#sorry for how ugly this is going to be on mobile

[fully-caulked-wagon]

Posting a few things that I forgot to and had on the backburner. Tried out a couple new pens on ibis x mobile at the beginning of September, so here you go.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel on The Masked Singer

This is just a little thingy for me because I’ve been rewatching episodes. Imagine if he was on the Masked Singer? His vocal range would be crazy because I say so. He’d sing an Elvis song one week, and then a Megan Trainor song the week after that. Basically a different genre each week. Also, Mary would be the one picking the songs. She also picked the costume he wore.

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: “Here we are! Take your pick.”

Mary: “We’ll take that one.” *points to a pig costume* (SHAZHAM (🐷) REFERENCE!!!)

Marvel: “But that one’s ugly.”

Mary: “So? It provides more mobility. You’re going to pick that one.”

Marvel: “But, again, it’s ugly.”

Mary: *puts hand up* “I’m sorry, but last time I checked, have you ever participated in a competition like this?”

Marvel: “Well, no, but—”

Mary: “That’s what I thought. We’ll take that one.” *points again to the costume again*

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: *looks to Marvel*

Marvel: *nods head* “She’s uh… She’s the boss.” *sounds intimated*

The Person who Gives the Singers their Costumes: “Uhm…” *looks between the two* “Alright then.” *walks away to a couple other people so they could wheel the costume out, a little baffled they just watched a teenage girl intimidate a grown man*

Marvel: *looks to Mary* “You’re a little bit too into this, you know that?”

Mary: “Shush. Let me be excited! If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do this to your fullest potential!”

Marvel: *happy to see her having fun with the whole thing* “Yes ma’am.”

The choreography would go crazy too. Like Mary said, he was going to do it to his fullest potential. She’s making him learn how to dance in sync with other dancers all that. One of the only reasons he isn’t completely struggling is that a couple past Champions were dancers, ritual performers/dancers, and so on. As for if he’d win? Maybe. All I know is that absolutely no one guessed him.

Crowd and Judges: “Take off the mask! Take off the mask! Take off the mask!”

Marvel: *takes off the mask*

Show Host: *jaw drop*

Crowd: *jaws drop*

Judges: *jaws drop*

Literally any leaguer whose watching the show: *jaws drop*

Show Host: “Superhero, Captain Marvel???”

Marvel: *little wave*

Show Host: “The winner of Masked Singer season X! Congratulations, you were amazing. Now what brought you to the show?” *hands Marvel a mic*

Marvel: “Uuuh… so I came on the show cause Junior dared me. Uhm I honestly didn’t expect to win.” *gives a thumbs up* “Was super fun though.”

Show Host: “Well that’s amazing!”

And so, Marvel goes home with the trophy. Freddy suggests they melt it down and sell it before Mary tells them it probably isn’t real gold.

The next day at the Watchtower…

Marvel: *Zetas in*

Flash: *zooms over, pointing* “You!”

Marvel: “Me.” *looks around* “Something wrong, Flash?”

Flash: “Yes! You can sing?!”

Marvel: “Oh, uh… You heard about that?”

Flash: “Everyone’s heard about it!”

Marvel: “Oh.”

Flash: “Yeah, ‘oh.’”

*silence*

Flash: “We’re marathoning all the entire season.”

Marvel: “WHAT?”

As for the songs he sang, obviously an Elvis song, and for me, myself and I, Hopelessly Devoted to you by Olivia Newton-John. You can pick the other songs.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Platonic Yandere Queen Step Sister

She wasn’t always a queen 

Like every queen before she was a princess

But before she was a princess she was a count from a low-class duchy

Her mother had found your father

Old, ill, and enticed by the countess willing to entertain him

The countess herself wasn’t awful

She was civil, for the most part the only problem with her was her daughter

“And this is your new sister—Harley! Say hello!”

“Hmph just because your Dad’s the King doesn’t mean I have to like you!”

“Harley!”

Harley was a menace

Snooty and rude

Every time she spoke to you it was like liquid acid spraying specifically at you

She was typically spoiled but she never mistreated the servants 

She was decent to your father 

But to you, it was like she hated your guts from the very beginning

“I’m glad I spilled all that cranberry juice on you! The little outfit you were wearing before matched your ugliness a bit too well.”

“That was a gift from my late mother!”

“Hm figures.”

Of course in turn you hate her too

And you don’t bother hiding it from your father when he weakly asks you to hang out with her

“Did you hear what she said to me? I honestly couldn’t care less if that horse she spooked stomped her flat.”

“(Y/n)! Hold your tongue, she’s your new sister.”

“She might be your daughter but that thing is not my sister.”

He doesn’t seem convinced as he continues putting you together with her in hopes it will strengthen your bond

It does not

And it will never be as your father succumbs to his illness

Naturally, you prepare to take on the throne despite your young age

But alas nothing goes the way it should since she’s been forced into your life

“As the former partner of the King, I gladly will take up the role until our child is ready.”

It’s infuriating as the advisor reads a part in his newly written will about this

How he ordained that his second wife have you in her care and the kingdom in her control

And of course decency dwindles as she becomes drunk on the social power

Fueling her gremlin of a daughter

“Mother’s forbidden you from leaving your room. So I figured I’d give you some of my company! You're welcome.”

“Go jump out the window.”

“How dare–MOM!”

It just gets worse and worse

You do think for a moment things will get better as The substitute Queen keels over her wine at a banquet

Thanking the heavens for whoever poisoned her, you’re prepared to take the throne

“I am so sorry (Y/n) but the council has ruled that for your safety as the kingdom’s only true heir, it’d be dangerous to let you take the throne. So we’ll give the role of Queen to Harley.”

It takes you everything not to stab the brat as she puffs her chest and flips her hair

“Won’t you congratulate me on my coronation!”

It’s agony that ripples under your skin as you have no choice but to flee the castle grounds to escape her stabbing presence and that only works for a day at most

With her mother no longer ruling she isn’t forced to take etiquette lessons away from you

Now she can demand your attendance for any minor meeting

“I don’t think we should mobilize our militia on that border. It’s far too much of an overreaction.”

“What about the villages that have been burned there? The people who need medical attention?”

“Hush (Y/n) I didn’t say you could talk in this meeting.”

It's all so frustrating feeling trapped

But you’re not the only one 

Harley is incredibly frustrated because of what keeps her trapped

And that’s her inability to say anything that she truly means

Especially with manners of the heart

Underneath layers of cruel insults, stifling rules, and personal jabs 

Is a step-sister who adores your very being but is stuck with her thorny exterior

She is forced to stick her nose up and sneer at you when you look her direction

When she’ll say “You look like death with the new family brooch. You might do better to just leave it off.”

What she means “I think you look even more gorgeous than usual with the family brooch, don’t ever take it off.”

If she wasn’t as backward demented as she was it probably wouldn’t be so hard to try being nice

To switch her compliments to insults for just a day to give you a kind compliment

But she hates actually making it so that

Naturally, this is why she killed her mother

She’d gotten in the way of her free time with you 

On top of looking down on you which she absolutely hates the most

Granted she’s certain you hate her with how much time she spends attempting to bring you down expressing her affection the only way she can

Sometimes she’s tempted to put it in writing 

just explain her condition so that she can jump into your arms as you connect the dots

But every time she’d written something out, she couldn’t help but confess how obsessed she was with you 

How happy she was that her whole job now was protecting you

She wasn’t exactly fond of the kingdom other than it being an inheritance for you

She hopes you’ll forgive her as she’ll  prioritize you and your safety above all else

No one but your father’s trusted advisor may see past her biting personality

Convinced with the council that it’s best to have her temporarily rule

If only until they get to the bottom of both the King and the Queen’s deaths

Should any council member question her or her motives 

she’d be quick to shut that down

She can’t have these old nobles get in the way of her dominion over you

“I hope you enjoy the joys of being accused of fraud. It’ll be nice to look back on your time when on the council when you’re rotting in jail.”

She has no mercy for anyone but you

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

sorry to break your bubble but visibly disabled not get treated better.

x

what many nondisabled & even many invisibly disabled people not realize is. for visibly disabled people, not all parts of our disability visible. many of our struggle, also invisible, also hidden.

my nonverbality visible n my AAC/communication device visible. language communication issue that go beyond mouth speak also arguably very visible, but so many people not realize it, make assumptions, n get so surprised when that wrong.

my wheelchair visible. but reason why am in wheelchair, invisible n ignored. people assume am just them (able bodied person) in wheelchair, even though it logically not make sense, but they assume it n treat me like it n get so surprised when am tell them no, actually, struggle with mobility. the pain, the fall risk, the muscle weakness, the motor coordination struggles.

another person facial difference visible. but behind visual difference aesthetic difference, structural difference invisible to you. n way structural difference affect function, how it affect eating breathing speaking, invisible to you.

n unrelated to all my visibility. you don’t see my GI issues. not my vision issues. not my near constant dizziness headache issues. not my breathing issues.

our visible disability invite assumptions. assumption that strangers know all there is to know, that they see everything. that they intimately know who you are, what you are.

assume you incapable. but you capable, even most severely disabled person capable of something. yet you end up have to explain you actually more incapable, because they not realize wheelchair user may also struggle with this thing that require mobility.

assume you just like them not because they believe you not because it disability affirming, but because they don’t know any different n they assume entire world revolve around them (because to them it does), entire world like them. that no, you not person capable walk 5 miles n can get out unhurt trapped inside wheelchair, no getting rid of that wheelchair won’t magically unlock the seal n let that person come out.

assume they know you. all of you. you see their visible confusion: but stomach has nothing do with wheelchair, what do you mean have GI issue?

but in sense, unfortunately they do know you so intimately it hurts. know your private medical information that you not able unhide. it’s all involuntary. you have no choice. they know you better than you want them to, they know you better than they deserve.

.

what many nondisabled & even many invisibly disabled people also not realize is the visible part not mean we get treated better. believed better.

parts of us so visible, it become hypervisible. it become all there is. those our only personality trait. you not person who love wool who love tiny ignored creatures you the nonverbal person in wheelchair. you wear badge (your visible disabilities) that say “am vulnerable person!”. you the person ableist can see at first glance. so you more likely target of violence than anyone else, anyone else well hidden.

you so hypervisible you turn invisible.

my wheelchair visible but the amount people who don’t want to see it. so they pretend not see it. so they not see it. what make our disability be visible become invisible.

“you so capable am don’t see you as disabled anymore. it’s compliment!” n be use as inspiration porn one after another. our disability become invisible.

we different. we unsightly. we ugly. we ruin people fun. we ruin mood. we n our “extra” needs too difficult. so we excluded. make circle hold eachother hand clap together sing together play together n put that wheelchair kid outside circle condemn them to stare n frown n cry n god they loud - they not say anything but god their wheelchair their existence loud. we must ignore them for our peace n fun. lock them behind close door inside home behind institution prison behind death door. we become invisible.

be visibly disabled not guarantee be seen, but especially not guarantee be seen as whole. be see as entirety of self with all conflicting nuances. actually it more likely opposite.

we objectified. by nondisabled people. by invisibly disabled people.

we the scapegoat. we the token. we the representation of them getting support getting believed world without mistreatment when we don’t even live in that world ourselves. we your enemy. we get everything hand to us silver platter (we don’t).

we the inspiration porn. we the pity object the charity to score them more religious spiritual points for their purity.

we your worst fear. we your “won’t be like this until am old n feeble.” we your future because aging after good “normal” life land you similar place as when we are young. we never be your future because we born like this n you sigh of relief.

we the object that give you minus decor points if this were life simulation game.

we the burden. we the dead weight. we the afterthought you so don’t want think about you forced think about you don’t think about.

[larsthefishoil]

As I'm actively reflecting on the new hbomberguy video, but more specifically James Somerton, certain things are clicking into place with resounding clarity.

I've watched Somerton's videos for years. At first I thought he was kinda overly dramatic, and had outdated stances on how little lgbtq+ was seen in modern day. He always seemed to talk like we are still living in the danger of the 80s with staight/cis people's apathy and hatred. In truth the phobias have just shifted in how they present and things have genuinely improved in a sense.

But the thing that is actually getting to me rn is the misogyny thing. I think he actually injected really shitty thoughts into my brain that I absorbed like a fucking kitchen sponge. He's protectiveness over queer people but specifically gay men from "prevented white women" actually got to me. For over a year, I was walking around occasionally thinking about how "women are sneaking BL manga into their bedrooms and grotesquely drooling."- im not citing someone theres quoteation marks cause its a dumb thought. But i thought this because that's how bad Somerton made it seem.

But the thing that got me out of that head space was this video by talistheintrovert.

https://youtube.com/@talistheintrovert?si=vmpEa_TPP2UE9eQk - here's the link to her homepage on YouTube.

https://youtu.be/08pCrSBw5EY?si=bECaT_xC16IfN5TI - vid about Good Omens

https://youtu.be/zzSlRZhS_qY?si=unQzSbCQUaTqhSbv - Heartstopper vs. Only Friends

sorry for the ugly link I'm on mobile.

I forget their pronouns so I'm using they/them but I might be wrong. I watched a lot of their videos all at once, so a lot of their ideas interlinked between videos to connect points. But they frequently talked about how straight and queer people interact with queer media and the complexities that unfold. Their underlying message was always that an individual's sexuality doesn't matter when interacting with media when it comes to gatekeeping who gets to appreciate queer content. Still most people consuming are queer people, but straight cis people also benefit and that's okay, it's great even.

Talistheintrovert shooed away icky feelings of straight women fetishizing queer men, which was a fear I got from James Somerton!

Idk this is a long post, but hbomberguy's ending soliloquy about trying to find happiness kinda reminds me of the many countless queer YouTube channels- big and small. Most of us aren't clawing for the position of top dog and like Somerton and seem a lot happier dispit of everything going on nowadays.

Anyways, stay safe, be accepting, and cite your sources or else hbomberguy will have to crawl out of whatever hole he hides in for the better part of each year and make a five hour long video about you :/

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 68: Brewing Trouble

Masterlist: https://www.tumblr.com/sl-newsie/739551758747090944/american-woman-thomas-shelby-x-american-oc?source=share

I lay in bed for nearly a week. Hired nurses stop in every so often to help bathe me despite my protest. No doubt there’s going to be an ugly scar. When I’m finally able to be mobile again I thank Thomas and drive back down to see Ada, who’s been calling nonstop to apologize for how we left things. I park my car just in time to see Finn walking out the door. At first he waves and shows a friendly smile when Dílis wanders up to him but loses his confidence when I approach.

“Finn. Thomas told me everything. "I give a quick head shake. " I am so disappointed.”

He recollects what I’m referring to and his eyes widen. “Verena-”

“You have become just like the rest. Cocaine, whiskey, whores. Have you forgotten all I taught you? Did every ounce of common sense drip out of your thick head?”

He swallows nervously. “I was only-”

“There are no excuses,” I state firmly. “I prepped you to be a decent, knowledgeable man who could have found a respectable lady. Now the only girls who will chase you will be after your Shelby benefits.”

Finn tries one more time. “Verena. Please.”

I shake my head with pity. “It truly does hurt me to see you turn into this. You are your own person but I hold the deed to the house on Watery Lane.” My eyes narrow. “That is still my house. I will not have you screwing girls in my house. Do I make myself clear?”

He nods shakily and swallows again. “I’m really sorry.”

“I’m sure you are. You are better than this, Finn. My lessons won’t do you any good now. Komm, Dílis.” 

I stride past the saddened Shelby and up to the house. Dílis wanders inside but stays close, smelling everything in sight. 

“Ada?” I call out.

Grrr. Dílis stands facing the parlor, where a tall man in a crisp suit walks out.

“Ah! You must be Verena. Ada told me to tell you that she had a meeting that’s running late but she’ll be here later.” 

My face sparks in an a-ha moment. “So then you must be Mr. Younger, Ada’s boyfriend.”

“Ben, please.” He holds out a hand and we shake. “Glad to meet you.”

“You as well!”  Dílis growls again and I pull on his collar. “Ruhig.” He stops and takes a seat on the rug. “Sorry about that. He’s been on edge since my incident.”

Ben waves it off. “Not to worry. I’m sorry to hear about your attack. From the looks of things I say your dog is very devoted to you.”

I smile and scratch the canine’s ears. “Yes, Dílis is a very dear friend.” A discarded chess board on the tea table catches my eye. “I see Karl captured you in a game of chess.”

Ben chuckles. “You could say that. He’s brilliant. Right now he went to get lunch. I just wish he’d talk to me.”

My face falls. “What did he do?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ben admits lightly. “He just prefers to remember his own father because he was white.”

My body stiffens. The thought of color hadn’t even occurred to me when I first saw him. First Finn loses his head, now Karl needs a telling off? Do I need to act as a punisher for all Shelby boys?

“He said that? Hold on,” I request tightly and begin marching down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Verena, it’s really not-” Ben tries to assure me.

“That was disrespectful of him. I am not afraid of a teenager.”

I push open the door and see the boy seated at the table. He looks over with a mouthful of his sandwich, almost surprised to see me like this.

“Karl. Did you really say those things to Mr. Younger?” He doesn't answer, which is all the proof I need. “Apologize.”

Karl swallows his food and crosses his arms. “Make me.”

Very well. I stomp over and grab a hold of his shirt. Smack! Moeder always says a smack on the head is a good wake-up call.

“Bloody Hell-!” Karl yells.

“Do not speak like that. Go to your room or you will feel some serious pain. Now!”

The boy jumps away and scrambles out of the room. There’s a commotion of him climbing the stairs and I hear his bedroom door shut. Poor Ada. She must be having trouble raising a teenager by herself.

“I didn’t take you for an advocate for discipline,” Ben speaks up when I walk back to the parlor.

“My parents are kind to my broers and I. But they did not hesitate to inflict corporal punishment when we misbehaved.” I take a seat next to Dílis. “I am so sorry about that, Ben. I would’ve thought that he would have known better.”

Over the next half hour we get to talking about odds and ends topics. Ben has many questions about America, specifically about our different foods. It amazes him how one country has so many different choices. After a while we hear the door open and Ada pokes her head in.

“Good. You’re here,” she cheers when she sees me. “And you met Ben?”

“Yes, and I’m afraid I have to get going,” Ben apologizes and reaches for his coat, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. “I’ll see you next time.”

We both wait for him to leave and Ada sits down across from me, rubbing her head.

“You haven’t told Ben about the baby yet?” I ask after a few seconds.

She sighs. “Not yet. How are you doing?”

I point to my wound. “Healing as fast as I can.”

“By the way, thank you so much for being nice.”

My face scrunches in confusion. “Um. Thank you?”

Ada whips her head up and I swear she looks like she’s about to explode. “Gina is the most snippity American I have ever met. And you saw how appalled I was back in Boston! She tops all of them! Do you know what she told Polly?” She rolls her eyes. “Said she wants to take Michael and the baby back to Long Island. Polly too.”

That actually sounds like an improvement. Michael keeps out of Thomas’ hair and we never have to see them again. But I would miss Polly. This chick has guts if she thinks we’ll let them slip away again.

“Speaking of,” Ada continues. “Thomas has arranged for a ballet performance tomorrow night, for Lizzie’s birthday. I can’t make it.” She gestures to me. “You’re invited too, of course. Everyone will be there.”

I give her a strange look. “That sounds more like a warning.”

She glares at me with perturbed eyes and smacks her lips. “It is. ‘Everyone’ includes all of Tommy’s business associates.”

My face mirrors her dull enthusiasm. “Ah.”

So this birthday celebration is more of an enterprise gala. Poor Lizzie.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Ada was right. This party is crawling with stiffs in suits. Snobby, rich people who I have no intention of socializing with, and I’m sure they have no desire to socialize with me. Instead of buying a new dress I decided to dust off one of Ada’s old ones. Nothing as fancy as these folks but why should I waste money on a dress when it can be used for better purposes?

I catch sight of the crowded hallway and instantly reach for a champagne flute. Michael and Gina are here too. Um, why? If this is Polly’s idea of managing the high tension then she has the wrong idea. So far the only perks about this are the fancy spread, seeing the pretty ballerina costumes, and chatting with the maids. They’re not too thrilled either.

“Ruhig, Dílis,” I mutter and pull him closer. “It’s going to be a long night.”

There’s Thomas. He’s putting up with this high society act too. His eyes find mine and he weaves through the pristine suits and gowns to reach me.

“Glad to see you made it.” He eyes my glass. “And you already found a drink.”

I need no excuse for that. “Hello, Thomas. I hope you don’t mind that I’m a tad late.”

“No problem. We’re glad you could make it. There’s someone who’s been looking for you.”

Thomas points to someone behind me and I spin around to search. Is that-?

“Liam?” I gasp.

Liam is wearing a suit? It’s not even Sunday! 

“There she is,” he acknowledges and hugs me while I’m still speechless. “My sweet young zuster, whom I have been informed was stabbed a few days ago.”

Oh no. Here we go. The older brother rant about keeping me safe. As if being trapped in this party of snippety socialites isn’t punishment enough.

“Liam, not now-” I groan.

“No!” He points a warning finger at me and grabs Thomas’ jacket when he tries to walk away. “I am not going to allow anything else to happen to my zuster! My job is to protect you!”

“Oh, and you did such a good job doing that!” I sneer dramatically. “Where were you, then? I’ve been here, there, and everywhere, and you’ve never bothered to even say hallo! The only reason I knew you were around is because Thomas told me!”

Liam flashes an angry glare at Thomas. “I told you not to tell her!”

He stays cold and stern. “She deserves to know.”

“You stay out of this!” I warn, directing my narrowed eyes at him. “Don’t think I haven't spotted your own men tailing me too! Now, instead of bickering about past events like children, I am going to have fun tonight. Because this is a party.”

I start walking away and Liam starts to protest. “Zus-”

“Come on, Liam! Show off your American spirit!” I gasp dramatically and forcefully hand him a full glass.

He looks back and forth between me and the drink. “I-”

“Go. Now!” I point.

Both men glance at each other and shuffle back into the crowd, leaving me with Dílis. So Liam thinks that because I got stabbed that he has to play full bodyguard now? No. I don’t think so. We were taught to look out for each other but also how to handle our own. 

I allow Dílis to lead me outside to where some tables have been set. I’ve been here less than an hour and fresh air is already tempting. The canine lies down next to me and perks his head up.

Arf!

In the direction he’s looking I see a familiar-looking man with a mustache. That’s- That’s Mr. Gold. Bonnie’s father. My, he’s cleaned up. He’s trimmed his long hair and is wearing a clean tux instead of a trenchcoat. Polly will be so happy to see him! I really should talk to him.

“Mr. Gold,” I speak up and walk Dílis over. The man looks up and offers a smile when he recognizes me. “Mr. Gold, I am so sorry for your loss. Bonnie was a wonderful man. He was taken too soon. I know there is nothing I can do or say to bring him back. I can only offer words of sympathy.”

The man takes in my message and holds both hands out to grab mine. Dílis lets out a whine but doesn’t sense danger. Mr. Gold keeps his smile and watches me with a bittersweet gaze.

“Your visit is plenty, Ms. Steenstra.”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “My appearance will pale in comparison to the one coming later.”

There’s a noticeable spark in his eyes. “Ms. Gray?”

“Bingo.” I lean in and whisper: “I heard there is to be a wedding in the near future.”

Mr. Gold chuckles and eyes the doorway to the house. “I plan to propose tonight. I pray to God she says yes.” He pauses and looks back at me. “You and Bonnie would have been good for each other. But you knew you couldn’t love him like you do Tommy. Thank you for sparing his heart.”

A lesson I was taught very well. “Unlike Mr. Shelby I know not to ignite false hope. Enjoy the evening’s performance, Mr. Gold.”

“You as well, Verena.”

We both head inside and are thrown into the loud chattering. He walks off to find a seat and I look over to see Lizzie leaning against the wall with a deep scowl on her face. It can’t be because of anything I did because I just got here. Is she upset that Thomas invited me? No matter. I should be nice and wish her a happy birthday before I leave. It will prove that I am not allowing her to scare me away.

“Komm, Dílis.” 

We inch around the schmoozing guests. Lizzie, blending in well with her shimmering grey gown, notices us and stiffens. Does she think I’m going to sick my dog on her?

“Hello, Lizzie. Before you stab me with a cocktail stick I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

The dark-haired Shelby wife stares for a while, then takes a big sip of her drink. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

She’s asking me for help? “Pardon?”

Lizzie downs the rest of her champagne and nearly shatters the glass when she slams it on the table. “Conjure up some excuse and get me out of this fucking place.”

Grr. Dílis tenses up at her tone and glares up at her.

I shake my head. “I don’t understand-”

“My dear husband invited a man I used to know without telling me. That’s him there.”

She points to a man who appears to be flirting with one of the dancers. He looks just like any other vaunting bloke here. Mustache, suit, and a less-than-subtle sense of thinking he is worth more than everyone here. It doesn’t take much to guess how Lizzie was affiliated with him.

“That’s all he fucking does,” she drones about Thomas. “Has everyone listen to what I’m doing but I never hear a word from him.”

And she used to see this as something to gloat about? She was the one who always loathed me for wanting to be involved.

“Now you know how it feels to be left in the dark. I wish I could say it goes away, but then again I’m still here aren’t I?”

More silent seconds of staring. “I still don’t understand why.”

I look down and start leading Dílis away. “Neither do I. Perhaps we’re both at a loss.”

Behind me I feel Lizzie still watching me. “Your new dog will show more affection than he ever will.”

So we are at an impasse. Lizzie can no longer taunt me for losing. She got what she wanted and now she’s miserable. Maybe Thomas is not the caring man I pinned him for. Or he is still unhappy with himself. Whatever doubts he has should be no concern of mine.

“Hello, there.”

Fate must have a sense of humor. It’s Lizzie’s old flame.

“My name is Mosley. And you are?”

I offer no smile but still partake in a formal courtesy. “Ms. Steenstra, sir.”

Mr. Mosley tilts his head in response to my accent, looking down at me. “Another American. In a secondhand dress. What brings you to this gathering?”

Keep your temper down. “I am Mr. Shelby’s head of foreign affairs.”

My blood starts to boil as Mosley’s mouth curls into a smirk and I start to feel disgusted. “For the company or your own country? Do you represent what types of American goods spawn from there?”

He’s not talking about inadequate goods. He means flesh goods. That’s crossing a line. “Gib Laut.”

Ruff! Ra-raw-ra! Dílis lets out a low snarl, keeping Mosley at bay with a look of shock.

I pat the skirt of my dress. “I’ve got a gun. I am not afraid to use that gun.” I nod at Dílis. “I have a dog. I am not afraid to sick him on you. Especially if you keep looking at me like that. Step aside.”

I follow Dílis as he trots past Mosley with a snarl and before we’re out of earshot I distinctly hear:  “…Uncultured… rustic.” Yes, do think that, Mosley. The more you think of me as a lunatic American then the farther away you will stay. I do not need an aristocratic critique of me. As Nathaniel told me I’ve already made a sturdy name for myself, no money required.

In the background I see that Liam has finally gotten into the swing of the party. Here and there are a few familiar faces but for the most part I’m still being looked through by these affluent people. However there are two pairs of eyes that are watching me from behind that corner.

“Hello, Charlie!” I peek my head around and see the two kids crouched next to a table.

Charlie gasps. “Veena!”

I kneel down and wave. “Hello, Ruby. Remember me?”

"Yes." The young girl, looking to have grown some trust for me, keeps looking at Dílis. “You brought a dog!”

"Ruby, this is Dílis." The canine leans forward and licks the girl’s nose. “Are you both ready for Christmas?”

Both children nod eagerly. “Yeah!”

I notice they’re each in their nightclothes and give them a sneaky side glance. “Are you two hiding back here for a reason?”

Ruby’s face falls, thinking they’re in trouble. “Daddy says we’re not allowed to see the ladies dance. I wanted to see them dance.”

Oh, poor girl. I can understand why Thomas would keep them away from these people, but why crush a girl’s dreams of seeing a ballerina? These two should be allowed some holiday fun too. If the maids can watch then they should be able to as well.

I inch closer and whisper: “Then how about I sneak you backstage, eh?”

Charlie’s brow scrunches. “Backstage? It’s just our house!”

“Then let’s pretend it’s backstage,” I tease and grab their hands, leading around a tall curtain.

We find a hidden spot behind a tall vase and wait for the show to start. The lights dim and a hush falls over the gathered audience out front. Beautiful golden lights have been arranged for a colorful yet dramatic setting. Graceful dancers take to the stage in their pure white costumes, waltzing and carrying out grand jeté en tournant to elegant violin music. In quick glances I scan the crowd for the Shelbys. Arthur’s already fallen asleep. Where did Polly go..? Ah. Good timing, Mr. Gold.

The performance carries on and I halfway notice Arthur getting up. Thomas rises and follows to where he just left. The ballet ends with the bittersweet dancer crumbling to the ground. Red silk gets pulled from her dress, showing a deeply creative display of the end of hope. The crowd applauds and I peek over to see Ruby’s overjoyed face as she claps too.

Bang!

What the Hell-? That was a gunshot. That’s not part of the show. Are we under attack? Is someone dead? Lord, not another death.

I gently tug on the kids’ sleeves and start getting up. “Charlie, Ruby, let’s get you to bed now.”

Charlie is tired of ballet but Ruby wants to keep watching. “Aw. Please-?”

“I let you watch the dancers. Now it’s time for bed, oké?”

The children shuffle down the empty hall while Dílis chases them. I take one last look and see Lizzie running for the front door. Whatever new misfortune has fallen, someone needs to keep Charlie and Ruby out of it. I follow them upstairs and see them dive under their bedspreads.

“Bleib,” I order and the dog lies down between the kids’ beds. “I’ll leave Dílis with you two and be back later to check on you. Right now you two need to sleep. Oké?”

Ruby frowns. “What’s that mean?”

“It means ‘okay,’” Charlie guesses. “Right?”

“Right, Charlie. Now go to sleep. Goedenacht.”

I shut the door and sprint back down the steps, trying not to trip on my dress. The guests are still seated. In a split second I see Thomas disappear into the dining room. I follow him and watch as Arthur carries someone to the table. Blood drips from a bullet hole in her arm. It’s… Linda? They clear the table and lay her down, but she jolts up and tries attacking Arthur.

“What’s going on?” I blurt, not sure of how to help.

Polly sees me watching. “She tried to shoot Arthur. So I shot her.”

“Help me hold her down!” Lizzie urges.

We both rush over and each take an arm, attempting to keep Linda still. But like everyone else in this family she’s stubborn. 

“Linda, I would have taken your bullet! I deserve the bullet!” Arthur groans, holding his head.

Polly pulls out a coat and begins wrapping her legs. Linda jerks upright and tries to hold away the pain.

“An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!”

Thomas leans over her and grips her face. “Linda! Look at me. You’ve got a kid. If you die, he’ll come to us to raise.”

Arthur kneels down to assure his wife as Thomas begins addressing the wound. I do my best to keep a firm grip on Linda’s arm.

“Mr. Shelby. Your guests…” Mosley’s voice comes from the hall. Can’t he take a fucking hint?

“Family only!” Thomas orders. “Arthur, get him out.”

Mosley persists. “Mr. Shelby-”

Arthur gets up and points a gun straight at Mosley’s head. “Get out!”

“Liam!” I shout, knowing he is not far. My broer grimly marches in and sees me holding Linda. “Get him out!”

Liam spots Mosley and, without a word, passively pushes the bloke out of the room. The nerve of that klootzak! 

“Lizzie, get some morphine iodine,” Thomas says as Polly hands him a cloth napkin. “Linda, you’re going to have to bite on this. It’s really gonna hurt.”

He pours whiskey on the wound and Linda shrieks at the top of her lungs. I put all of my weight on her to keep her from moving while Arthur holds her head. Once the bullet is removed Arthur starts muttering, still blaming himself. Thomas stands up and pats his broer on the shoulder.

“Arthur, go get yourself some opium. Verena, we need more whiskey.”

“On it.”

I sprint out and race to the kitchen, dodging maids and servants around every corner. When I get there I demand whiskey from the kitchen workers. They scramble down a set of stairs and in less than two minutes I’m racing back with three bottles in my arms. When I return I see they’ve got Linda drugged with her head resting on a pillow. Arthur’s hugging her head as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

“She’s going to be fine,” Thomas promises.

Arthur lets out a muffled sob. “You should have let her do it, Pol!”

Thomas grips his arm and pulls him away, forcing Arthur to face him. “Arthur! Listen to me! You got things to do. You got a kid. We need you. You hear me?”

“Aberama wants you as best man,” Polly adds from behind us.

Arthur tries to laugh and Thomas hugs him closer. “You hear that?”

Polly huffs and takes one of the bottles I’m holding to pour herself a drink. “I save his life, he hugs him.”

I attempt a bewildered smile. “You’re engaged?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh stop it, Verena. You knew all along just like Ada.”

“I’m so happy for you, Polly!”

By now Lizzie’s returned with the morphine and Arthur offers to dress the wound. With that we leave the troubled husband to attend to Linda, filing back into the hall. Surely there’s going to be a family meeting about this-

“Verena,” Liam’s voice calls from where the guests are. “You better come hear this.”

My face darkens at his serious tone and I join him, looking over to see Mosley standing in front of the audience of aristocrats, servants, and dancers.

“What’s happening now?” I whisper dreadfully.

“...I have some news. Good news, I think. I’m sure our host will forgive me if I use this platform to give you an early announcement of a long overdue event. I want to tell you good folk first that with the dawn of a new decade I will be setting up a new political movement here. In the very heart of England. And Mr. Shelby will be with me shoulder to shoulder. It will offer a new conception of politics in which the character of the British, our true character, will be reborn.”

The guests cheer and applaud but all Liam and I can do is stare blankly at his hintingly threatening words. How deep of a socialist is this man? Is he talking about-?

“Many of you lost fortunes in the recent stock market crash. The men of money, the capitalists in New York, the Jews. The efforts of laboring men have equipped our competitors against us.”

Zipporah’s kind face flashes past, then Uncle Colon, then all of the employees in vader’s shop. He’s talking about them. Mosley is slandering and discrediting the very people I work with and love. 

I turn away and seek out Thomas, Lizzie, and Polly standing apart from the crowd. “Thomas. What is he leading to?” He merely looks at me with a sad, empty face, offering no answer. “Polly-?” I panic.

Mosley speaks again. “This party, this new movement, this revolution will be called the British Union of Fascists.”

My stomach drops and the noise of praises and applauding echoes in my ears. They’re cheering for this madman? Hearing him threaten the very world we live in and Thomas is doing nothing?

“Do you hear him?” I plead, my face still frozen in shock. “How can you listen to that? He is mocking the very foundation of my country’s system. My vader’s business. He speaks of facism!”

Lizzie, having kept quiet, comments: “What the fuck are you doing dealing with a man like that, Tommy?”

“I second that. I want to know why the Hell I’m still working for a man who’s associating with a fascist!”

Thomas keeps a grim face and reaches for a cigarette. “You’re gonna have to trust me.”

Polly isn’t convinced. “Again.”

No. No. This is too far, even for me. It’s not just about me anymore. This ‘plan’ or whatever Thomas is cooking up is going to hurt many more people. Many more people. It’s not just a matter of the heart now. It’s about conquering morality. How can he even allow himself to sink this far?

“I am not staying around to discuss anything with that man,” I declare darkly and start walking back. “He is a complete klootzak.”

“Where are you going?” Polly asks when Thomas doesn’t answer.

“To see the children before I go. It's Christmastime, after all."

Now he speaks. “Verena-”

“Do not start, Thomas. That man is just like those who are driving people like Zipporah out of Germany. If he comes near me again I will punch his lights out.”

Before I make it to the hallway I hear Lizzie behind me. “I’ll talk to him.”

I swallow part of my growing anger. “Please do. If he keeps this up I will end my employment and return with my uncle so he can talk some fucking sense into him.”

If Thomas was uncomfortable around Uncle Colon when he’s having a good day then he is in for a real treat when I tell him about Mosley. Of all people I expected Thomas Shelby to work with, he is the furthest I could have guessed. 

“Verena!” Liam jogs up and points to where Mosley just walked off. “Did you hear-?”

“Loud and clear. Come on.” 

I show him up the stairs and quietly peek into the bedroom. Both kids are sound asleep, along with my hond.

“Komm, Dílis.”

The canine’s head perks up and he trots over to me. We all make our way to the exit and bundle up before heading into the chilly night. The glow of the decorative lights cast ghostly shadows as we pile into my car.

“You got a dog?” Liam asks when he looks at Dílis in the backseat.

“Yes. And from what I’m told he will offer the companionship I need,” I mutter as I begin driving down the gravel road.

Liam pauses for a minute. “How was Abel?”

My heart clenches again. “Troubled. And that man who just spoke is going to lead to far more trouble for everyone.”

@sherbitdibdab @meadows5

[wormshirt]

As someone who uses a mobility aid and has muscular tension that cause me general body and joint pain and stiffness from the hips down on both sides what would kill me with doctor who wouldn't be the running it'd be the fucking stairs. They don't always have stairs in doctor who but oh boy when they do. I can run super fast and then inevitably injure my hips and suffer through it and keep limping along through the pain but if it's a flight of stairs between me and safety I'm so dead. If I don't take those stairs 1 step at a time my knees WILL lock or my muscles will throw such a massive hissy fit that it'll take me TWICE the time it takes your average person to go up those stairs and I will be killed or kinapped or put through some strange and unusual scifi horror by step 3. The doctor and I (limping) run down 50000000 hallways and we reach the end of a hall with only a reasonably sized staircase on the other end of it and the doctor immediately starts vaulting up the steps 3 at a time until he turns around and notices that I have stopped completely at the bottom of the steps to stare at him blithely. He starts trying to get me to go up the stairs or ask what the hell I think I'm doing and I slowly lower myself back down to the ground and cross my arms over my chest and begin reciting funeral prayers with a serene smile. The big evil monster comes after me and I am eaten. Badly. The doctor yells NOOOOO really loud and cries a little maybe idk and then is emo about it for like half a season until they end up back by the staircase in a season finale or something and it's revealed that the stairs are magic stairs that preserve the conciousness of any ugly ass bitch who hates staircases enough and the doctor is implied to have know this all along. and the doctor gives me some heartbroken major depressive disorder poster child look and a little speech about how they "couldn't have come back here for blah blah excuses reasons" and I smile sweetly and say "why the fuck didn't you have an emergency exit strategy or some shit incase the guy who uses a fucking cane couldn't do some shit like go up stairs super fast because he uses a fucking cane. Hello. Not even mad. Are you stupid. You are a timelord. Your people let your gay ass fuck off to who knows where because you're the dumbest timelord ever and they couldn't stand your stupid ass. I can't believe I'm stuck on this gay ass space station with this lame ass death for all of eternity because you didn't think that the guy who struggles to go up stairs would struggle to go up stairs. You wanna know what the alien said to me before he ate me. He said hey that dude you're here with sucks so bad and is stupid and gay and lame as hell. And I would have said 'yeah lol' but then he ate me. He ate me because of stairs doctor. Stairs." And then I'd stay forever trapped with my soul in that staircase just so I could spend the rest of enternity sending spam calls and telemarketers to the tardis phone. The doctor's investigating something outside an alien bar somewhere and sees ads like XXX Brittany Wants To Spend a NIGHT With YOU Sexy! Hot Singles in your area! Call here for a night of FUN! HOT SINGLE Xxeksifloryean Milfs Looking For a MATE in GALAXIES NEAR YOU!!!!❤️❤️❤️ and softly puts a hand on the posters and goes "I'm sorry I couldn't save you....." five seconds later jerry from *TOTALLY REAL* intergalactic statefarm NOT A FAKE NOT A SCAM calls up the doctor on the TARDIS phone to ask about the doctor's insurance info. Somewhere I kick an ugly ass step on a stupid fucking staircase and break my ghost toe. I hop around and start swearing.

[weirdkpopgirl]

Better | Jisung Imagine #4

Title: Better

Genre: Angst

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, mental struggles

Word Count: 867

Author's Note: I wrote this last week I think, and I apologize for posting something so dark again. I do have some lighter stuff I plan to write in the near future. Something I noticed in writing these type of stories is kind of me just talking to myself through the characters. I don't know, I guess it's kinda selfish and pathetic. But I wrote this from the perspective of someone witnessing their loved one going through a hard time, and I could see Jisung in this specific scenario. Thank you for reading and if it can comfort any of you, then I hope it does ^ ^

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With a sigh, Jisung drowsily let his phone drop to the coffee table, retiring from the mobile game he had been playing. He then rose from the couch and made his way to the kitchen, seeking your presence. Mere seconds later he caught the sight of you gracefully packing away the leftovers from dinner into clear airtight containers. 

Usually, watching you perform these tasks with such ease brought comfort to him. Oftentimes Jisung felt you were more like his mom than his girlfriend. Despite him being older by two years, you consistently made an effort to take care of him. Whether it be through doing his laundry on the weekends, buying him bunggeobang when he was having a bad day, or when you made him home-cooked meals so that he didn’t eat take-out all the time. Your actions were always so nurturing, and your eyes always brimmed with joy as he ate.

However, observing you tonight didn’t bring him the usual sense of domestic tranquility that usually filled the atmosphere. Instead, there was this deep, sadness that gnawed at his stomach and traveled up his throat.

It was the way you momentarily paused what you were doing. Then the slight hesitation that crossed your expression before your hand gripped the edge of your sleeve to vigorously drag the fabric up and down your forearm. Jisung despised how familiar that habit had become to him, one he had witnessed too many times before now. Your actions could only be a sign of the physical manifestation of the pain you carried as a result of the endless thunderstorm in your mind.

Jisung wanted to say something, he always did in these moments. But each time his tongue stilled, because he was weighed down by his own emotions. He knew what it was like to struggle mentally, yet he couldn’t think of the best way to express his concern without sounding like he was judging you.

However, Jisung knew he couldn’t stand around doing nothing. He stayed still for a moment though, watching you return to collecting the containers and turning around to store them in his refrigerator. Once the fridge door was closed again, your brows furrowed in frustration one more as you rubbed your arm again. You seemed more annoyed with the irritation beneath your skin than the fact that you had intentionally hurt yourself. This realization only made Jisung’s heart sink further.

After taking a deep breath, Jisung decided now was the time to act. His footsteps were barely audible against the tiled floor. Walking up from behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist in a gentle back-hug. Your body initially tensed at the unexpected affection. But once you recognized it was just your boyfriend, you instinctively leaned back against him.

A few seconds passed before Jisung cautiously extended his arm out to tug at your sleeve. When you didn’t say anything, he slowly rolled it up, the kitchen light immediately drawing attention to the angry red lines scattered across your pale skin. Just a glimpse made his heart break into a million pieces.

Jisung felt your head lower, diverting your gaze to the dark countertop. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, biting your lip. “That you have to see this horrible, ugly side of me.”

Following your quiet apology, Jisung gently turned you around to face him. His heart broke at the emptiness in your expression, almost as if you were used to this sort of reaction. Even though you were standing in his arms, there was this distance you were trying to maintain with him. More than anything, Jisung wanted to reach out, pull you close and never let go. Never let you go, ever.

“I just want you to get better, (Y/n),” his voice wavered, unable to suppress his emotions any longer. However, Jisung knew it was almost futile to say these words to you. Deep down the both of you knew that you didn’t share the same desire for yourself as he did.

Yet, tears started to form when you managed to meet his gaze. Most likely because you could see the heartbreak in his eyes, he thought. Then, unexpectedly, you were the one embracing him, burying your face in his chest.

“I’m sorry Jisung,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his sweatshirt. “I’m so sorry.”

Those words left your mouth repeatedly between your sobs. It didn’t take long for Jisung to feel his own tears stream down his cheeks, mingling with yours. The two of you stood there, holding each other tighter than you ever had before. Although he knew you weren’t on the same page as him, the silent understanding that you loved each other was the connection.

And as you cried together in the middle of the kitchen at 10:37 p.m., all Jisung could hope for was that showing his support for you more often would do something. He knew that he couldn’t take your pain away entirely, but in these moments all you needed was someone to hold you. He needed to remind you that you weren’t alone.

Maybe, and just maybe, his love would be enough to encourage you to get better.

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previous masterlist -> current masterlist

[hoseokhasmyheartxx]

For the writing prompt! 2 and 135 with Namjoon!😏☺️

Come Home With Me | KNJ

*Pairing: fuckboy!Namjoon x f!Reader *Word Count: 2.4k *Genre: SMUT, fluff, FWB-to-??, non idol AU *Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT, MINORS DNI. jealousy, lack of communication, honestly they’re both idiots; dom!Joon, reader just goes along with it (isn’t really sub/switch/anything); piv sex, counter sex, bathroom sex, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, breast play, nfcm, some fluffy moments scattered throughout because I can never write anything without the feels *Summary: Jealousy is an ugly emotion, especially when it comes to friends-with-benefits. Too bad you can’t hide yours any longer. *A/N: welp this is the first thing i’ve written in literal months, so bear with me if it’s terrible. i finally got some inspiration one night and decided to just go with it. also sorry for the formatting, posting on mobile sucks.

Prompts come from this post!

Main Masterlist

Who would’ve thought that you would end up here.

Staring, frozen, watching the man you love shove his tongue down another woman’s throat at a party thrown by your best friend.

The worst part of this? The worst part of all this is that he doesn’t even know you love him. Sure, you’d been fooling around with him for the better part of a year now, but you’d agreed from day one that it wasn’t exclusive.

Kim Namjoon wasn’t an “exclusive” person. He didn’t do relationships. Everyone knew that. And you weren’t any different. There was nothing special about you that would change his ways. But the knowledge of this fact didn’t change the way you felt, the acid in your throat threatening to come up.

You spun around on your heels, bumping your shoulder against the corner of the wall to your right as you fled from the room. Hissing out a few curse words, you then silently cursed yourself as you knew there was no way he hadn’t heard you. You chose to forget it, making your way back down the hallway leading to the main room.

“_____,” a deep voice from behind you called. You continued walking, ignoring Namjoon’s plea for your attention.

You only made it a few more feet before you were shoved from behind into the bathroom at the end of the hall. You stood still, silent as the door clicked shut behind you.

“_____,” Namjoon repeated.

You slowly turned to face him, not at all wanting to have this conversation. Peering up at him, you watched for any sign of any emotion on his face, but he was unreadable, as always.

“What?” you asked flatly.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his statement. Of course you weren’t supposed to see it. That’s why he did it far away from you, or anyone else who may have seen. But, as luck would have it, you did see it.

“Look,” Namjoon sighed, “We aren’t exclusive. But even so, I’m not trying to flaunt any hookups right in front of your face. I’m not that much of an ass.”

You scoffed. “Oh, thanks so much for your consideration. I’ll make sure to ask you if you’re bringing someone the next time Jimin has a party so I know to stay home.”

You moved to step around him to exit the bathroom, but were stopped by his large hand grabbing your waist.

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?” Namjoon asked, eyes boring into yours.

“No.” You averted his gaze, refusing to look at him any longer. You weren’t in any position to be jealous when you knew he wasn’t yours. But you were, and you hated yourself for it.

Namjoon lifted his other hand, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t lie to me. Are you jealous?” he repeated.

With a shaky breath, you nodded.

“Why?”

“I just— I just am,” you choked out.

You watched as Namjoon tightened his jaw, glaring down at you.

“You are the one who said this was just fun. You said you weren’t looking for anything serious. How can you be jealous?” he questioned.

“Of course I said that, Namjoon. You don’t do relationships. What was I supposed to say, that I expected you to change everything about yourself and make me your girlfriend?”

His fingers never left your chin, eyes never left yours.

“If you didn’t want something casual, why would you agree to this? That’s not fair to you,” Namjoon asked, stroking your cheek.

Your anxiety over him possibly finding out how you felt was ebbing. This was one of many effects he had on you. Without even trying, he could ease your mind, calm you down, with the slightest of touches.

“Because. That’s— that’s the only way I could ever have you,” you finally admitted.

He furrowed his brow, staring down at you still.

“You’ve always had me,” Namjoon said, voice lowered, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you against him. His lips captured yours in a desperate kiss, his other hand moving to grip the side of your neck.

You returned the kiss, hands coming up to fist his shirt. He backed you up against the bathroom counter, trapping you there, lips not leaving yours. His tongue swiped across the seam of your lips, pulling a small gasp from you as you opened for him. His tongue overtook yours, his mouth engulfing you in passion and burning you from the inside out.

As he pushed you harder against the counter, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against you as he steadied his breathing.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You struggled to form words, brain still foggy from his dizzying kiss. “I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way.” You traced circles on his chest, avoiding his gaze.

“I would have. I mean, I do. C’mon, think about it. I don’t stay the night with my hookups. I don’t call my hookups in the middle of the day just to hear their voice. I don’t… I don’t do any of that stuff with anyone, except you. If you would’ve just told me how you felt… you would’ve been mine a long time ago,” Namjoon breathed out.

You looked up at him, small smile curling on your lips. Standing on your tiptoes, you kissed the corner of his mouth, working your way across his jawline and down to the space just below his ear. Nipping at his earlobe, you wrapped your arms around his neck to hold yourself steady on your tiptoes.

“Shut up and take your pants off,” you whispered in his ear. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, knowing what was next.

Namjoon needed to be in control. Any hint of dominance shown from his partner, and it flipped a switch inside of him. His eyes darken, pupils blown out with desire.

Just like that, he ripped your shirt over your head, claiming your lips again as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. His large hand immediately moved to your breast, massaging it as he sucked your lower lip in between his teeth. He bit down, not hard enough to really hurt but still enough to get your attention. You hissed, and Namjoon sucked your lip back into his mouth, easing the pain.

He lowered his head, wrapping his full lips around a nipple, beginning to lick and suck at the pebbled nub. You whine, encouraging him to continue. His sucks grow stronger, jolts of pleasure coursing through you, straight down to your core.

His fingers work to unbutton your jeans, pushing them down your thighs with both hands, his lips moving from your breast down to the flesh underneath it. Kissing down your stomach, he dropped to his knees, pulling your jeans the rest of the way off, lifting each foot carefully to rid you of your bottoms.

Standing in just your panties, with Namjoon on his knees in front of you, leaves you feeling vulnerable but highly aroused. The cool air from the bathroom vent makes you shiver, goosebumps pebbling your skin. His hands trail up your thighs, grabbing the waistband of your panties and tugging them off.

Suddenly, he’s lifting you up, sitting you on the edge of the counter, draping your leg over his shoulder. You gasp, reaching for anything to help you find your balance. Your hands settle on the countertop just as Namjoon pulls you forward, pushing your other leg away to spread your center.

Before you have a chance to get your bearings, Namjoon’s mouth is on your pussy, tongue warm against your flesh. You gasp, watching as he dives in. His tongue traces around you, avoiding your most sensitive spot as he looks up at you, cocky glint in his eyes.

“Fuck,” you breathe out as Namjoon’s lips finally claim your clit, sucking just a bit before he lets go. He licks broad stripes up and down your center, lips dragging against your clit every time he passes it. He holds your thigh tightly, keeping you still as you squirm underneath his ministrations.

His other hand comes up to your center, fingers tracing around your hole. You jolt, the new sensation only adding to your pleasure. He slowly inserts one finger, then two, chuckling against you. Pulling his mouth away from you, smirking, he teases, “This all for me?”

You nod, hand coming down to card your fingers through his hair. “Yeah, just for you.”

Namjoon begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, causing you to arch your back, your shoulders resting against the mirror. You pull your free leg up to rest your foot on the counter, spreading yourself more for him.

His fingers find your spot with ease. After all, he knows your body better than anyone else. You moan, tensing as his tongue reconnects with your clit. His movements become hurried, sloppy. The noises caused by his fingers thrusting into you fill the tiny bathroom, your juices dripping down his palm and wrist.

Your whines grow higher-pitched as you cant your hips, grinding your pussy against Namjoon’s tongue. He doesn’t relent, tongue working through your folds, hitting all your spots.

“Joon—,” you gasp, feeling the knot begin to tighten in your stomach.

“Yeah? Come for me, baby,” Namjoon growls, “Now.”

With a few more flicks of his tongue, you’re coming undone, falling over a precipice that you never want to be on again. Your muscles tighten, your pussy clenches around his fingers as your moans tumble out and you grasp at his hair, tugging him closer to you.

His big hands grip your thighs, fingers leaving indents in the skin. He doesn’t stop mouthing at your folds until you’re pushing him away, overstimulated and over exerted.

Namjoon stands, letting your leg fall from his shoulder as he meets you face to face, his hands resting on the edges of the countertop. He kisses you, his plush lips brushing against yours lightly before he rests his forehead on yours. Your breathing steadies, his presence calming you just as it always does.

“Baby,” Namjoon breathes out, his chest heaving.

“Yeah?” you ask, hands moving to the hem of his shirt, lifting it to remove the garment. He backs up, letting you lift the shirt up his torso and off his body with ease.

He kisses you again, desire glinting in his eyes. You watch as he undoes his belt and works his jeans down his thick thighs, still standing in front of you. His erection is obvious, tenting the front of his black boxer briefs. He palms himself, tipping his head back as he lets out a ragged breath.

“Let me fuck you, please.”

Stepping out of his boxer briefs, he closes in on you, hands gripping your thighs as he kisses you slowly, his tongue lazily working its way into your mouth.

“We don’t have a lot of time…” you trailed off, hands gripping his waist as you pulled him even closer to you.

“I know,” he mutters between kisses, “I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

You nod against his lips, pulling his body in between your thighs, gasping softly as his length makes contact with your core.

He grips himself, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds until he’s at your entrance. You brace yourself, mentally preparing. He pushes into you slowly, inch by inch, until he bottoms out against your pelvis. You take a few breaths as you adjust to his size, resting your forehead on his collarbone.

“Can I-?” Namjoon whispers, kissing slowly down your neck to your shoulder.

You nod against his shoulder, wrapping your legs around his waist just as he pulls out and thrusts back into you. You choke out a moan, Namjoon’s hips already snapping into you at a relentless pace.

His hands latch onto your hips, pulling you farther onto his cock, hitting deeper than ever. His cock drags against your walls, the angle allowing his cockhead to touch at your g-spot on every thrust.

“Don’t-,” Namjoon begins, struggling to steady his breathing as he continues, “Don’t ever question how I feel about you again. Understand?”

You whine his name, your mouth falling open as your head lolls back. You’re almost limp in his arms, letting him take you the way he needs.

“Understand?” Namjoon repeats, grabbing your chin to kiss you.

“Yes! Yes, I understand,” you cry out. You throw your arms around his shoulders to balance yourself, holding yourself up as Namjoon pulls you to the edge of the counter. His hips begin to stutter, telling you he’s close to his peak.

“Baby,” Namjoon repeats for what feels like the tenth time in the span of twenty minutes.

“Come inside me,” you gasp out, feeling yourself near your second high of the night.

Namjoon groans, pushing his cock as deep as he can. He stills against you, his fingers bruising the flesh of your waist as he comes. His face falls to the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he pants, his hips jerking as he fills you up. He reaches between your bodies, fingers rubbing your clit in circular motions until you cry out, coming on his cock just like he wanted.

Your fingers dance across his shoulder blades as you breathe with him. Your chests rise and fall together, neither of you moving.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Namjoon starts.

You giggle and nod. He kisses you once more, slowly pulling out of you.

“We do, but we have a lot of time for that. Come home with me?” you ask, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

Namjoon looks down at you, pupils beginning to dilate in lust again. He caresses your jawline, pulling you closer to him.

“Let me make it up to you when we get there.”

You nod, following his lead to clean yourself up and make yourself presentable before exiting the bathroom. Before opening the bathroom door, Namjoon turns to face you, holding your hands at your waist, squeezing them gently as he smiles a soft smile.

Who would’ve thought that you’d end up here.

Staring, frozen, smiling up at the man you love, knowing that he loves you, too.

[gayaest]

I just found your account and first of all, your art style is amazing and blows me away!! the way all your colors look cohesive is just chef's kiss!!

and secondly, it is such a nice feeling, as a mobility aid user, to see someone draw disabled people and mobility aid users. Even though I've been using my cane for years, I still have that little voice that makes me scared of using it and I think that's mainly because I never see any representation...

sorry for the rant haha your art is just amayzin!

No need to apologize!

It’s really amazing hearing how my art has both inspired and touched other disabled people — it means a lot to me because starting my art journey online was rough and I felt very “niche” and not many people liked my stuff for a long while! I only started getting positive comments around 2021/2022!

I love drawing mobility aids, truly. It feels like it’s what i’m /meant/ to do. All the comments, messages, and kind words people have spoken to me just for simply sharing my life and experiences and other disabled people’s views means the world to me.

I personally haven’t struggled with that little voice in your head — but my words of advice is that the world is too short to worry about what other people think of you at first glance. If they aren’t willing to hear you out for more than 2 minutes — then just live your life free from their thoughts! Disabled people have been shunned for too long, even thinking back to “ugly laws” we were forced indoors and locked up just for being disabled. It’s not right. Don’t let lock yourself up like those that have hurt us all. You can go out and live your life, differently than others, because everyone does that! Even able-bodied peoples lives are each uniquely different!

Thank you for the message!

[racheyace]

Has Matt ever actually accidentally hurt Luke when he was shrunk before?

Another late reply to this ask! Again I'm sorry! But also your idea is the second runner up in the polls! So congratulations!

I'm really happy with how this story came out, also there is much angst! You've been warned!

Approx 3.3k words

Broken

“Luke! I hope you’ve already settled on the idea of takeout tonight cos I am so not in the mood to provide sustenance!” Matt groaned as he shut the apartment door behind him.

It had been a particularly taxing 12-hour shift for Matt, and he was honestly ready to just go to bed without dinner if there was nothing quick and easy to eat.

The apartment was quiet, but Matt hardly noticed being too tired to care much at the moment, he instead slid open the balcony door and promptly lit a cigarette, leaning heavily on the railing and fighting to keep his head held up straight.

He stood there for a long while, for once his mind was quiet, the sounds of the streets the only thing he could hear as the sunset for the day and he found himself admiring the orange and purple hues of the misty skyline. New York could be so very ugly sometimes, too busy, too loud, too many idiots and too much violence, but it could also be quite beautiful, Matt found himself smiling softly to himself and soaking in the view.

When he got back inside, he noticed with a little more alertness that Luke hadn’t said a word since he’d gotten home, which was strange.

Matt walked through to their small kitchen and turned the kettle on, ready to make himself a coffee and as he did so, he opened up his phone to look at the last messages he’d gotten from Luke that day.

Around mid-day Luke had sent a message to him reading:

‘Five hours to go! You got this!’

And then another message at 3:30pm reading:

‘At least you don’t have an hour of meetings this afternoon! What would you like for dinner?’

Matt had responded with:

‘So done with today! I’d be happy just to eat grass right now mooo! You choose.’

And then the last message from Luke was from only half an hour ago at 5:30pm:

‘Salad it is, your favourite! I’ll think of something, also the tv is doing weird shit again, I’ll sort it out tomorrow, see you when you get home’

“So weird, he should be here.” Matt said to himself as he added milk and sugar to his coffee.

Taking a sip, he headed for the balcony again, figuring that Luke may have gone out to get dinner or something from the shop. He paused at the sliding door though when another possibility entered his mind.

“Luke?” He called out again. “Are you small right now?”

Luke was usually pretty good about letting Matt know when he was small which honestly was not very often. Whatever Luke had on him at the time of the shift would shift with him, so if he was small Luke would normally have sent Matt a text to let him know. That, or he would call out, it could be dangerous for Luke when he was small, particularly if Matt didn’t know where he was.

There was still no reply.

Matt decided he needed to do some elimination, so first he headed down to the garage to see if Luke’s car was still there, which it was, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t gone out, there was a takeaway place down the street that Luke would walk to from here. Matt then pulled out his phone again to call his missing friend.

It rang and rang and then went to the message bank.

“I swear to god Luke, if you shrank without your phone on you, I’m gonna kill you, if I don’t step on you first of course, fuck!” Matt shivered at the thought.

It was a very real possibility and one that had given Matt nightmares in the past, not that the scenario had ever even come close to happening in reality, it still made Matt uncomfortable to think about.

Matt headed back upstairs to their apartment and dialled Luke’s number again, this time he could hear a ringing, though it was very faint, probably coming from a very small mobile phone. He tried to follow the sound but then it went to the message bank again and he groaned in frustration.

“Luke I’ve had the shittest day, could you just come out, I don’t have the energy for this stupid game of cat and mouse.” Matt said to the empty apartment, again there was no response.

With a hand slowly dragging down his tired face, he paused remembering that Luke would also shrink when he was sad, tired or scared. The last time Luke had shrunk when he was sad was when Luke and Jason had broken up, that time he’d also not called out or texted Matt that he was small. Matt had found him sobbing by the front door, he also hadn’t had to go searching for him because he was out in the open, but Luke was nowhere to be seen right now.

Matt realised that his last comment was probably kind of harsh, particularly if Luke was upset, but he had nothing to go on, just a tiny ringing and no Luke.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired, please call out or make a noise if you can, I’m starting to freak out over here.” Matt said more gently this time.

He walked over to the loungeroom, watching his step and sat down on the couch after also checking that it was Luke free, including checking under the cushions.

Matt then noticed the blue screen of death was on their tv and remembered that Luke had said something about the tv being broken again.

He stared at the awful blue screen for a few minutes, and then it struck him that Luke had said something about the tv in his last text.

Matt pulled out his phone once more and redialled Luke’s number, the faint ringing could be heard again and as Matt slowly moved closer to the entertainment unit, he could hear it getting louder.

“Luke?” Matt called out again after the phone went to voicemail once more.

“M-matt!?” Luke’s small voice called out, and Matt breathed a sigh of relief at the sound.

He’d finally gotten a response and he couldn’t believe what Luke was doing, clearly, he’d decided to try and fix the problematic television himself and most likely gotten himself stuck or something.

“Dude, are you seriously inside the Tv right now?” Matt asked incredulously.

“No I-I was in the wire box thing-the thing behind the tv and now….I’m not sure, I think I-fell.” Matt had to strain to hear him, he still sounded so far away.

Carefully he pulled the entertainment unit away from the wall and found the box that Luke had mentioned, a small white box with wires coming out of it that were then connected to the tv.

“Are you hurt?” Matt asked with his hands on the white box, ready to pull it from the wall but hesitating when he realised that he could potentially hurt Luke in the process.

“I-I think I was-electrocuted.” Came Luke’s muffled response.

“Jesus fucking Christ Luke.” Matt was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration with his idiotic roommate. “Are you still in the white box? What can you see?”

Turns out Matts long day as a paramedic was not yet over, he would have to pull a full search and rescue on his best friend, he’d pulled many people out of walls before, never one so small though.

“I’m not in the white box…” Luke began. “I’m in the wall-but I’m stuck-the wires are all around me-Matt I can’t move!”

“It’s alright Luke, I’ll get you out of there, just try not to move much, I’ll be back in a sec.” Matt moved away from the wall and went looking for some tools that he may need.

Once all the necessary equipment was acquired, he returned to the space behind the Tv, with a stethoscope in his ear, he placed the metal end to the wall and began to listen carefully.

“Marco.” Matt said, figuring lightening the mood would ease both of their nerves.

“Polo!” Luke called, his voice was a little further down the wall and Matt repositioned the stethoscope.

“Marco.”

“POLO!”

“Bingo.” Matt smiled, he pulled out a pencil and marked the spot on the wall.

Now if he was with his team, they’d discuss strategies, either cutting a hole from above or below, but Matt didn’t have a team so he would have to work out the best course of action himself.

If he cut from below, Luke could be stuck with a mess of wires tangled around his legs which would make it difficult to pull him downward from. If he cut from above Luke, then it was possible he’d be able to lift Luke back up the way he’d come. If worst came to worst, he’d have to cut some wires to free his small friend.

“Now, I’m going to cut a hole in the wall above you, it may be noisy, I’ll try to be quick, but I’ve only got our little handsaw to work with.” Matt gave a nervous chuckle and waited for Luke to respond.

“Okay!” Luke shouted in response to his friend’s plan.

Matt pushed the saw into the wall about 8 inches from the line that he’d marked, if he estimated correctly, he should make the hole a few inches above Luke’s head.

The handsaw was rusty and pretty much useless, so it took a good ten minutes for Matt to make a square big enough for even just his hand to fit through. With a grunt of effort Matt pulled the square piece of plaster out of the wall and then made to look inside but it was far to dark to make out anything except the wires directly behind the hole.

Matt grabbed his phone and held it in the hole with the camera on flash, the flash setting illuminated the space and the camera showed Matt what he was working with. Luke was indeed tangled and didn’t look like he was fairing too well, Matt thought he looked rather pale, his hair was a staticky mess, and he was indeed very tangled.

“Hey buddy.” Matt said in a quieter tone and smiled when Luke’s little blue eyes looked upward and squinted into the light.

Luke was very stuck, not only were his legs tangled as Matt had suspected but both his arms were looped by wires as well as his chest. Matt wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to get so tangled, it was actually quite impressive.

“You are pretty wedged in there. Are you in any pain? Do you have any burns?” Matt asked, still looking at the camera trying to see any physical injuries that Luke may have gotten.

“I’ve got a burn on my hand and that kinda hurts, I’m cold and sort of tingly but that’s probably from shock, right?” Luke’s blue eyes looked up toward the camera again after looking over his own body the best he could.

“Yeah, electrical shock, your gonna need to go to hospital when I figure out how to get you out of there.” Matt grumbled, his long day was going to turn into a long night so it seemed.

Matt picked up the pair of pliers and hesitated as he thought over how he was going to do this. There were five wires, three of them were wrapped around Luke in one way or another.

He could cut the two wires holding his arms but then he would still be stuck around his middle, or possibly fall further into the wall. If he cut one of the wires holding his arms, then Luke could hold onto the wire with his other hand when his midsection was freed.

Matt would then need to pull Luke out and hope that the upward movement would be enough to free his other hand in the process. It was all he could come up with for the moment and it would have to do, he needed to get Luke out of there and to a hospital as quickly as he could.

“Alright, I’ve got a plan.” Matt explained his idea to his friend and Luke agreed that it seemed like the best option.

Matt pinched the wire that held Luke’s injured hand and made the first cut, Luke gasped as the taught wire went limp and with a small shake it fell far below him. One done, one to go.

“Hold onto the wire now, I’ll try to be fast.” Matt warned, as he pinched the wire that was holding Luke’s midsection captive.

Luke winced as the wire tightened momentarily around his stomach, his knuckles white around the wire that held his left arm, and then his stomach was free as the second wire fell through the wall below him.

Wasting no time, Matt reached his hand in, having to go in blind for this part, his fingers extended toward Luke, only two of his fingers could fit far enough in and they bumped into the miniscule body, causing Luke to sway on the wire.

“Matt hurry!” Luke gasped, legs dangling and his palm becoming sweaty.

“Give me your hand.” Matt called down.

Luke’s free hand reach toward the large fingers and when he placed his palm on the pad of Matt’s middle finger, Matt pinched Luke’s hand between the two. This would be a judgment game, too much pressure and he would break Luke’s hand, too little pressure and Luke would fall.

“Does that feel secure?” Matt asked.

“A little tight but good, don’t let go!” Luke called upward.

“I’m gonna pull you up now, ready?” Matt felt small beads of sweat building on his own forehead, he shook the stray strands of blonde hair that had fallen out of his ponytail out of his eyes and focused.

“Yep!” Was Luke’s high pitched response.

Matt began to slowly pull his hand out of the wall, beads of sweat formed on his forehead at the painstaking pace and then his heart dropped into his stomach when he heard Luke cry out in pain. There was a small pop of muscle that Matt could feel had come from Luke and he stopped immediately, almost losing his grasp on his Luke’s hand.

“Are you okay? What happened? Is your hand free? Luke!?” Matt was hysterical, he couldn’t let go of Luke’s hand between his fingers for fear he would fall.

Matt’s mind was racing, had he pulled too hard? Too fast? Had he injured his best friend in an attempt to save him?

“Ahhh!” Luke cried out again in agony, before responding properly. “I-It’s free p-pull me out!” Luke’s voice was laced with pain and Matt feared the worst.

Finally, his fingers were free of the wall, and he pulled Luke out immediately laying him in his open palm. Luke clutched his left shoulder and was visibly shaking.

“M-my shoulder.” Luke cried, tears falling down his dusty cheeks.

“D-did I do that?” Matt asked in a state of shock and fear, his worst fear, that he would hurt his best friend when he was so small.

“I-I think its dislocated ahhhh” Luke winced touching his sore arm and immediately regretting it.

“I’m so sorry Luke, I didn’t mean to I-“

“It’s okay Matt, I’m okay, ahhhh, just-can-you put it back?” Luke’s eyes met his once more, Matt was shaking his head, his hands shaking and feeling as though he was only making things worse, he quickly lay Luke down on the carpeted floor.

“I-I can’t.” Matt was stunned, he looked at his hands as though they weren’t his own, his fingers trembled furiously.

“You’re a paramedic.” Luke said through gritted teeth.

Matt almost laughed, he didn’t feel like much of a paramedic right now. He was supposed to heal people and get them to help faster, he wasn’t supposed to injure his patients, how could he have done this to his best friend?

“I-I’m too big.” Matt sat down on the carpet, utterly at a loss as to what to do now, how could he help his friend without making everything worse or hurting him further?

Matt seemed to drift off into space, he could no longer hear Luke talking to him or trying to calm him down, everything was dull and foggy, the only thing he could hear was his heart beating in his ears and the tingling of his shaky body.

Perhaps his nightmare had come true, he had dreamt years ago that Luke had been hurt by his own monstrous hands. He could hear Luke’s small voice begging with him, pleading with him and yet there was nothing he could do, he was simply too big, too rough and too dangerous.

“MATT!” Luke was shouting in his face now, waving his hands in front of his face to try and snap his friend out of his trance.

“L-Luke?” Matt asked, his brain not fully comprehending that his friend was now his usual size and shaking his shoulders.

“H-how? What?” Matt didn’t even know what to think, Luke was normal sized again, he wasn’t gripping his shoulder in pain, the colour had returned to his face, and he seemed to be okay.

“Super healing remember?” Luke smiled at him, showing his hands to Matt and finding no evidence of an electrical burn, or a dislocated shoulder, it was as though nothing had happened at all.

Matt finally snapped out of his stupor and tackled Luke to the floor, hugging his friend furiously and cursing him for his stupidity for getting himself into that kind of situation.

When he calmed down, he released Luke and offered him a hand to help him up off the floor, he then made a beeline for the balcony, figuring he had earnt himself a cigarette after that stressful event. Still not fully believing that he hadn’t just imagined the whole thing, he could still feel the small pop through his fingers as he’d pulled Luke’s shoulder out of it’s socket.

The nausea still swimming in his stomach at the reality that he’d hurt his best friend, hurt Luke when he’d been at his most vulnerable.

“Are you sure you feel fine?” Matt asked once seated in his usual chair on the balcony, Luke sitting in the other chair beside him.

“Really, I’m okay, I’m sorry I scared you, it was stu-“

“I’m the one who should be sorry, I could have ripped your damned arm off!” Matt still couldn’t shake the queasiness in his stomach at what he’d done to his friend, he didn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily.

Luke had trusted him, and Matt had hurt him.

“Matt come on, don’t do this, this is my thing, I’m supposed to be the one riddled with self-loathing and unable to forgive myself, not you.” Luke began but Matt wasn’t listening, instead looking off into the distance and shaking his head as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“You’re the hero this time Matt, you saved me.” Luke insisted. “I can’t thank you enough honestly.”

Matt crushed out his cigarette and stood up.

“I’m gonna head to bed, we’ll need to call an actual electrician tomorrow, goodnight.” Matt brushed past him and made his way into his room before promptly closing the door and leaving Luke sitting there in the cool night air.

He wasn’t sure if he was mad at Luke, or angry with himself, all he knew right now was that he didn’t want to talk about it and he desperately needed some sleep. Perhaps forgiveness and closure would come in the morning, but he wasn’t going to find it that night.

Oh no! The tv is broken! Luke was broken! And now we’ve managed to break Matt! My poor boys! Who else agrees that Matt deserves a holiday, the poor boy needs a day at the spa.

[friendliestanon]

A quick description of each characters fight. I will be going into further detail in individual posts later on! (I will also edit these posts later as I’m on mobile and at work. So I’m very sorry that they’re ugly)

Bubble: the first enemy you come across. It serves as the tutorial to the basic movements. (Wasd, click, menu options ect). On rare occasions he will play the first couple of notes from “meglovania” instead of his own theme. Prompting Caine to burst in and pop him. Replacing him as the tutorial level.

Tutorial Caine: What it says on the box. This is a rare occurrence and a little Easter egg. Caine explains the keyboard movements, menu, ect.

Pomni: As the newest member she’s allowed to go first! However as the newest member she has zero clue what she’s doing. She kinda fumbles her whole fight and you can take an easy win! Don’t worry, if you want a real fight, you can come back later when she’s learned a few tricks.

Ragatha: A proper boss battle! Though she does go easy on you since you’re still learning the ropes. Some of her harder to dodge attacks will veer off just a little bit at the last second leaving you unscathed. She’s very proud of you for defeating her.

Gangle: The first the get different versions of her fight. You’ll be able to fight against her tragedy mask, and her comedy mask! Unlock the spare mask from Caines shop and gift it to her before her fight to unlock it. I’m sure she’d be grateful for the whole two minutes it lasts her!

Kinger: It’s supposed to be tough to beat him, but it seems like something is missing. Half of his attacks seem to be missing or only cover half the playing field. Half of the music just doesn’t exist? What is going on here?

Zooble: A difficult battle of mismatched and combined attacks. They can swap out random pieces and change the entire battle on the fly. They try not to be too interested in this whole boss fight thing. But even they can’t deny that it’s kinda fun to lob random @&$! at an Npc.

Jax: He does not go easy on you. He’s the whole reason this adventure exists so why should he? He gives it everything’s he’s got, anything and everything in his hammerspace is game. He has no idea how you were able to defeat him.

Caine: You made a grave mistake challenging the god of this digital hellscape.

[waevrs]

ᴡʜʏ..?

Pairings: ShieldAgent! Natasha x ShieldAgent! Fem!Reader

Summary: The next part to close call. Y/N finds out something the completely and utter shocks her. How will she deal with this sudden revelation?

Warnings: HEAVY MENTION OF ABUSE. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THIS TOPIC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

A/N: not proof read

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3

Why did it have to be this way?

My body refused to move as I continued to process the sight in front of me.

"Y/N! How are you?!" She gasped and embraced me in a hug. I didn't hug back, my brain still set on the man beside her. Natasha noticed me staring at her boyfriend "Oh right, Y/N this is Alek, my boyfriend. Alek, this is Y/N, my partner."

I know who he is.

He had the audacity to extend his hand as if we'd never met before.

"Pleasure meeting you." He gave me the fakest smile and I shook his hand to avoid arousing suspicion. I couldn't help that my body tensed at the feeling of touching him again.

Don't let him scare you anymore.

I finally looked up from the ground into his brown eyes that were filled with pure unadulterated hate. His shaggy auburn hair fell onto one side of his angular face. He'd grown his beard out since I last saw him, it was no longer stubble, it was a full beard. He was not an ugly guy, so I can see why Natasha fell for him. There was an aura about him that was almost charming. Yet, the way he looked at me made me feel so small, so insignificant.

His grip tightened on my hand and the memories came flooding back. That was what he used to do in public when he didn't like something I did or said. It was a warning that he was going to punish me when we got home.

The punishments weren't like children's punishments like time-outs or getting grounded. No. They were sickening. It ranged from becoming his punching bag to doing whatever he wanted, whether that be sexually or physically.

My heart rate started to skyrocket so I jerked my hand out of his grasp.

"I gotta go, I'll see you around." I spluttered and turned around and walked to my room as fast as I could.

I heard Natasha calling after me but I ignored her and continued on my way. My heart was pounding irregularly in my chest and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. It felt like the walls were caving in on me.

"Hey Y/N!" Clint yelled out when I passed the gym "Wanna train with me?"

"Sorry Clint, another time." I breathed shakily, avoiding eye contact.

As I got in the elevator, I started shaking violently and my breaths were audible, coming out uneven and in short bursts. I tried taking deep breath's to regain my composure but nothing was working.

I sprinted out of the elevator as soon as the door opened and got to my room. I rummaged around for my phone, trying to contact the one person that could calm me down right now. Yes, it would be easier to ask JARVIS to call him but the A.I doesn't recognise the number.

I let the tears fall freely as I called my childhood bestfriend, Felix. He knew everything about me. After all, how could he not? We’ve literally been inseparable since birth.

Curling up into a ball on my bed, clutching the mobile close to my ear.

"Y/N? You're awake?!" He squealed excitedly.

"Felix. He-He's back. Aleksander. He's here." I just about managed to get out, rocking back and forth on the bed. My heart was thudding in my chest, my body was shaking, my feet were tingling.

I have to get away from here.

"Y/N, calm down okay? I need you to follow my breathing. Ready?"

We stayed on the line after Felix calmed me down and he explained, in detail, what he would do to Aleksander if he touched me again. I thanked him for everything and we cracked a few jokes.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I asked, cautious of who I wanted to let into my room.

"Clint." Clint answered from the other side.

"Felix, I've got to go. I'll talk to you later. Love ya!" I whispered into the phone.

"Love you too. Keep kicking ass for me."

I put the phone down on my bed and opened the door.

"Hey-"

"I know what just happened. I don't know why but I know you had a panic attack so let's go and take your mind off of it." He interrupted me and dragged me out of my room and towards...somewhere?

"Where are we going?" I asked him.

"You'll see. I'm gonna teach you something."

We stopped at the shooting range and I looked at him questioningly and he just smirked and tossed me something that I caught. Taking a closer look I realised what it was.

"A bow? Seriously?" I raised my eyebrow.

"Yup. Gotta be able to use whatever is available to you. Catch" He threw a quiver full of arrows at me and I caught it and put it on.

"Doesn't matter when you're suspended indefinitely from missions." I mumbled, pouting.

"You'll be back on them in no time. Now. Show me what you got." He patted my back gently, knowing that I was injured.

"I have no clue how to use this." I revealed.

"You're smart. You'll figure it out." He chuckled sarcastically.

"Fuck you birdbrain." I mumbled and place an arrow into the bow, aiming it and then pulling the drawstring back before releasing it. The arrow landed right outside the bullseye. I groaned loudly and Clint laughed at my failure before shooting an arrow right in the middle of the target.

"Show off." I scoffed.

"You're too tense. You have to relax." He told me and demonstrated. I observed closely and copied his movements.

"Now try again."

I aimed the arrow again, pulled the string and released it. We both watched intently as the arrow split his one in the middle and I jumped in joy.

"Nice job Robin Hood." He teased me.

He continued to teach me different tricks he learnt over the years of using archery and to our surprise, I picked it up fairly quickly.

The evening soon came and so did the time for dinner. It was Banner's turn to cook so I was interested to see what he made for us, even though I wasn't hungry. I thanked Clint for teaching me and for taking my mind off of my panic attack. Clint and I walked into the dining room together to see all the other agents already seated at the table. I completely avoided Natasha and Alek and sat next to Tony and Steve.

Dinner went by fairly smoothly, I ate some of  my food and got involved in some of the conversation.

"There seems to be someone at the door for you Miss L/N." JARVIS spoke through the speakers.

"Identity them." Tony commanded before I could even think about getting out of my seat.

"Felix Jordan-"

That was all I needed to hear before I was out of my seat and sprinting down the stairs to the front door. I pushed the door open and there he stood, with his signature grin and red jacket. I launched myself at him and tackled him in a hug.

"Maybe running down the stairs wasn't the best option." I groaned, rubbing the bullet wound on my shoulder. He sighed and shook his head and I lead him back upstairs where everyone else was. I wasn't planning on him coming, but now he was here I wanted to set a good impression and maybe Fury would hire him. Since he lost his job when the police station was attacked.

By the time we got back upstairs, the others had finished dinner and went to do their own separate things. Except for Alek and Natasha, because it was the latter's turn to wash the dishes. When Aleksander spotted Felix, his eyes went wide for a second before turning back to Natasha and peppering her with kisses.

I want to rip his head off.

You and me both.

I grabbed Felix and walked towards the workshop where I knew Tony would be. Felix was smart so maybe he could help Tony, I knew Felix couldn't resist helping someone when it came to technology.

"Okay. What was that?" Felix asked, concerned.

"What was what?" I chimed.

"You looked you wanted to kill him-"

"You know what he did to me. Why wouldn't I?" I retorted stoically, running my hands through my hair.

"Yeah, but that was more of a 'put your hands on her again and I'll cut your limbs off' look." He assessed and looked at me for some sort of reaction. I put my head down and stopped walking as we came to the workshop. Opting to stay silent.

"Come on. I can read you like a book." He announced smugly, sporting his signature grin.

"Is it that obvious?" I admitted shyly. He nodded and chuckled in response and I sighed and pushed open the door. I introduced Tony to Felix and made small conversation. Sooner or later my plan worked and Felix offered help to Tony, much to his disgust but Felix wasn't the type to listen to a wrong answer. Tony and Felix worked together closely on Tony's projects and I couldn't help but smile at the interaction.

I stepped back and took a seat on the table nearby and pulled out my phone to see a text from Natasha.

I rolled my eyes and placed my phone back down on the workbench, only to hear it buzz not even a minute later.

I started to panic, she wasn't supposed to know that I didn't want to be around him. She'd find out sooner or later, sure, but not right now. I went to delete it before realising she had already seen it and was typing her response.

I had to think of an excuse now, and fast. All I wanted was for her to be happy and if that was with him then so be it.

I powered my phone off and placed it down on the table with a little extra force than I anticipated.

Hasn't done anything to me?

Are you fucking kidding me?

Why not just tell her.

How? What if he’s changed?

"Y/N?" Felix called me, snapping me out of my trance.

"I-I'm just going to get some fresh air." I sported a fake smile and walked out of the workshop.

What the fuck was I supposed to do?

I spent about 3 hours on the balcony in complete solitude, alternating between staring out at the view and being in my own head before being snapped back to reality by the ringing of my phone.

“Hello-”

“He hurt you, didn’t he?” A stern voice cut me off.

“Excuse me?” I replied, dumbfounded

“Alek. Did he hurt you, y/n?” She reiterated.

I took a moment to process what she was asking. How did she even find out? Should she even know?

“Yes.”

My voice was small. Fragile. I wasn’t sure she even heard me until the voice on the other side confirmed that she did.

“Alright.”

And with that, she hung up the call.

Alright? What did that mean? Was I not believable enough?

Tons and tons of doubts clouded my mind, meddling my thoughts and leaving me staring at a random tree in the distance.

That is, until a body came into my view that seemed all too familiar.

“Hey.” A voiced sounded, cautious. Her voice.

I turned to meet her emerald eyes. An action that perhaps shouldn’t have been done because as soon as our eyes met, I broke down.

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to ruin your-”

“Don’t apologise. He’s the asshole that will be apologising.” She asserted, looking at me with so much care and affection.

We stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, just staring at the landscape in front of us while the breeze brushed past. The silence often broken by my sniffles and coughs in a very poor attempt to cover up my sadness.

“Can I hug you?” She asked softly. So softly in fact, I thought it was a different person.

“I just hate seeing you all upset and I-”

“It’s okay, you can” I cut her rambling off with a smile and she wrapped her muscular arms around me and pulled me into her warm body.

I asked why it had to be this way. But to be honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[squishranger]

AT LAST SEVERAL MONTHS OF BRAINROT COME TO FRUITION

here's a carrd for all tptmers who want to meet some Fun New Girls That I Made (it defaults you to the first girl, but the button leading to the second one is at the bottom... and at the bottom of the second girl's page... is a button leading back to the first! careful not to get stuck in an infinite loop.)

EDIT: OH GOD ITS SO UGLY ON MOBILE. USE YOUR COMPUTER PLEASE

the full designs, transcripts and screenshots of the carrd for mobile users, and other such ramblings are under the cut

REVERIE GIRL , she/they/cloud/dream/star/whatever suits your fancy, wants the world to spin both faster and slower than it does... if she had the gumption, they'd have everything she wanted by now, but they tend to only have the energy to lay in bed and think about lost times. she's a nostalgiacore girlie and she has little else to go off of in terms of defining who she is. (star's... basically just a self-insert.)

PAGE:

JOURNAL TRANSCRIPT: ohhhh my god what am i doing . i cant keep living like this. like its not even living im not even doing anything every morning i wake up and i regret i regret waking up i dont want to wake up but how am i ever supposed to live if i cant do anything other than stare at the ceiling and pretend things are better than they are ??? at this point i'd rather give up. live in my daydream forever with my friends and my cat whos been dead for like two years now i think but i wanna go back to her i wanna go somewhere else. i havent given a shit about reality in fucking forever im so done with it but some part of me wants to live. maybe even get out of my fucking parents house. get a job learn to drive be a person or something. but i'm so stuck. i just hurt all the time. i dont know what part of my heart to follow. i dont know what to do. i can't just go back to bed this time i can't…. i can't…. i always tell myself that and then i do. i need to make up my mind.

CARRIER GIRL, she/he/they/it, has been abandoned by everyone who ever loved her. though she lives a generally stable life, it's a distinctly lonely one, and it isn't enough for her. there is something yet to be fulfilled. some kind of desire. she only wants to feel as loved as she once was.

PAGE:

JOURNAL TRANSCRIPT: hello blog!! i got myself an iced matcha latte from my favorite local cafe today! it was really good. but it like, it got me thinking… will any little treat i buy myself ever make me feel better about how freakin' lonely i am?? man, i dunno why i started thinking like that… i get matcha all the dang time. so often they're starting to feel more like breadcrumbs. i think it'd taste like something again if i shared it with someone. i think i peaked in high school. that was when i had friends and before all that awful stuff happened and yeah maybe i wasn't doing great but i had people. and then they all went to college or got married or had babies or something and… augh!! i can't be bitter!! they're living their best life… just… without me. and now every time i reach out i get brushed off, pushed away… i want someone who won't leave me. will i ever have someone who won't leave me? maybe i won't. maybe i should just accept that. everyone always leaves. i've been nothing but kind to people, i really think that, so what am I doing wrong? ohh boy this one really spiraled outta control didn't it… sorry ;-; i'm just gonna save it and go think for a bittt….

THIS WAS A VERY FUN EXERCISE for character design and branching out with my art style (i did in fact draw both of these characters.. it's probably pretty obvious but i tried to make them look like they were sorta drawn in different styles like the canon girls bc it's cool i think. if that makes sense JSDFJSDF) and coming up with metaphors, i actually had so many other girl ideas that got scrapped for one reason or another, and only two came out unscathed... there may be more... in the future... as for songs, i don't know if that'll ever happen. i have most of the tools, aside from voice synth, so i'd probably just use my own voice. which might be CRINGEEE (ironic statement) so we'll see how that goes!! ^^' don't... don't count on it...

[mochaintherain]

Accismus

Summary: You're a treasure hoarder who's stolen the most precious thing in Inazuma: the crown prince, Scaramouche. (GN! Reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

CW: VIOLENCE!!!!! Mutual violence, but like. there's undertones. idk. Reader isn't a good person, Criminal Reader, Antagonist reader, unestablished relationship, a little toxic (given the circumstances), blood, Royalty AU, (Scaramouche whoops your ass.)

A/N: Formatted on Mobile ♡. Sorry I've been away! This was originally meant to be for a larger story but my ass Did NOT finish it so I'm just going to post this lolz...plus, with Fontaine, there is so much potential ( ☆∀☆) BUT FINALLY SCARA FIC! posted at. 3 in the morning :')

Silver to gold.

The raven insignia colored like the brilliant sun would finally, finally, be yours to claim—tangible, indisputable proof of your convictions, ambitions, and desires. If the gods gifted conduits to those they considered worthy, then this coin was more than divine acknowledgment.

This insignia was your Vision, bestowed by fellow mortals.

Because today, you have captured a trophy.

Prince Scaramouche glowered in the chair he was untenderly pinioned to, indigo eyes never once breaking from your figure. He hadn't spoken once since his fateful acquisition, instead redirecting what would usually be a flurry of insults into a piercing gaze, sharp enough to cut flesh.

His yukata—the layers of purple and red silks, once draping his form in nobility, status, royalty—laid disheveled across the ground. The only things remaining before his abduction were the dark juban slipping over his body, along with the necklace made of black and red string, harboring a single, golden feather. The man in front of you, now a mere ghost of what he used to be.

You nodded to your men as they finished the last knots on his wrists, nodding to you, before departing the tent. He tugged at the restraints, grimacing.

"Wipe that damn smile off your lips," he sneered, red eyeliner melting in the crinkles of porcelain skin.

"Oh? So he finally speaks. Hello, your Highness—" you bowed lightly, though in no part due to deference—"how did you know? Was my excitement truly that obvious?"

"Tch. Not even that rag you call a mask can hide your ugly face."

"...wow." A soft laugh bubbled from your throat, and the corners of your lips twitched—up close, he couldn't escape scrutiny. The rumors were entirely true.

His infamous, hot-headed temperament juxtaposed his delicate features.

Even through anger, he was beautiful.

"Get away from me, worm," he jeered, narrowing his gaze.

"I suggest you mind your manners," you chastised, closing the distance between the two of you, much to his dismay, "you have no authority here, and your mother isn't here to protect you. So know your place, Prince." You spat the last syllable, honeyed in vitriol. The feather accessory almost crumbled in your grip as you jerked it forward, ripping a strangled gasp from the man.

"Here, you're as insignificant as the rest of us, got it? Your blood is just as red as mine when spilled."

With your thumb and forefinger, you pulled a little more, the strings protesting by digging themselves into the skin of his neck.

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Scaramouche wheezed out, his head craning forward, coughs and laughs mixing into raspy drawls, "please. One blemish on me and your head will be on a pike."

"Hah." Your free hand trailed up the plush of his cheek, fingers resting on the crease of his eye.

"Get your filthy hands off—"

"If that were really the case, if you were so precious—" you smeared the pristine makeup onto his temple, and Scaramouche let out a guttural hiss, "—it wouldn't have been so easy to pluck you out Tenshukaku."

"You—!"

And the necklace snapped.

At that instant, his body tensed and his face contorted into a snarl, teeth ready to snap at your limbs. What little poise he managed to conjure for this ordeal dissipated in a matter of seconds.

How amusing.

"You have no idea what you've just done."

"Why so riled up? I'm sure your mother will get you a new one, you spoiled heir," you hummed, stepping away before his teeth could find your arms, "of course, unless the rumors are true?"

Infuriation overtook his indigo eyes, along with a flicker of hurt…or pain?

"Enough," he barked, "one more word and I'll rip your tongue out myself." The remark appeared almost funny, the way his shoulders shook like a petulant child.

If only you saw past the hilarity, and caught the screech of nail to cotton fiber.

"Tell me," you continued your taunt, waving the feather haphazardly in the air. At that moment, he was more hilichurlian than prince, "is it true you’re nothing more than a prince in name? How much of a brat are you, to be denied your birthright on the throne?"

"You'll regret that," Scaramouche seethed, "do you know who I am? Do you know who you're dealing with?" Every passing word accompanied another shake of his arms. "I'll have you beg for mercy."

"I think you're overestimating yourself," you said, rolling your eyes. "I don't think someone who fell victim to treasure hoarders, of all groups, has any—"

"You talk too much."

A small, misplaced half-smile spread across his countenance as the rope fell behind the chair with a soft thud.

The rope tethering him in place.

The rope with red-tinged ends, allowing him an opportunity to lunge.

You narrowly barreled out the way, too busy swallowing down shock.

“Give that back!” Scaramouche hissed, “that’s mine!”

You clenched the aureate pinion in your fist, ramming your elbow into his side.

“Tch!”

He staggered back, glaring you down. Moonlight peeked from the tent’s entrance, and illuminated his back in a way that made him seem almost holy.

But surely, no angel would be stupid enough to stay where their wings would be clipped. His aggression outweighed his rationality, you deduced, as instead of fleeing, weak sparks of electro spat from his bloodied fingertips.

“Huh. You sawed through your bindings using nothing but your bare hands and energy. That’s kind of impressive.”

“That’s mine,” he repeated, “that’s mine.”

“Is it now? I don’t see your name on it.”

Now on adjacent sides of the tent, the two of you locked into a waltz of frenzied attacks and defenses.

Despite not having a sword, the eventual successor of the Musou no Hitotachi fought as if he embodied the blade. Nimble fists like the wind, he slashed at your frame. He moved with deadly, facile, precision, adorning your skin in small, blooming bruises. Your only saving grace to avoid anything greater was your own adeptness to combat. Each swipe was blockaded by a feint on your end, each kick met with a parry, two adversaries encompassing the other in a cramped space, both sparring for purchase in a hopeless impasse. Static blanketed the air as the assault droned on.

This unnecessary long-winded fight could end the moment your men came to your aid. Is that why he guarded the entrance so fervently?

“You know, one scream from me and you’re done for,” you quipped.

“Hah. I’m not that weak.”

You bit your tongue to avoid spilling out the thought that, no, he wasn’t, and you respected his strength.

“There’s fifteen of us and one of you. Don’t be an idiot, now,” you said, laughing softly, taking a step forward, “we overpowered you once, and—oh, history has a habit of repeating itself.”

His brows furrowed, and he glared at you. “Do it then. I don’t care,” he sneered, a sardonic smile threatening to overtake his face, “I’m sure you’ll sound lovely.” The prince matched your footwork; he was hellbent on taking you down.

You knew that if he was afforded any advantage, you'd succumb.

So began the reprise.

Each hit on your forearms, each returned in equal fervor, each swerve you employed to avoid his kicks, your lungs heaved with short-lived air, the deadlock turning evermore in his favor.

As the dance raged on, your composure waned. Imbalance. Sloppiness. Exponentially labored breaths—in, out, in...in, in, in....

“Hehe. Surely you can do better than that, thief.”

This wasn't just a difference in ability. No, how could someone not grow weary after this long? Scaramouche maintained an imperious grin on his face, never once faltering. It was as if he was inhumane.

Maybe this was the effect of royal blood.

Another stumble meant another loss, another small victory awarded to your enemy...

"Why are you even here? Just give up," he spat, aiming a particularly strong punch to your ribs.

Was he getting faster, or were you slowing down?

You saw it coming. You watched how his painted nails—crimson, bloody—clenched together, how sadism bled into his smile, how it traversed through the air...

It was most certainly the latter.

Air knocked from your system, it was your turn to stagger.

"You're weaker than I thought. How pathetic," he said flatly, shaking his hand off, "how disappointing."

You couldn't breathe. Every attempt to reach for air ended in sharp pains and the dispelling of oxygen in your lungs. That damned rag. There was no point in trying to hide your identity at this point. Already too deep in, the crime too far gone…

You clawed the mask off your face, glaring at your opponent.

"You're the one that talks too much," you gasped out between shuddering breaths, your lips contorted into a twisted grimace.

Amidst your blurring vision and preoccupation with beating the man in front of you into submission, you weren't privy to the shift in his visage.

How his eyes widened, taking in every one of your features.

Disbelief casted onto his expression.

Awe.

That too, unfortunately, left him unguarded.

Scaramouche, for all his capabilities, likely lost the battle when your mask fell, and he caught a glimpse of your true face.

Your desperation drew an epiphany; you didn't want to kill him, but you had to fight back. But what if it killed him? What good was a sale if you had no product? Worthless. But what good was a ransom if no one could sell?

Fuck. It didn’t matter. You were a treasure hoarder. A thief. Bound to scrounge Teyvat for leftovers.

And this Prince, right in front of you?

His life was a prize, and you've always had a propensity for stealing.

That was your ambition. Your talent. Your worth.

You were not going to let that gold insignia slip from your grasp.

Not that easily.

Your fingers ghosted your sash. The miniscule glass buzzed with elemental energy.

“I’ll give you one chance, prince,” you murmured. “Stop this ceaseless fight or else.”

“No,” came his immediate response, eyes flickering from your face to your fist, “I’d be a fool to give up when I’m winning.”

“Then stop while you’re ahead,” you snapped sweetly.

With only another laugh escaping his lips, he suddenly burst forward once more. You squeezed your eyes shut, his form like a bullet in your path.

His skillful fighting captivated your senses, yet you had to resort to playing dirty.

As he drew closer, close enough to touch, he took you off your feet, and you grappled at his robes. The feather fell to the wayside, and the prince jerked his head to follow its descent.

Squeezing the pyro potion with your free hand, you could not keep down your thoughts this time.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

The bottle effortlessly smashed against the small of his hip, the unleashed fire focusing its fury on his defenseless muscles.

You winced, the crackle in the air running up your exposed skin in droves. Pyro and the Electro within him swirled and exploded in tandem.

Scaramouche gasped, breath hitching, shoving you away as he convulsed onto the dirt, sudden twitches of protesting muscles exacerbating his agony. His skin stained with sweat—waves of fire rolled over each pore—and shards embedded into his now bloodstained robes—all while folded on his knees--a pitiful display.

You rose on shaky legs, picking the gold ornament back into your palm. At the very least, you could sell this. His carcass would easily hide underneath the sands of Nazuchi beach.

…

…

…

No.

No, something was wrong.

“How…how are you still conscious?”

Although he was clearly affected, and you witnessed his body overloading, the way his head snapped in your direction, and managed an irate expression, devoid of obvious pain that was there mere seconds ago—fascination erupted inside your chest.

“That’s….that’s mine. Give it back!” The demand lacked the vitriol you expected. Instead, it was coated in a breathy plea. “Please! My...my heart...”

“I…” you were at a loss for words. “T-this?” You opened your hand, and his arm—like an instinct awakened within him—darted out to wrench it from your grasp. But, without the support, his body weight lost to gravity.

“Agh-!” He fell, wincing but his arm never went down. “Anything…anything, but that feather.”

Moonlight flooded in as you stared down at your handiwork. And your subordinates, who carried in the odor of sake, who finally noticed that you hadn’t joined in on their hasty celebrations, ran to pin Scaramouche, yanking his arms behind his back, with metal cuffs this time.

“Boss! Are you okay?”

You only hummed at their concern.

"I don't need attention. Our prize does."

Scaramouche, in his hazed state, did not register the moniker. His body forced into rigidness, exhaustion eating at his strength, he only groaned.

Ambling toward the crumpled man, you kneeled, ignoring how the dull ache of your ribs made itself known. Your men, perplexed, slowly backed away, giving you and him some space. He sighed softly as you pulled him into your lap, knees a pillow for his weary head. Taking his face in your hands, you inspected his pulse.

Nothing. Perhaps it was too weak, or too erratic, and yet he continued breathing; clearly alive. How? You wondered. Expected from someone who came from the Raiden herself. Brushing a stray hair sticking to his face, you smiled down at him. What a precious thing he was.

His pupils dilated at your touch, a shudder ravaging through his body. It ached.

"I'm glad you survived. It would have been a shame," you hummed, engulfing him in your gaze. “Out of everyone I’ve come across, you’re the most interesting.”

“You'll pay for this," he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his teeth. His words hardly stung. They held no edge.

"Perhaps," you whispered, parting his fist to place the feather into his grasp. "But for now, I win. I dont need this anymore, since I have you."

"You-"

"Hey, has anyone ever told you?"

"H-huh?" Scaramouche coughed again, too weak to do anything but softly huff.

You began to carefully unwrap his juban away.

"What do you think you're—" the Prince gasped, but was silenced with a finger to his lips.

The robe now discarded, you examined the blood painting over his complexion, the glass a mosaic on his figure.

"My Lord, you really do look beautiful in red."

You carefully started removing the shards out of his figure. His blood stained your skin. But he didn't squirm.

Instead, he whispered a promise under his breath, only for his ears.

"When I get my hands on you, and I win..." Scaramouche muttered, clutching his feather in his palm.

"I'm sure you will too."

.

[lmaonade]

Oh my god I’m so sorry. How the fuck do you embed links in the description. It keeps literally saying “denied” when I try to do it. Teach me your ways please please please

(Love your art also)

last i checked you need to go to desktop tumblr's theme editor. for whatever reason, it accepts html there for the description box. it looks kinda ugly but this is how i have mine setup lol

the <br> is a line break, and then i have those little dots between them.

you might be able to do it on mobile if you request desktop site in your mobile browser.