#so much better than the baggy golds we used to have

[proserpinesprankster]

Talk about your fantrolls NOWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!

ALRIGHTY BITCHES. So note that some have more iterations than others and im prolly gonna fix up the less refined ones AS I AM TALKING.

Ill add a cut because theres so fucking much of them.

Feel free to ask more questions i love my sillies!!!

Lets go in order of caste, therefore...

FIRST OF ALL! Nihila Umbrax, the Knight of Void, Derse sway, Burgundy Blood.

Nihila is a burgundy who was less fortunate at wriggling to say the least. They have multiple significant mutations, their eyes are solid red and their height is comparable to that of an older purpleblood, aswell as large mothlike wings. All of this and its seclusion in the woods has led to it being mystified as a local cryptid, the fact that its horns are shaped like antennae does not help the mothman allegations. Beneath all of this Nihila is overall just a big clumsy blind individual, they like to tinker with electronics and usually end up dumpster diving to salvage parts. They were most likely the troll who got SGrub up and working for the group, but its cryptid nature is not at all ceased during the game. Bowkind Strife.

Next we have Squash Tapeko, the Bard of Space, Prospit sway, Bronze Blood.

Squash is a bit of an anomaly in general, being that he operates outside of the typical laws of space and time. Paradox space and Squash get along like two peas in a pod, or more aptly two pumpkins in a patch, while normal space seems to avoid him like the plague. Hes always wearing those tacky shades that have the lines and stuff, and only has one horn which curls like a stem. Anyone accquainted with the laws of paradox space can tell in an instant this goofy goober is like a pumpkin given physical form. He likes to garden, usually growing squashes for later use as plot devices. Sodakind Strife.

Next! Aureum Crisia, the Maid of Light, Derse Sway, Gold Blood.

Aureum has little to no psiioniics despite being a goldblood, she's insecure for obvious reasons. She compensates with over the top optimism, though in truth she is a realist who never waits for things to fall into her hand. She has spent her whole life using charisma and wit to work her way into alternian business, despite the prejudice shown by higher classes. She can be a bit shady sometimes, but she refuses to take any disrespect. Coinkind Strife.

Beitah Bliuta, the Sylph of Breath, Prospit Sway, Olive Blood.

Beitah is close with Nihila, shes shared purr hive with them for as long as they can remember, practically siblings. Their hive is rudimentary regardless, mostly a well decorated cavern. Beitah is overall playful and childish, and the youngest of the group. She is also however a bit feral, for lack of a better word, most view purr as just overall weird for any of these things. Beitah is smaller than most of the others and wears baggy clothes constantly.

Raekie Venaer, the Rogue of Doom, Prospit Sway, Jade Blood.

Raekie likes to call themself a poet, followed by a murder of crow lusii constantly. They didn't favor life in the brooding caverns and instead live in a makeshift treehouse they ended up making after running away. They don't live in the same area as Beitah and Nihila but they do exchange tips through Trollian, and of course Raekie shares their cheesy poetry. Despite the gothic aesthetic Raekie is a terminal optimist, and knows good and well how cheesy their poetry is. Penkind Strife.

Terrun Biyiga, the Thief of Life, Prospit Sway, Teal Blood.

Terrun hates his own caste, plain and simple, mostly because of having lower class friends and realizing he was a part of the problem. He internalizes this hatred as of the start of the session, simply playing along. He has a certain level of internalized self hate, but covers all of this up with a hero complex and cowboy accent. Revolverkind Strife.

Now for a real interesting one, Celare Scurra, the Mage of Mind, Derse Sway, Cerulean Blood.

Celare Scurra is actually not 100% a troll. She always seems oddly well dressed, and never removes her gloves. On Derse, you may hear a whistling of a familiar tune, though back on Alternia it's less well known. Celare Scurra has joined The Midnight Crew on Derse. By some twist of fate, her body has a hint of Carapacian, which has shrouded half of her dreamself in black. She serves as a villain for this story, overall. Bit of a bitch, but unlike Vriska she doesn't flaunt it. Cardkind Strife.

Kirkor Stilis, the Heir of Heart, Prospit Sway, Indigo Blood.

Kirkor isn't the brightest, but he's sure lovable. Hes the only one even close to matching Nihila's height, and serves as Aureum's bodyguard at times as a result, warding off anyone who would threaten her due to his sheer scale. Theres some sort of moiraillegiac tension there, probably. Overall he serves as, well, the heart of the group. Hes also just very clumsy, someone give the 7 foot tall pair some dexterity. Hammerkind.

Manika Dexsue, the Witch of Hope, Derse Sway, Purple Blood.

Manika gets her kicks in a different way from most purplebloods, she usually only dresses up in the full clown getup for formal stuff. Normally shes wearing a dirty jumpsuit and rubber gloves with a purple gas mask, inviting Nihila over for their latest biomechanical experiment. Nibies' arm tends to end up the test subject. Manika is overall just a short mad scientist, and of course besties with Nihila. Sawkind / Needlekind Strife.

Sourim Paetel, the Seer of Blood, Derse Sway, Violet Blood.

Sourim is a socially inept hopeless romantic. He knows how to interact with high troll society... And thats about it. He's all prose and pretty words, with no real awareness of the state of things. He loves rainbow drinker literature, and this was why he first took an interest in Raekie, and then fell HARD. The fact that he has no social awareness makes flirting difficult, aswell as the fact that he takes Raekie's poetry seriously and Raekie doesn't take his seriously. Theyre both idiots with romance. Rapierkind Strife.

Ossico Blakke, Prince of Rage, Derse Sway, Fuchsia Blood.

Ossico is constantly tired, quick to anger if awoken from a good nap. Overall the whole group knows she has some anger issues to work through, but she cares deeply about her friends and is a sweetheart when shes calm. She is a force of raw destruction with a love for all things cutesy and brightly colored, and ducks. Furniturekind Strife.

Nibies Dulcis, Page of Time, Prospit Sway, Cotton Candy Blood.

Nibies was claimed by a purpleblood cult before she could be culled, and was worshipped as the avatar of their god, this was not a good thing for her. Eventually she did make it out and meet Manika, theyve got some sort of undisclosed redrom going on there, noones really sure. Nibies also hates Celare for an unknown reason, and its rather obvious theyve got some blackrom tension. Nibies is silly and over the top to make up for Manika's lack of clown behavior, with a very intense sweet tooth. She probably would have gone entirely mad if not for this group, and Manika and Nihila made her a prosthetic arm to replace the one she lost. Sweetskind Strife.

[adridoesstuff]

Rating/roasting Death costumes from Elisabeth das musical

So, this, ladies and gentlemen, is somewhat of my small magnum opus. I'm rating the costumes based on how well I think they're constructed, how much I think the design fits Death as a character and personal preference. What entitles me to undertake this task is me being a student of costume design at uni and being a crazy fan of this show

Disclaimer: I'm only rating costumes from the European productions of Elisabeth das musical, because this post would be way too long if I were to get into all the Japanese and Korean productions costumes.

Original (Vienna, 1992-1996)

Love the iridecsence and shimmer the fabric has, love how flowy it is, altough I wish I could see more contrast between the separate fabrics. The right amount of androgyny with the jacket skirt and the super fluffy hair to set the bar really high for future productions. But, it could have been tailored a bit more in some parts and the execution could have been a teensy bit better. A believable unearthly being. 9/10

German productions (2001-2008)

Not totally on board with making the entire costume black, since it can look a tad too plain in pictures, but that shimmery velvet is so pretty. Not sure if I like all of the seams finished by bias tape, leaning more towards no, since it's giving the costume more of a pyjama appearance rather than some luxurious fantastical coat. I love the cut they gave the jacket, because long jackets with trains are awesome, but with the amount of stories of Deaths tripping on it, I don't think a train is a wise choice for this role. The idea was there, but it wasn't thought through too well. 7/10

Budapest production (1996-2005, 2007-)

I love how goddamn shimmery this Death is! Like, it's balancing the line between being too much and just enough, but I love all the glitter going on. This Death looks like some otherworldly alien and for the most part, I am digging it. I love the decoration going on on the top part of the jacket, but I'm not sure if I like how baggy the coat's silhouette is. And I think the trousers could have benefited from some decorations, because they look like they belong to some other costume. Also, some Deaths wear a waistcoat with this costume and for that piece, I feel like the waistcoats are a bit too long. 8/10

1st revival (Vienna, 2003-2005)

Kept the basic essence of the original design, but upgraded it with a cleaner execution and super sharp tailoring. It could have used some decoration, but I am not too upset about that. We lost a fair bit of the androgyny, but I like their decision to go for an empire style cut for the jacket. And the color contrasts between the black and that bright saturated ultramarine are so good. This design is simple, but hits hard and it's iconic for a good reason. 9/10

Finnish production (Turku, 2005-2006)

This feels very similar to the German tour design to me with the long coat, but with more decorations. I like the choice of the braided cording (perhaps as a nod to Elisabeth's love of Hungary by including elements similar to a hussar uniform). And I like the poofy shirt he seems to have underneath along with the fingerless gloves. But I'm not sure if gold was exactly the best color to use for the deco for Death (I think silver would have looked much better). So, poins off for that and for the trip hazard of the coat. 7.5/10

Flemish production (Antwerp, 2009)

An omen of the bland designs to come. Completely destroyed the color storytelling and made Der Tod look plain as heck. At least the tailoring seems decently good. The only saving factor other than that was the glitter on the black costume. 3/10

2nd revival (Vienna, 2012-)

No. Just... no. This is literally the most plain, most boring costume they could have given him. I get that they wanted to go for a more "masculine" look for Der Tod, but even if I was a fan of this approach, the execution is so boring. Like, the tailoring is good, but it's just bland overall as a costume (and you know you've got a bland costume at hand when the most interesting detail on it are two patches of quilted/couched pleather). It's missing everything that makes a Der Tod costume good in my book. This Tod isn't an otherworldly being, he's just... a dude in pleather. If I were Elisabeth, I would in no way be enchanted with this man and his untucked shirt. 2/10

Kecskemet production (Kecskemet, 2021-2022)

A bit unusual, I'm unsure if I like or dislike it. Like, he is very nicely dressed, which I like, the tailoring looks good, but he kinda looks like a pimp (I do like the cane, tho). With skunk hair, which I don't know if I'm a fan of. Also, I'm not really fond Death being in white through the whole show. And those white contact lenses this Death wears are kinda scary. 5/10

Czech production (Plzeň, 2019-2023)

I didn't think I'd like this costume this much, but this is like what the 2nd revival designers wanted to do with Der Tod, but were too afraid to do. In my opinion, this is how you do a Death costume out of pleather. Despite the material, the coat is flowy and has just the right amount of length to not be a hazard. All the little details you notice once you take a good look at this costume, despite it looking very simple at first glance, are so great! This is a Death, who doesn't quite understand the concept of how a human dresses and all those little details hint at that. I like the choice of making this Death styled after a crow/raven, down to that epic feather shoulderpiece. And thumbs up for them not being afraid to really go in with the makeup. 8/10

Bruxellons production (Brussels, 2022)

This Death costume is so simple, but I commend the designer for going for something new and fresh. The tailoring is crisp, I love the shade of blue they gave Death and the choice of a mesh shirt isn't something I would think I'd like, but I do like it. And I like that this Death has some accessories to complement the simplicity of the base costume. And I love the matching painted nails! It's very much something outside of the box of how we usually see Death designed and it's refreshing. 8/10

[lillylvjy]

And i could be (anything you need)

a/n// finally part 2! Lord this took longer to put out but I’ve been busy busy, so pleaseee enjoy this, it’s a little funky…. But self indulgent so not surprised.

warnings// making out, arguing, yelling?, confessions, Wilma being kinda a bitch but she’s also stubborn so, Wilbur’s a cockblock!, reader has a brother.

edited: barely.

wc// 1.7k

wilma gold x reader, wilma gold x gn!reader

Go read part 1

THE SMILEEEEEE-

“You had sex?!”

“Can you be quiet?!” You quickly placed your hand against your brothers mouth as your eyes widened.

“Who had sex and with who?” You heard Wil race down the steps as he came into the kitchen.

“Great, look what you did!” You sighed as you placed your head against the kitchen counter, hiding yourself from the two men in front of you.

“Oh shush, he was going to find out sooner rather than later.” Aidan said as he hit your shoulder, Wil coming around the island and wrapping his arms around your brother.

“What’s going on?” Wil asked yet again, as you lifted your head up and sighed.

“Wanna tell him?” Aidan raised his eyebrow at you as you groaned and started walking around the kitchen.

“Jesus I’m so stupid, yet she was so captivating! Like all she had to do was look at me and bam! On my knees in seconds-“

“Wha-“

“Shush, they’re getting there.” Aidan gently placed a hand on his arm as he watched with an amused smile as you paced and spoke out loud.

“And like, it would make it better if she was bad, but fucking hell, she practically changed my life last night.” You ranted as you moved your arms around, exasperating everything that you said.

“Ok, what are you talking about?” Wilbur asked as you ran your hands through your hair and sighed.

“I-“

“Wil?!” You heard a familiar voice shout from the front door, eyes widening and panic taking over.

“Seems like I’m about to find out.”

“Oh my god-“

“This is about to get good!” Aidan exclaimed as he let go of Wil’s hand and comes over to you, gently pushing you to the dining table, sitting you down on the chair that was pulled out.

“I need to hide.” You said in a whisper as you frantically looked around and got ready to launch yourself up, stopping when you felt Aidan’s hand on your arm.

“You’ll be fine. Just stay here, hear her out, maybe have a little love confession, and bam! You’re all good!” Aidan exclaimed as he smiled down at you.

“Good?! I could barely face a conversation with her when we just “hated” each other, and now after we- this is not going to go well.” You said in a whisper as Wil left to go get his sister, internally panicking as time passed.

A couple seconds pass as you heard footsteps make their way to the kitchen in a hurry, Wil trying to calm the woman down as you tried to hide yourself in any way you could.

“Wil, I really need you to-“ Her words stopped as she saw you sitting at the dining table, mouth open and staring at you as you look down at the floor. “What are they doing here?”

You scoff at her words as you looked up at her with hard eyes, softly shaking your head. “Really? So we’re back to status quo?”

“Yup ok! That’s our queue Wil-“

“Wait what?!”

“Fucking go!” Aidan harshly whispered as he pushed Wilbur out of the kitchen. You watched as they quickly left, then returned your gaze to the women in front of you.

She had a white sweater on with a black turtle neck underneath for extra warmth, baggy blue jeans on with wool socks. You frowned at the cloth covering her neck but quickly went back to a straight face as she furrowed her brows at you.

“What do you mean ‘status quo’?” Wilma asked as she crossed her arms and looked at you with as much confusion as she could muster.

You sighed as rubbed your face with your hands. “This. Us. Are we just going to continue to hate each other? Or are we going to be honest with each other for once?” You asked her as you stood up from the chair and made your way towards her.

Wilma shook her head as she looked at the floor, “What do you mean?! Aren’t we always honest?! That’s why we hate each other, yes?”

You scoff as you walk around the island and stood across from her. “So you’re saying, what we did last night didn’t mean anything to you? You didn’t feel anything?”

Wilma’s expression softened as she heard the genuine hurt in your words, hating how much it effected her after she put up so many walls. She knew something like this would happen and change how you both acted and felt, she just didn’t know it’d turn to this.

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re acting like it!”

“Maybe because I’m afraid that you don’t feel the same and it’s taking all of me to keep it together and not walk over there and kiss you!”

Everything was silent. Maybe it was the snow absorbing all the sound around you outside, or maybe it was because you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to think, you just stood there staring at her, soaking in her confession like it was a fresh body of water and you jumped right in.

Wilm just stared at you, eyes hard as her lips pursed and waited for you to speak, or to say anything. Just a word or even a sigh.

“Say something.”

“Why don’t you come over and kiss me instead?”

Wilma’s eyes widened as those words came out of your mouth and into the steady air. You wanted her to actually kiss you? Like… on the lips?

Once she saw your eyes soften and and fill with want and longing, she knew you meant it. Her feet thought for her as she started to move around the counter towards you. Turning to face her, your back against the counter, in a blink of an eye, lips were placed roughly on yours as hands gripped and pulled at your waist. Your hands lifted from your sides and you placed your arms around her neck and tangled your hands in her hair and pulled when needed.

Groaning into your mouth, Wilma moved her hands down your body to the back of your thighs and lifted you up to sit on the counter. Wrapping your legs around her waist as she moved closer and closer until she was flushed against you.

The kiss quickly escalated as Wilma’s kisses moved down and turned into bites as her lips met your neck, making marks over the ones that were already there, whining and whimpering as she did.

“Don’t have sex in our kitchen, please and thank you!” You heard Wilbur whisper from the hallway.

“Have you guys been there the whole time?!” You yell out to the couple Wilma hid her face in your neck.

You heard footsteps approach the kitchen with a sigh, revealing Aidan dragging Wil with him. “Yes we were, but only to make sure nothing bad happened but, seems like we’re all good so, we’ll be over in the living room if you need us! And yes, please don’t have sex in our kitchen, if you need to theirs like 4 other rooms you can use with beds!” Aidan yelled as he dragged Wil yet again into the living room, leaving you and Wilma to your own devices.

Giggling, the hand in Wilms hair started to rub and run through as she left small pecks on your neck. “So?”

“So.”

“Does the Wilma Gold have a crush on me?” You asked her as you lifted her head by cupping her chin your your hand.

“Hmm maybe, what about it?” She asked as you smiled at her and kissed her nose.

“Hmm what if I told you that I have a little crush on you, Miss Gold?” You asked as she raised an eyebrow at you and leaned closer.

“Well first I’d ask if your being honest,”

“Which I am-“

“Yeah yeah, I know! I can tell when you lie trust me darling.”

“Wait what-“

“Ah! Let me finish. Then I would ask if your free this Saturday after the market so I could either take you out to a restaurant or make you some dinner. And if you were and it went well, maybe I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend.” Wilma finishes off as she rubs her hands up and down your thighs and waist, caressing as much as she can while she leaves little kisses on your face and neck, never getting enough of you.

“Hmm and what if I said yes to all of those things?” You asked as you caressed her cheek with your thumb, lifting her face to look at you directly.

“The rest is for the future love. We let future us worry about that.” Wilma said as she lifted you off the counter and placed you on the ground. “Though, if you did say yes to being my girlfriend we may have a repeat of last night.”

“Hmm than just ask me now-“

“Ok are you guys done being horny and in love? I’m hungry and I want to make breakfast.” Wilbur came into the kitchen with a slightly annoyed Aidan behind.

“He’s worse than me.” Aidan mumbled out for only you and Wilma to hear as he goes over to help Wil. You both laugh at the passing comment as Wilma let go of you and took your hand to lead you around the island to her previous spot.

Wrapping her arms around your waist, she rest her head on your shoulder as you both watched the two in front of you bake, holding onto her linked hands.

“I love you, you know that right?” Wilma whispered to you as you rested your head against hers.

“Mhm, and I love you.”

taglist// @mysticalsoot @saccharinesunset @maxx-is-dumb12

[steampunkforever]

At its most basic structure gunfire is just minerals (glorified rocks) being thrown really fast. In this aspect, there is very little difference between a specops death squad decked out in NVGs murdering you with suppressed smart-aiming Next Gen battle rifles and some brute named Grug caving in your head with a chunk of boulder. The only thing that separates the two is the advent of flint knapping, the way they style their beards, and the variation of head trauma they administer you in a dark cave located somewhere in the region people used to call "Asia Minor."

Much in this way, jeans are jeans. The cuts, colors, and styling have changed across the years, but in form and function not much differs from the sturdy workwear gold rush prospectors donned before hitting the slopes of Pikes Peak in 1859 and the black skinny jeans worn by starbucks baristas in Denver as the prepare to enter the Frappe mines.

Of course, much like comparing David's Slingshot to Raytheon's latest missile (an activity reserved for the IDF), much has changed since Levi Strauss riveted together his first pair of trousers. Specifically, the world has seen the introduction of stretch fabrics beyond mankind's comprehension, both a boon to emo band frontmen and a curse to the environment.

Those of you who've followed this blog long enough are well aware of my demographic's use of stretchy jeans to rebel against the oppressive bagginess of the 90s and early 00s. As such, I've been thoroughly indoctrinated into the stretch. Though never extruding myself into a pair of skinny jeans, I've been a strong proponent of slim-fits from the moment I was able to escape the bagginess of the past. Is this bagginess in now? Yes, but so were JNCOS for a time so let's not trust the trend cycle with our lives just yet.

The point is, my denim has always needed to be tight. Wearing pants is outright stressful otherwise. But I simultaneously fully understand that stretch fabrics are bad for the environment. The elastics in your jeans poison the environment with each wash, and will hang out in landfills long after the cotton that bound them has returned to the earth. A conundrum to say the least.

I'll fully admit that I came upon the answer to my problem in a flash of pure coincidence, having thrown a couple pairs of cheap straight-leg 100% cotton jeans in my cart fully intending on using them as throwaways for when I didn't need to think about what I looked like but needed something rugged that didn't look like cargo pants. Little did I know that my denim savior rested in overly stiff jeans that looked baggy on me in the fitting room.

See, 100% cotton jeans are the sort that have what we call a "break-in period," like when you buy a new corvette and it makes you wait a second before you can unlock the full RPM range. Not that I can afford a new Corvette, I'm buying store-brand jeans at America's least glamorous retailer, but you get the point. The break in period lets you put some wear and tear in the denim, relaxing it and letting it loosen up, providing a better, if baggier, fit and getting that "comfortable as an old pair of jeans" feel that we lost in the vacuformed denim era championed by bands like Sleeping with Sirens.

So I broke them in. I ignored washing instructions entirely, I rewired old cars in them, I didn't care about them and I showed them that, which in hindsight I realized was probably the best thing I could've done for them. Stiffness softened to structure, the color faded pleasantly, and rather than looking and feeling awkward, the jeans began to conform to my body. Hefting a cast iron intake out from under the hood of a car that shares a birthday with your parents is great for getting denim to fit just right. Highly suggest treating these jeans like you don't care for optimum results.

Of course then comes the tightness. The denim fibers loosen over the break-in process, and which would make them baggier, and these were already straight-leg jeans, a shape not intended for tightness. And I need my jeans tight. The secret to getting a slim fit was also achieved on accident: I once more ignored washing instructions and threw them in the dryer without looking at the tag.

Denim from brands who care about their image is often treated with anti-shrink solutions in order to maintain the general shape of the cut, but my cheap pants did not, and therefore shrunk just the right amount when thrown into the dryer and spun around on the "whatever" setting.

Under this combined abuse, the cotton shrunk where I needed it to, conforming to my curves while retaining structure and ruggedness required of a good pair of jeans. This isn't a new discovery by any means, but personally it was a revelation to find denim that fit snugly without the guilt of microplastic underpinnings.

There really isn't an outtro for this post, a long winded ramble about how I got some jeans to fit, other than some vague point about looking to the old ways for sustainable options to a plastic filled future. I guess it's just nice to find good-looking denim jeans that aren't prestige brands doing their best to make a new corvette look cheap in comparison. That is all.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 39: Flight from the White Tower

Yeah, we spent a book and a half getting here, but it's already time to get going again. That's the problem with fantasy novels. You never get a chance to appreciate the scenery of anything. The best lodgings you can hope for are the same inns that all the other tourists (most of them in ominous black cloaks that hide their features) are staying at. You never get a chance to find the little restaurants the locals go to or find the attractions no one's even heard about. You don't even get a chance to avoid spoilers like I'm giving you here by saying this post spoils the whole damn Wheel of Time series. Don't keep reading if you don't want that.

We have the Ogier symbol again, because now it's the girls' turn to go through the Waygates.

Even a few men had come with petitions, standing by themselves, looking unsure about being in the White Tower, and eyeing everyone else uneasily.

Not gonna lie, if I ever had to visit the White Tower I'd spend the whole time worrying that I was a male channeler who just didn't know it yet and that at any minute the Amyrlin and the whole of the Red Ajah would descend upon me like locusts.

“This would do better for a turn in some lord’s park than a ride to Toman Head,” Nynaeve had said dryly as Egwene helped her with the buttons of a gray silk with thread-of-gold work and pearled flowers across the bosom and down the sleeves, “but it may allow us to leave unnoticed.”

People joke about Jordan's fashion obsession, but note here that these details are only important as part of the jarring contrast to the uniforms the girls were wearing previously.

Min had kept her breeches and baggy man’s shirt under a boy’s brown cloak and coat, with an old, wide-brimmed hat pulled down over her short hair. “One of us has to be the servant,” she had said, laughing.

That's not a convenient excuse at all, Min. You clearly just like men's clothes. It's a shame you forget that later because even if we just assume it's a personal preference as opposed to anything genderqueer, it's still a hell of a standout trait.

The Aes Sedai had not seen them yet, but Egwene recognized her; Takima, of the Brown Ajah, who taught the history of the White Tower and Aes Sedai, and who could recognize one of her pupils at a hundred paces.

The in-universe stereotype of the Browns as too wrapped up in their reading to notice the world is demonstrated to be false yet again. It's almost a surprise it catches on at all, with Takima likely being so many women's first introduction to the Ajah.

Also note how decayed the White Tower is that a Sitter, who by all rights should be quite busy with her job, is also a teacher, which should be another full-time job.

She found it hard to think that there had been a time when she had been eager to have an adventure, to do something dangerous and exciting like the people in stories. Now she thought the exciting part was what you remembered when you looked back, and the stories left out a good deal of unpleasantness.

Remember when Rand was convinced until Shadar Logoth that Egwene was having a great time and didn't have a care in the world? Remember when Perrin was grumbling about how she was obsessed with dancing with Aram? Those POVs sure are unreliable, aren't they

The man blinked at Nynaeve’s ring, then at her. “I was told two,” he said at last, sounding unimpressed.

Plan B failing to work here, it naturally graduates to Plan A for all three of these ladies going forward.

As they were riding out, Elayne tossed him a coin and murmured, “For your trouble, goodman. You have done well.” Outside, she caught Egwene’s eye and smiled. “Mother says a stick and honey always work better than a stick alone.”

I think Machiavelli said something like that too, though he also said the stick alone was better than the honey alone and I'm not convinced. Nynaeve of course is much too used to having to fight her way to get anything to remember that honey is an option.

By the outer side of the wall, carriages, carts, and people bustled along a street, while inside lay a wilderness of sorts. The grove had neither the tame look of a park nor the complete haphazardness of the forest depths. Rather, it seemed to be the ideal of nature, as if this were the perfect woods, the most beautiful forest that could be.

No doubt the Ogier laid it all out for the optimal growth of everything inside, a pattern that nature tries to use but is always forced away from by terrain and weather.

“Forgive us, Liandrin Sedai. They did not tell us; we overheard. We did not mean to listen to anything we should not have, but we did overhear. And we want to help Rand al’Thor, too. And the other boys, of course,” she added quickly.

"I think their names are Map and Terrin?"

Do you not think there are those who would question you when they are found to be gone? Do you believe the Black Ajah would be gentle with you just because you are heir to a throne? Had you remained in the White Tower, you might not have lived the night.

Note that at no point does Liandrin say that she did anything to stop such a thing, which would have been false but a lot more reassuring.

“You do not have to come,” Liandrin said. “You can wait here for me, safely enclosed by the fence until I come for you. Or perhaps the Black Ajah will find you before anyone else.” Her smile was not pleasant.

Then Liandrin started cackling and after she recovered began to mutter to herself about how she'd show "them", she'd show them all!

And none of the girls were the least bit suspicious. I can get Elayne (too used to Elaida) and Egwene (too eager to be the best) not getting it but Nynaeve and Min should be ashamed.

Time seemed to stretch out, as if the cold crept over her by the width of one hair at a time, and every hair took minutes.

Really it's a miracle any person or animal can cross this kind of threshold at all. It must do terrible things to your blood pressure. (Have I already said that? I should look back but I'm not going to! Suck it, readers!)

“As long as you know you deserved to,” she murmured, “then you didn’t deserve to.” Suddenly she chuckled. “Sometimes I think it was sayings like that more than anything else that created the title of Wisdom. Well, here’s another. You break your neck, and I’ll see it mended just so I can break it again.”

1. Yeah, Egwene definitely has humility at times. Haters forget that.

2. Nynaeve absolutely would. I imagine she never finds out about Rand's post-series situation because if she did she'd kill him and raise him again just for leaving everyone in the lurch like that.

“Elaida taught me a little about the Ways. She would not say much. Not enough,” she added glumly. “Or maybe too much.”

You know, considering that pre-series Elaida isn't a powermad fool corrupted by a source of evil so foul it violently reacts with actual evil, I don't think we give her enough credit for how miserable it must have been being Elayne's tutor. "What are the Ways? What's a sa'angreal? How many people can I link with? What if I did X to a ter'angreal instead of Y? Is there a weave to cure all of the injured animals I found in the last three months?"

“Elaida says the rules of nature do not hold in the Ways. At least, not the way they do outside.”

I feel like we had this infodump before. Frankly, I actually find it kinda realistic that Egwene has absolutely no memory of it now though (Ha! Now my poor memory has a point! Suck it again, readers!).

Somehow, she had thought the Shadow’s taint on the Ways would hide it from her. She could sense that taint, after a fashion. It was faint and had nothing to do with saidar, but she was sure that reaching for the True Source here would be like baring her arm to foul, greasy smoke in order to reach a clean cup.

I feel like this was probably meant to hint at some aspect of the metaphysics that came to play when cleansing the taint or maybe using Callandor, but it never quite went anywhere. It is good confirmation at least that what's gone wrong with saidin isn't something unique to men.

“Moiraine does not know so much as she thinks.” She popped the cheese into her mouth with a smile.

Liandrin isn't as right as she thinks, I suspect, but I do enjoy the smugness. What tools might she have to deal with the Black Wind herself? I doubt very much that the Forsaken have any expertise or tools for this kind of scenario, so if she does have a method, it's something the Third Age Aes Sedai came up with.

Egwene, what if, after all you are going through for him, Rand doesn’t marry you? What if he marries some woman you’ve never seen before, or Elayne, or me? What then?

Min is using the inclusive or, naturally.

Egwene made herself go along with it, saying if she did become a Green she would have ten Warders.

Well, she's one-seventh Green and one seventh of ten is one and some, which is basically the total number of Warders Egwene takes. Completely accidental non-foreshadowing arrived at through dumb math tricks and either acknowledging that Egeanin isn't much of a Warder or, more popularly with the fandom, suggesting that Gawyn is a fraction of a person - and a smaller fraction at that.

She would not let anyone glimpse the parchment she compared to the Guidings, stuffing it away with a curt, “It is nothing you would understand,” when Nynaeve asked.

Considering Liandrin's track record, we must assume that she's actually being at least Aes Sedai honest here and that Nynaeve wouldn't understand what she's seeing. So either it's very esoteric or it's at least a subtle affirmation of Liandrin's being evil and not a glaring sign of one.

“We are here,” Liandrin said, smiling. “I have brought you at last to where you must go.”

Speaking of glaring signs...

Oh wait, we're at the end of the chapter. I'm not going to talk about anything now. Next time: Damane.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

MESSSYYYY Outfit fixes (thank you Beebs and Jen [RealHouswives]) by u/rangerhorsetug

MESSSYYYY Outfit fixes (thank you Beebs and Jen [RealHouswives]) Hey yall I'm back with more outfit fixes for you all! I have something stressful coming up so I needed to do some art for fun in order to destress. Wish me luck!Thanks to Beebs Kelly and RealHousewivesRecaps for all the good outfit content. 1) Tonga Monstrosity Tent:Before: ​https://ift.tt/qh7Axtg baggy, stripes do no favors, the color is just yuck, and the handbag is totally the wrong color for monochrome.https://ift.tt/qB0Jl7a Better fit (especially the sleeves and around the armpits), everything is now color coordinated, and I removed the stripes. The blue was my original color chosen, for a more nautical look that was inspired by Queen Victoria dressing up her son in his sailor outfit for his official portrait, which sparked the nautical/sailor craze we still see today. The red was in honor of Tonga, which she was visiting at this time, as it is the color of their flag. I know it looks janky, but I didn't want to spend too much time trying to make things look perfect, they are after all what-ifs.2) Beige Lingering at VarietyBefore:​https://ift.tt/GHPVmv9 off the shoulder sleeve (idc if it's on purpose its ugly), wrinkles at the waist, the hem is dragging on the ground, the hem is split into four slits and that just isn't it. Her bag also doesn't match anything and her hair should at least be partially down.https://ift.tt/zcVEXpk Got rid of shoulder sag, got rid of not-on-purpose wrinkles, hemmed, got rid of slits, added draping to help with the illusion of a snatched waist, let her hair be partially down as it would look a bit better and less severe, fixed her handbag3) Lack of Foundation Garments:Before:https://ift.tt/aJVo327 just needed a slip, but instead, she wanted to once more copy Diana possibly, or just ignore her advisors.Diana pic:https://ift.tt/vRQwVu8 Slip added- the black parts of the skirt seem to be actual fabric, not her legshttps://preview.redd.it/wdyqjsyizktc1.jpg?width=760&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f50ba825c7e30a4790698c1d2327e2ba4da20185​4) Bad Stripe Placement Staged PhotosBefore: https://ift.tt/4LVZebq per Beebs, the stripes are placed on the wrong portions of the body for the color to help and not hinder her figure. Shoes aren't it and the bag matches nothing.https://ift.tt/c6ORNh1 Added sleeves, added flats, added pearls, changed the clutch to look like pearls, and added gold hardware to the clutch to match her already gold jewelry. Changed the whole thing black because, frankly, it's a better choice than those stripes.5) Australian Tour Vacation CoutureBefore:https://preview.redd.it/o33cw6grxktc1.jpg?width=866&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=1d9ad9203e1c03ee63d3ec2b76a9fa19bf5adb2c​They are currently working for the monarchy, not on vacation- the slit almost shows her butt at one wrong move no matter if the slit is slightly cinched and the sandals aren't remotely work-appropriate. ​https://ift.tt/vNK0S2Q Long sleeves, complementing neckline, and sandals are turned into booties. I did some research and learned that New Zealand's national flower is the Kowhai and another native flower is the Pohutukawa. Using a Victorian wallpaper template as I like to do with some of my art, I created a pattern for her dress that would pay homage to the country she was visiting, little Miss all-commonwealth-flowers-must-be-on-my-grossly-large-veil. I also operated under the idea that she has a slip on underneath this dress so it wasn't going to be grossly see-through, but still be light and breezy​The yellow bell-like flowers are the Kowhai, and the pink spiky ones are the Pohutukawa​ post link: https://ift.tt/bYuS8fU author: rangerhorsetug submitted: April 10, 2024 at 06:42AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[themimicbird]

5 Trends from Spring 2024 Copenhagen Fashion Week

Copenhagen Fashion Week SS24 Video

With the Spring 2024 Copenhagen Fashion Week coming to an official close tomorrow I put together some 5 trends we've seen from different brands. Today I'll be covering a bit about the trend and my take on them. Firstly, a quick disclaimer, I am not a trend broadcaster by any means nor do I have higher education in fashion so much of this is more of an opinion piece if anything.

Earthy Tones

Ganni at Copenhagen Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2024

Firstly, a lot of shades of browns were highly used throughout the collections. On the opposite side we did see some pastels and bold colors in street fashion surrounding the event. In my own opinion, I am kinda over the browns. I have a lot of dark shades in my wardrobe only because it compliments my mexican skin tone better than my favorite colors. Since the rise of interest in dark academia and other aesthetics, these white, browns, and blacks appear unavoidable at this point.

Sheer Materials

A. Roege Hove at Copenhagen Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2024

Throughout the week we saw different sheer and crochet pieces. More of the garments are on the feminine and light brown side appearance wise. However, most collections turned away from the normal crochet pieces we've seen from influencers recently. Similarly goes the sheer garments. Personally this trend doesn't interest me as much as the others on this list. I just feel like crochet style items have been here for a while at this point. Some of the other sheer fabrics interest me but otherwise I'm indifferent.

Printed Denim

Paolina Russo at Copenhagen Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2024

Copenhagen Fashion Week is more known for showing jeans and denim-on-denim outfits. In making the denim items newer, illustrations and details like that made an appearance on them. Personally I love these little details a lot! In the states we are seeing more creative denim although not to the extent that Copenhagen Fashion Week has shown. I'm hoping we continue to see an increase of this trend come next spring.

Trench Coats & Suits Jackets

Lovechild 1979 at Copenhagen Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2024

Throughout the multiple collections baggy and oversized items are noticeable. Most commonly among these types of clothes are trench coats and suit jackets. Color pallet wise, beside just the normal browns and blacks we see with these types of coats, note that there were also spring jackets that embraced pastels from Rolf Ekroth, the Garment, and Baum und Pferdgarten.

Due to my size I tend not to like baggy clothing as such. However, I love how people style this type of attire. I can't wait to see how people continue to style themselves with this trend.

Statement Jewelry

Gestuz at Copenhagen Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2024

For the love its back and hopefully it stays. Not too long ago more and more celebrities or influencers were staying away from jewelry and necklaces for award shows and daily wear. The jewelry they did wear was smaller in size. However, the 2023 Met Gala gave more chucky jewelry which has been put into different Copenhagen Fashion Week looks. We might be seeing a rise in bigger necklaces and brooches this next spring depending on how the upcoming fashion weeks, celebrities, influencers, and marketing teams incorporate the materials.

Notably Copenhagen Fashion Week saw several silver and gold pieces even from influencers. It's also good to note that several pieces from Lié Studio, which is owned by Danish models Amalie and Cecilie Moosgaard, were spotted on influencers. The brand is known for more beaded jewelry and rain drop shaped earrings. Their pieces on their site now are mainly completely silver or completely gold and appear more rounded in shape. We'll have to see if this type of jewelry will have a rise this upcoming spring.

Sources: Copenhagen Fashion Week | Instyle | Harpersbazaar

[somesunnyda-y]

He is beauty, he is grace,

I'm literally crying over his adorable face.

If you couldn't already tell, I'm still very happy about Jhye's performance with the ball yesterday (8-47, how good!!!). We can ignore what happened with the bat today (@ the rest of the team as well) 🙃

+bonus Ash Agar (and Will Bosisto) with his permanently untucked shirt (@albiegeorge)

Boy was being so soft with Jhye after all those wickets! He was hugging him so much and giving him more high fives and hair ruffles than are ever strictly necessary, and look at how proud he looks in all those pictures!!! All this just reinforces my HC that Jhye is the actual baby of the team and everyone loves him.

[prettyboykatsuki]

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

shoujo manga | k. bakugo 

➳ tags ;; fluff, angst/injury, very midly nsfw towards the end, kisses (?), pro-hero!bakugo 

➳ wc ;; 1.5k

➳ plot ;; how bakugo kisses you differently. 

➳ a/n ;; might do this for other characters? idk.. katsuki brainrot haunts me everyday of my life.. 

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

Bakugou speaks more than one language. 

Japanese, English, Spanish, and a little bit of Arabic and French. He’s fluent in the first three and conversational in the last - but the words still feel slick on his tongue. He’s the type of person that knows things well, when he can. He can curl around the syllables easily with enough patience - practice and time. A language is tool - or a love letter or a hopeless romantic. 

It’s something we never tire of listening too. 

For Bakugo Katsuki, the language he speaks to you in is kisses. It’s the one he feels best at, rolls of the tongue and mouth easiest. He’s well-versed in the foreign tongue of affection. It used to be.. choppy to say the least. But these days, Bakugo can tell you anything with nothing more than a few pressed lips and tongue-tied exchanges. 

It starts with a morning kiss. For it to be perfect, the sun has to hang just barely beneath the clouds. It can be any color out, blue, or orange, or grey - the sky just has to have light in it. He wakes up with a grunt, always before you - vermillion eyes peering open at your unconscious state. The verbs in his sentence are his hands, large palms that smooth down your hair. He nudges his nose against your jaw before his lips pucker against your cheek - travel down to your mouth until your eyes flutter open. 

“Wake up, brat,” with another kiss, this time on the corners of your lips. He waits for a while, sometimes letting you sleep for another ten minutes before his heart decides he’s running on empty time. Then he kisses you again, along your jaw like he’s tracing the lines of your art-work. 

“Oh? G’morning, Kat,” 

And he presses his cheek against your shoulder, kisses the edge with another grunt. These kisses always mean good morning, I’m happy we woke up together. In his language of love they mean, I like being here with you. 

Some kisses come after work - especially on those days where he’s working and you’re not. Bakugo dreads leaving you alone during the day, has to force himself out of bed and into his work clothes. It’s easier to be gone but always so hard to leave. When he comes home from work, he finds you in the living room with your legs propped up on the ottoman. Your laptop is on your lap and your head rests 

You can feel his presence before you see him. A warm hand, calloused and a hot, wraps around your throat and pulls you back to look upwards at him. He looks down at you with something unreadable in his expression - his thumb running against the column of your throat. He can feel your pulse under his fingers when he looks down on you - bows his head to kiss like an act of respect. This kiss is slow but deep - like a large wave crashing against the sand. His gravelly voice leaves you with a hum before he pulls away. 

This kiss means he’s missed you much more than you know. That’s why he stares at you for so long right after - why his fingers linger against your neck. 

“Whaddya want for dinner, huh?, is the only words he’ll say in the whole exchange but he looks like he’s gonna kiss you again. He wants to kiss you so many more times but he knows you’ve forgotten to eat so he just asks you what you want. He’ll make it for you. 

Other times, he kisses you in public. They’re not the kinds of kisses you can predict, you have to admit to yourself. It’s thee Dynamight afterall, and he rarely takes you anywhere the paparazzi can see. But you have to do normal things together sometimes - like grocery shopping. Even so, he always keeps his mask on up under his eyes, his sunglasses and army green hat and baggy clothes all covering him up.

But you mention it to him off-hand while you’re looking at salad dressing that you miss looking at his face when you’re out. A wistful, cheeky smiling on your lips as you tell him that you don’t mind if the world knows who you’re with. He scoffs, like always, and tells you to pick the spicy one for him. 

When he takes you outside, the sun falls over your skin like a halo. He’s sure there’s someone trailing him and watching from afar - some obsessed photographer examining his every move. Yet you look like gold, look like magic in the middle of this parking lot - packing groceries into the trunk of your car. 

He pulls his mask down just below his face, and takes his glasses off and pulls you toward him when the last of it’s over. Your hip bumps the shopping cart clumsily as his hands finds themselves under your jacket. His mouth melts against yours - this kind of kiss is searing against your lips Your hands are gripping the front of his shirt at first, but then they lay flat against his chest. It’s the kind of kiss where you let it happen, let it overwhelm your senses till your stomach turns. 

You leave it in a dazed and return to see him smirk, grin cocked like a pistol. He kisses you again, much softer as confusion dances along your face. 

“What? I thought you missed my face?” 

This kind of kiss is a reminder that your his and he’s yours. Nothing in the whole world could come between that, not even some shitty gossip column. When you laugh against him breathlessly, his expression melts into the most tender smile. You miss it - too busy laughing, but it might be better that way.  

Then, there are kisses that are desperate. Not sinful but somber. When you’re rushing to a hospital in the middle of September with a prayer clamped desperately between your tongue and teeth. You don’t really feel like you know yourself anymore, hands clasped around the steering wheel like religion. Your feet are the weight of crucifixion on the gas and it seems like you cannot go fast enough. 

You rush and rush and rush until the air in your lungs feels like it’s stomping at your chest. You wind up in a sterile white room, and he’s there. He’s alive and you know you should be grateful for that. Yet there’s a gash on his cheek and eyebrow, a wound in his side that makes everything in your knees feel weak. You don’t walk towards him, but stumble to where he’s sitting. 

“I fuckin’ hate hospital food,” 

He pushes the peas around the tray and you’re crying - shaking like a leaf in the wind as you cling to him. He lifts his arm and let’s you in. You sniffle against his shoulder and cry like a baby. You weep for the love you haven’t lost. You hear the plastic clink on the plate as he lifts his hand, brushes any stray hairs from your face. He tugs on your ear and makes him look at you, and kisses you. 

This kind of kiss is placating for certain. A warm mouth, not a hot one. His lips are so gentle, touch effervescent. When you hiccup a sob in his mouth, he nudges his forehead against yours and mumbles something incomprehensible.

You can hear his kiss before he speaks it.  

“I’m fine, dumbass,” but there’s no bite, no malice - just a hand wrapped in yours “I’m gonna be fine,” 

There are also times where he kisses you hotly. It’s the kind of kiss you wouldn’t want your children to see. When he comes home from a long day of training but the energy is still burning in his head. He’s sweaty, skin glistening and glazed. His teeth seem so sharp when he enters the threshold of the door. You can feel him pressed against your spine, the thick print in his basketball shorts. When his hands come up underneath your t-shirt and dance along your stomach. These times - he kisses you twice. Salacious and unrelenting. 

Once just like that in the kitchen. It’s all too much tongue and teeth that way - but god it feels so right. Makes you squirm, makes you hold the counter top to keep steady. You tremble before he even touches you. 

The second time is right in the middle of the fire, when he’s inside. Slow, sensual and needy - his tongue finding it’s way in your mouth like you’re a fountain. 

Both kisses speak the same words, the same desperation. It’s always the same with him, the inevitable scorching that bruises your lips and turns them red and swollen. 

“I want you. I want you. Give it to me, Give all of yourself to me” 

His kisses so harshly you can’t breathe, like even the breath in your lungs has to be his or he won’t stay still. These kinds of kisses always happen when you two touch. He can’t help but keep you all to himself. 

After all, in this language that only you two can speak, who else would he tell his secrets to?

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[honey-milk-depresso]

Vice Dorm Leaders: S/o who is insecure about their vitiligo (1)

HAHA- SO UM- I found this in my drafts and completely forgot about it ;-;;;; BUT HERE I AM- Yeah I just added this part- :///// I was too lazy to tag and eventually forgot about it- until now-

According to google, vitiligo is a skin condition in which the melanocytes, the pigment cells of the skin, are destroyed causing affected areas to turn pale. I just want you to know that you are beautiful no matter what! Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise! Hope you enjoy! ^^

(Trey, Ruggie, Jade)

Trey Clover

Trey always wondered why you want to wear a mask and long sleeved clothing. Basically clothes that cover your entire body. Don’t you feel stuffy wearing them? Do you feel comfortable???

You always told him you’re okay, and he didn’t question afterwards. Maybe it’s just fashion choice, and he doesn’t judge. He just wanted to make sure you don’t feel itchy.

But the first time he made for you something (the marron tart event before Riddle’s overblot), you told him that you rather eat in private. He didn’t suspect anything at first, merely letting you do so, 

but then he notices how frequently you missed or forgotten to take your meals when you’re alone, and that you just refuse to take down your mask to eat in front of others.

Now he was starting to get worried.

Trey would then resort in giving a gentle approach, he doesn’t want to be bold and just force an answer out of you, he would never do that.

During one break time, he’ll pull you aside. “S/o, can we talk? Someone more private maybe?”

Trey brought to a secluded area, he still spoke in a soft tone as if there were still people around just to make sure it really is private between you two. He looked at you with soft, amber gold eyes, “Is... everything okay? You keep forgetting to eat. Why don’t you like eating in front of others?”

You were taken aback, and Trey could tell you were hesitant about giving him an answer. He rubbed your back in soothing circles, calming you and telling you to take your time.

You eventually took of your mouth, showing him the pale patches on your skin, explaining how you don’t like anyone seeing your vitiligo, in fear of them judging your appearance. He frowned upon seeing how ashamed you look. He took a hold of your hand, now seeing the very faint mark of a pale patch. He rubs them gently in circular motion, looking at you with a soft gaze as he placed a tender kiss on one of the pale patches that etched on your cheek, the warmth of his hand spreading across your cheek. “S/o... please don’t think your condition makes you look weird that you don’t eat in public and then you forget to eat on your own. I think you look fine the way you are, honestly.”

Nowadays, Trey follows you every break time, as he’s there to encourage you to take off your mask and eat in public, and soon to take off your mask wherever you go in general.

Anyone who snickers about how weird you look would be met by his golden, sharp glare, enough to warn those who are smart enough. If not, he’ll tell Riddle and it’s off with their head. He just wants you to know you’re beautiful the way you are <3

Ruggie Bucchi

At first, he didn’t really thought about much. He just thought that man, don’t you feel stuffy wearing masks and covered clothing wherever you go?? Even during PE and in Savanaclaw? Well, if you said you’re fine, Ruggie wouldn’t think much of it, thinking you just have your own taste in fashion. He doesn’t judge.

But then, when he cooked for you for the first time, you told him that you rather eat it in private, and your excuse being that you savor food better on your own. Ruggie frowned. You tell that to your peers whenever they offer you food. He didn’t expect you to give him the same treatment.

Again, Ruggie decides to dismiss it and respect your choice, letting you do what your comfortable with. But he starts to notice your habit of forgetting to eat afterwards when your alone, and that you sweat profusely under the hot sun of his own dorm and you refuse to take of your mask and sweater.

He’s gotten worried, and he was sick and tired watching your health deteriorate. Ruggie gotten impatient on what he suspects your hiding something, and he wants to know so he can help. The boy legit climbed up the tree of Ramshackle, which a strong and thick branch spread out to your room’s window, opting to bust through the open window. “Yo, s/o.” “R-Ruggie?! W-what are you doing here?!” You were startled, and Ruggie looked at you with serious eyes. He notices your mask was lying on the coffee table, and he finds you scrambling to get the nearest pillow to cover your face. He frowns, walking up to you.

“S/oooo, what are you hiding?” Being the Savanaclaw student he is, he was much stronger than you, taking away the pillow. You immediately set up a last resort defence, putting your hands up to cover your face. He got frustrated, trying to rip your hands apart, resting his forehead on yours.

You gasped, shocked and flustered by the sudden contact and he took advantage of it and uncovered your hands, revealing the pale patches that spread across your face. He was shocked, as were you.

“D-does it hurt?” he questioned, now grazing his hand carefully on the skin without pale patches. You meekly shook your head, “No, but... I just look weird, don’t I?” you whispered, looking as if you were about to cry, leading Ruggie to frantically comfort you. “H-hey... I didn’t mean to. I was... just worried, and also I just thought those hurt, not that you look weird. And you don’t at all!”

Ruggie thinks you’re just fine the way you are. Anyone during recess when he accompanies you, if he hears a snicker or whisper about how weird your vitiligo makes you look, he will really hiss and eye at them with a threatening glare. He’ll make sure you’ll be confident, and he would be there for you every step of the way. <3

Jade Leech

He always wondered why you wear baggy, long sleeved clothes and pants and masks all the time. You don’t feel uncomfortable or sweaty wearing such? If you said you were comfortable, he would doubt a little, but will dismiss it and allow you to do as you please, the thought would still linger in his head, however.

Jade’s scepticism would rise further when he cooked for you a special meal the first time he brought you to Monstro Lounge alone. he usually leaves food for you at Ramshackle, knowing you and him would be really busy. 

You told him you rather eat alone, and he wasn’t convince about the excuses you gave, but nonetheless, gave you a kind smile and heeding you words, but decided to observe you.

He notices how you frequently forget to eat by yourself when you return to Ramshackle, and how exhausted you look when your under the hot sun during PE, and yet refusing to take of your mask and jacket. He was worried, and highly suspicious. Your his s/o after all; your health and wellbeing is most important to him.

Jade decided to approach you like how Trey would; gently and less direct and bold unlike Ruggie. “My dear? May I speak to you in private about something? It’s something rather important that I wanted to share with you,” he says, flashing his charming and soft smile. 

Bring you to a quiet and secluded area, he finally spoke. “S/o... why is it that you refused to take off your mask even when you feel so uncomfortable? Are you.. hiding something perhaps?” As much as you love Jade, you can’t help but feel nervous when he asked you that all of a sudden, and he feels your uneasiness as you timidly shuffled your feet.

He coos, gently soothing you with a gloved hand on his shoulder as he gently coaxed you, telling you to take your time and tell him what’s going on.

You murmured, “I.. I look ugly..” He raised an eyebrow, quite shocked and confused about what you mean. “Darling, how could you say that about yourself? I think you look fine, my dear?” You looked at him hesitantly, before you peeled off your mask, revealing the pale patches of skin that flowered all over the bottom part of your face.

“I... yeah. I know I.. I look so bad...” he immediately takes one of your hand, holding it. The other hand held you cheek and wiped a tear that had threatened to fall from the corner of your eye, warmly rubbing a pale patch.

“Oh darling... you’re not ugly at all. You look wonderful, and you should care more about your wellbeing rather than your appearance, although I think you look splendid,” he whispered, using a gloved finger to gently caress the pale patch on your cheek with a loving gaze.

Oh, and if anyone dares to just make fun of how “weird” you look during lunch time in front of him, or when he makes you feel more confident to take off your mask, will receive a “personal chat” from Jade, maybe tossing Azul and Floyd into the fun, and they won’t ever think of uttering a single thing about how weird your vitiligo make you look. <3

[hotwings0203]

i’m thinking abt Police officer reader arresting scummy smexy Touya. Like he smirks when she arrests him and cuffs his hands to his back. I want him in me fr 😍‼️

Tw:none really, maybe sexual harassment and implied noncon

“Officer 776, we got a black sedan coming up your way on I-10. Do you copy?”

You sign and turn your music off before reaching for your walkie talkie and responding, “Yes, I copy.”

And sure enough, the only car that zooms by at 2 am on a Saturday night is a black sedan. It’s a shame, really, you were enjoying the city view by yourself without anyone to keep an eye on. You’re usually posted for ticket duty, but this time you got promoted for night watch.

You would’ve liked to continue leaning back in your seat and watch the only sky slowly dust with stars, but duty calls as the blue custom headlights go streaking past you.

Begrudgingly, you pull your driving handle back and start going after him, turning your lights on in the process and raising the siren.

You’re not even surprised when it takes some slight honking and almost a two mile mini-chase to get the car to pull over at the side of the gravelly road.

The car in front of you stalls, and you observe the status of the car itself. It’s hard to make out the look of the vehicle in the dark even with your headlights blaring in front of it, but you guess it’s a Mazda sedan or something of the sort just like how your higher-up said.

You take a deep breath and gather your flashlight as you open your door and swing outside.

On the short walk to the driver’s side you notice darker marks on the car…almost like they were scorch marks.

That’s strange.

The window is tinted and up. You roll your eyes in annoyance and give three sharp raps to the glass.

“Open the window and keep your hands on the steering wheel after.”

You wait a moment. It doesn’t budge.

A crease appears in your eyebrows and you quickly glance around. It’s completely deserted, just you and the perpetrator.

“I’m gonna have to ask you once more. Open the window otherwise-“

You cut off as the black glass slowly rolls down, revealing a man with ivory hair and black tips at the ends, his face scarred but astonishingly handsome. His mouth, eyebags, lower half of his face and ears are laced with silver piercings…stitches? Maybe, but whatever. Focus on the task at hand.

“What can I help you with meter maid?” Comes his sleazy, gravelly voice.

You lean down and rest an elbow on his lowered window, squinting at his smug face. His eyes are crinkled with the slight upturn of his lips, imitating a crude smirk.

No ones in the car with him, but you can faintly smell some kind of skunk aroma, and alarm bells go off in your head.

“Sir, do you know how fast you were driving?”

“Fast enough apparently, if I copped a sexy thing like you all for myself.”

He props his chin on his scarred hand and rests his elbow right next to yours, mocking your petulant expression.

You grimace and move your hand away from his. He pouts as you continue berating him.

“It’s 2am on a weekend, sir. Where were you headed off to that you had to be there in such a rush?”

The man sighs loudly and lets his head fall back against his leather seat, lips puffing out and fingers moving to drum against his steering wheel.

“Oh you know, the usual. Fucking bitches, getting money, anything a no-good handsome bastard like me does on the regular. Not like I’d expect you to know, meter maid.” He smirks showing his white canines and slowly looks you up and down.

When you scowl he raises his hands innocently and shrugs.

“Just kidding sweetheart. I was actually on my way to burn a few bodies, I’m a hit man y’know. Very much on the wanted list. I’m good at what I do…if you ever need a man, or a body,just call me.” He winks and his infuriating grin doesn’t falter as you yank open the door and practically throw his lanky figure out of the car.

He doesn’t put up any effort of resistance, just lets you push him down by the neck onto the hood of his car, his body bent as you begin searching him.

You know you smell some type of drug in the car but you’re not actually rooting through his pockets looking for gold. You just want a little bit of saving-face from his sleazy mouth.

He exhales and laughs as his cheek smushes against the black steel, his breath puffing up condensation on the hood while you pat his sides down.

“Put your hands on the car sir, and don’t move unless you want to be taken into a cell overnight.” You mutter as you feel his studded belt, his white tee revealing a toned yet sharp body underneath.

The man sighs in faux annoyance. “What’s with the attitude babe? If you’re feeling me up you might as well lose that cold shoulder. The name’s Touya by the way, I would’ve given it to you sooner if I knew you just wanted to get under my pants.”

You freeze as his words register right when you pay down his inner thighs for any suspicious substance-just following protocol.

Nevertheless, you instinctively shoot your hands to your side and sputter indignantly.

“You-you can’t talk to an officer like that! Are you drunk? Count to 100 for me.” You try to divert the conversations to where you have the upper hand, but you should’ve known Touya wasn’t gonna let it be that easy.

“Sure thing meter maid. It’s 1-800-*******.”

“What?”

“That’s my number. Be grateful, I don’t usually give opps my digits that easily, but you’re giving me a fun time so why not?” He cranes his head toward you and licks his lips seductively.

You’re thankful for the darkness of the night, for you can surely feel the best rise to your cheeks at his blatant…flirting?

“Shut up. Just let me do my job asshole.”

The walkie talkie crackles with static as your supervisor calls in to check on how you’re doing, but before you can speak into it Touya cries out suddenly.

“Help! Oh, help me officer! This meter maid is touching all over my little willy! She has ulterior motives I swear it!” He moans loudly and you snap the device shut before turning to him.

“Are you fucking crazy? Do you want me to get fired?” You hiss, but all you get in return is a maniacal grin.

“Sure, ‘means you can fuck around without any protocol then, right?” The man starts arching his hips up in a perverse manner and shoves his ass back into your torso.

You snarl and reach over his back, grabbing both of his hands and slapping a pair of cuffs on him before manhandling him the other way, his face finally aligned with yours, back against the cool steel.

“Oh, so you like it rough, huh?”

You ignore him and drop to a squat, taking his combat boots off less-than-gently and shaking them out for any real baggie.

“Shoulda’ told me sooner doll, we could’ve gotten this along wayyyy sooner.”

You slowly raise your eyes up and take in an eyeful of his thrusting hips mere inches from your eyes.

He’s looking down at you with one eyebrow raised and his usual smirk adorning his features.

Your blood rushes through your body like you just ran a marathon, and you abruptly stand before him, making sure your shoulder checks his straining bulge on your way up.

He yelps and doubles over, unable to clutch his prized possession.

This time when he straightens up with a twisted scowl, you’re the one grinning at him instead.

“Yeah, you’re right, actually. If you’re gonna get me fired anyways might as well do what I want, right?”

You open his passenger door and give him an innocent smile as he watches you warily.

After about 10 minutes of looting through his car and trunk, sure enough you produce a couple of large ziploc bags filled with white powder and copious amounts of cash under thinly concealed pockets in the back.

You hold all of these findings up, and each one of the revelations are either met with a mocking pout or a careless shrug.

Your skin starts to get hotter despite the chill of the night as none of your efforts to match his energy are met with any fruition. In fact, it seems to rile him up more.

“Looks like you’re getting tired hon. Why not use all that energy on this dick?”

“Hmm, I guess you’re not very good at this job, huh? You’d be better as some kind of stripper. Actually, nah, that’s too good of a job for you, maybe a prostitute stuck in my bed would satisfy you.”

On and on he goes as you practically raid his car, even throwing out belongings that aren’t in any way questionable.

Eventually you reach your tipping point. You make sure he’s watching you as you walk around back towards him and plant your feet squarely in front of him, taking your stance.

You reach into your pocket to produce your walkie, cock your arm back, and throw it as far as you can into the surrounding field.

“Where’s that smile now Touya? You scared you can’t defend yourself without anyone on the other side listening in?”

The ivory haired man shakes his head and sighs as if dealing with a grace loss. Your own brows furrowed as he looks up at you with a sorrowful expression, one that doesn’t quite scream sincere when the car lights reflect an excited gleam in his cerulean eyes.

“Nah, sweetheart. I’m actually more worried for you.”

And with a sound as soft as bell chimes, the tugs his hands at the back for a moment and brings his arms forward, palms spread and showing you cuff-less palms of blue hellfire.

He thinks you look pretty when the blue light reflects pure terror on your shadowed face.

“That was a stupid move, throwing your only hope of salvation away. I wasn’t lying, y’know. I really am a hit man. But I’ll take my own offer.”

As you turn to begin to sprint away he smiles again, this one more earnestly remorseful.

“I’ll be a hit man and a body you need for tonight.”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - IV

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,800+

Previously on…

As Y/N packed her bags, she was also brainstorming her route once she got to her safe house. She’s just stay there for a couple of nights. Then she’d leave town. Gotham wasn’t safe for her right now. And if she was out of city limits, The Court of Owls had less influence. Though she didn’t doubt they’d send an assassin to the other side of the world to hunt her down.

Y/N looked around her extravagant room.

She doubted she’d ever be back here.

Things were getting…complicated.

It was a cruel reminder for why she kept to herself. People meant drama. Drama meant distractions. And distractions meant she wasn’t focused on the task at hand �� which was bringing down the corrupt.

Y/N was just zipping up her duffle when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She turned to see Dick walking in.

He eyed her bag. “What are you doing?”

“I was just about to go pack up my equipment in the cave.”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying here,” he confirmed.

She gave him a repulsed look. “Uhh…No, I am not. This mansion is about to be flooded with unidentified members of The Court.”

“Sure is,” Dick smirked. “But I have a solution.”

He held out his hand to show a bracelet. It looked expensive. The band was gold but there was a giant garnet gemstone at the center of it.

Dick handed it to Y/N.

“You shouldn’t have?” Y/N asked with confusion.

“I called in a favor with an old friend. She’s a magician.”

Y/N tried not to laugh, “A magician?”

Dick gave her a playful glare. “Yeah, a magician. But it’s not tricks and gimmicks. She knows actual magic.” He tapped the gemstone. “When you wear this, you’ll look like a different person. It’s a cloaking spell.”

“Why didn’t you guys suggest this right away?”

Dick sighed. “Bruce isn’t fond of metas and…magic.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just leave?”

“I would rather have you in disguise with our eyes on you, than have you out of reach,” he explained softly. “When you’re wearing this, all of us will still be able to see the real you. But not anyone else.”

“I don’t want to go to this stupid gala. I’ll just wear this and stay in my room or the cave.”

“Well…that’s the other part,” Dick cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re gonna be my date.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked her on any kind of date. Not that Dick even asked. He more so told her.

“That wasn’t exactly a request, Dick.”

“Everyone knows everyone. If you’re by yourself, people will ask too many questions. But if you’re my date, no one will think twice why you’re there.”

“I-I don’t have anything to wear…”

Dick laughed lightly. “Alfred already sent out for a dress and shoes for you.”

“…why do I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”

“Come on, Y/N. You know it’s not like that.”

Y/N remained annoyed.

“I’ll be here at your door around 8 tonight, k?” Dick gave her a soft smirk.

“Fine.”

———————

This was just another night for Dick. He’d been dragged to enough of these stupid galas to know the drill: wide smiles, forced laughter, and lay the charm on real thick. With the way this family handled their identities, they could’ve been a family of actors instead of vigilantes.

Dick straightened his cufflinks as he made his way to Y/N’s room.

He could hear the murmur’s of the guest from the ballroom, proving just how many people were attending for the sound to reach him in such a giant manor.

There was a part of Dick that half expected Y/N to be in her usual baggy sweaters and leggings when he opened the door. A silent protest that she wasn’t going to be anyone’s arm candy tonight.

Dick knew he didn’t give her much choice.

When his family had been discussing the situation, Dick tried to off to stay hidden out of sight with Y/N. But Alfred was having none of it. They all knew he took these events rather seriously. Especially one that was started and named after Bruce’s mother.

Dick knocked and turned his back to the door, he double checked there were no guests exploring where they shouldn’t be.

When the door opened, Dick turned around and was stunned to silence.

“Is this bracelet working on you or do I really look that bad?”

Y/N shifted as he stared at her like she’d cast a spell on him.

Dick was seeing Y/N. That was for sure.

“I see the dress fit,” he finally spoke.

What the hell was the matter with him? That’s really what he chose to say?

Though Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “That it does.”

Dick woke up a bit and cleared his throat. “You look…beautiful.”

He never had a problem charming women. So why is he suddenly talking like a total cave man?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Y/N call him out teasingly. “Just because I dress like a scrub every day doesn’t mean I don’t know how to clean up.”

His brow furrowed at the first comment. “You’ve never looked like a scrub, Y/N.”

OK. OK. He was getting back to his normal self.

“Well…” Y/N broke eye contact from her bashfulness. “Thank you.”

Dick held out the hook of his arm. “Shall we?”

Y/N inhaled, “Right.”

As soon as she hooked her hand onto Dick’s bicep, a wave of relief washed over her. She wasn’t doing this alone; she was doing this with him at her side.

“So, what’s the the plan here?” Y/N asked nervously.

“The plan is to blend in. Don’t talk to any press. And…” He smirked. “It wouldn’t hurt to try and have a good time.”

“Right. I’ll try to do that while I’m in a room possibly filled with people who want me dead…” Y/N sighed.

“Not ‘possibly.’ There will be.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Way to make me feel better, Dick.”

He laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time. Damian, Tim, and Bruce will be there, too. And somehow Alfred convinced Jason to even make an appearance. You’re not in this alone, Y/N.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N answered as they arrived to the party. She didn’t bother hiding that she was still extremely nervous and on edge.

“I did really mean it,” Dick told her quietly.

His tone made Y/N tear her eyes away from the party to look at him. “Really mean what?”

“You look beautiful.”

His words didn’t fumble this time. He was confident and clear, leaving no room for doubt or insincerity.

Y/N gave him a shy smile.

“I’m guessing a drink would make this a bit easier, huh?” Dick offered.

“Yes. Yes, it would.”

Dick guided her to the nearest bar.

All the staff knew what the Wayne family looked like. Which meant the bartended skipped over all other guests and b-lined for Dick when he requested a drink, and then looked to Y/N to order what she wanted.

There was loud laughter from a group of people near them. Followed by a voice that Y/N thought she knew, but still sounded a bit off.

When Y/N looked over, she realized it was Bruce talking to a group of guests, who were absolutely fawning over him. He was smiling and laughing, and taking very frequent sips of his drink.

This was Bruce Wayne: the character. Charming playboy, debatable narcissist, and spoiled brat. But in the eyes of Gotham’s elite, he could do no wrong.

Y/N wondered if Bruce had ever considered bringing her as his date. ‘Don’t you start,’ said a voice inside her head.

Dick followed her eye line.

“Doesn’t it make you nauseous watching him like this?” Y/N mumbled.

“Not Dick. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Jason answered.

Dick and Y/N turned to see Jason and Damian.

Yes, Dick adopted Bruce’s charm. But he didn’t rip himself into pieces, building characters that were unrecognizable to the people who actually knew him. Dick’s charm was a part of his personality. His flirtations came naturally. But he only used them on people he intended on building a genuine connection with. (Though Nightwing was guilty of using said charm on targets during missions a few times.)

Y/N looked around for Tim and saw him talking to what appeared to be serious businessman. He was the only one carrying on the legacy at Wayne Enterprises. If any of the boys needed to be here, it was Tim.

“Shouldn’t you guys be making rounds or something?” Y/N asked.

Jason shrugged. “People only cared about us when we were cute kids. Now we’re just spoiled adults who are the product of nepotism.” He smirked down at Damian. “But this one isn’t out of the clear yet.”

“Don’t remind me,” Damian groaned. “At the last one, a woman pinched my cheeks as if I was some toddler.”

“I thought I was about to watch him murder someone,” Dick added.

“I wanted to,” Damian clarified.

Dick started talking to Jason about something.

It provided Y/N the perfect window with the youngest Wayne. 

“I’ll sneak you alcohol if you do a mercy killing for me,” she offered Damian.

The boy looked amused but gave no indication that a deal was made.

“Your date that awful?” Jason teased as he smirked at Dick, who ignored him.

“Do you have the hearing of a dog? Fuckin’ Christ.”

The four of them stuck together for most of the night. Tim would touch base with them every so often. But he kept getting dragged away by board members or partners or anyone that wanted to kiss the ass of the future head of Wayne Enterprises.

Dick and Y/N were laughing at Jason about something when Dick’s face suddenly fell as he spotted something on the other side of the room.

“God damn it, Damian.” Dick hissed as he put his drink down on the nearest counter. He turned to Y/N. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Y/N just nodded.

But then Jason seemed to spot the youngest brother as well.

“I should probably help him and do some damage control,” Jason sighed.

Y/N laughed and nodded for him to go ahead.

“Now you can see why I avoid these shit shows.”

She laughed but pushed him away, “Go help Dick.”

Now that Y/N was alone, her senses was hyper focused on the party around her.

As she reached for her drink, she noticed that her surrounding area had gone eerily quiet. And she felt far too many eyes on her. There were hushed whispers and even gasps. 

“Would you care to dance?” A voice asked from behind her.

Y/N’s entire body tensed.

She turned to see Bruce waiting patiently for her response.

But the look on his face was that of a man she didn’t know.

Bruce had a charming glitter in his eyes and his smirk was arrogant.

Y/N looked around at their audience, then at the dance floor. She was desperately trying to remember the last time she danced with someone.

“Umm…I don’t really know how–” her words came out so slowly.

“How to dance?” Bruce offered.

Y/N nodded.

“You just need a good partner,” he reassured her as he held out a hand.

‘What a fucking line,’ Y/N thought as she tried not to roll her eyes. She half expected him to add a wink.

Bruce guided her to the center of the dance floor and then pulled her closer with his right hand while his left wrapped around her hand.

Y/N wasn’t expecting him to pull her so close, but their body’s were now pressed together.

Bruce moved his mouth to her ear. “Relax,” he murmured.

“It’s hard to relax when you’re using me to set up your new flavor of the week,” she criticized. “Everyone is watching us.”

Bruce may be used to such scrutiny, but Y/N had zero experience with it. And it was safe to say she hated it.

“They’re not looking at me. They’re looking at you,” Bruce corrected.

“A woman who’s not even me. It’s just the dress.”

“I’m happy you like it, seeing as I picked it out,” he commented smugly.

Y/N’s chest tightened at the revelation.

“I see the real you right now, and that’s who I asked to dance.”

Y/N wanted to make a run for it. She didn’t want Bruce with an audience. She just wanted him to herself and she wanted him as he really was.

But her brain shut down for just this song and she followed her heart.

If Y/N concentrated hard enough, she could ignore all the invasive gawking. If she closed her eyes, it was just her and Bruce. So, Y/N tucked her head into his shoulder and let Bruce glide them across the floor.

Somehow she felt that Bruce was allowing himself this as well.

One song was not enough for what they both needed and wanted.

But Y/N would take what she could.

Though what she did not expect was to finally pull away to see Bruce looking utterly heartbroken. As if pulling away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. And for the first time, Y/N legitimately considered that Bruce might want the same thing as she did.

He’ll just never act on his feelings.

If Y/N had blinked, she could’ve missed the moment of honesty and vulnerability Bruce had colored all across his face – bleeding from his eyes.

Because, the next moment, the character was back.

As the party clapped for the band, someone called Bruce’s name. And their locked stare was broken.

And just like that, Y/N was snapped back to reality as if someone threw a bucket of freezing water over her.

Now that Bruce had moved on, no one bothered to keep their voices down. And the upperclass women of Gotham made it loud and clear that they were not pleased with Y/N’s presence.

“Seems he’s found his next prey.”

“She looks half his age, of course he would go for her. Typical man.”

“She’ll eventually learn like we all did.”

“I still say he was the best lay I ever had.”

“Remember when we both slept with him in the same week?”

Now Y/N wasn’t just brought back to reality – she was put in her place.

Before she could even realize what was happening to stop it, her eyes were filled with tears. She had to get out of there.

“Excuse me,” Y/N whispered desperately and she tried to push her way through the crowd.

As soon as she made it outside, she let out a gasp. The fresh air helped, but it wasn’t enough.

There wasn’t any guests outside, but Y/N didn’t feel a safe enough distance from the party. The gardens and maze were in her peripheral and it took her all of two seconds to decide that would be her safe haven.

She hurried through the maze and prayed that no drunken couples had tried to also sneak away from prying eyes. 

But when Y/N reached the center of the maze, she was alone.

A fountain sat in the middle and the sound of its moving water calmed Y/N down a bit. But even that couldn’t stop her tears from finally escaping.

Y/N sat on the edge of the fountain as she tried to get a hold of herself. She could only imagine what this was doing her makeup that she spent an hour doing. 

‘What a waste,’ she thought.

Her escape was short lived. 

Dick called her name repeatedly from a distance.

Y/N panicked at the idea of him catching her crying. She quickly tried to hide any evidence of tears and pull herself together.

Dick finally caught up and let out a sigh of relief from behind her.

“Y/N, you can’t run off like that,” he tried to tell her.

He opened his mouth to lecture her further, but when he finally made it around the fountain and was facing her, his concern shifted. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Y/N struggled to speak without sounding nasally. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You were crying.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to laugh. “Seriously, Dick.”

But he wasn’t having any of it. He moved to sit next to her on the edge of the fountain. Without hesitating, he wrapped an around her shoulder and pulled her into him.

“Come here,” he muttered softly.

Why did it feel so natural for him to do that? Like he’d done it a million times before?

He rubbed her arms. “Jesus. You’re freezing.”

Then he was taking off his suit jacket and putting it over her shoulders. But he didn’t miss a beat, quickly bringing her back into his arms again.

“Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Dick asked after a few minutes of silently comforting her.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to me if it made you cry.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath, feeling like she was on the cusp of crying again. “I’m just like the rest of them.”

Dick waited, feeling like she needed to say more before he spoke.

“They were whispering terrible things. But it was everything I already knew. I’m just another stupid girl that managed to convince herself that she was different.”

Dick was silent as he processed his words. It wasn’t hard for him to know Y/N was talking about Bruce, even thought she never uttered his name. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Dick announced. “Let’s ditch this stupid gala. Get out of these clothes. Put on some sweatpants. And I’ll have Alfred order us as much pizza and wings as you want.”

Now Y/N wanted to cry for a completely different reason.

Dick was the sweetest man she’d ever met.

“Sound like a plan?” He asked her when she didn’t respond and instead just stared into his blue eyes.

Y/N nodded.

“We can even invite my good-for-nothing brothers if that’ll make you happy.”

Her first instinct was to say yes. They all amused her beyond belief. Watching the way they all interacted with each other was like watching a reality show. And it was always obvious how much they loved each other deep down – even with Damian, who would rather die than admit such a thing.

But if all of them were included, who knew when Bruce would eventually make an appearance. And Y/N just didn’t think she could be in a room with him again tonight. 

“Just you and me,” she clarified.

That seemed to please Dick and he nodded. 

“Just you and me,” he confirmed as he offered her a hand up. 

When they started walking back to the manor, Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close to his side.

“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me,” but she said it through a smile.  

Dick looked a bit nervous, but nodded. “Alright.”

“Do you know how to order takeout on your own?”

Dick threw his head back and laughed. “How dare you!”

He pinched her waist, making her yelp. But he didn’t let her escape his hold. “Yes, I do. In fact, when I’m at my own place, I live off takeout. And let me tell you, no one can order food quite like I can. Thank you very much.”  

Once they reached the second floor of the manor, the two of them parted ways to changed out of their fancy clothes.

Y/N washed her face, scrubbing the layers of makeup off. But before she could rid herself of the evidence, she noticed the smeared mascara and eyeliner. 

Words could not describe the relief of putting on baggy sweatpants and a hoodie and fluffy socks after wearing a fitted gown and high heels.

30 minutes later, just as promised, Dick was bringing up a huge pizza and a box of wings to Y/N’s bedroom.

They ate on the floor. Dick managed to light the fireplace that was in there, because Y/N didn’t know what to do with the thing. The television was on, but neither of them were watching it. It was simply white noise.

Two hours later, Y/N was laughing so hard at a story Dick was telling her that she had tears in her eyes and her stomach hurt.

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m not kidding. Ask Jason. He took my clothes and I was ass naked, running through the streets of Gotham. I wanted to kill him.”

Y/N grabbed another wing and got sauce all over her face.

“What?” She asked when Dick was watching her with adoration. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

He tried to hide his smile. “Nope.”

She knew he was lying and then purposely smeared more sauce around her lips. “How about now? Do I have anything now?”

“No. Nothing.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive am I right now?” Y/N laughed as she wiped the sauce off her face with napkins.

“11,” Dick responded without hesitating.

The playfulness was sucked out of the room when they both heard how serious his tone was.

Y/N’s face went somber as she looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.” She laughed lightly, “I’m a lousy date, huh?”

“That’s not true,” he immediately shot down. “This is the most fun I’ve had…” His words died out when he realized he couldn’t even remember. “Well, it’s the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”

“Me too,” she replied with a quiet sweetness.

Through her full-body laughter, she had moved closer to Dick without realizing it.

He glanced at her lips. He just couldn’t help himself. 

The thing about Dick wearing his heart on his sleeve was that it was nearly impossible for him to hide his feelings, his desires. It was all in those blue eyes of his, waiting to easily be read by someone.  

And while Y/N looked at him looking at her, she felt beautiful. Because that was all Dick could possibly think as he stared at her.

Neither knew who leaned in first. Perhaps this was their dance that they weren’t able to have earlier.

But they made up for it by sharing an impassioned kiss now. 

Dick’s lips were softer than Y/N expected. His hands gripped her waist possessively, making it very clear what he wanted – but still being ever so gentle and soft with his touches.

One of Dick’s hands moved from her waist up her back to tangle his fingers in her hair. He tugged on the strands and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

They both could slightly taste the pizza and wings on each other’s lips, but neither of them cared at all.

The kiss didn’t last long enough for either of their liking.

But Y/N pulled away anyways, gasping for air a bit.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he whispered through hooded eyes as he brushed some hair away from her face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile,” he added with a smirk.

But Y/N wasn’t really sorry about the kiss. 

She was sorry because she knew that things were far more complicated than ever.

-----------------------------------------------------

Part V

Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 

Please, please, please write me a book report of what he thought of this chapter. It will be your VDay gift to me 😘

[mackeydoodledoo]

The Fifth Lord: Chapter 1

Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu and (Fem!Dragon)Reader [non-romantic], Bela Dimitrescu x (Fem!Dragon)Reader

Summary: Your name is Y/n Dracul; The only ‘mutant’ that doesn’t have the Cadou Parasite. You already have some sort of power that impressed Mother Miranda; you were the first known Human-Dragon Hybrid. Although you have your own house, “House Dracul”. Your ‘house’ itself is basically another unused wing of Castle Dimitrescu.

Warnings: None?

A/N: So like- Y/n’s dragon form is different from Alcina’s. Y/n Dracul is based on the Dragon Slayers from an anime titled: Fairy Tail. Y/n’s relationship with Alcina is that similar to like close work colleagues. Aside form Donna and Mother Miranda, Alcina respects Y/n a lot. Fun Fact: “Dracul” is Romanian for Dragon or Devil!

This is before Ethan Winters enters the Five Lords’ domains

---------------------------------------------------------------

You were unwanted as a very young child; Born with blooming dragon scales along your arms, sprouting dragon horns small fang-like canines, wings and a sprouting tail. You were nicknamed: The Devil’s Dragon.

Once your Dragon form finally took full form by your teenage years, you were ‘sacrificed’ to Mother Miranda however, seeing these Dragon-like features, believed you deserved a chance in her domain, so she raises you. She gives you the surname; Dracul. You always questioned how you got the dragon-like characteristics and power. 

“You were always like that y/n,” Alcina seats herself next to you

“Yeah but- I came from the village right? So I must’ve been human at one point,” You sigh, leaning onto her arm

Even though no one else knew how either, you only leave it as; ‘I got lucky.’

“I hereby give you the Fifth House; House Dracul,” Mother Miranda ‘knights’ you, “Today, we mark history as Y/n Dracul, becomes the first Lord without the Cadou Parasite. She already holds a remarkable form of power.”

You’re kneeled down in front of her. Once you look up; your gold dragon eyes spark like fire.

“Dimitrescu,” Mother Miranda calls for her daughter

“Mother Miranda?” Dimitrescu answers 

“You shall give Dracul and unused wing of your castle,” She says, “You are also responsible for Y/n Dracul.”

“Mother Miranda-” Alcina tries to object

“Is that a problem Dimitrescu?” She asks, beginning to unfold her wings

“No, Mother Miranda,” Alcina sighs

After the Lords’ meeting you follow Alcina to the castle and sure enough you would be able to make do with whichever wing she gives you. 

“Y/n Dracul there are three girls I would like to introduce to you,” Alcina says

You follow her into the main hall. There; you meet eyes with three women. A Blonde, A Brunette and a Redhead.

“Daughters, I would like to introduce our newest addition to House Dimitrescu,” Alcina starts, “Your Fifth Lord, Y/n Dracul.”

You bow shallow and as soon as you look up, all three daughters were staring in awe at you.

“Is that a dragon?” The Redhead asks

“Partly Dragon,” You correct

“Daniela, where are your manners?” The blonde one asked, “We are in the prescence of a Lord! I’m Bela my lady.”

“Cassandra,” The Brunette introduces herself

“You know my name,” Daniela sighs, “Thank you Bela.”

“My Ladies, please,” You sigh, slightly overwhelmed, “No need for formalities.”

The ease themselves and you make eye contact with Bela. You didn’t know what happened but you felt something when she looked back at you.

“Y/n,” Alcina smacks the back of your head

You snap out of your gaze at Bela and turn to Alcina. You rub the back of your head to ease the slight pain from Alcina’s hand.

“Cassandra, show y/n her wing of the castle,” Alcina requests gently

“Which part mother?” She asks

“Whichever wing we barely use,” Alcina sighs, “The-The clocktower.”

You have a clocktower?...

Cassandra taps your shoulder as she motions for you to follow her up the staircase. You look down and make eye contact with Bela once more. She slightly smiles as you and gives you a small wave.

“Thank you, Lady Cassandra,” You say as you gaze up at the interior of the clock tower

“You’re very much welcome my lord,” She bows

“Lady Cassandra, you may call me Y/n,” You smile weakly, “I told you, no need for formalities.”

Cassandra nods as she makes her leave. As you gaze up once more at the clocktower, you squat down as your wings begin rising into the air. You make a powerful jump and begin flying up to the top of the clocktower.

I’m so happy I have wings for this one...

You fly around the castle, gazing happily at the exterior. You didn’t know how long you were flying for until you notice the sun beginning to set. You land on the ledge of the clocktower however when you look over you notice a figure setting up something across from you.

“Lady... Bela?” You call out

She turns her head over to you and smiles, ”Lord Dracul.”

She bows and hands you a blanket. You smile and take the blanket she had given you.

“You set all of this up? For me?” You ask, “Lady Bela you didn’t need to.”

“It was one way mother would allow me to see our Fifth Lord,” She slightly smiles, “Didn’t think she’d be part human and part Dragon. Kind of hot if you tell me.”

You awkwardly smile while feeling your cheeks heat up. Bela smiles as she pinches your cheeks.

“You’re a cute dragon,” She smiles

She turns her back to you. So you take the opportunity to strip off your shirt to change into a sleep shirt. 

Bela’s POV When Bela turns back towards you, your back was turned to her. However, She takes notice of the red dragon scales that are running along the sides of your body up to your neck.

Oh god she’s hot... And her scales glisten rainbow under the moonlight... God it’s so pretty...

Y/N’s POV When you turn back around, flinging your wings out from the vertical cuts in your shirt, you notice Bela staring.

“Something caught your eye?” You ask, smiling slightly

“I like how your scales glisten rainbow,” She says

“Oh, it does that?” You ask, holding out your arm to the moonlight

Sure enough, it had.

“You’re pretty observant Lady Bela,” You smile

She’s cute... But... She’s Lady Dimitrescu’s daughter... And I’m a lord... The two titles aren’t mutually exclusive...

Somehow, the both of you made it work around living in Castle Dimitrescu and being in a secret relationship. Even Bela hadn’t told her sisters of her relationship with you yet because she didn’t want them judging the both of you and you didn’t want Alcina going at your throat for being with her daughter and being a lord. 

“Y/n, may I have a word with you?” Alcina asks as she walks into the clocktower, finding you flying about

“Of course my lady,” You say, landing in front of her, “What is it?”

“I see ow my daughter Bela sneaks around the castle, do you have any idea why?” She asks you, taking a swig of her cigarette

You stand there, slightly frozen. Had Alcina began suspecting of your relationship with her? Had you somehow slipped up? Had Bela accidentally ran her mouth while she was in the castle?

“Y/n?” Alcina calls 

“Sorry, um- no, I don’t know why My Lady,” You lie

“Don’t lie to me young one,” She says

“I’m not My Lady,” you try to hide

She leans over you, observing you closely. You were never great at hiding lies from Alcina. However, she stops looming over you and recomposes herself. 

“Alright then, if you won’t tell me then I’m sure Bela will,” Alcina storms off 

Once you see her disappear, you sigh in relief. 

“You can come out now Bela,” You say

You turn to your sleeping quarters and notice Bela wrapped in a blanket. You walk over to her and give her a hug.

“We have to tell mother sooner better than later,” Bela says, worriedly, “Who knows what she might do to you....”

“I am a dragon love,” You smile, kissing her nose gently, “She will have a hard time killing me.”

When you and Bela broke the news to the entirety of House Dimitrescu, Alcina wasn’t surprised, nor were Daniela and Cassandra.

“You and Bela would always be in close proximity to each other, it was pretty obvious,” Cassandra says

“No matter,” Alcina sighs “Y/n Dracul, you are a lord and a lord dating my daughter-”

“I think it’s an interesting concept mother,” Daniela interrupts her

When Alcina shoots her head up to Daniela, Daniela drops her head down. Cassandra looks into another direction, hoping to not upset her mother any further.

“However, Bela and the girls do seem to love, having you around,” Alcina states, “You swear to me you ill be there by Bela’s side no matter what?”

“I promise my lady,” You say, holding onto Bela’s hand

“You may continue your relationship with my daughter y/n,” Alcina says. Before you and Bela could celebrate, Alcina stands over the both of you, “But don’t let being my daughters’ lover distract you from being a lord. I am responsible for you.”

You nod as she begins walking towards the staircase. As soon as Alcina disappears into the Castle, you look down at Bela. She grins from ear to ear and hugs you tightly. 

“A lord dating a Dimitrescu?” Daniela teases, “It’s unheard of.”

“It’s heard of now,” You smile

“Will you have dragon babies?” Cassandra also teases

“Lady Cassandra, I am a female,” You sigh

“You never know what you can do to have some kiddos, even as a woman.” Cassandra explains

“You know the outside world has improved since ancient times...” You mumble to yourself

“See,” Cassandra says, “Have your dragon babies with our sister.”

“Cassandra!” Bela yells, standing up, “I’m going to bed... Y/n?” 

You smile slight;y as you stand up and follow after her, holding onto her hand.

“Don’t do anything I would do now ladies,” Daniela teases

“Shut up already!” Bela yells

You follow Bela through the tunnels and up to the clocktower. As you begin stripping off your ‘Lord attire’ for bed, Bela turns to you while you are shirtless.

“My lord-” Bela gasps

“What?” You ask, putting on a baggy shirt, “You okay?”

“Yes My Lord,” She tries to cover her mouth

“My my, is Lady Bela blushing?” You ask, slightly smirking

“N-no,” She turns away from you

“You are,” You tease, moving her hand from her face, noticing a slight blush across her face

You let out a hearty but calm laugh. You weren’t sure what had gotten into Bela but she had shoved you back so that you’re now sitting at the edge of your bed. Bela wasn’t sure what was going on in her head but the next thing she knew she is in your lap.

“Lady Bela?” You ask, looking up at her, “You sure are feisty tonight.”

“You’re really trying to tempt me right now?” She asks, slightly letting out a growl

“Whatever are you trying to prove?” You ask, tracing Bela’s figure with the tips of your sharp fingernails

Bela lets out a strangled gasp as she puts her hands onto your shoulders. Your hand grips the back of her neck, but doing your best to not accidentally draw blood on her. 

“My Lord?” She asks, looking down at you

“My Lady,” You reply, smiling

When you awake in the following morning, you were about to stretch your wings until you felt a slight weight hold down your right wing.

“Lady Bela?” You yawn, turning to face her

“Good morning my lord,” She smiles, supposedly awake with her eyes closed

“You sleep okay?” You ask, brushing hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear 

She nods, “How about you? My blood runs cold...”

“You know, it was nice,” You state, “MY body temperature is always warm... So you cool me down when I slept.”

“Vice versa from me,” She smiles, snuggling into your body more

“Bela, are you in here?” Alcina asks, looking under the cloth ‘door’ you had made

You and Alcina look at each other awkwardly before Bela’s head popped up from behind your shoulder.

“Just- Bela be ready soon,” Alcina turns her heel and walks off

Once the clocktower door shuts, you and Bela look at each other before letting out a snicker to a laugh.

“I better get ready,” You say, “Being lord sure is tiring.”

“Me too,” Bela agrees, “My sisters will question us for sure.”

“I mean, they know already,” You state, slipping on some jeans and a hoodie

“I don’t want it to be the talk amongst the Lords and this castle,” Bela growls slightly

“You’re cute when you’re a little angry,” You smile, kissing her nose

You slip on a leather jacket as Bela pulls on the belt. Pulling you towards her.

“You’re the one who’s cute,” Bela giggles, kissing you

You return the kiss. The kiss was beginning to become heated when you snaked your arms around Bela before Bela pulls away.

“If I see the both of you fucking I’m going to puke,” Daniela giggles

“Morning Lady Daniela, Lady Cassandra,” You greet them

“Mother is asking for the both of you now,” Cassandra says

Daniela and Cassandra materialize into their fly swarm and begin going into the tunnel system, back into the castle. You look down and notice Bela hadn’t followed close behind her sisters.

“Hey, go on ahead,” You say, looking at her, “Go catch up to your sisters. I’ll catch up.”

Bela gives you one last kiss on the cheek before materializing into her swarm of flies and disappearing into the tunnel system. Before you began to fly through the tunnel as well you felt something move in the pocket of your hoodie. You look down and open the pocket: revealing a single fly.

“Awwww Bela,” You coo at the fly, ever-so gently petting the fly

Chapter 2

[lepusrufus]

To bargain for immortality pt.2

Finally, she felt well enough to leave the infirmary room for good. Her internal organs were at peace for the most part and she could keep some food down without the risk of seeing it for a second time. Her sinuses still seemed to refuse to recover though. Occasional nosebleeds would have her head spinning and the scent of blood so often present within the castle was somehow too offensive to her senses. Nicole couldn't help but wonder how exactly she got it this screwed up, but then again the first few days of the infection were a painful blur that she'd rather not remember.

For now she was content to sit in front of the fireplace with the rest of her family. They decided to have a movie night to break her out of the mopey state she had been in and, for the most part, it was quite the success. She wasn't paying much attention to the projector screen, some sappy scene from a movie chosen by Daniela playing at the moment. Instead, she was simply enjoying the close proximity to Cassandra that she so dearly missed in the last few weeks. Nicole was in the brunette's lap, with hands loosely around her waist and leaning against her shoulder. She was vaguely aware of Laura complaining about the poor life choices of one of the characters only to be unceremoniously shushed by the youngest sister. It made her chuckle.

Bela was passing the popcorn to her mothers when a knock on the main entrance reached their ears faintly. Lady Dimitrescu narrowed her eyes in the general direction of the sound, and listened. Soon enough the rapid steps of Alexandria, their Steward, reached them.

"My Ladies, Mother Miranda's assistant is here."

The whole family got up hesitantly and tried to look as presentable as possible, given their "lazy day outfits". For some like Bela that was a baggy shirt and shorts, while for the Lady it was one of her trademark white dresses. They made their way to the main entrance of the castle, where the assistant, a woman in her late thirties and the air of an annoyed teacher, was waiting. It was Alcina the one to ask why she was there.

"Mother Miranda wants to see um… Nicole was it? Yes, to take a look at the regenerative abilities."

"Why not do it here like last time?"

"Mother Miranda's laboratory is far better equipped for whatever she may want to test. Unless you have something to say against her wishes." She finished that with a raised eyebrow that would've gained her a talon through the skull were she not there as per Miranda's wishes.

Who's talons exactly was debatable.

"I'll come too," Cassandra spoke up from just behind Nicole.

That only got her a dismissive wave. "No, I was told specifically to only bring her. Come now, we don't want to make Mother Miranda wait."

With that, the woman turned around and started walking towards a carriage that would take them away. Nicole looked briefly at her family. They all had either confusion or mild concern in their eyes. All but Alcina who looked as if she'd like to protest and snap at the woman but was holding her tongue.

She reassured Cassandra that she'd be fine and started jogging after the assistant.

---

Needless to say, that was Nicole's first time stepping foot inside the underground network of tunnels. Not that she complained. Few people went there willingly and probably fewer left the same way they came in.

The ancient looking hallways were in such stark contrast with the occasional medical equipment and the pristine looking labs with doors left slightly ajar that Nicole had to wonder if the woman had no taste for a consistent aesthetic. At least Lady Dimitrescu kept all wiring and modern devices carefully hidden or blended in with the castle's decor. Here, the harsh neon lights illuminated worn out stone so dark it was almost black. Not to mention the smell of… old that seemed to ooze off the very walls she was walking by.

She was led inside a spacious lab, the bluish lights above being too bothersome for someone who got used to the warm or natural light in the castle. The room was rather long, numerous hospital beds lined up against a wall, some separated by white curtains and some left visible. An almost imperceptible whiff of an all too familiar foul odor reached her nose, but it was mild enough to be easily ignored. Nicole had a suspicion that the unmoving person laying in one of the cots further away could be the source, but she sighed and hoped not to join them by the end of the day.

Mother Miranda was sat at a desk, microscope in front of her together with a small stack of documents and a laptop. She was typing in what could probably be notes on whatever she was looking at, when icy grey eyes finally shifted to Nicole.

"Get changed and lay down," she ordered, not even moving from her spot.

The assistant that had brought her here, pushed a hospital gown that had been pulled out from a cupboard in her arms. At least she was allowed the decency of changing into a bathroom as opposed to stripping then and there in the middle of the room. The gown was surprisingly comfortable, fabric folding around her body and being held closed by a loose ribbon that she tried at the side.

Once she was back in the lab, she was ushered to one of the beds where she laid down, nervously waiting for whatever Miranda had in mind.

It was quite odd to see her without her usual attire, especially without the gold talons that Nicole was now far more familiar with than she'd ever hoped. The white lab coat looked far too normal on her and, were it not for the unmistakable cold eyes and regal posture, the woman would’ve been unrecognizable.

She finally got up, a few documents in hand, and approached her. The papers were handed over to the assistant, along with a few other objects and finally, Nicole had her full attention.

Mother Miranda bent down, scalpel in hand, and grabbed one of Nicole's wrists. Just like she did back during the first examination, the blade was dragged across the length of her forearm. Despite fully expecting it, Nicole couldn't help flinching at the pain, but she kept her eyes fixated on her arm, at the blood slowly starting to flow from the wound.

Soon the same tingling as before took over the pain and before their eyes, the skin started to stitch itself back together.

"Time," Miranda asked while wiping the blood to allow for a closer inspection of the now good as new skin.

"Five seconds."

"Alcina's?"

"Three seconds."

Miranda hummed, seemingly pleased with the results. Or at least as pleased as the woman was physically capable of being.

"Hook her up to the cardiac monitor," she further instructed while moving to retrieve something from another cabinet.

The assistant, Emma, if the tag pinned to her lab coat was to be believed, stuck a series of electrodes to her chest and abdomen. Nicole bit her lip to stifle a yelp when one came uncomfortably close to the still sensitive skin of the scar.

In no time, the machine came to life, familiar beeping sounding through the otherwise silent room.

"I hope you're not afraid of needles," Miranda said while grabbing the same arm she had before, lips pulled into a faint smirk.

Nicole only shook her head as she saw the needle of a syringe attached to a transparent slim tube slide into her arm. How ironic would that be. The sting was close to imperceptible, taken over by the now familiar faint tingle. Unlike with the cut, it didn't fade away, most likely due to not being able to fully heal the small wound with the needle embedded in the skin and vein.

She looked away, in the direction of the other occupied bed in the room. It was far away enough that she couldn't make out any detail, only messy brown hair sprawled on a pillow. The face was turned towards the wall and body covered up to the neck. She grimaced and decided instead to focus on the beeping machine, mildly annoyed by Miranda's lack of properly separating her dead lab rats from the living ones. At least she hoped she'd stay living.

The numbers on the machine started out normal. With the slight uncomfortable feeling of blood being drained however, her heart rate started to slowly increase.

Alright. Normal enough. Especially when someone is clearly in a fucking blood draining mood.

Nicole decided not to look at exactly how much blood Miranda was drawing, keeping her eyes glued to the various color coded numbers. The heart rate kept increasing until Nicole could swear she could feel her heartbeat ringing in her ears. She gulped. Still relatively within the norm.

Two things were at odds however. First, the blood pressure remained constant, almost as if her body simply refused to acknowledge the fact that it was currently being drained. Secondly, the temperature rose from the normal 36 degrees to a staggering 41 in less time than it should have.

"What the fuck…" She couldn't keep her tongue at the weirdness of her situation, her brain thankfully choosing confusion and curiosity over the dread that it probably should've felt instead.

Mother Miranda didn't seem to care though as she turned to type something on the laptop that she brought over from the desk. She tapped her finger on the device for a few seconds and finally spoke up.

"The accelerated healing means the blood is being regenerated constantly, thus not decreasing in volume. Which explains the constant pressure." She narrowed her eyes at the monitor once again. "It doesn't, however, explain the heart rate and temperature. Any bright guesses?"

It took Nicole a second to realize the question was actually addressed to her. Miranda seemed in an oddly good mood. Not any less hell bent on causing her pain, mind you, but she also seemed genuinely curious. Being a biology nerd will do that to you, she couldn't help but think.

Nicole hummed and thought for a second. She tried to recall any information about the topic at hand that she had studied prior to running away.

"Heart rate could just be the normal body response that stayed even with the mutation. Like… like a reflex. It remains even though it's not needed." Then she tapped a finger on her chin trying to find a less random explanation. "Or maybe it's the body's way of making sure that even while healing all body parts remain at least decently functional. No idea about the temperature though," she shrugged.

Miranda once again typed something up and then, without warning, pulled the needle out of Nicole's arm. She flinched, barely holding in an angry protest as she turned towards the woman. Which was a mistake. She couldn't help the gag that raised in the back of her throat at the sight of the metal container full of blood.

No, no, blood did not bother her. That would've cut her career as a medical examiner short before she even stepped foot in med school. It was the knowledge that that was her blood that made her stomach churn. The container could easily fit three liters of liquid in it, and it was full to the brim. Not to mention the smell that assaulted her still messed up sinuses mixing oh so perfectly with mr. corpse over in the corner.

Miranda just chuckled at her sour expression. "Do you think your darling wife would like to have this?"

With a sneer, masked by Nicole turning once again towards the monitor, she couldn't help slipping an edge of snark in her reply. "No need, she likes it fresh."

The numbers were back to normal, all but for the temperature that was taking slightly longer to go down.

---

By this point her vocal cords were raw from screaming and each shuddering sob felt like clumps of spines in her throat. Nicole was curled in on herself, small frame trembling pathetically on top of the uncomfortable bed. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the tingling sensation feeling like needles constantly pricking at her skin around and under the wired leather cuffs wrapped around her wrists. The frantic beeping of the machine was grating to her ears.

An electric shock test.

Of course.

Mother Miranda decided to test out how the increased heart rate worked. Results? Her body vehemently refused to allow her to pass out. Even when the shocks traveled through every part of her body, causing the nervous system to short circuit. Even when damage to internal organs and muscles ripped painful sobs from her throat, that turned into gags as soon as the tingling turned to nausea. Even when she could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage so fast that she was sure the small organ would burst any second. But it didn’t.

Every muscle in her body flared up in a sensation of painful pins and needles when Miranda pushed the button to release another shock. The cardiac monitor started screaming again and Nicole brought shaky hands over her ears in an attempt to block out the sound. Her whole body was on fire while all the damaged tissue repaired itself, making her stomach turn painfully. She felt like throwing up. Not that she had eaten anything today, but bile and thick blood still coated her esophagus. It was all swallowed back with a disgusting gulp.

The nausea was oh so kindly accompanied by searing pain from her still damaged sinuses, who’s condition only worsened exponentially with the electricity. The blood that seemed to coat all the way up to the inside of her mouth felt horrible mixed with the putrid smell of death.

She swallowed again, but that proved itself a bad decision as now that same smell permeated the very inside of her nose and mouth and throat and the feeling of blood sloshing on her tongue behind clenched teeth made her head spin.

She lurched forward, a small river of dark blood flowing from her mouth and nose, into her palms that she instinctively brought to her mouth. Wet coughs made it splatter into crimson splotches on the white sheets, herself and anything else within proximity. It took surprisingly long to realize that, after the initial wave that rose up her esophagus, the rest of the blood was from her sinuses. It was cruelly invading her nose and sliding back into her throat only to come out of her mouth. Fuck fuck fuck-

“What’s wrong?” Miranda’s tone lacked any trace of sympathy.

Nicole simply coughed out the remaining fluid from her mouth and unceremoniously grabbed a piece of cloth from Emma’s hands. She pressed it to her nose, only to feel it soaked against her skin far too soon.

“Damaged sinuses, as you said,” she croaked, her voice sounding so unlike her own.

That made Miranda frown. She kept that same expression while noting down the previous results. “It should be healed by now.”

“Well they aren't,” Nicole spat. The blood and the horrid smell were clouding her mind and, as many knew, pain and holding her tongue did not mix well in her. “And did we really have to do this in the same room as a dead fucking body?!”

Nicole’s angry outburst gave the woman pause. Annoyance mixed with a hint of confusion on her face. She looked at her assistant, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

“No. Just- just anestesia.” Emma answered promptly.

“What the fuck do you mean anesthesia? Anesthesia doesn’t make you smell like a goddamn decomposing corpse, do you have cotton stuck up your noses?!” Thankfully the bleeding was starting to subside, which meant there was nothing to stifle her steadily raising angry tone.

Miranda, now sporting a scowl, got up and grabbed Nicole’s chin between two fingers. It made her flinch back, but there was no escaping the iron grip.

“I can assure you that the man is not dead, simply under anesthesia and recovering from a bad infection.” She moved Nicole’s head from left to right, eyes scrutinizing as ever.

Afterwards, she turned back and wrote something down on a piece of paper and simply instructed Emma to wrap up and lead Nicole out. The sudden shift not only in demeanor, but also in her position from the bed to standing upright was mildly dizzying. She swapped the gown for her normal clothes as quickly as she physically could, not wanting to spend another unnecessary second in this underground grave.

While she was ushered out the door, Mother Miranda’s sickly sweet voice rang after her.

“I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Her stomach turned.

---

The trek home was short and silent, Nicole simply wanting to get home as soon as possible and get a damn hot shower and sleep.

She bid the young man that was accompanying her goodbye the moment the Castle’s entrance was within jogging distance, and hurried steps took her to the imposing doors. It was Alexandria to answer her knock, Nicole having left her own keys in her bedroom.

“Welcome back my la-” the polite smile was all but wiped off the woman’s face, replaced by wide eyes. “Are you injured?”

Nicole looked at her confused, then down at herself. A muttered curse escaped past her lips when she remembered the bloody mess on her skin. “I’m okay. Just-... just don’t tell anyone I’m here yet. I'll change first.”

Her plan went out the window when a set of hasty steps came booming toward them.

“Nico-”

Cassandra’s voice died in her throat when her golden eyes landed on Nicole’s small frame, dried dark blood on her face and arms and her clothes stained. An angry growl slipped from between bared teeth.

“What the fuck did she do to you?”

Nicole was quick to answer, too tired to deal with anything other than a few hours of sleep. “I’m okay. I’m just-...” she shook her head, then turned to the Steward. “Alexandria kindly ask a maid to draw me a bath.”

“At once.” And with that the woman turned and scurried away, most likely also not wanting to be in the vicinity of an angry Cassandra.

---

The hot water felt like pure bliss on her skin. It seemed to make every muscle relax and get rid of the awful tension. She leaned back, eyes closed and hands idly moving through the water.

It was just mildly difficult to fully relax with Cassandra muttering and pacing back and forth in the same room though.

"I'm-... I'm not letting you do this again."

Nicole simply sighed and started to scrub away at dried blood. The miniature red waterfall from earlier had gotten blood all over her arms and chest, some splatters even getting on her legs. Her face was also a mess, trails of blood going from her nose and mouth to the chin with smudges and splatters.

"What did she even do to you?"

Before she had a chance to reply, a knock came from the door and a maid entered with a few clean towels and a change of clothes from Nicole's own bedroom. The girl didn't linger, simply giving them both a courteous bow and exiting the room.

Looking for something to change the subject, Nicole focused on the pleasant honey smell. Honey with a slight citrus-y undertone, maybe lemon or orange.

"Did you get a new soap?"

Cassandra stopped pacing, brows furrowed. "No? It's the same one."

Confused, Nicole brought a hand that had just been scrubbed with that very soap right under her nose and took a deep inhale. It was indeed the same one. Chamomile and mint. She sighed in annoyance and leaned back against the cool porcelain while Cassandra came and bent down on one knee to be somewhat on eye level.

"Nose still not working properly or…?" She said while gingerly tilting Nicole's chin up with two fingers. She grimaced at one yet to be washed trail of dried blood that made its way to her wife's thin upper lip.

Nicole simply shook her head and grabbed Cassandra's hand. "Can you… go get ready. I'm beyond tired and just want to lay down with you."

Cassandra pursed her lips but nodded none the less. With a kiss on top of red hair, she turned and left the spacious bathroom, door shutting with a heavy thud.

Left alone, she scrubbed every inch of skin again and took a few extra minutes to enjoy the warmth of the water. It felt so incredibly odd to not feel any actual pain after the day's events. Any trace of what her body went through had been erased by her newfound ability, not leaving behind even the faintest mark of a scar, nor blackened skin caused by electric shocks.

She pushed herself out of the tub, grimacing at the slight pink tone the water had taken. Body and hair quickly dried with the towels, she put on the clothes, a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top, and finally stepped out of the bathroom too.

Cassandra was waiting for her in bed, velvety dark robes hanging loosely on her shoulders and eyes fixated on the window while her fingers were tapping furiously on the cover of a book forgotten in her lap. Book that was quickly placed on the nightstand when Nicole climbed in beside her and pushed her way into the brunette's arms. She was tired and absolutely not above demanding cuddles.

Her wife wasted no time in wrapping an arm around her and pulling the soft blanket up to cover them both. Nicole interlocked their fingers, absentmentally turning the ring on Cassandra's finger. The same ring she had, albeit in a smaller size. A golden band with intricate floral patterns engraved on it. It had no protruding gem, something they both opted for so that the rings wouldn't need to be taken off while working and wearing gloves. Instead, eight small ocre gems were lined among the minuscule curled leaves.

It took Cassandra about two minutes to take a deep inhale and open her mouth. New record.

"Are you… are you hurt?"

Nicole didn't look up at her, the concern dripping from her words alone were enough to squeeze her heart painfully.

"No. I'm all healed up, just tired." She could almost feel Cassandra's question of clarification, but not wanting to go over what had happened down in the laboratory so soon, she opted for something the brunette would hopefully be just as interested in. "We did get some odd results though."

At the lack of any interruption she went on. "Accelerated heart rate whenever I get hurt. Can't pass out." Which was both a blessing and a curse, depending on the point of view and situation. "Also for some reason my temperature gets really high."

"You get one hell of a fever?"

"Yeah."

Cassandra tapped a finger on Nicole's hand, mentally going over possibilities. "Aren't fevers used against infections? Maybe that has something to do with it."

A small hum passed her lips. Could that have something to do with it? It was possible that her healing abilities caused a fever in order to fight off any possible infection before it even became one. Maybe it was her body's way of lessening damage as much as possible since, as the day's events showed, the old replaced tissue had a tendency to get purged. She grimaced at the memory of slowly choking on blood and went for something at least slightly more pleasant.

"Oh and… I can't bleed out. Blood volume stays constant."

She looked up at Cassandra with what could only be described as a shit eating grin. Her wife blinked, realization seeming to dawn on her together with the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks. She coughed.

"Yeah well. I'll keep that in mind. For when you don't need to sleep."

"And deny me some fun now?" Nicole's pout was purely for dramatic effect and it gained her an eye roll.

Two slender fingers gripped her chin to keep it in place while narrowed golden eyes bored into her green ones. The pout slowly morphed into a smirk. Cassandra was not the kind of person who did not indulge in her own pleasures and that, although to a more careful extent, included drinking her lover's blood. A fact that Nicole was not only not complaining about, but also learned to use in order to push all the right buttons.

When Nicole turned her head in the uncharacteristically gentle grip to plant a small kiss on the soft palm, Cassandra finally gave in. Concern was momentarily put on hold in the name of the normalcy they both have been denied in the last few weeks. She bent down, their lips meeting into a kiss that soon turned needy with tongue slipping past sharp teeth and a hand scratching lightly at her nape. Soon Cassandra broke their kiss, but only to slowly trail her way across her jawline with kisses and small nips. She bit at the soft skin right under the jaw bone, eliciting a quiet groan right by her sensitive ear. Black painted lips took her down the neck and across collarbones, planting a kiss right in between them, at the base of Nicole's throat.

When she slowly made her way to an exposed shoulder, Nicole's hand at the back of her head guided her further up, right above where her pulse was. After an inquisitive hum against her skin, she spoke quietly.

"Since blood loss isn't exactly a problem… no need to avoid the neck really."

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to trust her wife. She placed a gentle kiss on the spot right above where blood was flowing in rhythm with her heartbeat. The same gentle kiss that was placed on the skin countless times before and that only Nicole had the privilege of experiencing.

Sharp fangs sunk into tender flesh, the warm blood invading Cassandra's mouth making her moan low in her throat. Being used to the feeling of the bite by now, Nicole simply closed her eyes with a sigh and let her body melt into Cassandra's arms. The familiar blissful ache was welcomed, even though, she noticed, it did not bring with it the lightheadedness she had grown accustomed to.

Although she wasn't aware of it, Cassandra was, in a way, a creature of habit. Every time she would drink her blood, her hand would come up to cup Nicole's cheek, thumb slowly tracing the jawline, right before she would pull her mouth away. Every time, without fail.

This time however, when that happened, Nicole kept her in place with the hand tangled in brunette hair, her voice coming out breathy when she spoke. "Go on."

Cassandra would never admit it, but her self control would always waver while feeding. Therefore, she didn't need much convincing, continuing to take mouthfuls of blood in between a satisfied groan. When she finally had her fill, she pulled back with a bashful look in her eyes. Concern quickly flashed on her face at the sight of the crimson mess on her wife's neck.

Nicole however, not wanting their moment to get ruined, took one of Cassandra's hands in her own and slowly placed a soft kiss on each knuckle. After that was done, and the downright ticklish sensation of skin patching itself subsided, she guided the fingers over the bloody skin.

"See? Healed," she whispered.

Cassandra gingerly traced her fingers over the spot, looking for no longer existing puncture marks. She smiled upon not finding them and turned to pull out a handkerchief from a small drawer of her nightstand. A ritual of sorts, one practiced more times than they cared to count over the years. Cassandra passed the white cloth over the skin, wiping away the crimson stains while her wife relaxed into the touch.

"Feeling good?" It was a remark meant to poke fun at how much Nicole seemed to enjoy herself, but the double meaning did not go unnoticed.

A smile tugged at Nicole's lips and she nodded.

In turn, Cassandra hummed. "You taste different." And, at her lover's furrowed brows and the slightest hint of alarm flashing in her eyes, she clarified. "Not bad. Just different. Slightly sweeter actually."

"Is that so," Nicole purred, the smile returning to her lips.

Cassandra discarded the cloth on the floor to be retrieved later and shifted both of them back down on the myriad of pillows.

"Yes. Now how about you get some sleep."

Nicole wasted no time in snaking an arm around her waist and nuzzling into her side. It would never cease to amaze her how Cassandra's presence could make her feel so at ease, as if nothing beyond the castle's walls existed. At that moment, she couldn't help but be grateful for her newfound ability, useful in far more ways than one.

She stretched slightly upwards, auburn hair like a small waterfall behind her.

"I love you," she whispered against cool ashy lips.

"I love you too," Cassandra replied, closing the almost nonexistent space between their mouths in a soft kiss.

It left behind a slight coppery taste on Nicole's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to care, instead readjusting her legs to tangle comfortably around her wife's thigh.

[awkward-gay-bro]

Just A Prank

“Hey guys, I’ve got something pretty funny in store for you today! Andrew aka LAHFW is staying the week at my place while his gets fumigated. We all know how much he loves pranks and magic...and I found a website dedicated to both!” Stuart walked over to his cupboard and pulled out a bottle. “The website is called ‘Presto’ and they guarantee to deliver. I ordered this bottle of ‘Presto: Hair-B-Gone’ and swapped it out for Andrew’s body wash. This should be great!”

“What the hell?!” The sounds of running water in the bathroom came to a halting stop. “Dude what the hell?!” Andrew swung the bathroom door open, glaring at Stuart. He no loner had any hair below his eyes, his body now smoother than the day he was born.”

Still looking at the camera, Stuart chuckled, “Don’t worry, man! It’s just a prank.”

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

“Alright guys, Stuart got me pretty bad in that last video. But I found his little website and made an order of mine. He swapped my body wash, so I swapped his!” Andrew lifted two bottles into view, one was the bottle of liquid that had removed all his hair. “This is what he used, so I figured I’d have to do him one better. This bottle is called ‘Double Bubble Bath’ it’s supposed to have some pretty cheeky side effects.”

The shower turned off and the bathroom door slammed loudly. The sounds of dresser doors repeatedly opening and slamming closed came from Stuart’s room and Andrew burst out laughing. “Having some troubles in there bud?”

“I think you know I am!” Stuart yelled back. “I can’t find anything that fits!’

Ten minutes passed, with just the sounds of Stuart grunting in pain as Andrew laughed hysterically. Then suddenly, the door to Stuart’s room opened. 

“Very funny.” Stuart was standing there in a pair of gym shortest that looked three sizes too small. “These shorts were the only thing I could fit in.” 

“I don’t think the camera can see why, why don’t you give us a little twirl?” Stuart followed suit, slowly doing a 360. His rear end had tripled in size, looking comically big on his otherwise fit frame. The fabric was pulled so tight across his cheeks you could tell he couldn’t find any underwear that still fit.

“I’m going to have to get a whole new wardrobe until this wears off. You know this means war.”

“It’s just a prank, right?”

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

“So Andrew took these pranks to a whole new lever, so I really had to step up my game. Lucky for me, I found the perfect thing on ‘Presto’ to knock him down a peg.” As Stuart backed away from the camera, his massive new rear end knocked over the chair behind him. “Oh, sorry guys, this thing still hasn’t gone down.” He leaned down to pick up the chair, unintentionally showing off his bouncing cheeks in the tightest pair of khakis he could fit into. The pants split straight down the middle, showing his underwear to the camera as the video cut away. 

The video cut back, and Stuart was now wearing a tight pair of running leggings. “We’re about to go for a run and I slipped something special from ‘Presto’ into his shoes. They’re called ‘Any Flats Soles.’ The description online said they’ll make any pair of shoes into the perfect flats, guaranteed to help you look shorter in any outfit.” Turning his face away from the camera, Stuart yelled, “You almost ready for our run?”

“Yeah, I just can’t find my running shoes. Have you seen them?” Andrew said from off camera. 

“They’re in the hall by the backdoor!” Stuart grabbed the camera and took it with him as he walked to the hall to watch his prank unfurl. He got there just in time to see Andrew tying his laces. 

“Why do you have the camera, what did you do?” But Andrew’s question was quickly answered as he dropped inch by inch, step by step. By the time he’d walked over to Stuart he was now craning his head to make eye contact with the man he’d previously had to look down at. 

“Oh gosh, you’re not even eye level with my shoulders now!” Stuart stuck out his hand and tousled Andrew’s hair. “We better get going! With those short legs this run is going to be way longer.”

Andrew lifted his shirt up, which was hanging to his knees, “I don’t think I’m going to make it very far unless I change.”

“Sucks when you have to buy new clothes,” Stuart turned to his side, showing off his gargantuan mounds in the tight leggings, “You’re probably going to have to check out the children’s section little guy. Don’t worry, it’s just a prank.”

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

“So you guys know Stuart and I are in a little bit of a prank war right now, and I definitely got the short end of the stick thanks to his latest video. He’s been calling me little ever since, so I have a little surprise of my own for him.” Andrew lifted up a tank top that looked massive next to his shrunken frame. “This is Stuart’s muscle tank he usually wears to work out. I swapped it out with a very special tank-top I got from ‘Presto.’ Shout out to ‘Presto,’ guys. They caught wind of our feud and actually sent this one free of charge!”

Andrew climbed down off of the stepping stool he’d placed in front of the camera. With his whole body in frame it was clearly visible he was wearing women’s work out sweats, the only ones that would fit right on his new proportions. “You might be noticing the wardrobe, Stuart offered to pick me up some clothes. I’m gonna go grab Stuart, hopefully we don’t miss the show.” Walking away from the camera it became visible the word “Sexy” written in glittery gold was stretched across Andrew’s perky little bubble.

“I’m heading out to my work-out, what do you need to show me,” Stuart said as they walked back into the view of the camera. 

“This should only take a second. Oh, the tag is still on your tank, let me get that for you!”

Andrew reached up and pulled the tag off Stuart’s top. “What I’ve had this tank for yea-” The second the tag left his tank Stuart’s body deflated like a balloon letting the air out. Every muscle on his body shrunk down until he was supply smooth all over. The only thing part of his body that didn’t shrink was the ghetto booty that jutted out from his now stick thin body. 

“What did you put on my tank-top?”

“That’s not your muscle tank, I swapped it out for a ‘Presto Muscle-less Tank’.”

“Dude. I just got new clothes.”

“It’s just a prank.”

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

“Okay, after our latest pranks both Andrew and I needed new clothes.  So I went out on another wardrobe run. That gave me the perfect opportunity for my next prank. He’s getting dressed now, so...let’s go see the results!”

Andrew walked out of his room, wearing a pair of women’s jeggings. “Real funny man, did you throw out all my underwear? This was the only thing I could find.” He rolled down his waistband just enough to show off the top off a metallic pink thong. “I’d rather wear my baggy old boxers then this.”

“Well I had to be sure you’d put them on, things feeling roomier?”

“What does that mean? Oh no, what are these supposed to do?” Andrew fled down the hall to examine himself off screen. 

“That was a pack of shrinky-dink thongs! You can probably guess at what those do.” Stuart laughed hysterically as Andrew shouted from off screen. 

“That’s way too far!”

“It’s just a prank!”

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

“Well, for some reason youtube demonetized both of us, so here we are on onlyfans. Get your mind out of the gutter, though! We are still all about the pranks. But this new prank I’ve got is definitely going to be worth the subscription.” Andrew pulled up what looked a normal bottle of baby powder. Before he could explain what it was, Stuart snuck up from behind him. 

“What are you doing?” Andrew yelled out. But Stuart wrestled him to the grown. Even without his muscles, he still outweighed Andrew at his diminutive new size. Stuart pinned Andrew to the ground and pulled out the ‘Muscle-less Tank’. Stuart maneuvered so he was sitting against Andrew’s chest shoving the tank over the smaller man’s head.  Andrew struggled to no avail. As soon as Stuart pulled both of his hands through the armholes the tank did its thing. Andrew’s muscles faded away almost instantly, but Stuart wasn’t done. He pulled out the bottle of ‘Double Bubble Bath’ and poured it onto the quickly thinning man. 

As soon as Stuart stood up, Andrew jumped to his feet and ran to his room. His ever expanding ass swaying as he ran. When he emerged from his room he dived straight for Stuart’s feet, shoving the ‘Any Flats Soles’ into his shoes. Even if though he could just get the tip of the soles in, they worked their magic. Stuart quickly started to shrink down until him and Andrew were on even footing. When they were looking eye to eye, Andrew tried to yank down Stuart’s slacks, but they were caught on his massive posterior. Andrew quickly changed gears and shoved the ‘Shrinky-Dink Thong’ into the pouch of Stuart’s underwear. With how strained his slacks were, the new adjustments to Stuart’s manhood were on full display, even though his clothes were now baggy everywhere else.

Stuart’s body hair started to fall out every below his eyebrows. “When did you?”

“I filled the pouch of the thong!”

Stuart tackled Andrew to the ground as Andrew’s phone started to ring. The phone fell out of his pocket as the two fell to the ground, sliding across the floor the momentum swiped to answer. 

“Hey Andrew, it’s Danny! I’m excited for our video today, I’m about five minutes away. Are you there? I can’t hear you. Sorry I must have bad service. Either way, see ya soon dude.”

As they were rolling around on the ground Andrew remembered the most recent prank he was going to pull. He jumped up to grab the powder and the label ‘Gay-by Powder’ became visible to the camera. Before he could get it opened Stuart tackled him to the ground and wrestled the bottle out of his hands. They continued rolling around on the ground, each wrestling the bottle out of the other’s hand before either could get it open. 

Danny knocked on the front door but no one answered. He’d known Andrew long enough though to feel comfortable letting himself in. But what he saw inside wasn’t the Anderw he knew. Instead, he saw two slim yet thicc men rolling around on the floor, fighting over something he couldn’t make out. When the two guys flipped positions, and he could see their faces, he was taken aback that it was Andrew and Stuart wrestling on the ground. 

“What the hell happened to you two?” 

Stuart was startled by the sudden shock of being caught in this compromising position, and Andrew took full advantage, grabbing the bottle. He couldn’t get the bottle to open with his dainty new hands, so he put his whole body into it. The force of it finally opening shot the powder all over the room, coating all three men. 

As the powder cleared, the two little twinks writhing on the ground had climbed to their feet. Danny was no longer looking down on the men with shock, but with lust. The twinks first locked eyes with each other before turning their cute faces up to the young jock standing between them. Danny took charge of the situation and ripped the slacks pants off both the other men. He pulled the little twinks into his arm as his pats began to tent. 

“I don’t know what this is,” Danny grabbed each of the twinks by their jiggling cheeks, “but I think I’m going to have a handful with the two of you.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on Stuart’s rosy lips, as he slipped a finger into Andrew’s crevice. Pulling his face away, he whispered, “Not that I’m complaining, but what’s going on?”

“It’s just a prank,” Andrew said between moans. “Good thing we’re on only fans.” Andrew sat the empty container on the desk by the camera, and the label came clearly into focus. “Warning: Do not mix Presto Products. Mixing products may permanently extend the effects.”

[nervousladytraveler]

If the WIP Game is still going on, could we have more informations on Le Plus Joli Rêve? I have never seen your writing for a fandom other than Poldark and I'm quite curious :P

Thanks for the ask. I did a fair amount of this one years back but never finished it, so maybe some day?

Here is the description: At Herrick’s behest, Mitchell returns to Paris at the start of the German occupation, and finds unexpected comfort with a mysterious concertina player (yes, I was just trying to explain why he had one in his flat in Bristol 70 years later)

Here's a little moodboard:

Here's a snippet:

“No no, you can't hide your pout from me,” Herrick laughed. “Please don’t tell me you find this whole business...distasteful?” 

“No, it’s just this war...the thought of another war,” Mitchell tried to explain and then regretted he’d even opened his mouth. Did he really expect Herrick to empathise?

“Yes, well wars are ghastly business for ordinary men and women, are they not?  But they provide such wonderful opportunities for us. When slaughter is the norm, well, that’s our oyster. Oh the last one was a hoot--so much we could just blame on concertina wire! And if you pick a side, a righteous one, then you can feed with impunity.” Herrick’s eyes lit up at the memory.

“I’m going out for a bit,” Mitchell was already on his feet, reaching for his overcoat as he spoke the words.

“Careful, old boy. You never know who to trust, do you?”

-----

“Shite!” Mitchell swore when he realised he’d left his lighter back at the hotel. 

He’d walked five minutes in one direction and then turned and walked north another ten. When that street ended abruptly, he turned again. His goal was random meandering, and was very much hoping to get lost. Now he found himself on a corner in front of a bistro. He could go in and get his drink on--that would help him get lost for sure. Or he could choose to turn and follow another of these streets. When was the last time he made a deliberate decision?

Inside the bistro was boisterous laughter but somewhere else--close by--someone was playing a concertina. The tune was slow, mournful but held an intentional sweetness.

“Are you alright, Monsieur?” It took him a moment to realise the woman’s voice he’d just heard was speaking to him in English.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Just...you haven’t got a match have you?” 

He turned to see the woman and the concertina player were the same.

“Yes, I do...can you reach in my pocket? The right hand one...” 

He stepped closer but she didn’t pause her playing for a single moment. She smelled sweet, floral. Jasmine and...not just roses but hundreds of them. He looked her up and down. 

She was half in shadow and half illuminated by the streetlight that stood a few feet away. Her hair was tied back, light brown with a few odd strands that appeared to be gold or even copper. The dress she wore was not overly plain but its style simple enough--a few tucks at the waist and a small white collar. In the strange light Mitchell couldn’t tell if the fabric was brown or aubergine. Over it she wore a baggy grey cardigan, no coat. Her shoes were clean although he sensed hers were not the first feet to wear them.

But that scent! Who the hell could afford perfume these days? She certainly didn't look as though she could.

Mitchell lit the match and got a better view of her eyes. Glassy, fixed forward. Of course.

“It is a nice night, no?” she asked in such a way she could have been talking to anyone, anywhere. As she spoke she continued to play her tune low but steady. 

He was fascinated to watch her hands on the concertina, moving in and pulling out, the notes swaying and swelling to match the way she manipulated the instrument. She was conjuring out a melody--willing it--like a magician could make a feather float.

“Yes, I don’t think it is going to rain. At least that's how the air feels anyway.” He wasn’t sure why he was being so talkative. Was he feeling sorry for her? She didn’t seem lonely but had a composure, a poise, like she knew what she was doing. That was more than he could say for himself. He decided to take a different tack. 

“You speak English well,” he said.

“And you, Monsieur!” she teased. “Only maybe you sound a bit like me at times...I don’t ‘tink’ it is going to rain either.” She’d picked up the accent he on occasion tried to hide.

“Well, yeah, I’m Irish. In case you couldn't tell,” he said and pondered whether he should slip the matchbox back in her pocket.

“My mother was half English. Her mother spoke to her in English so that is how she spoke to me,” she explained. “I lost her when I was young, though. Influenza.”

“After the last war?” Mitchell asked.

“Oh no, many years after that,” she laughed a little and he was reminded just how long ago that last war had been. 

Of course, this girl looked to be hardly twenty. She wasn’t even alive back then when Mitchell was still...a soldier. He’d have to be more careful not to give such glaring clues away. But she couldn’t see him so she wouldn’t know how his face didn’t match his chronological age.

“I am Sylvie. I mean, that is my name,” she said.

“John Mitchell,” he said and wondered if he should move on. He enjoyed listening to her but something else told him he was exposed on that corner. Then again, he couldn't seem to trust his own instincts anymore.

“How do you do, Monsieur John Mitchell?” she laughed again then listening to the distant patter of other feet on the pavement began to change her tune. It was an upbeat song now, one he’d heard before--perhaps at a dance hall or one of the fashionable cafes by the river?

“Can you play that sad one again?” he asked and took a drag of his cigarette. Apparently he was staying.

“The sad one? Le Plus Joli Rêve?...umm maybe later,” she said quickly in a way that made him wonder if he’d committed some sort of faux pas. “You like music? Are you a musician?” she then asked warmly.

“My granda used to play the fiddle but no, I never really learned,” he said.

“It’s not too late. There is always time.”

“Yes, time. I’ve got endless time,” he muttered.

A man in a dark brimmed hat walked by and without looking at either of them dropped several coins in the cup at her feet.

“Vielen dank,” she said, continuing her song without pause. She waited exactly ten beats before she spat on the pavement.

“How did you know he was…?”

“German? I could hear it in his feet. Clobbering without grace, boastful. Also he’s had his shoes resoled lately. Even if I were wrong and he were French, the only Parisians who can afford such wardrobe upkeep are...well, they would not be insulted by such a greeting,” she explained.

Yes times were hard and would only get harder still, Mitchell thought. But there was no need to say this aloud. This everyone understood, no matter their politics.

“Tell me Sylvie, are you out here all night?” he asked and took a long drag of his cigarette. It was a nice brand. Gaulois Bleu, not the R6 shite everyone here seemed to be smoking these days--everyone who could still afford to smoke anything, that was. Herrick had pulled the packet from a breast pocket the previous night, right before he had helped himself to the breast as well.

“Oh no. Surely not past nine,” she laughed.

“Oh, of course,” he said quickly. The curfew wasn’t really something that bothered him or his sort. They were used to skirting around unseen in the shadows. In fact they preferred it. It was their time.

“I come inside when it rains or gets too cold but now it is, how you say, rowdy dans le bistro and they want their laughs and games without my interruption.” She shrugged her shoulder towards the brightly lit bistro behind them. “And then when they close up, Monsieur Christophe walks me home,” she said. It sounded like a long sigh when she spoke but maybe her words were just intertwined with the concertina swells.

“Ah well, that was my next question. I was going to ask if I could walk you home…” he asked sheepishly. He wasn’t sure why he was asking. He just wanted some quiet company and felt safe around this girl. He truly believed he had no intentions of getting fresh and certainly not of bringing her back to the room to feed on her. But none of what he intended mattered because it was clear he was failing.

He was so used to giving the charming sidewise glance, the lowered lids and the batting lashes, the smile that curled at the edges of his mouth. He realised that his face would be lost on her.

But maybe it wasn’t. She seemed to recognise flirtatious talk when she heard it. The tones that turned gentle and low. The words unspoken that held promise and mystery.

“Oh no, Monsieur John Mitchell. These are not times to be trusting of strangers. Although you sound like a polite gentleman, I should need to know you better. Perhaps in a few months!” she laughed.

“A few months? To walk you home?” he half laughed, half sputtered.

“Didn't you just say you had time?”