Muffled complaints vibrate in her ears. Vaguely her sight picks on two silhouettes arguing when the world abruptly flashes white, and her jaw soaks a terrible blow. Fully crashing onto the hard marble, she tries to recover, but a sudden kick rips through her abdomen.

“Your methods are too slow, Issac!” A grey-haired agent chides, standing over the girl with his foot still drawn, “Walker could be setting his bomb somewhere across the globe any minute now, and you’re taking your sweet time with her as if she’s an art project.”

The scrawny torturer frowns and turns his back at him. Walking toward the metal desk, he browses through different equipment. “My methods always work, the pretty little girl was taught to endure pain,” he grunts in exasperation and gestures at the bloodstained bandage around her hand, “she did this to herself.”

Sighing with a mixture of frustration and disgust, the CIA agent takes another swing at Ingvild’s torso, the pointy edge of his shoe colliding with the scar at her gut.

Bloodshot eyes rise with wrath, violent tides of aftershock course at her viscera. She peers at the men through the haze of pain when a third figure appears in the room, standing calmly whilst Issac and the agent argue among them. 

Tall, broad, and charismatic, the handsome man strides toward her. His tailored steel-coloured suit envelops his statuesque body as if he is made of iron.  

“You’re taking it so well, princess,” he praises in his deep, melodic baritone while crouching down to take a closer look. Ingvild lifts her head, slowly breaking into a weak grin. Onyx orbs replace the storm-touched eyes, but that chiselled face still belongs to her beautiful monster.

“Did you tell them anything about where I am headed?” he asks and gives her a pout, reaching his index finger and thumb to squeeze her bruised cheek affectionately. 

Swallowing the aching dryness in her throat, she manages to shake her head meekly. “No… I said nothing,” her voice cracking as she whispers. Her chapped lips stretch into a pale, awkward grin. 

Tiny lines form at the corner of his void-like eyes as he smiles back, radiating with dangerous delight.

“That’s my good girl.”

The grey-haired agent throws a glance over his shoulder, scrutinising Ingvild while he stands next to Issac, who is twirling a scalpel back and forth between his boney fingers.

“Who is she talking to?”

“Not very sane this one,” Issac explains as he examines the silver blade against the light, “multiple mental disorders, dissociative personality, psychotic.”

Pushing the agent aside with his free hand, Issac steps forward. He leers at Ingvild, who stares at nothing for a long second before averting her eyes back at them. 

“We just need to dig a little deeper and the little bird will sing,” he exclaims and moves closer before dropping to his knees. One of his icy hands lands on her shoulder, forcing her flat on her back. Shuddering at his frozen touch, she closes her eyes; in the bleak nothingness, she recalls the night in the lake where August let her die.

“Pretty little Ingvild, have you heard of vivisection?” Her torturer asks as he lines his twig-like finger over the spine of the scalpel. Sensing his digits sneaking beneath the hem of her shirt, she shoots her eyes open yet remains still and intrepid. 

The tiny black marbles beneath Issac’s brows glint with twisted joy, appeased at the sight of the scar as he exposes her torso. Ingvild expects the pain of the blade when something tepid and unpleasantly wet slithers across her gut like a little pink slug. 

“Umm… Issac…?” The agent interrupts, furrowing his brow with confusion and disgust as he stares at his colleague licking the girl’s torso.

“What?!” Issac snaps at him, his eyes narrowing with spite, “you wanted me to go harder on her!”

“Yes, but…”

“But shut up and let me do my job!” He yells and returns his glare to Ingvild who blinks at the ceiling silently. Disrupted by his touch, she bites her tongue, fighting to hold back the acrid substance that threatens to emerge from her gut.

“You fight very hard to protect a man who doesn’t give a fuck about you, little bird,” his snake-like voice hisses as he leans down to half-whisper in her ear, “just tell me where he is and I won’t cut you open.”

Ingvild sucks the air in through gritted teeth and turns her head to look away from the obnoxious little man. She seeks for her beautiful monster, finding him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. August’s empty glance wears a calm grin.

“He is in this room,” Ingvild jests faintly, her sardonic laughter stretching thin, her chest heaving, exhausting whatever strength is left in her muscles. August’s smirk widens with hers, large dimples are slicing into his cheeks.

Ticking his tongue, Issac allows the sharp edge of the scalpel cut a skin-deep line into her flesh. Ingvild stares at him stoically, not moving a muscle as shy drops of blood begin trickling down her navel. 

“Are you sure about your response?” he asks, ghosting the scalpel over her abdomen while crooking an eyebrow.

Ingvild bites her lip, pretending to think about her answer for a few seconds. Lifting her head up, she inches her lips toward Issac’s ear. The scrawny man listens intently. 

“August Walker is the devil, and the devil is everywhere.”

A peal of sinister chuckles spills from her lips as she throws her head back onto the ground, staring at Issac’s disapproving glare. 

But her laughter soon dies. 

Taut pressure pierces into her flesh, the blade penetrating deep, cutting through tissue and muscle as if it was soft cheese. Ingvild clenches her jaw, her mind flooded by charring white light that dismantles every thought while the blade continues to swerve.

For a brief moment, she finds herself in Bergen, hands covered with thick blood, holding the gushing wound in her stomach with shock. August stands above her, toying with his favourite knife and staring at the red taint. 

“Time to fall, angel.” 

Scattered musings run behind her eyes: Liam, the nuns at the orphanage, August, and even Erica. She’s reminded of every hit she was forced to take, every country she visited, all blending into a bizarre parade of death. 

“C’mon girl, just tell us where he is!” She hears the other man shout as he steps closer with an urgent expression. “Just give us something, a country, a region, anything to make this stop, you can still do the right thing.” 

The heavy stench of iron fills her nose; the warm, thick liquid trickles down her bare skin, spilling in a cross on the map of her torso. The pain now is undeniable, making her lips heavier as she makes an attempt to answer.

“I don’t…. know… any August.”

The CIA agent scoffs violently and balls his fists. “Deeper!” He orders Issac, who like a composer, trails the blade further through her gut, cutting into sinew and brittle tendons. Ingvild trembles, feeling her body grow weaker. 

In her mind, she can hear caged screams.

“You will die for a man who doesn’t even care if you bleed!” The agent rasps, spit coming out of his mouth as he rages above her.

‘Stop!’

“He won’t even remember you once you die!”

‘Resist, don’t show pain. You’ve been through this before, you already died.’ 

“No one will.”

Swallowing every ounce of pain, she fights to remember her training, her past. Her mind scrambles for Fjellstrekninger forest, for the green pines and their stringy needles, for the scent of beech and the damp ground. She tries to imagine the silver-blue mountains of Bergen, that last time she hiked there before going to meet Liam at the gas station. 

How strange that at the very same day she encountered the most wanted man on earth, not knowing she was destined to be his. 

But none of these images appear before her.

‘You can’t escape this.’

Her screams shudder through the entire floor. 

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” 

August flicks his tongue over his bottom lip, glowering at the driver who gawks at him with disbelief and shakes his head. Pushing the phone against his chin, he stares forward at the rainy road, reciting in his mind the words of the MI6 and CIA apostles.

‘Erica captured a woman in her late 20s, having her tortured for information for a couple of days now. Can’t promise you she’s alive. No one goes in there.’

“I wasn’t asking,” August answers, throwing him an icy glare, “we’re taking the chopper to the Mi6 fortress in London. I don’t need to tell you what happens if you question my decisions.” 

The driver tenses his fingers around the steering wheel and shakes his head once again. He means to say something, but the scowl on August’s face shuts him up right away.

“Who is she? What is she to you?”

August huffs and lowers his gaze, eyes dropping to the plutonium case and then forward through the windshield, watching the heavy rain clouds that stretch before the sky. As he blinks his eyes shut, his mind plays a vision of an inferno; cracked ground and scorched skies. He sits on a throne made of bones and drinks wine from a chalice made of human skull. 

His angel sits on his knee, naked and pure, her iridescent wings tucked against her back. She stares at him with a smile full of admiration, her fingers brushing over his moustache. 

‘Your angel of destruction.’

“She’s just an asset.”

‘Hell lives inside you August, it always has. Rotting you from the inside as it begs to be let out. And you will unleash it, won’t you? Your suffering must be shared.’

Vast shadows gather outside the double-pane windows of the main hall. The thick storm clouds paint the sky pitch black, swallowing the stars alive one by one. Light wanes just in time for the harbinger of chaos to march into the well-secured lobby of the sizable Mi6 fortress.

If fairytales were to be true, the devil would arrive riding a monstrous mare with hooves made of flames. But if anything, he is but a man in a tailored suit and a long trench-coat. The leather soles of his midnight-black shoes squeak as he marches on, leaving a trail of mud on the cream-coloured marble.

“Evening sir,” the security guard greets and gestures August to pass through the large weapon detector with nothing but a quick exchange of knowing looks. 

The corners of August’s lips curl into a small smile beneath his moustache while he scrutinises the surroundings. Gold and pearly pillars spread across the vast hall, a false facade hiding a decaying world and the self-indulgent ghosts that harbour it. So lost in their own little lie, it takes them more than a few minutes to notice the hellhound who stepped into their haven.

It begins as a small rumble, like a seismic wave. The first tremor vibrates through the ground and the walls follow with a convulsing shudder. Gasps, chatter, and widened eyes stab at him with shock, yet they all seem to suffer from the same affliction. 

Standing paralysed, they ogle at the most wanted man on earth as he combs his fingers through his hair and walks toward the elevators located at the end of a narrow, red corridor. Unapologetically confident and ever so relaxed and condescending, he ignores them. 

A true king among peasants.  

“Is that?...”

“What the fuck?!”

“How the fuck did he pass security???”

His confidence is nothing but theatrics, as his blue eyes carry toward the large elevators with a glossy sparkle breaking on his corneas. He tries so hard to envision her beautiful face yet all he sees is a pile of dry bones.

“Stop! Hands in the fucking air, Walker!”

‘Ah, took them long enough.’

Standing between the carpeted walls of the narrow corridor, only mere inches from the silver doors, August slowly spreads his long fingers and lifts his hands in the air. His keen ear catches at least three firearms as the guards cock their guns at his direction, panting with fright. 

“Turn around so we can see you, piece of shit!!!” A presumingly young hero barks behind him. 

“Someone call Director Sloane down here right now, she’s not going to believe it!!!”

The soft rumbling in the lobby grows into impending thunder. A flash of pale purple lightning floods the lit vicinity for a split second, echoing the small grin that spreads across August’s beaming face.  

“Oh, I don’t think so, son,” he speaks serenely, almost like a tender fatherly coo. Not bothering to turn, he tilts his head up and inhales sharply.

“Go.”

Sharp gasps of shock and terror reverberate between the walls of the fortress as sudden darkness veils the main hall. The smell of their fear is almost as delightful as the strong smoky scent of gunpowder. Like shooting stars, the rapid gunfire pierces through the night. Cries, incoherent screams, and panicked gasps make for a beautiful concert, so much that he wishes he could stay, but he has a girl to rescue.  

‘If she’s still alive…’

Swallowing the bitter bile, he enters an elevator and presses the button for the basement level. He watches the flickering beams of light as his men continue to execute the remaining agents before the doors shut in. 

Drawing out his handgun and relieving the safety, he leans against the shuddering metal and stares at the neon red number while reminiscing on the day he met a pretty girl with an unpleasant smile.

“Too bad, I would have loved to see you again.”

“Well then, if our destinies were meant to be entwined, you will.”

The basement level seems completely abandoned and eerily silent. No wails nor cries carry on the chilly air. 

His Ingvild is forbearing, she would never show her suffering. Would she? 

Inching toward the interrogation cell, his hand runs across the naked concrete walls, sensing the coarse texture against the pads of his fingers. Opaline droplets of sweat bead his forehead and his lungs sink with the effort.

Muffled voices perk his ears the closer he gets: two men, no woman. No sounds of violence, no signs of her in there whatsoever. 

‘Angel, are you being brave for me?’

Arriving at the door, he takes a deep breath and gingerly pushes the handle. The pungent scent of salt and iron pervades his nostrils as he steps a foot into the shower of blinding white light. The brightness hurts and for a moment it feels as everything before him fades. 

Until his sight sharpens and he notices the two shadowy figures standing with their backs facing him. They look like vultures preying upon a corpse.

Her corpse.

‘No! Change this! Make this right!’

Wings of cherry-dark blood spread from her snow-pale body. Motionless, his girl lies with her top huddled around her chest to expose her bleeding gut. 

‘You are too late…’

Pure, undistilled rage burns within August’s throat, so ferocious it stings in his eyes, making his entire body tremble. He lifts his hand and fires the gun hastily, shooting both men in the back of their heads before they even get the chance to turn and look at the man who executed them. 

“Ingvild!” August pants, rushing and falling to his knees before her. 

“Angel?” He presses one hand to her gut, trying to pressure her gushing wounds while his fingers etch around her nape to pull her closer to his face. Blood, still sticky and warm, tarnishes his clean outfit while he cradles her in his arms.

“Please don’t do this to me…” He whispers, shifting his hand to caress her bruised face, recalling the last time she was dead in his arms. 

The world kept spinning on its axis when she died back at the lake. So why does it feel like right now it stopped in its place?

Pressing her to his chest, August shuts his eyes and shudders with fury. All emotions come to life, and every one of them hurt.

“You are not here…” 

A deep quivering sigh of relief soars from his throat, mouth cracking into a smile at the sounds of her hoarse whisper and delicate moans. Blinking faintly, Ingvild half-opens her eyes and stares at him through heavy lids. 

“I am here,” he whispers, brushing away the sticky strands of hair from her face and squeezes her cheek beneath his thumb, “I came to take you, we have to go.”

Shifting his arms, he tries to lift her up, but his petite woman is suddenly made of the heaviest rocks; her stiff muscles protest in his grip, making it impossible for him to manoeuvre her out of fear she will bleed to death. 

“We were both at the garden,” she mumbles drowsily, licking her bloodied teeth before breaking into a maddened smile that quickly dies as she depletes her remaining strength. “I’m tired, I want to stay here and dream.” 

“Ingvild, we don’t have time for this,” August warns with concern, noticing how her eyes roll back and her lashes flutter shut, “there’s a helicopter waiting for us on the roof. You have to get up, you have to survive this, you have to come with me! Please!”

Fat, oily tears roll down her temples, mingling with the blood and tangy sweat on her face. Opening her eyes again, she peers at her beautiful monster, recognising the familiar ocean and its eternal unrest. 

Did he come here for her, or is it just a dream?

“Why?” 

‘Tell her.’

Brow lifting and face softening, his hands clutch her tightly. He rocks her from side to side, holding her protectively. Ingvild senses the wrath that pours from his heart, the thundering beat throwing its fists against his ribcage as their bodies collide.

“You know why,” August suggests huskily, nearly begging, bargaining not to admit, not to say the words he was always so afraid of. But naively, her gaze pleas in return, the child-like innocence piercing a hole through his chest. 

“Tell me,” she begs him.

‘She needs you to say it.’

“Because I need you.”

The words nearly crack on his tongue, his throat suddenly so dry it sears. He glances down at the fallen angel, sensing the most excruciating thirst, where the only way to stop it is by stealing several deep kisses from her lips. 

“I need you by my side,” he murmurs above her lips between desperate, helpless kisses, hoping to breathe life into his weakened valkyrie, “stay with me, angel.”  

An awkward stretch tugs at her cheeks, hurting as if someone slices them with a blade from side to side. For the first time in her life, true laughter crisps her face, followed by crystal-like tears that run down her sullen eyes.

“I love you, August.” 

Every nerve in his body tingles with tendrils of light, reaching out deep within his gut and spreading throughout his tendons. For a moment, he feels divine, sanctified by the words of his angel, his woman, his by free will. 

Offering her a brief smile, he captured her lips for one last stolen kiss. His thick moustache scratches at her tender flesh while a little hum plays on his tongue. 

She tastes like blood and honey - the tarty flavour of victory.

“We have to go now, princess, I have to finish this.” 

Gingerly rising to his feet, he hooks a hand below her knees and places the other against her bruised spine. Bloody footprints trail behind him as he carries her outside the white room, trying to make for their freedom.

Locked down in her office, Director Erica Sloane inhales and exhales by practice, brushing a hand through her sweat-slick hair while trying to call every backup unit. Bullets still rip through the air in every story; the sirens howl while red lights flicker from outside. She puts her hands around her ears, trying to shut the noises out, uncertain if the screams she is hearing are her people still being slaughtered, or her mind playing tricks.

Walker is many things: an idealist, a manipulative snake, a monster. But this is a side of him she never anticipated. There is no need to question his motives this time. She is smart enough to figure it out. 

To risk so much, a man must feel deeply for a woman.

Her anxiety spikes as guilt seeps in when her phone suddenly rings.

“Director Sloane,” she pants against the receiver. Somehow, as she hears the deep, measured breath, she knows.

‘Walker.’

“Hello, Erica, did you miss me?”

Erica clenches her jaw and stares spitefully into nothing, “Hardly.”

She hears him scoff from the other line, her mind piecing together that horrible, pretentious grin of his. The bile climbs up her throat just from the vision. 

“We don’t have much time, but I just wanted to thank you.” August pauses, sighing with the bliss of a madman at her ear, “You see, if not for Lacey, if not for you kicking me to the curb the way you did - I would have never become what I was meant to be. And you sent me an angel to light my way…”

“You’ve manipulated her.”

“No, you did,” August interrupts calmly, “I set her free. I will set them all free and unite them.”

The anger simmers in her gut to the point of nausea. She holds her breath, counts to ten and tries to gather her thoughts. ‘August wants a bargain,’ she thinks, but for a reason, it feels like he already won.

“Can you come and look out of the window for me, please?” He asks politely. 

Turning her head at the window, she narrows her eyes and bites her plump lips with hesitation.

“If I had a sniper on you, you’d be dead 5 minutes ago,” he assures her. 

She gets up from her office chair slowly, her fingers reaching to uncover the blinds. The storm weakened, yet heavy clouds still loom from above like a noxious mist. She seeks for August on the horizon, listening carefully to the sounds on the line. She realises they are coming from above. Her sharp eyes detect the helicopter: far, yet close enough to see his shit-eating grin and that hand that waves at her. 

He has the girl with him. Who knew a monster could care.

“You know, you are the only woman in the CIA I haven’t fucked.” He provokes and then hangs up suddenly.

Erica watches as the helicopter takes off, her eyes widening with fear as the notion of her own demise resonates like a stinging slap.

The blast takes her along with the entire building within a split second.

Standing on the cliff by the edge of the valley, August stares down at the tranquil scar that swerves amidst lush, fertile mountains. The crystalline Indus river lies before his eyes, its sweet water so clear that the sky mirrors upon the brim.   

It’s not every day when a simple man becomes a god. 

The melancholic beauty of nature makes his fingers tighten around the detonator, thumb ghosting over the button as he allows himself a couple of last seconds to inhale the air of the old world. 

Oh, how many will die for this god to receive his halo.

‘I wish you were here, my Ingvild…’ August muses with anguish, feeling an awkward jab at the spot where his heart should have been.  

A sudden rumbling noise of a helicopter makes his gut weave. 

‘That better not be Ethan fucking Hunt! I should have thrown him off the cliff in Norway!’ 

Alarmed yet stoic as ever, he draws his gun, aiming it at the aircraft inching its way to land on the other side of the flat terrain. The last thing he needs right now is someone meddling with his affairs, but it quickly becomes clear to him that if someone wanted a monster like him dead, they would have sniped him from the air before he could even see them coming. 

‘Did you forget the woman is nothing but a valkyrie?’

“What are you doing here?” He calls out at Ingvild and frowns at the pilot, abruptly struck with anger. “I specifically asked to make sure she stays rested!”

The pilot shrugs while Ingvild makes her way toward August with mild effort. Dark circles rest beneath her eyes, yet she is still so very beautiful to him, especially when she frowns. 

“She was very persuasive and horrendously stubborn,” the pilot retorts. 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” August mutters to himself and watches the little battered woman making every attempt to remain stoic as she steps closer. A shadow of a malicious grin creeps on her frosty eyes. 

Once upon a time, she promised him she will always find him. She has no intention of breaking that promise.

“Did you think I’ll let you do this without me, August Walker?” She sulks at him as she finally moves to stand in front of him. Every nerve in her body is inflamed with pain, yet the thought of not being here at the birth of the new world brings greater agony than imagined. 

Something she compares to missing out on the birth of a child.

“We are in this together now, this is our cause, our better world. You don’t get to leave me behind.”

Her hand reaches for his wrist, thumb pressing to feel his quickening pulse. Wonder paints his eyes and his lips gape softly. He promised himself Lacey will never cross his thoughts again; yet he can’t help but think about that night in his study and the pain of betrayal.  

‘How is she even real?’   

Gently peeling her fingers off his wrist, he looks at the detonator. He then takes her hand in his, placing the device in her slender grasp. 

“Forgive me, my darling. You’re right,” he apologises and turns her over to view the horizon. A shiver surges through her as she senses the weight in her palm when August moves to stand behind her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

“We do this together.”

Pesky little honeysuckles flutter within her chest as his arms wrap around her carefully. One of his hands holds hers, raising it up slightly to position the device in front of her chest.

“Do it angel, set them free.”

Taking a deep breath, Ingvild slides her fingertip over the red button. Scattered images of her life briefly flash through her mind, ending with the single moment where their gazes first met that day in Bergen.

Bright heavenly light cleanses the sky and loud thunder rips through the earth. Standing on the trembling ground, August and Ingvild stare into the distance while slowly turning to face each other. They hold their hands together, both gaping with awe as rich golden hues pour into the sky. 

Enamoured, and lost within one another’s beauty, they share a long, lingering kiss. 

Epilogue. 

Sharp and heavy, the blade split the wood in half as if it was made out of soft butter. Resting the blunt side of the leaden axe over his shoulder, he pauses and observes the pile of firewood on the ground. His lips move in silence as he counts before crouching down to pick up another log and place it on the stump. 

Strong shades of pink and orange spread between the clouds, kissed by the drowsy sun as it makes its way to slumber beneath the earth. It’s been 8 months since the coming of their new world. Even though there is still work to be done, August decided a hideout was necessary to let her mend her wings. 

“Loki!” 

Ingvild rushes into the green field with a wide, toothy smile. Feral rivers of chestnut-brown reach the small of her back, floating behind her as she runs around giggling.

‘That smile, like honey. So pure, so real.’

Playful barks answer her call, and a German Shepherd puppy appears from across the green hill, jumping over one of the logs ecstatically and wags its tail.

“Careful or I’ll cook him for dinner,” August mutters and points the axe at Loki’s direction. The pup tilts its head at him and barks with playful rage, growling and baring its needle-like teeth.

Ingvild pauses and gives August an icy stare before grabbing the large puppy and holding him to her chest, “You’re a shitty liar August Walker, you love him. Always sneaking him bacon when you think I'm not looking and snuggling him in your sleep.”

August shrugs, brushing away her comment before sticking the axe into the tree stump. “Get inside, time for dinner.” A small grin stretches on his lips as he sees her walking away, kissing the puppy on his wet little nose. 

The scent of cedarwood burning at the mantle and brewed coffee welcomes her home as she enters the cabin, immediately filling her chest with mellowness. She allows Loki down on the ground before walking into their cosy bedroom where she removes her trousers and remains in an oversized sweater and black thigh-high stockings that August gifted her after they left Kashmir. 

When she returns to the living room, August is sitting at the study with his laptop open. A small wrinkle lines his forehead while he runs two fingers over his moustache. A map and coordinates are visible on the screen, along with a messaging platform which she only assumes is a conversation with one of the apostles. 

Loki lies guarding at his feet.

“Come here, princess,” August calls, reaching out his arm toward her. “I have something to show you.”

Sneaking toward him like a large feline, Ingvild takes his hand and lets him guide her to his lap. Her legs fall to each side of his thighs, and August rests his chin at the small crook of her neck where it always belonged.

“What are you looking for?” She asks, casually pulling the sleeve over her wrist to scratch at a peeling hammer tattoo gracing her skin.

“Don’t touch it, let it heal.” August answers and takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers together tightly. An illustration of an angel wing decorates the same spot on his arm. As she glances at the way the black ink is embedded into his flesh, she can’t help but smile and ever so slightly grind herself on the semi-rigid bulge beneath her ass.

August growls against her neck, grazing his stubbles over her supple skin before reaching a hand to unzip his tracking trousers and pull out his swelling manhood. After a soft scuffle of her panties, he lifts her hips and slides himself fully within her wet, angelic cove. 

“August…” She sighs, fluttering her eyes shut for a split second, embracing both pain and pleasure. When August fills her, she is ethereal, as if a piece that was missing all her life has finally made it back home.

“You always look so beautiful with me inside you,” he murmurs against her neck, planting bristly kisses down her jawline before returning his glare forward. Ingvild only moves slightly above him, swaying slow and smooth on his thick, throbbing girth and squeezing him tight between her walls to relish in their bond.  

“I have a present for you.” He opens a tab on his browser while his fingers toy with her clit with surprising tenderness.

“What is it?” She moans as he presses down on her sensitive pearl.

“I found Liam,” he explains, a twinge of pride and a spit of revenge hanging on his baritone. He growls slightly as her cunt clenches around him by his words. “He’s hiding out in Sao Paulo. I plan to bring you his head.”

Sucking on her bottom lip, she grinds a little harder, feeling August deep in her gut. The temptation to ride him hard and rough is too great, but this sweet slow torture always brings her to a higher ground of ecstasy when they finally fuck. 

“Can it wait, my beautiful monster?” She asks sweetly, reaching her talons to clutch his thigh as he pushes further in and bottoms out inside her with a grunt. “I’d like to stay here for a while and be your angel for a little bit longer.”

August lifts his cerulean gaze back to Ingvild, the clear sky in his deep irises slightly darken as he observes the serene look on her face. His hand rises to cup her chin and turn her head to the side to meet his possessive lips. He cages her mouth with his, devouring her with the lust of a hungry man.

“You will always be mine and mine alone Ingvild,” he promises as he ends the kiss with a nibble on her chin. Ingvild licks his saliva off her mouth and stares back at him with the oxymoronic union of innocence and sinister urge before she leans back and continues to look at his plans.

‘Who is she to you?’

‘She is my queen, and I am the king of hell.’

_______________________________

Additional Notes: Song lyrics by Elvis Presely - Angel. Additional Inspiration by Nine Inchs Nails - We’re in this together. 

Disclaimer: I own no rights to Mission Impossible’s franchise or August Walker.

[spookyheaad]

Zemira

So since I’m working full throttle on the next two chapters of the Tesoro/Stella fic, I figured it would be a great time to get some Darksiders content up! I still greatly adore Darksiders, as I owe it’s unique art style (which is thanks to the badass artist Joe Madureira) for placing me down the path of making art for a living! I really would love to work on a Darksiders related property one day, whether it be a game, or comic, or something.

Enough of my rambling, I want to introduce everyone to my Darksiders OC, who I have shown a lot in art on my Instagram in past years. Her name is Zemira, she is a “Pseudo-Nephilim”. Pseudo Nephilim were Lilith’s second attempt at creating Nephilim, except instead of using the dust of angels & demons, she literally just rounded up living angels and demons and made them procreate, just to see what would happen. She thought it would make for stronger warriors, since their bloodlines & genetics would be more true to their angelic/demonic heritage.

(Also keep in mind this document was my initial design for Zemira, there are slight changes to her current design):

Now of course, the Charred Council catches wind of this and sends the Horsemen to kill these creations and anyone involved in it. Death, being the most severely & outwardly affected by the Nephilim Genocide which brought him & his three younger siblings to become the Four Horsemen, had slight reservations, but were quelled when he was reminded that Lilith was behind it all.

So the Horsemen did what was ordered of them, to slaughter these “New Nephilim” before they had a chance to form any sort of formal society or warmongering hunger for a home of their own. Death was able to do what he set out to do, but at times during the slaughter he couldn’t help be reminded of the comrades he mercilessly killed. He did not know why because he had no blood relation to these pseudo-Nephilim, no family or acquaintances among their lot. But, they did hold heavy resemblance to the original Nephilim, regardless of the fact that they were not born in Absalom’s image. They held both angelic & demonic traits, some more human-like, others more monstrous, and some were an equal mix of both traits.

Death pushed through this apprehension, that was until he came across Zemira. She fought back against Death on nearly equal ability in terms of physical agility and weapons prowess alone. She wanted something more than to be used as a weapon for someone else’s goals. Day in and day out she forcibly fought against her fellow pseudo-Nephilim, in an even more twisted and sickening form of eugenics; weeding out the weakest bloodlines in the way that all Nephilim know best, fighting to the death. She fought to be alive, and she will not relinquish her life so easily.

Death, being able to simply sense her will to live, and with his unwillingness to keep killing these poor beings, allowed her to escape.

“Go!”

She was taken off guard. No opponent had ever submitted in a fight willingly, or consciously, for that matter. She stood there in shock.

“GO, LEAVE THIS PLACE!”

The eldest Horseman was fed up, covered in blood, hunched over in a half battle-ready stance, half tired hunch, panting heavily. But he was not tired, no; his deep trauma from having to, in any form of way, kill off beings that not only looked like his brethren, but also came from similar bloodlines, was like a slap in the face; even more degradation to his existence. He was done. He allowed War, Fury, and Strife to kill off any few stragglers that tried to fight back. He couldn’t do this.

That’s a bit of the gist of Zemira’s backstory. Eventually, realizing that she had nowhere to go, she sought out Death willingly, still perplexed that he allowed her to live. She was told much about The Horsemen, specifically Death, by Lilith, and all the pureblooded angels & demons that took part in the Pseudo-Nephilim’s creation. He was strong beyond belief, merciless, cold, and had no reservations in terms of ending one’s life, as his iconic moniker so plainly implies.

That was not the Death she fought.

So basically from then on she locates Death (how, I’m still not sure; Vulgrim probably has knowledge of this type of stuff, maybe even Ostergoth lmao), and quite slowly (over the span of like four thousand human years) builds a strong relationship upon pillars of trust & a very quiet, but real love.

During her time with Death, she took the time to find beauty in all things, and in turn, properly cope with the constant abuse she suffered & her negative self-worth due to that. She learns to love herself, and tries to get Death to do the same. Zemira also tends to hide her pain with kindness & positivity; always attempts to see the good in others.

She is very level-headed and extremely thoughtful, almost uncharacteristic for a Nephilim of any kind. She puts the safety of others before her own (Specifically Death’s safety). Death also keeps her existence a secret from the Charred Council, as she would be killed without a second thought if they were to find out that Death allowed her to live.

Strife, War, and Fury eventually become aware of this relationship between Death & Zemira, and come to accept it. They see that she makes him happy, and is insurmountably precious to him.

After that novel of a post, here is her updated character sheet (Tbh this is just the most recent one. I may have to update it once more just for my sake):

Here’s some random artwork of Zemira with Death to end this post off:

[songbookff]

J/7 comedic drabble in which the Doctor neglects to tell Seven about sexualities other than straight and Janeway comes out as bi or lesbian? 😍😍 please??

As you wish, anon...I'm not sure this is comical, though...maybe I will try for a comedic one a little later. Also, this is very early Seven.

"How are your lessons with the doctor going?" Kathryn moved around her desk to order a coffee from the replicator.

"Satisfactory." Seven watched her sit down across from her and then added, "I do have questions that he appears unqualified to answer."

"Oh?" Kathryn took a sip of her coffee.

"For instance, I do not understand the concept of marriage."

Kathryn was glad she had swallowed her coffee otherwise, she probably would have spit it out. She got control of her surprise before calmly replying, "What part of it confuses you?"

"Why would two individuals bind themselves legally to reproduce a few times?"

"Reproduce?" repeated Kathryn before she could stop herself.

Seven tilted her head to the side. "Is it not the goal of a marriage to copulate to produce offspring? Such as Naomi?"

"Many different species have different mating practices but for humans, having children is not the only reason for getting married." Kathryn wasn't sure how much to explain. "The Doctor has explained the concept of friendship and family. Sometimes two people want to be married because they see themselves in something beyond friendship; it's a closeness that is hard to put into words."

"But offspring is produced? A male and female copulate to further their species' line?" asked Seven, clearly confused. Kathryn wondered what had set her mind on having children.

"Sometimes," shrugged Kathryn. "But there are other reasons to....copulate...than to produce children."

Seven frowned, obviously thinking this over. Kathryn took a long sip of coffee and suddenly wished it was something stronger. She had hoped the Doctor would have covered the "sex talk" in his lessons. Apparently having a hologram teach the finer points of love was a mistake.

Also, something else was bothering her. So softly, she added, "And marriage is not strictly between the male and female of the species."

Now Seven looked completely confused. "Can two members of the same sex copulate to produce offspring?"

"That's not really the point, but many species have found way to reproduce between members of the same sex or gender." Kathryn was slowly dying. At this point, she would be willing to call the Borg Queen herself to make her explain sex to Seven. "Marriage and other relations can be between people of the same gender or between more than two individuals. It's about an intimate relationship that people feel for each other."

"So sex can be performed between two women?"

Now Kathryn was sure she was blushing. Seven, naturally was oblivious. Somehow, Kathryn managed to answer with an affirmative, "Yes."

"Why?" The question was so innocent and genuine that it broke Kathryn's heart a little.

"Sometimes, they are in love or married. Other times, it is just for personal pleasure."

Seven pondered this for a moment. "So individuals seek sexual pleasure, but not for the purpose of procreation and the biological sex has no meaning?"

Kathryn hesitated before carefully replying, "Different people have different preferences. Some women only like men, some like women, and others like both or have no preference at all."

"How does someone know this?" Seven was studying her hard now. Kathryn tried not to think about how Seven could probably sense the uptake of her heartbeat and the flush of her cheeks. "Do you have a personal preference?"

"Most people's sexuality is personal to them and it is not generally polite to ask," answered Kathryn, trying to avoid the question. "And it's something that everyone must figure out for themselves."

"I thought we were friends? Do friends discuss these things?" Seven looked so serious. And they were friends, right?” 

"Well, I will tell you that I have been in relationships with both women and men. And a few people that didn't consider themselves male or female," confided Kathryn. It wasn't that her sexual history embarrassed her, but it was a barrier a captain must uphold between herself and her crew. But Seven was still learning.

"I will have to do more research on the subject. I have had several male members of the crew approach me with intentions of 'dating'." This didn't surprise Kathryn, although she hoped that any of them would be gentle and careful with Seven as she navigated romance. "However, no female members have made any advancements. Since you have indicated that you do not have a preference, perhaps you would be part of my experiments?"

Kathryn nearly dropped her coffee cup.

[scapegrace74-blog]

In Dreams

A/N  I don’t do Twitter, but roughly once a year I wish I did.  A few weeks back, some clever Outlander writers there came up with the idea of the Eye Sex Chronicles, in which various pre-relationship scenes between Jamie and Claire are re-imagined in a less PG way.  I asked Catrin Writes if I could join the party, and she kindly agreed.  And because I like nothing more than a challenge, the scene I chose is when Jamie comes for Claire after the Redcoat ambush in 1x01.  Rated mildly M, in case you care about that sort of thing.

Since he was a lad, Jamie had been visited by a recurring dream.  In it, he was chasing a figure through a forest.  His quarry materialized and dissolved like mist in the dappled light, with limbs as pale as bone and a thundercloud about its head.  A sidhe, perhaps, come to deceive him.

The details of the dream shifted, but the ending was always the same.  At the edge of a burn, he caught up with the apparition.  Staring into her peculiar golden eyes (for it was indeed a woman), the dirt beneath his feet gave way and he fell headlong into a bottomless unknown.  Then, he woke.

***

She had to be dreaming, Claire rationalized.  Or at least hallucinating.  It was the only explanation that fit the facts.  Redcoat soldiers wielding muskets.  Coarse ruffians speaking Gaelic and tossing her from horseback like a sack of laundry.  A Frank doppelganger trying to rape her.  Her subconscious must have muddled together her husband’s obsession with Scottish history and the emotional turmoil of their second honeymoon to produce this elaborate fantasy.  Sigmund Freud would rub his hands together with glee.

It didn’t explain, however, why she could feel every nettle and branch as they lashed against her limbs, or why the icy water of the stream she was following numbed her toes.  If she was only dreaming, she should stand still and wait for consciousness to return.  And if she were hallucinating, she doubted she’d be capable of analyzing her circumstances.  She ran because she was afraid to find out what might happen if she was wrong.   She ran because it was only a matter of time before her captors gave chase.

***

The ambush by a small patrol of Redcoats ended abruptly in the way of most skirmishes.  One minute he was fighting for his life, and the next he was leaning on his sword, sharing a flask of whisky with his brothers in arms.

Dougal had a ribald glint in his eye as he ordered Jamie to round up the Sassenach lass.  He thought he’d kept his reaction to her lovely face and near-nakedness well hidden in the dim firelight of the croft, but his uncle’s smirk said otherwise.  The men hooted as though it was a great joke - sending the virgin after the mettlesome wench.

It was only as he was retracing his steps to the strath where he’d thrown their captive from Donas’ back that he realized he was injured.  The muscles of his shoulder joint were still tender, just as she’d predicted after she’d manipulated the bones back into place.  This new pain was sharper and accompanied by the coppery tang of blood.  Compounded by the fact that he hadn’t slept or eaten more than a crust of bread in nigh on a day, it was no surprise that his head was feeling light and empty as a cloud, with a persistent buzzing sound filling his ears.  He continued his search, determined to find the lass before continuing on their way.  She’d mended him.  He at least owed her that much.

An ivory figure dashed between the trees, bringing to mind his dream.  Deja vu, the French called it.  The sense that he had lived this moment before, perhaps countless times.  Reality tilted sideways, and he could no longer discern what was true and what was illusion.  The memory of both his dream and his objective compelled him to give chase. He spurred his horse forward.

***

Damn it!  For a figment of her imagination, the tall red-headed Scot was annoyingly persistent.  Seumas.  Jamie.  Mowgli.  She’d heard the other men call him by many names, further evidence that this illogical adventure was just an inventive delusion.  She’d certainly conjured an attractive antagonist, with his raw potency and soulful blue eyes.  He was a bit too chiseled for her taste, and good lord he was gigantesque, but somehow he pulled it off without seeming a brute.  Despite the driving rain, the night spent on horseback wrapped together in his plaid hadn’t been unpleasant.  Unlike every other character in this illusion, he didn’t feel threatening.

He leapt from his horse and was approaching with his arms spread wide, a bloodied sword dangling from one hand in an offhand way.  She’d seen men approach unbroken horses in much the same manner.  Well, she was no docile mare, willing to accept the bit.  If he thought he could subdue her with sonorous words from his pretty lips, he had another thing coming.  She lifted her chin defiantly.  Maybe the way out of this nightmare was to refuse to play along.  She spat defiance in his direction, daring him to accost her.

***

Christ, she was beautiful.  It hadn’t escaped his notice when they’d first met, despite his dislocated shoulder.  But out here in the forest, with smudges of dirt marring her luminous skin and cockleburs matting her hair, she was every cautionary tale he’d learned at his father’s knee.  A bewitching siren come to lure his soul to sin.

If her foreign ways and total lack of meekness wasn’t evidence enough that she was the otherworldly creature from his dream, the violent mystery of her agate eyes confirmed it.  They were unforgettable, calling to him from across the ages.

Despite his better judgment, he stepped closer, saying something daft about throwing her over his shoulder, as though he’d ever demean her in that way.  Her breath came into short pants that caused her unbound breasts to rise and fall beneath her thin shift.  His fingers twitched, aching to touch her, to confirm that she was real.  Some lucid corner of his brain that wasn’t starved of blood and delirious with bloodlust argued that he’d spent many hours pressed up against her very mortal and lovely arse.  He ignored it in favour of another step in her direction.  Like a mindless beast, he sniffed the air.  She smelled like his mate.

***

She’d spent enough time around soldiers returning from the front to recognize the half-crazed look, the dilated pupils, the waves of sexual energy wafting off his skin.  The male animal confronted death and procreation with much the same physical response, opposite sides of the same coin.

She should have been frightened by his proximity, but instead she drew back her shoulders and stared directly into his marine gaze, daring him to take another step.  Delirious with disorientation and lack of sleep, she flirted with the combustible element that arced between them from the first.  She’d never behave so wantonly if she thought for a moment this was real. It was a harmless fantasy, made all the more appealing by the combination of artlessness and virility exuded by the man in question.

***

He dropped his sword, a useless defence against temptation.  His feet carried him forward of their own volition, answering the urgent summons in her eyes.  So close now, skirting the very edge of a precipice.  Surely his dream had been a prophecy, a foretelling of a critical juncture in his life.  Temptress or Sassenach healer, their paths were fated to cross.  There was nothing he could do to deny the hand of fate.

She’d backed against a tree and his palms came to rest on the ample swell of her hips.  He’d never touched a woman so close to her skin.  It was intoxicating, warm and supple.  She was no longer speaking, watching him instead with those predator’s eyes, wary but not afraid.  Her lips were pressed together, and he longed to pry them apart with his tongue, to taste her soul and share his own.  Bending slowly forward, the muscle in his beleaguered shoulder seized in sudden pain.  Bubbles of dizziness flooded his vision and he slumped forward, momentarily boneless, landing against her lush curves.

***

Christ, he was heavy.  One moment she had been certain he was about to kiss her senseless, and then he sagged forward, pinning her between his bloodstained torso and a tree.  Her nursing instincts sprang to life as she attempted to soothe him.  She ran her fingers through his tangled curls and over the abutments of his face, searching for a contusion and finding only tacky blood and prickly stubble.  She could feel his deep breaths echoing against her breastbone.  He groaned a word in Gaelic that made her wish she understood the tongue.

***

Pressed against her as he was, he marveled at the brilliance of God’s design.  She was soft where he was hard, a perfect counterpoint that answered the question his body had been asking since adolescence.   He wasn’t ignorant of carnal matters, but nor had he imagined that he could derive such pleasure merely from cleaving his body to hers.  In his previous trysts with with the young maids of his youth, it had never been so.

Her hands were surprisingly strong as they prodded his skin, seemingly drawn to the places that called out for her touch.   They skimmed gently over his shoulders.  The lancing pangs had faded like the morning mist, leaving him conscious only of the pulsing ache radiating from his groin.  He’d been hard beneath his plaid since fighting the Redcoats, but it had progressed to the brink of pain.   Certainly she could feel it, barely clad as she was, but he felt no shame in the knowledge.  There was a deeper magic at work here, far outside the laws of propriety.

***

Her fingertips touched the bands of muscle along his flank, having snuck unawares beneath his filthy shirt.  Her arms opened to span his torso, no longer pretending to minister to his wounds and instead holding him tight, in case he was considering retreat.  It helped that she couldn’t see his face, hidden as it was beyond her hair, but she could read the impulse on his dewy skin and through the vibration of his every sinew.  He wanted her.  Not only because she was a female body close at hand, but on some more fundamental level.  She wanted him as well, but that was the dream talking.

***

The thinnest filament held back the raging storm inside of him.  What few thoughts he could maintain circled around the inscrutable riddle of her identity.  If she truly was the vision from his dream, then what was her purpose?  And if she was flesh and blood, then why did she tolerate his trespass?  His answer came in the form of a whimper, sneaking from her lips to his ear and straight to his cock.  The cord snapped, and he began to rut against her in earnest, the coarse wool of his plaid scratching his swollen flesh.  

Dhia, it was a thousand times greater than any pleasure his own hand could inflict, and yet it was woefully deficient. His hips pressed forward with more force, grinding their bones together, seeking a home inside her warmth.  Rather than retreat, she answered with advances of her own.  She shuddered and moaned, her nails biting into the scars across his back.  He had no language to describe what her body was demanding.  He hurtled towards an unknowable point, both hunter and prey in a breathless pursuit.  It was bottomless and inescapable, just as in his dream.

***

She’d lost all sense of herself.  There was no Claire.  No Frank.  No everlasting dream about Scottish outlaws.  Even the rough bark of the tree against which she was pinned was gone.  All that remained was the bitter agony of incompletion and the solid male form that could deliver her from it.  She whimpered, tears of frustration leaking from her eyes.  She wanted... no, she needed more.  More contact.  More friction.  More of his sublime body that answered every question she asked it wordlessly.

Broad palms slipped down to cup her ass, then lifted her as though she was made of feathers.  At that first perfect moment of connection, she cried out.  The depths opened up beneath them and her only fear was that she would fall alone.  Clamping her thighs around his hips, she circled and writhed directly over the defined prominence of his cock.  They both groaned as twin spasms spun outward from where they were fused together.  The hot rush of his eruption warmed her belly, shaking from the force of her own contractions.

The fever crept away as inexplicably as it came, leaving her stippled in gooseflesh and drowning in turmoil.  What had just happened?  Had she really allowed this stranger, this walking paradox, to bring her to gratification, fully clothed, against the trunk of some bloody Scottish tree?  And oh, when would she wake up and return to the mundane struggles of her real life? This, whatever it was, was too much to endure.

***

At the first twitch of her body after endless moments of utter stillness, he lowered her gently to her feet.  He could feel his release trickling down his thigh.  Rather than address him, if only to slap him as he deserved, she turned towards the burn.  She knelt for a long time, drinking from her cupped palm and splashing water over her face.  Doubtless, she was also rinsing his seed from her skin.  He burned with remorse.  Sidhe or not, he’d treated her contemptibly.  

The rush of blood between his ears was slowing, leaving him shaky and weak.  He bent to retrieve his sword and the ground tilted aslant beneath him.  By the time she returned from the burn, her eyes demurely focused downwards, he had mounted Donas and was able to lift her over the withers with his good arm.  He tried in vain to keep from pressing up against her, trying to atone for his previous behaviour.  They set off in search of Dougal and the others without another word.

***

The further they rode, the more Claire became convinced she had hallucinated the entire thing.  The young Scot named Jamie was still kind and solicitous, offering her a slug of whisky and sharing his plaid as the night air grew cold, but he betrayed no proof of their intimate encounter.  Along with everything else that was happening, it was too much to contemplate, so she pushed it to the back of her mind.

Well past midnight, she felt his bulk behind her slide sideways as he started to topple to the ground.

“Stop!  Help, he’s going over!”

Leaping to the ground and ordering the other men about like a petty general, she poured whisky into the newly discovered wound that pierced the trapezius muscle.  Yet more evidence, if she was looking for it, that their union in the forest had all been in her head.  Who could please a lover while bleeding out from a gunshot?

Jamie sputtered back to consciousness beneath her hands.

“Welcome back,” she commented pertly.

***

The blank screen in front of his eyes reassembled around the familiar faces of Murtagh, Dougal, Angus and the others, peering down at him in the gloom.  He must have fallen deep asleep while they fled to Leoch.  His memories were foggy, but he recalled a dream of chasing a mysterious woman through a wooded strath, catching her by the edge of a burn, and then...  well, it wouldn’t be the first time his sleeping mind brought him gratification, although generally not on horseback.

“I’m all right.  Just a wee bit dizzy,” he tried to convince the assemblage, eager to get back on his horse.  They couldn’t afford a delay.

“You're not all right,” an oddly familiar English voice pronounced.   Without waiting for him to respond, she launched into a tirade.

“Couldn’t you tell how badly you were bleeding? You're lucky you're not dead, brawling and fighting and throwing yourself off horses.”

He stared up in disbelief at her fiercely beautiful face, the one he recognized from his dreams.

She was here.

[iamtheempress]

Cold Blooded

A Dragon Ball Horror Fic {Part 9}

☆☆☆

Some days have come and gone, bruises were healed ribs are fixed back into place. Vegeta is off with Goku training themselves in the time chamber for the night, in all their forms to test themselves fully.

Bulma had asked her to house sit the entirety of Capsule Corp for the night, Carlie happily obliged since she still had her old room beside the balcony. The scientist rushed to her lab and came back up to her temporary bedroom and sat down on her bed, only to dress into a sleep shirt and pull out her bottle of whiskey, an old stache in her night stand and the new bottle of Merlot for Frieza. She ordered a hot pizza for herself and maybe Frieza if he was willing to eat. 

She had a movie ready to watch and unwind. An old classic and take on horror, Alien. A solid 3 hour long movie that she loved to watch when she was younger, one of the first movies that peaked her interest hardcore to alien races all together.

She singlehandedly carried both the pies and the wine and whiskey in her arms down the hall in the direction of the theater, which is on Friezas side of the building She felt one of the bottles slipping and started to quietly curse herself when it falls from her arms, she awaits the impending crash and liqour splattering everywhere. When it didnt she looked to her side to see a tail tip encircling the bottle.

 “Tsk. Well if that were to break that would certainly be tragic, wouldnt it, Ms. Carlie?” Frieza said standing beside her with a small smile, Carlie smiled at Frieza and laughed abit embarrassed. “Thanks, Frieza.. Want to help me eat these pizzas?”She lifted the pizza boxes and the smell wafted up to the Emperor, he hummed and held his chin between his fingers. “I am quite hungry. Pizza you say? Id love to accompany you, dear.” 

He holds the bottle and saunters beside her down the hall, tail fluttering slowly behind him, a bit of blood still on the very end of his terribly strong tail.. From his most recent murder that day. “I was actually going to watch a movie too, so hope you enjoy feeling lazy eating pizza and getting abit drunk cuz thats going to happen with me tonight” She giggled and gently nudged open the door to the large theater room. “Oh there is no issue with that, I was wondering how you were doing anyway so to spend some quality time within your company is just what i needed.” 

You too will realize this

Frieza curtly nods and places the bottle of whiskey down besides the two large pizzas with hot sauce to dunk in, Carlie lifted the bottle of merlot to Frieza and smiled. “Wanted to give this to you and we can get abit drunk together.. Except i dont know your tolerance to alcohol.” “Wuite alright, im no light weight.” “Excellent!” she claps her hands together and grabs a wine goblet and one Whiskey glass.

Frieza watches her form shuffle away, eyes raking slowly down to her pretty soft legs. Her bottom showing just slightly from the shirt raised up behind her. Frieza hums and seats himself on the extra large and extravagant couch bringing the Wine up and looking at it.. His little smirk showing in the glass bottles sheen in the movie theaters dim light. “Care to tell me what we would be watching.” She tilts her head and comes back with the glasses sitting comfy besides Freeza, the light of the theater dimmed very slowly until the only things visible were Friezas eyes and the screen turning on to suit the room. 

“This movie is one of my favorites from when i was younger. It is called Alien, plot is basically a bunch of humans awake from cryostasis and there's no reason why, and then this insectoid alien called a xenomorph makes its appearance and you'll see the rest. It's great!” “Ohohoho! How precious.. Humans having their own interpretations of Alien kind is quite amusing! Cannot wait to see what kind of monstrosity your kind has imagined.” He uses his ki to pour them both some wine and whiskey. “Hey you might like it, don't knock it till ya try it.” she giggles and clinks the drinks together and takes a sip. The movie begins and she is immediately entrenched in it like its her first time watching it.

Watching a classic with the late emperor. His arms are crossed as this large fluffy white quilt is brought up to her lap and encircles her so comfortably, her slippers fall off her feet to the floor. Frieza watches her out of the corner of his eye while she watches the screen with expectant wonder.. 

He watched her pretty gossamer locks, some that were tied up and some that were loose, falling out of her messily tied bun, down her shirt, her lightly tanned skin glistens with some nice smelling body spray, tantalizing and sweet. Like her. The fact she wasnt wearing glasses made her look more appealing and this deeply confused Frieza… His eyes snapped to the screen and he took a sip of his drink, his back curving to relax into the plush cushion. 

Friezas tail slid beneath her back, she didnt flinch, she shifted a tiny bit, maybe to make sure he was comfortable, maybe to welcome it.. He took it as the latter and proceeded to welcome the warmth of her back upon his tail. 

‘You beautiful little thing…’ he thinks crossing his ankles and watching her fill another glass full of whiskey, right as the first sight of the Xenomorph came up on screen his eyes widened and he tilted his head. 

Watching humans cower in abject horror made the emperor smile in pride of the idea that this is what humans find entertaining and terrifying..the tail around her waist slowly drags her to his side; spurts of blood and the absolute massacre that sprays forth from its victims peaks his interest. Down to the idea they grow and procreate and are fast and nimble, with predatory intent to kill and overwhelm, ambush with ease. 

The very similar comparison to his 3rd form was just the icing on the cake for the emperor that made this all the more amusing. Shes familiar with the immense amount of horror this form can bring...Maybe this was intentional.. Maybe she wanted him to see that he wasnt afraid of him, no matter what form he took. 

She had eaten almost all of this pizza along with the dip of the hot sauce that made her lips look glossy and inviting...a thought Frieza never entertained before but here he was, staring at her lips and her neck where Vegeta left a bite.

He sneers and his bright red eyes return to the screen, when she places her whiskey glass down her hand touches his thick cold tail while she puts it down the emperor cracks the goblet from the grip.. Not breaking it entirely just enough to crack it.

*Thats enough of this little game…*

This gives him an idea. One to finally act upon this beautiful little woman besides him whos blanched stark white and almost flush against the 

“"this movie is quite entertaining. Kill or be killed and absolute domination with zero regard for human life. Procreate and maim, all for the sake of their queen" Frieza muses, his arm bringing the soft white blanket into his lap and his cold strong hand finds her bare thigh, Carlie was abit tipsy but she wasnt blind... "You enjoy this bloodshed dont you, Carlie.” He lets the goblet go to float gingerly to the table infront of him and tilts her head to face him. “Frieza, what are you talking about.. Its just a movie.” He straightens his back hard and looks her square in the eye; a knowing look blooms across his minimalistic features and his red eyes dilate.

“I know what happened to you the other day. Vegeta harmed you while you were intimate, I saw your back and those horrific bruises and scratches.” Her eyes went wide and she backed her head up abit from him as he held her hand in his own. “Frieza.. Me and Vegeta are fine it was a one time thing that wont-” “And how do you know that Carlie?” “Huh?”

“Ive known Vegeta for decades. Since he was a small chimp with a dead father. I WAS basically his father figure, to hell with any of his old Saiyan counterparts. They had as little an influence as i did on him. He had a temper that could never be put out..”  He snapped, raising his voice harshly almost into her face.

 For a split second.. He felt bad for doing that.

“That Saiyan bravado is all brute force and abuse. Never anything gentle..” Carlies eyes remained wide as she slowly- like cold molasses on the brain-took everything he said in. “He would never abuse me..” She pushed his hand off her leg and his tail slunk slowly beneath the shirt to her smoothe soft belly, then to her thighs to keep her still, but not enough to harm her. “He did though..  He most certainly did though… your back had proof of it.. Why would he throw you so violently… you his little mate.. That damned ape knows nothing about delicacy… its disgusting…” 

He sneers forcing the girl to her back with little effort on his own part. Carlie started to panic... “Frieza, let me go. C'mon if i didn't trust Vegeta i wouldn't be with him, let me the heck go please.” SHe pleas and pulls against the tail as the emperor cradles her head and stares down at the little scientist, a hypnotic unblinking stare as his tail tightens around her soft midsection and her quivering legs, his tail pulsing around her body.

   “Carlie… Would I lie to you.. Vegeta’s a great danger to you, he's highly unstable and you know it.. No amount of affection or care will break that ape down to what you want.. He is a *Saiyan* careless, heartless, if you were to die he wouldn't bat a lash.. Just look at where you are.” His tail sliding between her legs to lock them together to ensure she doesn't struggle too hard. SHe was all ears as she complied and lain still turning her head to the side crying…

“He left you with me… alone.. Instead of staying he went off to probably train and..” the back of his knuckles slide down her cheek. His eyes looking longingly at the slender pretty neck and her soft plush lips back up to her eyes… 

What is going ON with him….

“Inflict more harm upon you…Possibly kill you..” He pulls away and sits up his tail uncurling quite satisfied with his claim. Hoping he made her change her mind he folded his hands in his lap. 

“You are my only friend Carlie, I'm saying this to protect you.” 

Carlie stood up and backed up staring at him. “I don't know where you get off.. Speaking to me like that.. Frieza I gotta go.. Dont fucking follow me i cant fucking think…” she slurs, turning on her heel and taking the whiskey and headed for the door.

  “Look at me.”

 She stops dead in her tracks. Frieza didn't even have to turn completely around. “That creature… the Xenomorph on the screen.. Is my 3rd form likeness..” 

3rd form… no one said anything about forms with him… “.............” She gulps and listens, letting him proceed. “This is my Final Form.. From this i can get stronger in my Golden form… one day i hope to show you its glory… But until then… know i could have killed you.. But i dont. I enjoy your company. If you choose to leave that is your choice, and i bid you a pleasant night my dear.” He raises the now full Goblet to his lips and sips.

He heard the door close and the emperor simply closed his eyes.. Her energy left the room. It was lonely. It actually *hurt* Frieza to feel her go.

"Consider this friendship squandered... i will take what i want... and what i wanted from the very beginning was you" He hissed under his breath. Continuing to watch the movie and enjoy the rest of his pizza. “I hope you have a lovely last night as Vegetas.. Because i will make you mine. Empress Carlie...you have no choice…” He muses eating a slice and licking his fingers clean. 

His tail rests in the spot where she sat. “You never really did.”

☆☆☆

Authors note: Super sorry yall. lifes been batshit and i hope yall like this truly. Were coming up on the wrap up~

Taglist: @gallickingun​ @gonuclear​ @dragonblobz @dragonballcollector @lilfriezatyrant @mommaofthesayianguild @lizardhipsdontlie @supremeleadershitlord @thotful-writing @trans-asshole @memevember  @msgreenverse​ @dragonball-hcs-or-sum-shit​ @chickiedinner​ @kamehamethot​

[howtodisassembleyourdeviant]

Birth of Something New Ch.1 (ConnorxPregnantReader)

I started writing this fic on Ao3 and it was pretty popular. I thought I would post it here, like my other stories. I read some pregnancy fics where the couple were trying for a child or it didn’t really explain how reader got pregnant. I wanted to go a different route. I hope y’all enjoy this, if not, I still have my other fics roaming around here. 

It started with the nausea. You woke up one morning feeling terrible before eventually emptying your stomach contents into the toilet. You figured it was just the flu or something you ate that didn't agree with you, so when Connor offered to take you to the doctor, you declined.

"I'll just... take today off and rest."

Your words did nothing to placate your fiance's worries, but he said nothing more as he rubbed your back when you violently gagged. After an hour or so, you were starting to feel better. Still, you took the day anyway as a precaution. Connor offered to stay to help you, but one person out of work is plenty. That didn't stop him from coming home on his lunch break to check on you, even making you a light lunch.

The nausea didn't stop. It would happen at random times, or when you caught a particular smell. While sometimes you could get past it, most of the time Connor would watch as you made your way to the nearest restroom as discretely as possible, following after you when he could.

You started sleeping more. Waking you for work had always been a hassle, but you usually were up and motivated after a half hour or so. Now, it was like you were never fully awake, even falling asleep at your desk a few times and being reprimanded by Captain Fowler.

When you flew off the handle after Connor had accidentally bumped into you getting up from the couch, he knew something wasn't right. You weren't the most mild mannered person he knew, your 'spit-fire' personality a trait he's come to love, but you rarely snapped at him.

Connor had promised you that he wouldn't scan you unless it was a life or death situation. It wasn't that you didn't appreciate it, you just didn't like knowing he could see your inner workings. He didn't want to break your trust, but your behavior could be indicative of an underlying illness that could be potentially fatal if left unchecked, and you still refused to go to the hospital. While you were sleeping, he performed the scan.

There, within your womb, was the early stages of another life.

Everything seemed to freeze at that moment. Panic tried to make itself known as he stares at the almost unidentifiable mass in your lower abdomen. The scan supplied that you were about five weeks pregnant. Going back through his memory, he recalled it to be a relatively busy week for you. There had been an influx of anti-android gang activity, and as the head emergency android technician, you were sent out to assist any injured androids. Connor and Hank still had their own duties in homicide, but it was slow moving, so Connor actually beat you home several times. He also noted an increase in your libido, using free time to engage him in sexual acts rather than catching up on rest. While he had pointed this out, you complained you were too worked up to sleep.

Had you been so lascivious that you found another partner while he was not around? Was he not enough for you? Under normal circumstances, he would have never questioned your love and devotion, but the evidence was right there for him to see. A child he could not produce.

Was that it? Did your basic human nature outweigh your fealty to him? He could swear his love to the stars and back, but it would never be enough to procreate.

Connor's processors were overtaxed, conflicting with one another. Possibilities and other statistics popping up as he tried to prove that what he saw was wrong, or some logical explanation that could explain any other way you could have became pregnant.

He couldn't explain it. You had slept with another man.

He felt like shouting, screaming as rage roiled around his body faster than thirium. He wanted to cry, the pain of being cast aside threatened to drop him to his knees. It was this kind of pain that makes Connor understand why androids are not supposed to feel, supposed to be incapable of it.

He can't bring himself to lie back down with you, as if he wasn't just a replaceable body for you to use. He stumbles to the living room, clipping his shoulder on the bedroom door as he exits. He couldn't see past the warnings in his vision, telling him he was overheating and needs to lower his stress level. Times like these, you were always there to ground him, but now you were the reason for his downward spiral.

You woke up, hearing movement throughout the bedroom. Feeling next to you, you noticed that Connor was no longer there. Slowly clambering out of bed, you looked to the time on the nightstand. 1:38am. There was the familiar queasiness sitting in the background. At this point, there wasn't much left in your poor stomach. It was becoming a problem to eat anything and keeping it down. Perhaps Connor was right, maybe you should make an appointment to get this checked out.

Your head swam as you stood, almost dropping you to the ground before your vision returned. Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you made your way out the bedroom in search of your future husband. You enjoyed addressing him as such, loving his flustered reaction. It was almost as nice as hearing him call you his future wife.

Seeing part of the living room bathed in red killed all feelings except panic.

"Connor! What's wrong?" The deviant was sitting on the couch, head in his hand over his eyes as his LED was a solid red. You rushed over but before you could make contact he flinched away. Collecting yourself, you got down on your knees in front of him,

"Connor? What's bothering you?"

It almost seemed like he wasn't going to answer you. When he did, it was a deep, cold voice rather than the rich honey he usually used when he spoke to you.

"You're pregnant."

You regarded him with a confounded look. Clearly you must have misheard him.

"What?"

He looked up. There was a storm in his ordinarily warm eyes, ice cold and sharp enough to pierce skin, and it terrified you.

"You're pregnant."

"T-that's not possible," your voice shook as he kept his eyes locked on you. Why was he acting like this? And why does he think you're pregnant?

"I scanned you while you were sleeping. You are pregnant."

A feeling of heartbreaking astonishment washed away some of the fear. "You scanned me? You promised me you wouldn't do that."

"Why? Worried I might have found out about your affair sooner?"

"Affair? I'm no-"

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me!" His words piercing harder than any bullet ever could. "You can't hide the evidence from me! It's right there!" He jabbed his finger towards your lower abdomen, you falling backwards onto your ass from the sudden motion. He was towering over you. Never have you felt this level of fear, especially not from your Connor.

"Am I not enough for you? Have I not given you everything that you ask of me?" He could see tears forming in your eyes, a part of him screaming at himself, begging him to stop.

His pleas fell on deaf ears as he seethed.

"Was I ever anything to you? Did you ever see me as more than a machine you could toy with, then toss aside when you're done?"

You tried to form words, deny his accusations, but he cut you off at every opportunity as you hiccupped and weeped. His hands shot out and gripped your upper arms, tight enough to leave marks as he gave you a rough shake.

"What am I to you!?!"

"I'M SCARED!!!" You shrieked. Like a cornered animal, you fought to get loose, kicking and scratching at him. Your petrified voice snapped him out of his acrimony. He let go as you shoved yourself as far away from him as you could, slamming into the far wall with a squeak.

What was wrong with him? How could he do such a thing to you? You, who had been his light for so long. You were shaking, harsh breaths as panic and fear smothered you.

"Y-Y/n... I-" he slowly reached out to you, but you recoiled before dashing off to the bedroom. He could hear the click of the lock as he fell to his knees. Even through the door he could hear your sharp gasps and deep sobs. The sounds tormented him as he broke down and cried.

At some point in the night, his stress levels hit 95% and he was forced into emergency low power mode, a setting he downloaded to deal with work stress. Only when his internal alarm told him it was time to get ready for work did he stir. He was still on his knees on the living room floor, tears dried and leaving a residue he could feel on his cheeks and chin.

Slowly standing, he looked down the hall. The bedroom door was shut, but you had stopped crying. He thought about knocking on the door and informing you of the time, of sitting down and having a proper discussion, even of apologizing. You might have broken his heart, but the pieces were still yours, and under no circumstances should he have hurt you the way that he did.

In the end, he knew he was the last person you wanted to see right now, so he got ready. For a moment he wondered what he was going to wear, his work clothes were in the closet of the bedroom, until he noticed a pair of jeans and a button-down folded neatly on the table, fresh socks tucked in his shoes. He almost broke down again. Even after what he put you though, you still snuck out and made sure he was taken care of. He got dressed with the weight of that thought in mind. It didn't make any sense. Nothing you did was indicative that you betrayed him. After a few more minutes of hesitation, he turned and left for work, leaving you alone.

You came in to work an hour late. You had make-up on, something you rarely bothered with. Somehow you had managed to cover up the bags under your eyes quite well, but the RK800 could still see them. To the unwitting eye, it would seem like you were fine, smiling and waving at fellow co-workers. Connor saw right through your facade, the fake smiles and forced laughs.

"Never would have pegged her as the 'sleeping around' type," Hank glanced over at you, to which you fake a smile before going back to talking with one of the android officers.

Hank wasn't as washed-up as Gavin might have people believing. He saw how you avoided Connor, practically running away from him when he ventured too close. Connor had already confessed to what happened last night, along with what was currently baking in your oven. While he sure as hell doesn't condone what Connor did, he understands where the kid's coming from.

You, however, he had known longer than Connor. There hadn't been any boyfriend or what have you before Connor as far as he knew. You hid insecurities behind high standards, and Connor had been the first one to see that. You wore thick armor to protect yourself, but Connor could see through you like glass, as you did him.

Hank thought he had never seen you happier, until Connor proposed a few months back. As soon as the law passed that recognized human/android marriages, the two of you would set a date. You had been so excited, and you showed off the deep blue crystal to anyone who ventured too close. A thirium diamond, made using some of Connor's own blue blood. Hank thought it was gross, but it did look nice.

The two of you were always clinging to each other, and when you weren't, you sure as hell always talked about the other all the damn time. You didn't fit the profile for a cheater, but that doesn't explain how you ended up pregnant.

"Could she have been raped?" Hank hated that it could be a possibility, but it wasn't off the table.

"Y/n is a capable person, even if someone had successfully assaulted her, she would have fought and therefore would of had bruises or scratch marks. There were only small bruises on her hips and one decent size bruise on her right thigh from hitting the corner of her desk."

"What were the small bruises from?"

"Me. I held her too tightly."

"You're fuckin' disgusting." Hank sneered. Suddenly, Hank snapped his head to something behind Connor. "What the fuck?"

Connor followed Hank's gaze and spotted four male androids, dressed in Cyberlife attire, standing in front of your office. They took six crates of bottled thirium while you talked to a female android, also dressed in a Cyberlife embroidered lab coat. You signed a document and handed over some papers before shaking her hand.

"The fuck was that all about?"

You looked over at Connor for the first time today, looking like you needed to say something, only to change your mind and head back into your office.

"You gonna see what she wants?" Hank eyed the RK800.

Connor's gaze lingered where you had stood,

"...No. I believe I will only make things worse should I go to her. I think the best course is to wait until she approaches me." The android turned away and brought his focus to the list of reports on his terminal.

Days went by like this. While you were pretending everything was normal, Connor had thrown himself into his work, a habit he developed when he was unable to deal with his problems or emotions and needed a distraction. He was filling out reports like a mad man, scanning drone footage near crime scenes, analyzing evidence, all in an effort to hide from his problems. He could almost forget how much he misses holding you in his arms, seeing your smile, or listening to your heartbeat.

He could almost forget how much he loves you, and how much it fucking hurt.

He only went home to change his clothes. While he didn't sweat like humans did, working out in the field can be quite filthy. Every time he did, there would be fresh clothes sitting on the table in the kitchen, even a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt should he decide to stay.

He had hardly seen you at all during this time, only locking eyes with you once and it had been terrifying. The light that shined in your eyes was out completely, leaving behind an empty shell. He never thought he would see you like that, and he wishes he never did.

At night, sometimes, he would hear you crying behind the locked bedroom door, the sound like a knife to his heart. Any efforts made to rectify the situation, or at least discuss the next step for them, was met with silence. You refused to unlock the door and he couldn't scare you again by forcing his way in.

Sometimes he felt a sense of injustice. You had cheated on him, betrayed him, and now he feels the need to apologize to you? At these moments, he feels his worse, because he knows that rage he can't control is waiting for the perfect time to strike.

"I don't know what to do. She won't speak to me. I'm still angry about what she did, but at the same time I don't think I can handle this much longer."

Hank leaned back and scratched at his beard, "I don't know what to tell ya, son. This is one of those things you have to decide on yer own. It's a huge change, no matter..." Hank looked up at the large newscreen, prompting Connor to tune in as well.

"...Cyberlife is recalling 190,000 bottles of thirium after several reports came in of pregnancy in human women after their android partner consumed the contaminated substance. It is believed that an experimental formula meant to help androids and humans conceive a child had been accidentally mass produced. Cyberlife is investigating the incident and asks any who might have been affected to report to a nearby Cyberlife hospital for further treatment..."

"Holy shit."

Connor turned to his partner, eyes wide as his breathing picked up, fast and shallow. He had been injured the week before you conceived, stabbed by a suspect trying to flee. It was minor, but you gave him some thirium to replenish what he lost. Then there were those androids the other day, carrying out all the thirium you had on hand. It all lined up with one another, which means...

"She didn't..." Connor couldn't finish his sentence, because the weight of those words crashed around him. It meant what he did to you was for nothing. The love of his life was now petrified of him, and it was all his fault.

He sprang up, chair falling over as he did. "I need to go talk to her. I need..."

"You need to calm down," Hank got up and rushed over, blocking Connor in as he picked up the fallen chair. Connor was pacing, trying to get past Hank. Other officers were starting to look on, but the lieutenant waved them off.

"All yer gonna do is scare her if you go marching in there looking like that."

At that, Connor sat back down. He focused on his breathing rather than the thoughts racing though his mind. Did this mean you were carrying his child? Was he going to be a father? Would you ever forgive him? Guilt and shame flooded his systems. It was him who had betrayed you.

"Why don't you go home early today? Clear your mind, think carefully about how you're going to handle the situation."

Connor looked up, as if to argue, before dropping his head and nodding. He got up without another word and made his way toward the exit. Hank took the opportunity to head towards your office.

"Hey, Y/n."

You looked up and flashed him one of your fake smiles. It didn't even reach your eyes.

"Hey, Hank, do you need something?"

He closed the door and your smile fell. Getting a good look at you, Hank could only think of one thing.

"You look like shit."

Your skin was pale and almost had a sickly hue to it. Your make-up was no longer able to hide the swollen, dark circles under your dull eyes. It seemed like you were going to puke at any second. He also couldn't be sure, but it looked like you lost weight.

You sighed, "Did you really come in here just to say that? If so, I don't need you to, I already know." You turned back to your computer.

"Actually, I came in here to talk to ya about Connor." You visibly tensed. "Did you happen to see the news report?"

"I didn't have to. Cyberlife came and replaced all the thirium I had stockpiled. They told me why and asked for a list of people who might have ingested it. They already know about me and Connor and informed me to go to a Cyberlife hospital. I haven't had time."

"Wait a minute, you knew for three days that Connor drank tainted thirium and didn't say anything?"

"Four nights ago he accused me of cheating and wouldn't even give me the benefit of defending myself. Why would it be different now? 'Hey, Connor, turns out I'm pregnant because you drank magic blue blood. We cool right?'" You turned to him, irritated, "And don't act all innocent. I seen the way you looked at me, like I somehow disappointed you. You know me a hell of a lot better than that, Hank!"

"What the hell did you expect me to think?Connor sure as fuck couldn't knock you up!" Hank growled.

"And yet, here we are." You spoke with a calm anger before doubling over, grabbing the trash can under your desk and heaving up a small amount of bile. The agitation left Hank as he went to help, but you swatted his hands away. "Fuck off." You choked out.

"When was the last time you ate somethin'?"

"I'm fine. You didn't care ten minutes ago, why start now?"

Hank didn't say anything. It was true. He knew you were pregnant, knew that you had been sick beforehand, and yet, not once did he ask since the fight how you were doing. He had viewed Connor as the victim without even meaning to. He didn't even ask if you wanted to press charges against Connor for harming you. Wasn't he a fucking cop?

"Shit, kid, I didn't-"

"It's fine, Hank, I get it, he's like a son to you."

"That don't make what he or I did right. Listen, if you don't feel safe around him, I can send an officer out to detain him."

You shook your head, "No, I can't exactly blame him for feeling how he felt, even if he was being an asshole. I would have thought the same. I'm not going to ruin his record like that."

"Well, if you want, he can stay at my place for a while. Least until you feel comfortable with being around 'im."

"As much as he scared me, I'm even more terrified at the prospect of being alone right now. People are not going to be happy about Cyberlife finding a way to breed their bots. It's another step towards evolution and to our extinction. I've already been alerted to several cases of women being attacked outside Cyberlife hospitals and because Connor is famous, many already know he's engaged to a human. I don't want to be alone right now."

"Alright, well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Even if you need a place to stay, my door is open."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." A message popped up on your computer about a domestic abuse case involving an android, asking for your assistance. These had been popping up a lot lately, especially before the announcement. You stood up, gripping the desk as you threatened to crumple to the floor. The headache you had developed left you blind with its searing pain. Hank again reached out, helping to keep you upright until your moment of dizziness passed.

"You need to go to the hospital."

You nodded as you hurried out, not really listening at this point. You had a job to do, and you weren't going to let Connor, Hank, or even the child in your stomach get in your way.

By the time your shift ended, you were exhausted and agitated. Your headache was only getting worse, unable to take any medication in case it affected the baby. You managed to eat some grapes, but who knows how long they will stay down.

Once at home you noticed that the lights were on. Connor had beat you home for the first time since this all started. Anxiety tried to surface but your irritation was quick to kill it. Walking through the door you were quick to notice the smell of food lingering in the air. Your stomach turned painfully, not ready for the next round of dry heaves. The second thing you noted was how immaculate the the place looked. You haven't felt much like cleaning and just said 'fuck it'.

Connor rounded the corner from the bathroom and froze when he saw you, LED flashing red before settling on yellow. With where he stood, he blocked the bedroom door, not that you really felt like going that way anyway. It was your house too, and you weren't going to keep hiding in your bedroom. Connor stayed where he was, afraid to scare you off again, as he spoke softly the words he had put together and memorized.

"I'm sorry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, and I can understand if you never want to see me again." He paused, the thought that it might be a possibility painful. He drew in a breath to steady himself, "What I did was unforgivable. I questioned your love when you needed me the most, even going so far as to hurt you. If you do decide to forgive me, I promise I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, and I will never doubt you again."

In the back of your mind, you were happy he finally believed you. Here he was, asking for forgiveness, true remorse written on his face. You believed every word and wanted nothing more than for things to go back to normal, to be held in his arms and let him mend the hurt in your heart.

However, you were still tired and resentful, and the hurt you were feeling wanted to be known.

"What? Now that you saw it on the news you suddenly believe me?" Connor looked away in shame, biting his lower lip. "I get that this is an unusual circumstance, but I expected a little more faith in me than that. I shouldn't have to be afraid of what might happen if you get pissed off again!"

"You're right, you shouldn't, and I don't want you to be. I never want you to look at me again the way you did that night."

"And don't think I'm not still angry that you scanned me! You promised me, and you didn't even ask! And what the hell is that smell?"

Connor looked towards the kitchen, "I made dinner. I couldn't sit still and I figured you would want something to eat when you got home."

"Throw it away, it's making me sick!"

Connor looked both confused and hurt, "It's your favorite..."

"I don't want..." your throbbing head started to swim, the room spinning as you fell. Connor ran over and caught you.

"Y/n! What's wrong?" He noted your flushed skin, temperature running higher than usual. "I need to scan you to figure out what's wrong."

You sighed before you nodded, too tired to care at this point. A quick scan revealed you were extremely dehydrated and malnourished. Your heart rate was also much higher than usual.

Hoisting you up in his arms, he carried you to your car and set you down in the front passenger seat before climbing into the driver's side. He hesitated to which hospital he should take you to. Deciding on a Cyberlife ran hospital, he drove to the nearest one. You both needed answers.

You had fallen asleep almost immediately. He tried not to think about how he had let you get to this state. You might have been too stubborn for your own good, neglecting your health at a crucial time in your life, but had Connor not been so busy being pissed off and upset, you would have never reached this state. When he asked you to be his partner, he vowed to always take care of you. Now, as he pulled up, bold, red letters lit up a corner of his vision.

Mission Failed

He entered the lobby, you bundled in his arms. Two android nurses came up and preformed their own scan.

"Come this way, please." They led him to a small room with two beds, both of which were empty. The room had been fitted for humans, rather than the androids that usually came here. "Set her down on one of the beds and we'll start administering an IV drip." Connor did as he was told, watching as the two nurses worked on you. They set up the heart monitor and slipped a needle under your skin, allowing you the hydration and some of the nutrition you desperately needed.

"The drip will take approximately twenty minutes to finish administering. Once it's finished, Dr. Bower will do an examination and determine the next course of action. He will also inform you of what's going to happen and answer any questions you might have, along with listing all available options."

"Thank you," the nurse only smiled back before they both left, leaving him alone with you. Even asleep you looked to be in pain. Connor can only hope he made the right decision taking you here instead of a regular hospital.

When the revolution ended, Cyberlife was crumbling. Everyone thought for sure that they would be bankrupt before the year was out. If that happened, it would deal a huge blow to the already crumbling economy.

Then, Kamski stepped up and offered to be CEO again. Naturally, nobody refused and Kamski was able to turn things around. He started developing upgrades for androids and selling them on the market. He converted factories and previous storage buildings into android hospitals. While androids were weary to go to these places or get upgrades, they slowly got accustomed to it. Connor couldn't even begin to imagine what could have happened that would cause this accident when their reputation was hanging by a thread already.

You began to stir and Connor moved to sit in a chair next to your bed. He hesitated before gently taking your hand in his, feeling the ring resting on your third finger. Despite the situation, it still felt nice to feel your warmth again. He had missed it so much.

You begrudgingly opened your eyes, feeling an itch in your arm. You went to pick at it, but Connor knew you too well, holding your hand a little tighter.

"Don't."

"But it itches."

Connor could laugh at the normality of it all. If he wasn't so guilt-ridden, he just might have. Your pout has none of the enmity that your words held previously.

"This is my fault."

You groaned, "Dammit, Connor, stop that! I was the one who refused to go to the hospital before it got to this point. You even told me to." Despite your harsh words, you didn't pull your hand back. Instead, he felt your thumb sliding back and forth against his own. Your face softened.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about."

He put his head down. This was it. You were leaving him. He had failed you and you were done with him. He felt your fingers run through his hair. He turned his head and gazed at you. While you still looked so tired, you wore the softest smile he had ever seen from you.

"Silly man. I was talking about the baby."

"Oh." Right, of course. In the midst of everything, he had almost forgotten what had started it all. "Do you forgive me?"

"If you rub my shoulders when we get home."

He scoffed, "I think I can handle that."

"Then, yes, I forgive you." Your face hardened, "but if you EVER pull that shit again, I will shoot you."

"Understood."

[doc-pickles]

won’t let no one break your heart (part four)

“Have the girls been adjusting well?”

“As well as they can be. Things have gotten better over the last few weeks.”

Jo and Alex sat in an empty conference room on the Peds floor with Martha, who was doing a check in with them. The girls had been with them for two months now, all four of them getting more and more used to their new living situation. Sadie had started back at school three weeks ago and Molly had adjusted quickly to the hospital daycare.

“You know, as of three days ago Sadie and Molly are officially wards of the state. Dad was let out on bail and OD’d within 12 hours of being released. Mom passed shortly after Molly was born,” Martha glanced up at Jo and Alex, who were both wearing shocked expressions. “Have you two thought about adopting? Both girls seem very attached to you and they’re both thriving. Sadie’s teacher said this is the most focused she’s been all school year.”

“Ummm we hadn't considered it actually,” Jo’s words come slowly, the shock on her face speaking for her. “We’re expecting a little boy in three and half months, taking on two more wasn’t really in the cards.”

“Well you two have been doing an excellent job regardless,” Martha packed her bag up and stood to leave. She turned back to Jo and Alex, who were still sitting there stunned, a smirk on her face. “Think about it, it might be good for you and for them.”

Alex’s mind whirled as he processed Martha’s words. Sadie and Molly had fit so easily into his and Jo’s routine that sometimes he forgot their arrangement was temporary. Both girls were beyond excited for the newest addition, always giving them new suggestions for baby names. (Molly’s favorite was currently Pinecone while Sadie’s was Elsa.)

If he was being honest, Alex would admit that he had considered adopting the girls more than once. The way that Sadie and Molly cuddled into his side on early Saturday mornings and how his wife always made sure to tuck them in no matter how tired she was cemented in his mind that the girls belonged with them. He knew Jo didn’t see eye to eye with him, but he also knew that a lot of her apprehension over the matter had to do with the fact that going from no kids to three kids in the house was terrifying to think about.

Both Jo and Alex’s pagers lit up, breaking them out of their daze with a 911 page to Trauma 2. They both stood and exited the conference room, boarding an empty elevator that slowly began its journey downstairs.

“Hey this probably means we get a case together,” Jo grinned at Alex, gripping his hand tightly. “We almost never get to work together anymore.”

Alex froze then, Jo was right. They never got paged together, especially with Jo being a fellow who didn’t usually work on cases that came through the ER anymore. His heart dropped, realizing that maybe there wasn't a case and something was wrong.

As soon as the elevator doors had opened, Alex knew he was right, Even from this far back, he could hear the screams coming from the trauma bay that he was all too familiar with. Jo broke her hand away from his, jogging as fast as she could towards Molly’s screams.

“She got hit in the forehead with a block, she probably won’t even need stitches but I think the blood is freaking her out,” Owen is standing in front of Alex now, but he can barely process what he’s saying as Molly continues to scream. “We haven’t been able to calm her down since they brought her over.”

Alex pushes past Owen, following the screams until he’s standing behind Jo outside of the trauma room. He watches as Molly finally sees Jo, her screams turning into cries as she outstretches her hands towards her, “Mama! Mama, Mama!”

If Jo is fazed by Molly’s words she doesn’t show it as she surges forward and gathers the little girl in her arms, “It’s okay baby, you’re alright.”

Molly’s cries finally settle down to whimpers as Jo rocks her back and forth, allowing Alex to look at the cut on her forehead. Owen’s right, the cut is shallow and won’t need stitches, but Molly’s face is dripping with blood. He quickly cleans her up, watching as she slowly falls asleep on Jo’s shoulder. Once she’s out, Alex takes the toddler from Jo, watching as she collapses into a fit of tears.

“I heard her screaming and I thought the worst. And she was covered in blood and I just…,” Jo takes a deep breath before a sob breaks from her throat, Alex pulling her into his chest as she continues to cry. He’d truly never seen Jo so upset, her body shaking as she curled into his embrace.

Alex knew then that he needed to convince Jo of what she couldn’t see, that she too had grown attached to the little girls that slept across the hall from them. Her fear was clouding her judgement, he knew damn well that Jo would be a great mother, she already practically was one to Sadie and Molly. Afterall, it was her who Molly had called out for and been comforted by.

Looking between Molly and Jo curled up against him, Alex couldn’t help but feel like things were falling into place for them. Everyday both Sadie and Molly taught him something new about being a parent and showed him that he didn’t have a reason to be scared about parenthood. He just hoped that Jo could see what he did…

+

Three days after Molly’s ER run in, Alex is blindsided by a completely different situation. He’d just finished his work for the day and was about to find Jo and Molly when both of them showed up on the Peds floor.

“Hey, I was just about to go and find you two,” Alex leaned down to kiss Jo’s cheek, his tired brain finally registering the woman standing behind his wife. “Mom? What’re you doing here?”

“I came to surprise my son and daughter in law, but instead I found out that they’ve got two and a half kids they’ve been hiding from me,” Helen leaned up to kiss Alex’s cheek, chuckling at his sheepish expression. “Oh don’t feel bad dear, this little one has already buttered me up, haven’t you Molly?”

A nervous smile spread across Alex’s cheeks as he avoided his mom’s gaze. He had only recently told his mom that she was going to be a grandmother again, but he hadn’t mentioned how far along Jo was. He was certain that if the six month baby bump his wife was sporting wasn’t enough to shock her, that the toddler on her hip was.

Alex looked from Helen to Jo, who shrugged at him to indicate that she was just as thrown off as he was. Turning back to his mom, he tried to look as sincere as possible, “Sorry mom, we’ve been… overwhelmed around here. But the girls aren’t ours, it’s just temporary.”

“Why don’t we head back to the house? It’s almost time to pick Sadie up anyways,” Jo looked to Alex with a small smile, her expression calm as if to say she would handle the situation. “We can order pizza and you can show off the new house to your mom.”

The drive to pick up Sadie and back home was loaded with Alex and Jo filling Helen in on everything happening in their lives, including how Sadie and Molly had fallen into their laps. As soon as they’d picked up Sadie though, her and Helen couldn’t stop talking. The six year old had instantly bonded with ‘Nana Helen’ and had a million questions for her.

Once they arrived back at the house, Jo hurried the girls upstairs for a bath while Alex showed his mom around the new house. A smile appeared on Helen’s face as they walked into the bedroom that they’d made up for the girls, “You know you have that same sense about you that you did when you would take care of your siblings. Like you’d do anything for those girls.”

“Well, I would, they’re special,” Alex tried to brush his mom’s comment off, but the words stuck with him. “Their case worker wants us to make it official, adopt them ya know? And Jo isn’t sold on it, but…”

“But you are, you’re already hooked,” Helen let out a small laugh at Alex’s shocked face. “Don’t act so surprised, I am your mother after all. I know that you want to keep them, so does your wife even if she can’t see that. Have you seen the way her face lights up when Molly calls her mama?”

“Oh don’t get me started on that,” Alex chuckled, wrapping an arm around his mom and bringing her into his side. “I’ll win her over. Or the girls will… either way, I think you might get three new grandkids here soon.”

After dinner had finished, Molly and Sadie both found themselves cuddled into Helen’s side while the family watched a movie together. While Molly was invested in the movie, Sadie was watching with wide eyes as Helen knitted in front of her, “What is that going to be?”

“It’s a hat for the baby,” Helen pulled at the green yarn, explaining the stitches to Sadie. “I figured he might need something to keep him warm since it’s so cold in Seattle.”

“That’s a big hat for a tiny baby,” Sadie mused, causing Alex to chuckle from across the room. “What’s so funny Alex?”

“Nothing, the hat’s just big because Karev babies have extra big heads,” Jo’s hand comes up to slap Alex’s head, prompting him to look down at his wife who was stretched out across him. “What?! You’re the one that decided to procreate with me, you’ve seen my big ass head.”

“Alexander Michael! Language! There's children here,” Jo’s tone makes Alex laugh, hearing his foul mouthed wife berate him for saying the word ‘ass’ well and truly undoing him. “Stop laughing at me, you’re insufferable.”

As Alex and Jo settled in for the night, all he could think about was what his mom had said to him earlier. Jo was laid out in bed already, palms resting on her belly, “You know I don’t get it.”

“Get what?,” Alex looked up from where he was brushing his teeth, eyeing his wife as she stared at the ceiling.

“I don’t get how you can leave your baby, your own flesh and blood, at a fire station when they’re not even a week old. I could never imagine a world where making that decision makes sense,” Jo pauses for a moment, Alex watching as her mind works out her next words. “I can’t imagine doing that to our baby, I can’t even imagine doing that to Sadie and Molly and they’re not even ours. I just… I’ve been painting this picture in my head for years that my mom did the right thing but now I’m not so sure.”

Climbing into bed and wrapping his arms around his wife, Alex pressed a kiss to her neck, “You know I’ve been thinking.”

“Always dangerous words coming from you.”

“I think we should keep the girls, make it official,” Jo turned in his arms, her eyes blown wide as she met his pleading ones. “They’re doing so good here and they’re comfortable and-”

“Alex, in a few months we’re going to have a newborn,” Jo’s fingers looped through Alex’s to press against her stomach, as if to emphasize her point. “We agreed it was only temporary, three kids is a lot to take on.”

Knowing he’d either anger or freak out Jo if he kept pushing, Alex let out a sigh as he pressed a kiss into her head, “Okay, if you say no then it’s a no. I won’t ask again.”

He settles down then, his breathing evening out and his body almost asleep when he feels wet tears soaking into his shirt. Alex knows Jo’s mind is racing just the same as his, but she doesn’t want to entertain the same ideas that he has. Instead of bringing up his wife’s emotional state, he tightens his grip around her and rubs her back silently.

+

“Nana I don’t want you to go, what if you just stayed with us forever?”

Helen chuckles at Sadie’s pleading tone as she zips up her suitcase. Both Sadie and Molly are perched on Helen's bed in the guest room, watching with sad expressions as she made sure she has everything. In the three days that she’d been in Seattle, both girls had grown closer to Helen than any of the adults could’ve anticipated.

“I’m sorry sweetie, I have to get back home,” Helen sat between the girls, both of them immediately climbing into her lap. “But I do have a surprise for you two.”

Helen reached into her handbag and pulled out two bright green knitted hats, the same color as the tiny one she’d been working on the past few days. Both girls eagerly put the hats on, giggling as they looked at each other.

“We look like teddy bears Nana,” Sadie swatted at the two pompoms on top of Molly’s hat with a grin. “And we match the baby’s hat!”

“Well I didn’t want you to feel left out,” Helen looked between the girls and sent a wink in Sadie’s direction. “I have a feeling that you two will be good big sisters.”

The girls spent a few more minutes enjoying Helens presence before Alex came in and interrupted, “Alright girls we gotta get Nana to the airport. If you come with us we can go to the park after.”

Molly rushed to Alex's arms, the two walking out of the room as Sadie lingered behind and looked up to Helen with a worried expression, “Do you think next time you come back that me and Molly will still be here?”

“You know what,” Helen leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sadie’s forehead. “I think you will be.”

[girlofmanyfandoms]

Forbidden Spicy Gatorade Chronicles Chapter One

A/n: Ok, so the cult is getting stronger by the minute so if you haven’t been introduced yet, don’t be offended! I’ll try to go through everyone and introduce you in the next chapter. Erica (@the-never-ending-void) has asked not to be included in this fic.

Key:

Tater - @a-lonely-tatertot 

Lynn - @lesbilynnette

Gray - @silver-snow

Lilah - @tribblemakingalicorn

Cadence - me

Ivy - @imaramennoodle

Molly - @molly-sencen

Farris - @everyonehasthoughts

Speens - @an-absolute-travesty

Holes - @holesinmyfalseconfidence

Connor - @linhammon-roll-bromance101

Panda - @worldwidepandamonium

Meg - @ultralazycreatorfan

Word count: 2,382

Warnings: If you’re reading this, you already know what’s about to pop off

Lilah poked Cadence’s shoulder who promptly rolled over. Lilah poked her several more times, a bit more aggressively. Grumbling Cadence sat up quickly and smacked her head on the top of the bunk bed. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes slowly adjusted to her surroundings, taking in the strangely black, purple, and gold aesthetic room.

“Why’d you wake me up?”

“You got a notification,” Lilah said, eyes wide open, handing her the phone, slowly walking out of their shared room.

Cadence furrowed her brows, unlocking the phone before calling out to her roommate. “Wait, how long have you been up?”

“OREOS!” she called back. “Where are the keys?”

“On the kitchen counter,” Cadence replied, checking her emails. 1 unread message from Gray, the AI developer who she made small talk with during lunch breaks.

Dear Cadence,

Good evening! There’s a new play coming out on Mainstreet, called The Facade, and I was approached by the team to create a promotional piece. I was hoping you could help, and we would split the rewards 50/50. The play is about a murder crime, which is plotted out in a series of intricate riddles. The plot twist: the lead detective was the murderer, and had been delaying her trial while she was pretending to gather evidence, and stealing from a suspect to gain enough money to flee. And her second in command was funding the plots without knowing that her boss was the mastermind behind it all.

Ok, now that my boss has read above the cut we can talk freely. The offer is real, and I WOULD like to split it 50/50, I just can’t stand talking all formal, y’know? Anyway, since you said you do animations and stuff as a side gig, I thought maybe you could make the animations, and I’ll edit and do the social networking? Idk, I’m just spitballing here, let me know what you think.

Also, Lilah directed me towards this email, she’s really good at tracking people down.

Sorry if I made any spelling mistakes, I haven’t slept in weeks,

Gray

“Huh,” Cadence huffed, glancing at the clock. 3 AM. She had time. So, grabbing her IPad, she opened Procreate and got to work. The Facade. Sounds interesting enough. But what to draw? A lock perhaps? A silhouette of the main character? Before she could decide, her phone buzzed again, a voice recording this time, from Lilah.

“Hey, so I just ran into two of the actresses from The Facade and they said they want to talk to you about it so you can create a better promotional vid, meet me at the local library, k bye.”

Cadence wished on a shooting star that at least an hour had passed by so the buses would be running. But how wrong she was. It was 3 AM. It was raining. And the library was at least a mile away.

“This should be fun,” she mumbled, grabbing her set of keys, her IPad, and a raincoat before jogging the mile it took to get to the library.

_______

By the time Cadence arrived her hair was drenched and she was so out of breath and tired she thought she was going to pass out. She looked for any sign of her roommate, but she was nowhere to be found. Instead, she saw three people sitting at a table chatting freely and crying laughing. The librarian wasn’t fazed in the slightest. On the contrary, they seemed to be enjoying it, leaning over the library’s registry system, talking with them. Quickly Googling “The Facade,” Cadence confirmed that the two ladies were the actresses from the play. The other one offered occasional comments, mostly just watching the occurrences that went on. Social anxiety kicked in and told her to run in the other direction, but she really needed the money. She forced herself to approach them.

“Hey, I’m Cadence,” I introduce myself nervously. “Lilah said you wanted to speak to me about promoting your play?”

“Cadence! Lilah mentioned your animations, and we thought it’d be a new, eye-catching way to get our work out there,” the first one chirped. “I’m Molly, by the way. I play the detective’s second in command.”

“And I’m Ivy,” the other one greeted. “I play the lead.”

Cadence expected the third person to introduce themself next, but the librarian took the initiative. “Hello, fellow human, you may address me as SPEENS, I accept liver sacrifices.”

“They do that all the time,” the third person assured her. “Tater, by the way. I’m not in the play, I’m just working on a novel with Molly. We met up here to talk to good ‘ol Speens when these bit-”

“Language,” Molly warned.

“When these lovely individuals,” Tater corrected, “decided to make this a research sesh for the book. As if we needed more work. I’m free to fly wherever the wind takes me.”

“Amen to that, sibling,” Speens responded solemnly, pulling five wine glasses and vodka out from under the desk like a bartender. Cadence looked confused, but not against it. “Say, where’s the rest of the crew? Lynn, Gray, Farris, and the lot of them?”

“Farris doesn’t work on the set,” Ivy reminded her. “They’re an archaeologist. Holes makes the sets for us.”

Speens wrinkled their nose, seemingly in disgust. “And the others?”

“Well, if you can take a break, we can meet up with them at the theatre. Even Farris, since I heard their last trip was a bust,” Molly offered.

Without a second thought, Speens put up a sign that read “The Librarian is Out.”

“Do they-”

“All the time,” Ivy nodded. “It’s kinda their thing.”

“But, yeah, Farris and Connor tend to hang around the set,” Molly explained. “They don’t bother anyone, no one bothers them. They’re a bit older, kinda like the authority figures of the group.”

“If authority figures would let you make a dumba-”

“Tater,” Ivy nudged.

Tater changed their wording. “-unwise move in order to see what would happen.”

“They’re responsible for us without being responsible for us, if that makes sense,” Ivy commented. “Let’s get going though, before someone blows something up.” She shot a sideways glance at Speens, who put a hand up in surrender.

________

Ivy swung open the doors to the theatre and immediately had to duck for cover. “What the HELL, Connor?”

They were holding onto some theatre seats, zooming back and forth the row on rollerblades, occasionally losing balance and having to sit down. After a particularly messy turn-around, they decided to crawl over to the red carpeted steps and laid there for a moment. Farris was perched in a seat a row down, calming watching as Connor seemed to be having an existential crisis. Upon seeing Tater and Cadence, Farris got up, carefully stepping around Connor. “New kids?”

“Farris, this is Tater, and that’s Cadence,” Ivy helped. “They’re helping us promote the play.”

“Congratulations, you’re adopted,” they vowed, though Tater looked confused. “What? I don’t make the rules. Oh, wait, I’m supposed to be the responsible one…. Ok, so I make the rules, but they can be bent if the alternative’s interesting enough. Right, Connor?”

“Uh huh,” he called from the floor tiredly. If he hadn’t spoken, he would have been deemed dead.

“Lynn and the rest of the gang are in the back,” Farris informed them, pulling a skateboard from under their seat and helping Connor stand. Connor’s rollerblades flailed a bit as he struggled to get up, but his arm was slung around Farris’s shoulder, supporting him.

“DO A KICKFLIP,” Connor prompted, his words slurred.

“Are you kidding, I haven’t skateboarded since I was six, I need an actual skate park to practice that,” Farris recounted. “And how drunk are you?”

“Yes,” he responded, giggling in a hiccupy way. “Does anyone have more vodka?”

“I got you fam,” Speens said, pulling out a suitcase of alcohol from thin air.

“Anyways,” Ivy interjected, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I’ll go get the others, wait here.”

Ivy returned with Gray, Lynn, Holes, Panda, and Meg, and introduced them accordingly. “Gray works on the special effects, Lynn designed everyone’s costumes, Holes makes the set, Panda is a theatre critic, and Meg is our concept artist.”

“So, other than animation, is there anything else you bring to the table?” Molly asked.

“Well, I do glass art,” Cadence supplied. “It’s probably not relevant, but when it’s still really hot and glowy, which is when you can shape it, it looks like it would make a good snack. Hell, it almost looks like Gatorade. I can show a picture if you’d like.”

Cadence took her phone out and everyone crowded around to see.

“More like Powerade, Gatorade doesn’t come in that kind of blue,” Speens added.

“F O R B I D D E N S P I C Y G A T O R A D E,” Connor yelled, startling Farris.

“NO,” Holes countered, clearly distressed. “Do NOT drink molten glass. You’d die!”

“You call it death, I call it adventure,” Molly smirked. “I’m here for it. C’mon Holes, live a little.”

“Sis, how have you made it to adulthood thinking like that?” Lynn questioned, looking a bit scared.

“And I know how to live, I’m living right now!” Holes countered.

“Sure you are, nerd.” Molly rolled her eyes. “And how many near death experiences have you had, huh?”

“Near death- okay, first of all, I am not a nerd-”

“You kinda are,” Tater mumbled. Holes gasped, putting a hand over her heart as if they were betrayed. “What? You are. You make a living off of reading books.”

“Used to, friend,” Holes clarified. “I’m a freelance artist now. I picked up this gig because of these fools. And good thing too, because now you’re about to poison yourselves! Second of all, um, none?! How many have you had?”

Molly clicked her tongue in disappointment. “Five. Blended corn, acorns, eating soap, eating paper, and an intense game of dodgeball. I haven’t even peaked with these experiences yet.”

“Immortal until proven mortal,” Connor finished for her.

Meg stood next to Molly and held her shoulders. “This girl, she’s going places.”

“Meg, not you, too, I swear to god-”

“sLuRp,” Ivy joined in, grinning from ear to ear.

Holes was getting hysterical. “What the actual hell is going on? Lynn, help me out here.”

“The Gatorade is Forbidden for a reason, kids,” Lynn tried to reason.

Gray stood up with a mischievous glint in their eyes. “Where can we get it?”

“From the crunchy forbidden chocolate powder, of course,” Connor chimed in. Panda gave him a high-five while Holes became paler and paler from the cult forming in front of their eyes.

“This one speaks the truth,” Panda shrugged.

“Ok, what even is crunchy forbidden chocolate powder?”

“Sand, duh,” Connor said matter of factly. “Add some vodka, a martini, and some olives, and you got one heck of a slushie.”

“So that means there must be Forbidden Chewy Lettuce and Flavoured Forbidden Chewy Lettuce,” Tater went on. “Grass and flower petals. Cursed, but not wrong.”

“Ooh, and crackle air can be limestones and sodium carbonate, pies are dirt, bread is wood, and hard candy is metal,” Panda proclaimed.

“Fidget spinners are Forbidden Bagels, too,” Connor helped. “I should know, I tried the other day and cut my lip.”

Farris ignored the last part of Connor’s rant. “The variety pack, I like the sound of that.”

“Farris you’re supposed to look after us and you’re condoning this?!” Holes shouted.

Farris mounted his skateboard. “I’m not condoning anything. I’m enabling and hyping them up without joining in. That’s some big brain stuff.”

“This is why they control the brain cell,” Ivy nodded. “WAIT, ARE MY CHICKEN NUGGETS BURNING?!”

“Ives, you literally set a timer on the microwave backstage, you’re fine,” Tater reassured Ivy, holding her from running to check on her meal.

“Oh, like you know anything about microwaves,” Ivy argued. “You microwave ice cream.”

“It takes too long to soften, and I’m impatient,” Tater defended, turning to address Holes. “And it is eaten with a spoon.”

“Do not start this debate again- you know what, Panda, get ice cream from the mini-fridge, we’re settling this here and now,” Holes demanded.

“I think the real question is why is ice cream so hard,” Speens mentioned as Panda brought a tub of Haagen Daz ice cream. Holes used a fork to attempt to chisel out part of the snack. It wasn’t very successful.

“I think that’s just how Haagen Daz works,” Cadence observed.

Holes saw this as an opportunity to gain some momentum in the argument. “Not just this brand! All ice cream works like that!!!”

“No,” Panda objected. “Not Breyer’s. That stuff is always just right when you need it. Hashtag not sponsored.”

“Did you just break the fourth wall?” Lynn asked. “You know what, I don’t wanna know, just for the love of all that is good in this world please don’t drink the Forbidden Spicy Gatorade.”

“Too late,” Cadence said. “It’s easily accessible. Also, I’m calling E so we can recruit her.”

“Holes, I know you’re hiding it from us,” Molly speculated.

“What are you talking-”

“You’re keeping the Forbidden Spicy Gatorade all to yourself because you know of its power and you want it all to yourself.”

“I don’t HAVE the Gatorade, and I’m explicitly telling you it’s going to kill you if you drink it!”

As the bickering went on, Lynn slipped off to the vacant staff lounge to pull out her phone. There had to be a supplier somewhere who would give them this. She searched for a few minutes, and, after a few dead ends, she finally found an investor. “Cha-ching. Forbidden Incorporated is in business,” Lynn smiled to herself.

“Forbidden Incorporated, eh?” Farris asked from the doorway. Lynn froze and cursed herself for forgetting to lock the door. Now Farris knew of her plans. “Tell you what, I’ll keep your secret under one condition: We split the money 50/50, and get equal control over the decisions. So, deal?”

Lynn hesitated. She wasn’t sure she could trust Farris, but seeing as this was the only way to stop Holes from knowing just yet, she had no other choice. “Deal.”

_______

A/n: So that was fun and took entirely too long to write. I hope you enjoyed it and if you’re in the cult and I didn’t include you, reblog this and I’ll make a list. The next chapter might focus on a smaller group bc there are like thirteen characters here and I’m tired. Peace out!

[remromfantasies]

He Been Knew — RemRom

Warnings: Sexual talk / sex mention, secret relationship, lying, and swearing!

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Roman and Remus’ secret gets out (just a tad ((and also by their own doing))).

Also tagging @uncensored-creativity and @pumpkinpadparadscha because it’s kinda sorta based on uncensored’s prompt :D I hope you guys all enjoy it!!

Roman snuck into Remus’ room, letting out a heavy sigh once he’d made it safely inside. Remus, laying on the bed, sat up and smirked at his brother.

“Something wrong?” He teased, leaning back on his forearms. Roman made his way over and flopped on top of the duke, curling his arms around him and pressing his face into his neck.

“It is impossible to be quiet about this.” He muttered, relaxing in their hug. “Like, we can’t even pretend to just be brothers, let alone lovers! They think we hate each other so just hanging out in the same space is impossible!”

“Ah, forbidden love,” Remus joked. Roman looked up at him with a pout, merely receiving a grin back. He rolled his eyes and leaned down for a kiss, letting out a content hum. Roman’s hands wandered across the duke's chest, playing with the chest hair peeking out of his v-neck and then slipping his hand up the base of his shirt. Remus chuckled seductively and pressed his brother close, raising his shirt as he rubbed along his skin.

“Roman!” They heard. The two kept going. They figured if no one responded that they could keep doing their thing, but it just increased the yelling. “Roman!!”

“Fine, I’m coming!” He called back. He groaned into his partner's chest, making him laugh lightheartedly.

“I’ll be here,” he winked, dragging his hand along Romans back as he left.

Roman jumped, startled out of his resigned state as Patton yelled into his ear.

“Roman!” he said. “Why were you in Remus’ room? Are you okay?” Patton was quick to check over the prince, making sure he wasn’t injured or upset.

“Padre, I’m fine!” He assured, taking his hands and smiling softly. “He merely messed with my stuff again. A small reprimand and it’s all better now. Everything is back as it should be!” Patton visibly relaxed and let out a sigh.

“Oh, good. I know he’s your brother, but I can’t help but worry.” Roman internally grimaced.

“I know, sunshine. Thank you.” The creative side glanced at the door and felt a pit of sadness fall over him. He hated lying to the others this much; it would be so much better if people could just let him and Remus live how they wished. It’s not like one of them would become pregnant! That is the concern, right..? Whatever it is, at least they consented and are happy with where their relationship has gone. Right?

After helping Patton in the living room, then Virgil in his bedroom, and lastly Deceit with a monologue, Roman was finally able to head back to his and Remus’ room. He was two rooms away, when he froze at the sound of a sharp, deep voice.

“Roman, a question, if I may?” He turned to the logical side and plastered on a semi-real smile.

“Anything, brainiac! Fire away.” Logan stepped in close, pulling out his phone and adjusting his glasses to read.

“I’m looking for a more creative mind in this, so I thought you could help. There is this idea going around of 2 or more siblings, finding romantic interest in each other.” Roman’s heart plummeted. He tried to remain a calm exterior as he internally panicked where this conversation would head. “Apparently, people disapprove of the romantic aspect, yet a lot seem to find interest in the sexual acts the siblings partake in instead. I, personally, have no opinion, merely for the fact that everything has been very black and white. I’m looking for some actual answers besides ‘it’s wrong’ or ‘love is love’. I believe you would have a more open mind about this sort of thing? ” Roman blinked, and tried to vouch.

“Well, I mean, I do fall more to the latter of the two options you gave, the whole… love is love part, I mean.”

“Alright, how come?” Logan whipped out a clipboard-- from where, we may never know-- and began to write notes. Roman stared in confusion, but once Logan met his eyes and didn’t seem weirded out any, he continued his thought.

“Well, complications in such a relationship can occur, such as DNA mixing and the effects of procreation, but it really does just come to love. If someone finds themselves fancying their sibling, who can rightfully tell them that it’s wrong? It’s not. Because for it to be wrong, it would require consequence, which it does not if experienced properly.” Logan nodded along, scratching a pen across the clipboard. “Say, example, two brothers. If they fall in love and decide to act on their feelings via touch and words of comfort and so on, why is that wrong?” Logan tapped his pen on his chin in thought.

“You do have a valid argument. There’s some heavy complications to factor, but if the pairing does know of the issues that can arise and they do not act on it, it really is just ‘two bros loving each other’. Right?” Roman winced at his wording, but chose to disregard it.

“Right! So, do you have an opinion?” Logan tossed away the clipboard and dropped the pen.

“No. It’s not my business so why should I involve myself so?” Then he walked past Roman and shut the door to his room. The creative side blinked, but then proceeded to rush into Remus’ room, nearly slamming into him as he did.

“Remus! You’re not going to believe this!”

“You mean Logan not having an opinion and choosing not to involve himself in endeavours such as our relationship?”

“Logan doesn’t have an opin— hey, wait. You heard everything.” Remus winked with a smirk. “You spoiled the surprise!”

“Awe, come on, Ro, I'm just as shocked as the next sour weeaboo. Do you think we can tell him?” Roman bit his lip in thought. Remus watched as his brows began to slowly furrow and sat up in their bed. “How’s about this! I’ll go bother him, and bring this up. You stand and listen on the other side of the door. Then we can tell. Yeah?” Roman took a breath, then let it out and agreed.

“Howdy, buttmuncher.” Remus cried, dropping onto the logical sides’ bed. Logan startled, but barely jumped. “Looking a little bland in here. Care for a little creativity to liven this place up?”

“Actually!” Logan raised a hand and spun his desk chair to face his companion. “I had Roman lend a hand with decorating not too long ago. He made sure to keep my aesthetic while creating a more uplifting atmosphere.” Remus hummed, glanced around.

“Ah, that Roman. What a dreamboat, am I right?” He rolled onto his back, looking at Logan for a reaction. The reaction was a mere eyebrow raise.

“I’m not sure I would use that term in particular, though he is rather generous.”

“You’re right, perhaps there is a stronger term. How about, foxy? Ravishing? Ooh, I like that one!” Logan tilted his head.

“There’s a reason you’re choosing these words, isn’t there?” Remus rolled back onto his stomach, putting his head in his hands.

“Maybe. Can you guess?”

“Roman told you about what I spoke to him about and you’re here to tell me you two find yourselves in a situation of romantic attraction to one another?” Remus gasped and pulled his hands to his face in mock surprise.

“Logy wogy, you’re so smart~!” The logical side made a small face of agreement, adding in verbal confirmation to his ingenious. Also the fact that the two weren’t exactly subtle in the eyes of someone with his level of intelligence and eye for detail. “Oh, and we fucked, too.” And that, Logan unfortunately already knew as well.

[storiesforallfandoms]

picnic ~ harry styles au

part one   part two

word count: 1679

request?: no

description: after showing her the town of eroda, harry decides to take his mermaid friend to see his favourite spot to be alone

pairing: harry styles x mermaid!female!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist

series masterlist

After showing (Y/N) around Eroda, Harry led her up to his favourite peak that looked out over the beach. Harry watched as she excitedly raced up to the near edge to look down over it.

“It’s beautiful,” she called to Harry.

“It is,” Harry laughed. “Come in before you fall over!”

The two sat on the bench in the overgrown grass. Harry placed his backpack on his lap and started to pull food from it.

“What do mermaids eat when they’re swimming?” Harry asked.

“We usually don’t have to eat,” she said between bites of sandwich. “We don’t really get hungry while swimming. It’s usually only when in human form.”

“I have so many questions,” Harry said. “But I really don't want to bombard you or bug you. I’m sure you get questioned every time someone new meets you.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I understand being shocked. Mermaids have been fairytales and legends for hundreds of years, no one believes they’re real until they see it firsthand.”

So many questions were swirling in Harry’s head. There was so much he wanted to know, about mermaids and about (Y/N) in general.

He watched her take another bite of her sandwich. The wind blew her hair from her shoulders as she looked at the view ahead of her. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was absolutely gorgeous. He wondered if that was a mermaid thing, or if she was just naturally gorgeous.

“Where do the mermaid legends come from then, if they’re actually real?” he asked.

(Y/N) smiled. A question she had heard countless times before. “Obviously you know of the tales of sirens, right?” Harry nodded. “Sirens are what mermaids started as. There’s no definite reason, both in your world and in the mermaid world, but the hundreds of years ago pirates would sail into the waters where the mermaids lived, which angered the mermaids. They’d come to the surface and sing to lure the pirates to their deaths. One man, it’s unclear if it was an actual pirate of one of their hostages, faked his death to escape them and return to his home to warn everyone. They all thought he was crazy, so no one believed him, but his story travelled through town and ended up becoming a folktale for years to come. Anyone who could ever confirm that it was real were killed by mermaids.

“That’s dark,” Harry breathed.

“It’s the truth, “(Y/N) shrugged. “It took some time and a lot of fighting but some time later be became much more friendly and less violent. We decided to stay hidden as not to frighten humans, because we thought that we had been branded evil killers. We had no idea that humans had turned us into lovely creatures, into princesses for the amusement of their children. We were, and still are, honored that the evil that we were once connected to is no longer attached to the name of the mermaid.”

Harry nodded, allowing (Y/N)’s story to digest. He stopped as realization crossed his mind, “So wait...is Ariel real too?”

(Y/N) giggled. “No, Ariel is just a story. We don't have a monarchy like that in the mermaid world. We all just sort of...exist as we wish to. Obviously, if any of us are still violent like our ancestors we denounce them, but that’s really it.”

Harry hadn’t noticed that (Y/N) had finished her sandwich until she was reaching for his bag again. She dug through his bag until she pulled out a plastic bag of cookies and her eyes lit up excitedly. Harry figured he wouldn’t be getting any of those today.

“What about families?” he asked. “Do mermaids have families? Do they worry about you when you’re gone for long periods of time?”

(Y/N) paused with a cookie raised to her mouth. She lowered it slowly, unable to meet Harry’s eye. “We have families, yes. We fall in love and we procreate more mermaids but...no, they...they don’t worry about us. When a young mermaid is old enough to explore on his or her own, they separate from their family and they go off by themselves. They cross paths every now and then and have a short reunion, but it’s not the same as what humans do.”

Harry looked at her in shock. “They just...let their kids go? Not knowing if they’ll ever see them again?”

She nodded, looking down at her lap. “It’s hard to stay together when the nature of mermaids is to want to swim to explore the world. And it’s hard to meet back at a specific location when mermaids are able to swim so far in just a short amount of time, and often lose track of where they are and where they’d been. It was decided, some time ago when I was just a baby, that instead of trying to restrain the youth and to not allow them to explore, that parents would allow their children to be on their own once they’re old enough. Again, there’s nothing to enforce that, if a parent wants to keep their child from leaving they’re free to, but they also must give their child the option once their old enough.”

“Did you choose to leave?”

She shook her head. “No. It was an accident, I was much younger than the average mermaid who goes off on their own. My family and I were swimming and I was caught in a strong current. By the time my parents noticed I was being whisked away and tried to save me, the current had gained too much speed and I was pulled away. I tried looking for them, but it was no use. That was when I started exploring on land, it felt safer than being in the sea all by myself as such a young age sometimes. I fell in love with the human life, so I tend to visit places on land from time to time, just because.”

Harry wrapped his arms around (Y/N) without thinking, pulling her to him. The action took (Y/N) by surprise, but she soon melted into Harry’s arms, resting her head on his chest and taking in his scent. Wow, he smells really good.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said. “That’s...that’s really terrible. My parents left my choice, they never cared for me or for my problem, but yours lost their daughter unwillingly...that’s terrible.”

“It is,” (Y/N) agreed, biting back the tears she was feeling form in her eyes. “I’m hoping they’re still alive so I can find them again some day, and I can be with them again. But for now, I’ve started to enjoy my life alone. Swimming from place to place, meeting new people, seeing how the world changes while I’m under the water. It’s a fascinating life, I will admit.”

Harry pulled away to look at her. (Y/N) noticed how green his eyes were. Greener than the grass surrounding them, although the grass didn’t exactly seem to be very healthy.

She found herself leaning closer to Harry, still looking into his eyes. Harry raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Your eyes,” she responded. “They’re beautiful.”

Harry’s face turned red as he finally broke eye contact to look at the ground. “Oh...well...thank you...so are yours.”

She smiled brightly and sat back on the bench, beginning to eat the cookies yet again.

“Do mermaids still sing?” Harry asked. “Is it still...dangerous to hear a mermaid sing?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “It’ll capture your attention and draw you to them, but it’s not dangerous. It never was, only the mermaids in general were dangerous.”

Harry nodded. He hesitated before asking, “Can you sing...for me? I’d love to hear it.”

(Y/N) munched on her cookie and swallowed before she responded, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Well...okay.”

(Y/N) placed the cookies aside and stood in front of Harry. She looked at the town behind him. It was miles away, and the beach was deserted. There was no way anyone would hear her, she wouldn’t risk drawing attention to them.

She opened her mouth and began to sing an old song of her people. It was one that was once used to lure pirates to their deaths, but when the mermaids decided to turn over a new leaf and to become more peaceful than their ancestors, they took the song back and made it their own. It was their call to one another, a song they sang to help instead of to hurt, or just something they sang to calm themselves during tough times. (Y/N) spent many lonely nights singing to herself, hoping that maybe her parents would hear her and find her.

Harry was captivated from the second she began to sing. He sat forward in his seat, having to stop himself from jumping up right then and there and taking (Y/N) in his arms. He was shocked to find, however, that he knew which parts of his admiration were the siren song and which were his actual feelings. The desire to hold (Y/N), to be as close to her as he could possibly be, he knew that was the siren song, but the genuine feeling of admiration for her was real. He had been feeling it since he first met her.

(Y/N)’s eyes flickered to look behind Harry every so often just to make sure no one else had heard her. When she was sure no one had, and that it was enough of her singing, she stopped. Harry began to clap, smiling his bright smile. (Y/N) giggled and took a bow.

“That was amazing,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said, taking a seat next to Harry.

They ate in silence then, feeling as though there was nothing else to talk about. They just watched as the sun went down, munching on their food in silence and enjoying one another’s company.

Tags: @daylightkissy​ @hufflepuff-always-and-forever​ @arypesanchez​

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!

[icarusmoons]

Ready or Not

@our-newdream

New Dream Appreciation Week: We’re Having A Baby

My contribution for this prompt is a little late, but I hope you enjoy! This is a Modern AU. No explicit content, but content warning for an unexpected pregnancy and all that implies. Fic is under the cut and will eventually make it to AO3. 💜

“Rapunzel? You okay in there?”

Rapunzel didn’t answer. Instead, she took a deep, shaky breath and buried her face in her hands. She had been sitting on the cool bathroom tile, staring at the two pink lines and sobbing for God knows how long. No wonder he was worried. She had told Eugene she needed to run an errand (i.e, buy a pregnancy test), and had immediately locked herself in the bathroom. 

And then, of course, she had gotten the result she had both suspected and dreaded.

Positive.

Pregnant.

What were they going to do? 

“Sweetheart?” Eugene said softly, knocking on the door. 

 “Um.” Rapunzel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and took another deep breath in an attempt to stay calm. “I’m okay. Everything’s--everything’s fine, babe.”

A pause. That meant Eugene knew she was lying, and she didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t know how to tell him the truth. It’s not like they had been trying to have kids. They weren’t ready for kids, and they weren’t sure they ever wanted to be. Parenting was a sensitive subject for them both. Some of their friends had balked at the thought of the Fitzherberts never having children (”You’d be such good parents!”) and it frustrated Rapunzel to no end. She firmly believed their hesitation was perfectly reasonable. After all, Eugene grew up in the foster system. Rapunzel was an abused runaway. Neither of them exactly had shining examples of parents. 

Even if they had had happy childhoods, their thoughts on procreating was their business and theirs alone, Rapunzel thought. She scowled at the pregnancy test and sighed. There was no use. She had to tell him. Maybe now. Better to get it over with, she figured. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. 

Eugene knocked on the door again. “Rapunzel, I’m getting worried.” 

Well. That made two of them. 

Rapunzel finally stood up and opened the door, hiding the pregnancy test behind her back. Eugene was still standing right outside, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.  “Hi,” she said. She hoped she sounded normal. 

“Hey,” Eugene said quietly. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and then gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. “You feeling okay, Sunshine?”

“Um—”

“Are you feeling sick again?”

Rapunzel smiled weakly. She did feel sick, but not in the way Eugene thought. For the past few weeks, she had been chalking up some of her symptoms to being sick. Eugene had been the ever-supportive partner, of course, asking her if she needed anything from the drugstore and reminding her to get plenty of rest. She hated suddenly knowing it was all for nothing. 

“Um. No.”

Eugene frowned. 

She tried again. “Kind of?” 

Her husband sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was stressed. “Rapunzel, this is getting...it’s getting out of hand. This has been going on for a while—” 

“I know, but Eugene—”

“I just—”

“Eugene.”

“I know you don’t think it’s a big deal, but I’m worried about you, because you’re clearly not feeling well—” 

“Eugene.”

“I can call the doctor if you want to lie down for a while—“

“Eugene!”

“What?”

“I’m...I’m pregnant.”

Eugene blinked. Once. Twice. 

Maybe ripping off the Band-Aid wasn’t the best approach. 

“You’re...what?”

“I’m pregnant.” She held up the pregnancy test and waved it in a futile attempt at humor. “It’s, uh...It’s positive.”

He looked down at the pregnancy test, then back up at Rapunzel, doing a rapid triple-take before speaking again.

“It’s...positive?”

Rapunzel nodded.

“As in...not negative?”

“I mean...that’s usually what positive means, yeah.” 

Eugene ran a hand through his hair again and slowly walked towards their bed, as if in a daze. She couldn’t blame him. It didn’t feel real, somehow. Rapunzel set the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter and followed, sitting next to him at the edge of the bed.

“So...The past few weeks make a little more sense now, huh?” Eugene asked, raising his eyebrow. 

“You could say that.”

“I mean—I know we—” Eugene blushed, and it was so unexpected and so unlike him that Rapunzel couldn’t help but laugh. “But how?”

Rapunzel shrugged. “I guess we weren’t as careful as we thought.” 

Eugene took her hand in his. “Well, Sunshine,” he said softly, “How do you feel?”

“I’m...I’m terrified.”

Rapunzel’s eyes filled with tears, and Eugene brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“I never—I mean, I didn’t have a mom. Not really. That’s why I left. I never dreamed of being a mother, because I hated the woman who called herself my mother. I don’t even know what a good mother does.”

Eugene’s eyes softened. 

“I’m ill-equipped,” Rapunzel said, letting out a sob. “Thinking about being a mother just brings back all these awful memories. I didn’t even know how to help myself for most of my life. How am I going to raise a child?”

“Rapunzel. Sweetheart. Look at me.”

Rapunzel lifted her head and let Eugene cup her cheek. “If we do this,” he said gently, “You’re going to be an amazing mother. Because that’s who you are. You’re good. No matter what.” 

She squeezed her eyes shut as another tear fell down her face. 

“And hey,” Eugene whispered, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “You wouldn’t be doing this alone, remember?”

Rapunzel managed to smile through her tears. “We do make a good team.”

 Eugene grinned back at her. “Mmhm. I love that about us.”

“What about you?” Rapunzel asked, leaning back as she wiped her eyes. “How do you feel?

“Well,” Eugene said slowly, “I’m also terrified. And I’ve been pretty neutral about the whole kid thing, too.” He paused. “But I...I also think it’s a chance to give someone what I didn’t have. What we didn’t have.”

Rapunzel hadn’t thought about it like that, and something like hope bloomed in her chest. She thought of all the stories Eugene had told her about taking care of his younger foster siblings. She imagined waking up in the middle of the night, only for Eugene to tell her to go back to sleep and head for the nursery. 

 “You’d be a good dad,” she said softly. “I know you would be.”

“True. I’m good at most things,” Eugene said, nudging Rapunzel’s shoulder as she giggled. A cocky Eugene was a good sign, she thought. It was a sign of normalcy. A sign that maybe things would be okay. 

Okay just felt very far away. 

“Do you really think we can do this?” Rapunzel asked, biting her lip. “I mean, even if we’d be good parents? I don’t feel ready. I don’t even know if I’m happy.” 

“Well, babe,” Eugene said, leaning forward to give her a quick kiss, “I’m no expert, but I think that’s normal for unexpected pregnancies.” 

“You don’t think I’m horrible?”

“I could never.” 

Relief flooded through her, and Rapunzel leaned against Eugene’s shoulder. She gave a contented sigh and closed her eyes. This was good, Rapunzel thought. This made the prospect of motherhood less terrifying. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sunshine.” 

She opened her eyes and tilted her head, looking up at Eugene’s smiling face. “So,” she started, raising an eyebrow. “I guess….we’re going to be parents?”

Eugene’s smile grew wider. “Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I guess we are.”