#temporary wearer

[j-fashion-wearer-otd]

Today's temporary J-fashion wearer is the Digital Stars Miku and Gumi version of Hatsune Miku! She wears uchuu kei with some girly kei elements!

[heilos]

Living Harmony AU relevant character sheets/info: Harmony aka the "Tree of Harmony" Stygian Somnambula Starswirl the Bearded Shadow Lock is actually an official canon character from the IDW comics No. 51-53 and I really enjoyed his mini arc introduction enough to include him as a more significant part of my "Living Harmony" MLP AU animation project. When I found out he's a direct descendant of Stygian, one of the Pillars of Equestria, I had to find a way to work him in and give him a bit of an updated design to fit more into my story setting I have planned. My good friend Ori helped vector my finalized concept redesign in the very top image. Listed below is some character and story context for these sketches provided by my myself and Ori who's been a huge help in fleshing out the world building with this cast of characters I'm using in this AU so far. Shadow Lock's main abilities and canon backstory are expanded upon and/or flavored a bit differently here as well.

Stygian’s distant descendant, the last living branch in his family tree

Lives alone in his family’s castle after they retired to the town of Somnambula

Temporary antagonist to the mane 6 that stems from a fear of the Pony of Shadows returning to plague Equestria

Believed he was descended from a monster and desperately tried to erase any mention of the Pony of Shadows from written history

Was talked down from his history erasing spree by Twilight and ends up traveling around Equestria to find more info on the Pony of Shadows, without trying to erase the knowledge this time, and prevent it from returning

The symbol on the front of Shadow Lock’s cloak is his family crest that dates back to Stygian's time period.

There’s a glamor woven into Shadow Lock’s cloak that enshrouds its wearer’s face.

Shadow Lock’s special talent is the concealment and binding of dark magic. He can effectively bind malevolent “spirits” into vessels where they’re unable to cause harm. This can also be reversed as an unbinding spell. ("spirits" in this context are more like a culmination of lingering, concentrated dark magic that takes on a will of its own)

His family castle used to be quite “haunted”. It’s quieter nowadays, but he does have a large collection of miscellaneous items that most ponies would consider “cursed…”

Always carries a healthy stack of books on his person to read and use as a weapon. His spells can pull fictional characters and monsters from stories to fight for him

Created a spell that can trap a creature into experiencing a historical event on loop by using a small amount of written text. The spell can be broken by doing something significant enough that did not occur during the looped event in history.

Shadow Lock and Stygian are extremely hesitant to meet each other at first in present time. The mane 6 and Harmony step in as mediator eventually to help them work out their issues so they can reconnect as family

Much later in the story, Shadow Lock invites Stygian to live in his castle once their family relationship is repaired, the two becoming inseparable

His original design from the comics:

[randomtable]

a table of odd magic items that may or may not be useful

“…the GM will only tell you something interesting—it’s on you to make it useful.” — Dungeon World

1d20 Magical Items of Mild Utility

A doorknob that can be easily affixed to any door by simply holding it on for about thirty seconds. Once affixed, it permanently transforms into an ordinary doorknob and lock, to which you have the key.

The Shaker of Infinite Salt

A pencil that significantly improves the user’s penmanship when writing with it.

An orb containing a very small pocket dimension, into which one can transfer their familiar so that it may safely rest.

A palm-sized stone figurine of a shark, which will bite any fingers that come near its mouth.

Self-Fluffing Pillow

Watch that shows you what time it was the last time you looked at the watch, instead of what time it is now.

Piece of string that, when tied around your finger, actually helps you remember to do that thing.

Temporary Scissors: They can only cut the normal things you’d expect from a pair of scissors, but if you hold the cut pieces together tightly they will magically re-form into a whole, as though they’d never been cut.

Robes that make the wearer an inch or so taller.

Magic Eraser (erases pencil, ink and crayon!)

Hand-sized stone that, when thrown, always lands 5 feet in front of your intended target—whether your aim is perfect or abysmal.

A bucket that transforms any liquid poured into it into seawater.

A bar of soap that temporarily changes the color of anything washed with it. The color is random, and changes each time the bar is used (1d6: 1: Red, 2: Orange, 3: Yellow, 4: Green, 5: Blue, 6: Purple). The color lasts one day.

Goggles of Shrimp-Color Vision

A ring with a single very round stone. When you say the magic word the stone pops out and transforms into a bowling ball. It turns back into a small stone after 2d4 hours and must be manually returned to the ring before it can be used again.

Boots that produce an animal sound of your choice when you jump up and do a jaunty little bell-kick while wearing them.

A small glass bottle that, when filled with water, appears instead to be full of a swirling, shimmering potion.

A quiet trumpet.

A knife that can only cut sandwiches. It is up to the GM’s discretion what does and does not count as a sandwich for this enchantment, but the rules are consistent.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Close the Space

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!marketing agent!reader

Summary: When your life is threatened, your manager hires round-the-clock protection against your wishes. Despite your attempts to create space between yourself and your temporary bodyguard Jim Street, he closes it and makes you see the world as you never have before.

Warnings: canon typical violence and danger, brief angst, death threats, minor injuries, I don't know how long blowouts take, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 2.4k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

“…seeing as you’re semi-famous and have received an influx of disturbing threats,” your manager continues.

“Wait, semi-famous?” you repeat. “I don’t think that’s a thing. And if the threats are so disturbing, why don’t you just call the police?”

“Because le diable lisse won’t take kindly to that.”

“Le diable lisse?” you ask, incredulous. “What is this, a 1960s movie?”

“You are in danger,” your manager snaps. “And, right now, I don’t care your opinion. You are getting round-the-clock protection.”

You sigh, then murmur, “It’s not necessary.”

“You…” Your manager sighs, then concludes, “It’s not a debate.”

“Hey, Deac, hold up,” Street calls as they prepare to exit the locker room. “I’ve been saving up for a new bike, and I almost have enough, but with OT getting cut, I’m looking for a way to make some extra cash.”

“I’m not letting you babysit my kids,” Deacon replies.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that even if you asked – kidding. I was wondering if your security gig was hiring, or if you could get me a one-time thing?”

“Let me talk to Buck,” Deacon offers. “I’ll see what we’ve got going on and let you know.”

“Thank you, Deacon.”

“Guys, we gotta go,” Hondo calls. “Le diable lisse just took an entire restaurant hostage.”

“Le diable lisse, the smooth devil,” Hicks explains, “is apparently back from his trip to Lyon and is looking to bring more of his family history back to LA.”

“More trafficking?” Luca inquires.

“Suspected, amongst other things.”

“Our bigger concern is the new extortion ring,” Deacon says. “Since his return flight, which landed at LAX at 2100 hours two nights ago, he and his crew have amassed an estimated $3 million through extortion.”

“Which is a white-collar crime,” Hondo points out. “Why jump to hostage taking?”

“If we knew the answer to that, we wouldn’t need a SWAT team,” Hicks interjects. “Too many possibilities.”

“Which restaurant?”

“The Little Door. Outdoor security cameras put five civilians inside plus the staff, so roughly twenty-five hostages,” Deacon explains.

“And le diable lisse is inside now?” Street asks.

“As far as we know.”

“Then let’s go get him,” Tan exhorts.

Deacon’s phone rings, and he raises his brows before he shows the screen to Hondo and Hicks.

“Buck?” Hondo asks. “What’s he want?”

Deacon shrugs before he answers the call. “Hey, Buck… Whoa, when?... In LA?... Ridgeview Country, Shadow Mountain… Yeah, I got it. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Ridgeview Country Estates?” Hicks repeats. “Le diable lisse has property there: a small vineyard.”

“He’s not in the restaurant,” Deacon says. “He’s making threats against a civilian.”

He taps the tablet a few times before your picture appears on the screen. Deacon says your name, then adds, “She works in marketing, is picky about her clients, but managed to make a name for herself by collaborating with a few of the brands she represents.”

“Let me guess, Mexican restaurants, which our French boy doesn’t like,” Hondo jokes.

“It’s mostly specialty apparel,” Hicks reads from the computer.

“Expensive, then,” Tan deduces.

“Yes, but not designer, specialty. It’s athletic and first-responder clothing designed to protect the wearer. She’s done marketing for a few commercial chains, some skincare and publishers, but nothing that should’ve landed her on French organized crime’s radar,” Street says. “There’s more to this.”

“We can go talk to her manager after the hostage recovery,” Deacon suggests. “She’s with Buck now.”

“Commander?” Hondo asks.

“Yeah, let’s follow Deac’s lead on this,” Hicks agrees.

“Let’s roll out!”

“Any idea why someone would be threatening you?” Buck Spivey asks. “Or who?”

“No clue,” you answer, setting your phone on the table before you. “Despite what my manager Erin may have told you, I’m nobody.”

“Your net worth is climbing. Hourly. That makes you somebody,” Buck’s partner, Owen, says.

“Maybe someone didn’t like how the uniform they ordered fit, or the skincare gave them a rash,” you offer. “I truly have no idea.”

“We’re looking into a few leads,” Owen assures you. “Until then, we agree with your manager and are going to provide 24/7 executive protection.”

“Absolutely not,” you argue. “I am a grown woman; I don’t need to be babysat because there is potentially going to be danger.”

“It’s not permanent,” Erin says. “It’s for your safety, and when the person is identified, your life can go back to normal.”

“Terrific,” you deadpan. “Find somebody, then, but I make no guarantee that I’ll do anything they ask of me.”

“Don’t doubt that one bit,” Owen mumbles to Buck.

“He’s not talking,” Hondo says as he exits the interrogation room. “Clearly works for our smooth devil, though, so we can assume he’s responsible for the distraction at the restaurant and he’s close. Any update from Buck?”

“Street’s on his way over there now,” Deacon replies. “He and Owen think he’s targeting our marketing executive for something she may have seen or heard, but nothing solid.”

“You trust Street to do this?”

“Trust me,” Deacon says, smiling.

“Oh, I like that smile, man. Tell me more.”

“Well, according to Owen,” Deacon begins.

“Hi, I’m Jim Street,” Street says, offering his hand.

You say your name, shake his hand, and return to your laptop. “Help yourself to whatever, or leave your choice.”

“Uh, thanks.”

Street closes your door and locks it before he looks around. You try to ignore him in your periphery, but you don’t want a bodyguard, and an off-duty cop seems even worse.

“Look,” you call, spinning in your desk chair. “I don’t think you need to be here, and I have a presentation in the morning, so if you could just… stop. I would really appreciate it.”

Street takes several breaths before he asks, “You’re receiving death threats and want me to stop?”

“They’re threats, just words.”

“You’re in marketing. You should know better than anyone that words carry a lot more than meaning.”

“Oh, so you’re an expert in marketing, too? Well, maybe you should just take my job then since you seem prepared to deal with every aspect of my life.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Street defends.

You know that, but you are still vehemently against the idea of having him at your side 24/7 because some lunatic slipped a few pieces of paper into your mailbox, under your door, and into your car. So, you can give Street a hard time, you think. Especially considering he’s here for no good reason.

“I have to make a call,” you say.

As you stand, Street moves toward you.

“In private.”

“I’ll wait in the hall,” Street says.

“This isn’t exactly a conversation I’d like to have you overhearing.”

“Then I won’t listen, but I have to be close enough to assist you if something happens.”

You sigh dramatically, then lead Street toward your bedroom. Locking the door behind you, you hum to yourself as you consider your options. The window opens, and attic access in your closet, so there’s no excuse to continue feeling like a prisoner in your home.

“If you go out the window, the guy watching your driveway will see you,” Street calls through the door. “And attic access leads to the guest bedroom, right? So, I’d see you come out.”

“Why would I leave?” you reply. “It’s my house.”

“Just wanted to make sure you knew.”

Pressing your fist against the wall, you wonder if there’s a better way to get space than lying about a phone call or showering.

When you emerge from the bedroom nearly an hour later with a fresh blowout, Street looks up from his seated position and tilts his head to the side.

“Important call?” he repeats.

“The call of beauty can’t be sent to voicemail,” you reply. “I’m going to make lunch.”

Street nods as he stands, and knowing he’s behind you makes you itch to run out the front door and not stop. Somewhere inside of you, you understand that he’s looking out for you, and the threats probably do have some truth in them, but you feel like a caged animal and don’t want to be watched.

“Hicks.”

Hondo raises his head as Commander Hicks answers his phone, and he stands straighter when Hicks demands, “What? How?!”

“What is it, Commander?” Hondo asks.

“Patrol just lost sight of le diable lisse,” Hicks replies. “North of Pacific Palisades.”

“That’s headed toward Street,” Hondo realizes.

“Call him,” Hicks commands. “And find out where Luca and Tan are, we need to get eyes on this guy right now!”

Street’s phone rings, and when he turns around to answer it, you open the cabinet that doubles as a hidden entry into your pantry. Slipping inside, you sigh at the privacy it offers. After you push yourself onto the counter, you cross your legs and pull your favorite snack from the shelf above you.

“Yeah, she’s right here,” Street says, turning toward the kitchen. He says your name, steps forward, and calls your name again. “She was just here!”

“Find her, Street,” Deacon demands, pushing his gas pedal to the floor. “I’m alerting Owen now.”

“Yeah.”

Street ends the call and begins running through your house, searching every place you have hidden already. It’s a nice house, but it’s not huge, and each empty room Street finds increases his worry that you left.

Five minutes later, he returns to the kitchen and realizes that the food you are making is gone. Wherever you are, you either took the food with you or managed to put it up in less than thirty seconds while he spoke to Deacon.

Street begins opening cabinets, hoping to find you under the sink or at the other end of the island but growing concerned that he won’t find you. When he pulls the cabinet beside the fridge, he doesn’t expect it to open like a full-sized door. He sees cabinets lining a wall before him and tenses his jaw as he enters the butler’s pantry.

You’re seated on the counter, eating a snack, and Street can’t stop himself from yelling your name. You look up quickly and press a hand to your heart.

“I have been looking for you everywhere!” he exclaims, pointing toward the door.

“Oh, Street,” you reply airily. “What a coincidence. I have been avoiding you everywhere!”

“I’m done playing into the game everyone is where they tell you half the story and expect you to comply with basic instructions,” Street seethes. “You are in danger. Real, serious danger. There is a lunatic out there threatening to come into your house in the middle of the night and make you beg for your life before he takes it. And, if my team is right, that lunatic is on his way here right now. So, listen to me for a few measly hours and then I will be out of your hair!”

You knew that Street was getting tired of your attempts to get space. Though you were admittedly entertained by his reactions and expressions when you returned, the reality of your situation is now blindingly apparent.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, sliding off the counter. “What do you want me to do?”

Street’s shoulders drop before he says, “You actually might’ve been onto something. Stay in here, okay?”

“I will.”

Street returns to the entry, and you repeat, “I’m sorry.”

“Maybe I’ll let you make it up to me with some new clothes.”

You send him a closed-lip smile, then sink to the floor to wait for the danger to pass. It was easier when you didn’t know what was really happening, you think, but that ignorance led you to make it hard for people to protect you. Maybe, you realize, it was also an excuse to mess with Street because he was so close, and you didn’t know what else to do.

You aren’t sure how much time passes before the cabinet is pulled open slowly.

“Street?” you whisper.

“Close,” someone else says.

A man you recognize from a marketing meeting that did not go well steps inside, and a large, shiny gun at his side catches your attention. He smiles as you push yourself to your feet and scramble away from him.

“End of the road, fraude,” he coos.

Before he steps toward you, someone kicks him in the back, sending him crashing into your countertop as his gun clatters to the floor. Destin – whose name you didn’t remember until he said the name of the company he wanted you to promote, End of the Road – turns quickly. Street moves into the narrow space before he can do anything else. You see blood on Street’s cheek, and his knuckles are red. Now, you aren’t really worried about yourself.

“Stay down,” someone demands behind Street.

He stumbles away from Destin and toward you, as two SWAT officers pull Destin to his feet and out of your kitchen.

“Are you okay?” Street asks, breathing heavily.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

You gently cup Street’s face in your hands and tilt his jaw so you can see his face. A small cut beneath his eyebrow is likely the result of the gaudy ring Destin was wearing. Otherwise, Street seems fine.

“It’s okay,” Street replies softly, raising his hand to wrap around your wrist.

The house falls silent, and you’re so close to Street – closer than you have been. When you realize that you created space because you really wanted to close it, you don’t hesitate to kiss Street. He hums into the kiss, then moves his hands to your waist to pull you closer. Moving with him, you can’t imagine running away from him again.

“That didn’t feel like avoiding me,” Street points out as you step back.

“I’m really glad you’re not my bodyguard anymore,” you reply.

“Me too.”

“You were annoying,” you add. “In a cute way, I guess.”

“I prefer protective. And, just for that, I’m going to need an entire outfit – boots included – from your new Motorcross racing gear line.”

“You know what I market?” you ask, smiling.

“What we don’t know is why you were targeted,” Street says.

“I wouldn’t market his… manifesto? I don’t know what he wanted me to market, but his company, End of the Road, is 100% doing illegal business.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Sorry I made your job so hard.”

Street looks down at your hands on his chest, then at his hands on your waist, then back up to your face. “It might’ve been worth it.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” you ask, leaning closer to him.

Street pulls you close and kisses you again before saying something that sounds like: “This,” against your lips.

[belliswritingroom]

Jamil x Reader !Study Session!

___________________

Word count :350ish

Time to read: 3 min

___________________

A/N: !! I made this on my lunch break when I was studying hens why it's kinda short! Sorry!! ________________

Palace of White -  an oasis , place of peace, Sheltered in the vast sea that surrounds. Temporary mountains, strung high with pride, made of grain of yellow and orange that threatened to topple at the slightest taste of wind. 

A lather of blue upon the sky, untainted by the presence of white. The only blemish that was allowed to be present, the source of blazing heat. 

Eerily beautiful, she - the sun- beat up on the ground. Wave of warmth  and light that trickled down allowing themselves to become one with the never ending sea of gold, the desert that surrounds. 

Nature made herself known,sweltering heat that will not subside, continuing its onslaught  attack. Your skin becomes sticky as you're trudging continues.

Line after line it blurs together. Numerical digits ,stuck within your closed sight.Retreating into your mind as you try and relieve the stress not aided by fever of the day. 

The silence you so desperately craved. Interrupted with rhythmic tapping up on paper and wooden desk.Impatien, agitated.

Forcing your open there you are met with reality. Despite sweltering heat you are left reminded of what you were really doing.

A slim finger with skin that had been graced by the sun, deep with the embrace of heated, golden honey like light. A bath he partaken in even now, sheltered with a shallow shade.

Signaling to a line that he  had seemingly made appear.

Red again…

The routine of following the arm to whom the finger belonged. Bracelet of gold just above vexed hand, that continued its mission of tapping. Bone peering its way through each uplift of the finger. 

Uniform that neatly pressed itself against a slim frame. Straight edges guiding gaze to it’s wearer’s face.

Your eyes meet with pure voids of black, decorated with strokes of red, bound tightly to just under his water line. Powders of brown dusted just below his brow, deepening the look that nestled within his features. 

Stray strand of jet black hair lay itself upon glistening forehead as the long tired voice spoke it’s routine lines again. 

“Do it again, correct this time.”

[flamingskull28]

The running of water and gritting of teeth echoed through the room as 4 grabbed another scoup of water and splashed it on her face.

"Still there... w-why is it still there?" Her voice cracked and her hands roughly grasped the area near her eyes.

Grey, horriblely thick, marks ripped around her face like cracks in her skin. Reminders of her failure and helplessness. She glanced at the cause.

A silver mask with deep red eyes, sat shattered in several sharp pieces across the floor. Bits of wiring poked out the bits where 4 had ripped it apart. No matter how many times she smashed it, it still sat mocking her for not stopping Order. 8 went through so much pain trying to save her and fix the mess she couldn't stop...

4 hissed at her own reflection, seeing the tainted image that looked back, enraged her more than any ranked losing streak.

Another fistful of water splashed her face, starting to sting from how much she'd done it, but the wounds still didn't fade; not even slight. 4 felt like clawing at her face, ripping the scars off and hurting the pathetic wearer of them.

But it didn't matter if she did, the scars where there to stay.. No amount of water, clawing, pleading or tears wild change that.

She would always have to look at a failure in the mirror.

Her fist flew through the area, logic nor reason halted it's rage fuled purpulsion till it crashed into the tainted image in the mirror.

4 grasped her hand by the wrist and sucked in a breath. Warm ink poured out the freshly opened wound and traveled down her arm like a flowing river.

She yanked the shard poking out the hand, gritting her beak hard, then sloppy poured disinfectant on. Hissing more at the buring feeling then grabbing bandages and beginning to wrap it up. Covering it like she wish she could do her face.

"F-Four?" A shocked and scared voice called from the now ajar door, where 3 stood, her jaw wide open and eyes in pained shock. She knelt down to where 4 sat and gently grasped her injured arm before 4 could spout any explanation.

4 let herself breath as 3 took a look, the warmth of their touch bringing her back to reality. Only now did 4 realize she'd been crying.

"It..." 3 paused trying to find the words. "The cut should be fine, you.. did a good job treating it." 3 gently let 4's arm down then turned to look at 4's wet face, stained with tears and sink water. A glint of somber realization flashed into her eyes.

"The scars.... you were trying to get rid of them, weren't you?" 3's sanitized eye glower slightly, 4 recalled that happened when. 3 was deeply upset.

4 looked to the ground and nodded. Her crimson eyes desperately avoiding 3.

3 weakly smiled and pulled up her bangs, showing a healed gash on her forehead. "I headbutted the mirror after mine would wash off..." 3 added with a slight tone of humor.

"The scars pain or shame.. it's only temporary, you are stronger for having them 4." 3 didn't try to speak as captain, she spoke as a friend understanding a struggle.

"B-But.. how? I only got these damned marks from... failing and 8 got hurt because of it! So many got hurt because I couldn't stop that cod damn AI!" 4 only noticed her shouting, and trembling hands when 3 tightly wrapped their arms around her.

"They'll never go away 4, not the memory's nor the scars. Washing, scrubbing, covering, or anything else won't remove them. Sometimes the best thing you can do... is to wear it with pride. It's proof you can survive." 3 brought her hand to 4's eyes and traced the Grey marks.

4's eyes averted their gaze "How... a-are you sure?"

3 moved 4's head to met her gaze again "Because you told me that.. and you were right."

---A few years prior---

"Heya 3! What are you doing all the way out here?" 4 asked, taking a seat next to 3 who was curled against her knees with the usual grumpy face that 4 knew all to well.

Though it was different this time, sadness was buried in her eyes. Unnoticeable unless you knew 3.

3 grunted in response to 4 and turned away. Her hands where clenched tightly enough to have left a mark where she gripped her knees.

4 carefully inched closer "Whats wrong..?"

"Nothing.." 3 growled in a tone that would scare most away but 4 knew better. She only talked like that when she was scared. Like when 3 faced hypnotized Callie while 4 was out with a broken arm or when just meeting 4.

4 smiled gently and slid closer. "You're a terrible liar, good thing 8 handleds infiltration. A shame though you'd fit right in, undercover among grouchy octolings who definitely don't sleep enough."

A small smile escaped 3's iron clad persona. Which let 4 notice a faint glow formerly covered by 3's overgrown bangs.

"Oh..." 4 exclaimed before she thought better, 3's uncovered half of her face jolted and she quickly turned inward again, a wave of shame washing over her.

"I-I didn't mean to be rude!" 4 scrambled, leaning over to 3 who shrunk further back the closer 4 got. "3.."

"Just.. go. It's better for everyone that way." 3 growled again. Trying so hard to stonewall again.

4 sighed, sympathy wouldn't work with 3 but there was something they would... hopefully.

"3.." 4's tone switched to a more commanding and stern version. "Look at me and lift your bangs."

3's expression shifted uncomfortably with a hint of surprise. "No.. I- just go."

"3, that's an order."

"I outrank you by experience..." 3 mumbled losing the fire in her voice.

4 gave a glare and hoped 3 couldn't tell how forced it was "My number is higher, stop being so stubborn and show me your damn face." She knew that made no sense but she cared a lot about 3 but 4 was at her limit with the brick wall game, and 3 never refused a direct order for long.

"Fine!" 3 spun to her and shoved her bangs up. Two broken, sad eyes stared at 4 past the rage, the sanitized one glowing brightly "Happy?" 3 tried to let the bang fall back but 4 grabbed it.

"I'm not happy till you stop hiding. These marks should make you proud."

3's face contorted in confusion "Proud!? Of reminders that I failed? That I was weak?!"

"That you survived despite everything and that you won't go down easy."

3's breath hitched in her suddenly dry throat. No witty comeback or denial cane up because 4 was right. Despite everything, she'd survived.

This revelation poured out through tears, 4 stayed by her side to wipe them up.

[mlb-a-rewrite]

Miraculous Make No Sense

so I changed how they work.

I love me a well-thought-out and deliberate magic system. I love seeing the different rules and properties of how magic works and I love seeing how the author expands and works around those rules. Limitations are placed, followed, and then explored.

Miraculous Ladybug doesn't do this.

The powers are unbalanced and unrestrained. Miraculous can do whatever the writers want them to whenever they need it to happen. There are no limitations to the powers and the powers don't balance one another out.

This was the first issue I tackled in my rewrite.

Miraculous Overview

I decided that there are two "categories" for miraculous. They are either first or second-ring miraculous. (This is taking inspiration from the miracle box featured in the show and how the miraculous are organized into different rings).

What ring a miraculous belongs to determines how "powerful" it is. All miraculous, regardless of what ring or miracle box they belong to, have the following features:

It is a piece of jewelry

It is connected to and contain imagery of an animal

When a miraculous is worn by a person, the person will be granted, regardless of what ring or miracle box the miraculous belongs to, the following items:

They will now be able to see all Kwamis (regardless of miracle box or ring affiliation)

A unique phrase that will allow them to transform between civilian attire and hero attire

If a person is transformed, they will:

Get a magic girl costume and a magical girl transformation! The costume combines elements of the wearer's personal tastes and the animal associated with the miraculous

Have general enhancements (i.e. they are faster, stronger, have quicker reflexes, etc. but mental capabilities remain unchanged; if they’re dumb as fuck they stay dumb as fuck)

Have a magic weapon/object unique to the miraculous that serves at the housing unit of their special ability

One power unique to their miraculous

All miraculous have the attributes featured above, however, a first-ring miraculous grants the wearer 2 additional special abilities that a second-ring miraculous doesn't.

Special Abilities

In the rewrite, the special ability unique to the miraculous is how I am classifying the powers of each character. Cataclysm, Lucky Charm, Mirage, Venom, etc. are all the special abilities of each miraculous.

Second-ring miraculous have temporary special abilities. If the fox miraculous wearer casts Mirage and then detransforms, Mirage deactivates the illusion dissipates. However, first-ring special abilities are permanent (with one exception, more on that later). So when a ladybug wearer uses Restoration ("Restoration" being the new name for the "Miraculous Ladybug" power seen in the show) and then detransforms, all the damage they just repaired stays repaired.

Powers are also draining to the wearer. The bigger or more precise the use of the power is, the more physically draining it is. It takes a lot of strength, both physically and mentally, as well as a deep connection with the miraculous/kwami to use it for a wider range of uses. It is pretty easy for a black cat wearer to activate cataclysm and let it do whatever it wants, but it is more difficult to control that damage to a certain area or to destroy tougher materials. This adds more restrictions to the powers and gives the characters something to work on.

First-Ring vs. Second-Ring

For second-ring miraculous, there is only one special ability, hence why the fox miraculous only has mirage, but first-ring miraculous have multiple (why the ladybug miraculous has lucky charm and miraculous ladybug and de-evilize/deakumatization and-). This is because first-ring miraculous are more powerful.

I think of each miraculous wearer as having spell slots. For second-ring wearers, they only have 1 spell slot and 1 spell in that slot they can use. For first-ring wearers, they have 3 spell slots with 2 spells that are permanently stuck there.

To use an example from the show:

Any wearer of the ladybug miraculous, regardless of any differentiating factors, will always be able to use "Lucky Charm" and "Restoration". However, that third spell slot can be switched out to fit the situation. This third slot is there to be able to counteract and balance out other miraculous. So if a wearer of the ladybug miraculous thinks the wearer of the butterfly miraculous is using akumatization for nefarious reasons, that third "slot" would acquire a "spell" that directly combats akumatization, which is where the de-evilize ability in the show comes in.

This third ability only exists to combat other miraculous. If, for instance, a ladybug wearer is fighting in a war, the third ability won't make them bullet proof or something because guns are not a product or feature of a miraculous. The third ability only develops to counteract other miraculous.

In addition to that, this third ability only develops as a result of intense emotion. If a ladybug wearer just dislikes another wearer, the third ability isn't going to manifest, but if the ladybug wearer truly believes with every fiber of their being that another miraculous is being used for evil, then the ability will form.

So in the show, Marinette doesn't gain the ability to de-evilize right away. Only when she gets deeply and emotionally invested in the battle does that third ability form.

The final bit about the third power is that you can only use one third power at at a time. Going back to the spell slot analogy, you can have multiple spells you know how to use, but because there is only one slot available, you can only "equip" one spell at a time. When a spell is replaced with another, its effects disappear. Since two of the spell slots are permanently taken up, there is only one "customizable" spell slot.

Final Notes

Miraculous are all about balance. All miracle boxes have 2 rings, and the first ring only ever have 2 miraculous. These miraculous are always opposites and balance each other.

Which is why it makes no sense that Ladybug has so many fancy ass powers and Chat Noir only has cataclysm. Like what??????? So I ended up severely limiting Ladybug's powers and adding more restrictions and clarification. I also wrote in a new power for Chat Noir but this is already long enough so I'll save those details for a different post. :)

[astrobolical]

What In “Hell” Is Bad - Limited L-Grade Banner “Guide”

Note: Now available on android as well! Unsure of any differences. I may go through and update this later with images from my phone rather than my iPad.

Looking for other guides? Check out my WHB Guide List!

Okay… not sure where to start with this one other than it’ll be nice and short. However, this is the first guide I’ve made that I hope I get to change quickly.

To start though; new L-Grade Devils to pull, and pretty, blood-covered versions of Leviathan and Beelzebub. I currently do not have them, however, so I will be unable to show their skill/ultimates at all. I’m not willing to pay for it, though, despite that I do spend money on this game… but yeah.

What’s this all about?

PrettyBusy has given us a brand new temporary banner to showcase their new devils and artifacts, basically. (With some added drama, but we’ll get to that.)

Get Leviathan (Bloodshed) or Beelzebub (Bloodshed) guaranteed within 220 pulls.

Use the new item “Solomon’s Seal” to pull (50 Rings for 1 Pull, 500 for 10 pulls)

DO NOT pull on the standard banners for these devils! Right now they’re only available on this one

The pity (220) is absurdly high, and I’ll get to why soon

You can also get two new artifacts from this new banner.

Wing-ripping Sword

“The wearer’s HP and ATK SPD increases by 20%. If equipped on Leviathan (Bloodshed), has a 30.00% chance of immediately killing the enemy with under 15% HP he hits with a normal attack.”

Cracked Sunglasses

“Upon an accurate hitting of a normal attack, recovers as much HP as 4.00% of HP of the wearer. If equipped on Beelzebub (Bloodshed), recovers 100% HP upon using skill.”

Both really good artifacts! Especially for the new devils. If you have the seals for it all.

What? What’s Solomon’s Seal?

This is the unfortunate part— and it wasn’t properly communicated from PrettyBusy. We knew the new currency was coming, but not the means to get it.

This is only purchasable with real money.

There is four purchasing options, and none of them seem overly well priced? Let’s go over that though. We get 50 Seals for the update (1 Pull).

Prices for Solomon’s Seal Packages:

241 Seals - $11.99 (4 Pulls)

717 Seals - $49.95 (14 Pulls)

1,312 Seals -$59.99 (26 Pulls)

2,200 Seals - $99.90 (44 Pulls)

Just looking at them, it’s like… okay? But thinking about the pity, and the 0.63% chance to draw an L-Grade from the temporary banner, it’s not great.

Assuming you don’t get lucky, and you go all the way to 220?

You would need to buy the $99.90 package around 5 times. Which is ~$500. Being real, you’ll usually get them before pity, but there’s four things to get through this banner if you want everything. That’s a lot of chance.

Why is this not good, though?

Because there is no free-to-play alternative.

These seals are only obtainable in the shop, as I said before. It’s not the first game to do this, and won’t be the last. It’s not the end of the world, either. But it’s not great or motivating to the ftp players or community. I’m not going to keep ragging on this, though.

If you have an issue with this, contact PrettyBusy POLITELY. Not with anger, or profanity. Be nice.

So… I can’t get them?

You can!

Just not now, unless they change how this works. When this banner is over (Nov 14, 2023) they’ll be added to the Standard Banner to pull like all the rest.

Oh! There is one more thing to add!

Story Prologues

On the bottom left of the banners you’ll find story prologues you can read to get an idea of why the boys are bloodied up. Just click the circular icon of the one you want to read!

[nonexistentbeanbag]

I'm so conflicted on the Red Robin identity for Tim and the discourse around it.

From Tim's inception he's never wanted to be Batman. He's made this claim time after time and backed it up. He doesn't hesitate to call Bruce out when his actions bring harm to himself or others. When Tower of Babel happens and Bruce's contingency plans are released, Tim is confronted by the members of Young Justice and he doesn't hesitate to make it clear that he does not condone or respect Bruce for the disconnect he has from his teammates and friends. Later, during his period as Red Robin, he creates a list of villains whom he's preparing to take on. Among this list however, he has his own list of heroes in the community for whom he's preparing for, the same action that turned so many, including himself, against Batman. Tim has always shared traits with Batman. His detective skills that deduced the identities of Batman and Robin, and ultimately got him the job, his leadership among his peers that could get them to lay their lives on the line out of respect and trust in him, his complete and utter devotion to the mantle and mission to protect the people of Gotham. Despite his best efforts and wants, as he grows into his role of Robin, and later Red Robin, Tim acts more and more like Batman.

But that's not who he is. Tim has always wanted to be Robin. That's who he idolizes, that's the role he was created for. Tim has only ever wanted to be the best Robin he can be. During his period as Red Robin, he's stuck in a grey area where he's not fully committed to being Robin, nor fully given in and become like Batman.

On the one hand, I understand why people don't like or view it as Tim's next step after Robin. Inherently, this suit is meant to be temporary, a means to an end, to be discarded when Tim's goal of finding Bruce is completed. Tim takes up this mantle because of the disconnect he feels from the rest of the hero community. He knows he's in a bad place mentally and that his behavior would leave a stain on the Robin identity. Tim views the Red Robin costume and title as already so stained that he can embrace his withering mental state. He's punishing himself, putting himself in his own prison, letting his negative thoughts and tendencies fester. It's even seen visually through the costume. It's heavy. The cowl looks thick and angry, the belts are big and chunky. The suit itself, pants and tunic, are separated, making the costume a heavier and more restrictive outfit. No matter what way you look at it, this outfit and mantle represent Tim being at the lowest point of his life, surrounded by death, tired of it, blaming himself for it, and punishing himself for it.

But it doesn't stay this way

At the end of his quest to find Bruce, Tim gets alterations made to the suit. The cowl is slimmer, lighter. The outfit is one full body suit, keeping it slim and mobile. The chunky belt is traded out for a utility belt reminiscent of the one present on the Robin suit. The suit overall is more visually appealing, and more expressly Tim.

He's not wearing it as a punishment to himself. He doesn't feel burdened by wearing it. He feels comfortable in it. He feels like himself. He's grown past his time as Robin. This is said not only expressly by Tim, but by the story itself. Tim does not want to be Batman, he's only ever wanted to be the best Robin he can be. Red Robin gives him that opportunity. Through Red Robin, Tim gets to be that, an adult Robin. His own man away from the Batfamily, but someone still expressly connected to it all. The mantle gives him the opportunity to remain Robin, but grow as his own person. Through this mantle, Tim gets his own Nightwing, a better, more lighthearted Batman. A mantle that is mature and can express the necessary elements of the Batman, but that keep the traits of the wearer at the heart of it. Where Nightwing allows Dick to step away from Bruce and be his own Batman through the elements taught to him, Red Robin allows Tim to be his own Robin.

[j-fashion-wearer-otd]

Today's temporary J-fashion wearer is Kawakami Tomie, a character created by Ito Junji! In a collab with Sanrio, she's wearing kogyaru!

[shewasverynice]

Cow *space* Boy - Part 2

((image temporary until I find some sweet Suguru cow boy art ❤️))

Enjoy Suguru! Nanami is next!

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Explicit

Content: Cosplay, Overstim, Established Relationship, Fingering, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Piercings, soft domming

Pairing: Suguru Geto/Fem!Oc

"Suguru," Boe whined, her arms outstretched and reaching. She grasped onto the back of his now untucked and disheveled white dress shirt, tugging at it incessantly. "Baaaabe! Carry me? Please?" She whined again, probably for the fourth time? Fifth? It was hard to say.

"You are perfectly capable of walking," Suguru grumbled, holding up her shiny purple heels in his hand, "I already gave you my shoes. At least let me keep some dignity."

It was kind of a whole thing -- when isn't it a whole thing with life as a sorcerer -- but the long and short of it was: Sarah threw a huge party at her and Satoru's home and everyone brought alcohol. Literally everyone. Even Satoru drank, which was incredibly rare, and it all degenerated pretty quickly. 

Boe and Suguru were the last two to leave, quickly making their exit as Satoru slurred his way to his wife and tried to yank her skirt down in the living room. Sarah had politely, if not a bit sloppily, ushered them to the door before Satoru could solve the puzzle box that was his belt. And off they went, too drunk to drive but sober enough to use a flying curse to get closer to their own home before walking the rest of the way.

Suguru fumbled through the pocket of his slacks, prying out the keys and struggling to focus on the lock. He couldn't miss it when his own shoes shuffled up behind him, the wearer giggling despite herself.

"Suguruuu, baby..." Boe hummed from behind, standing on her toes with her mouth up close against his ear. Suguru's fingers stumbled, tipsy, as he tried to jam the key into the lock. "You wanna put on that thing? You know... The one we borrowed? Hmm? Wanna try it, please?"

"Again with this," Suguru huffed, laughing despite it. Boe slid her palms down his chest, getting a hand beneath his shirt. It was all stuck to his body with the sweat of the hot July night, but that just made him smell even better if she was being honest. Her long manicured nails scratched hard across his pelvis and Suguru's head fell back near her shoulder.

"C'mon now," she purred, all smug, "Won't you do it for me, SuguBoo? Please? My big handsome man. You'd like it, hmm? Yeah? Please?" 

"You must still be drunk. That's the only time you ask me so nicely," he teased, then raised an eyebrow, "You seriously want me to put on that ridiculous cow thing? I'm pretty sure that Satoru didn't realize it was made for women when he bought it. It's already stretched out after he washed it."

"You're not much smaller than him anyway," Boe pouted, "C'mon be cool. Put it on for me, please?"

Suguru sighed, turning his head to look at her, "You're going to make me do it anyway, when I clearly don't want to?"

"Yes," she nodded enthusiastically, her eyes practically sparkling.

"You're fucking awful," he mumbled, turning around. 

Boe couldn't help it. In the darkness right in front of their home she stood up on her toes once again and kissed his pretty mouth. He tasted like beer and something sweet, probably all those mixed drinks someone attempted to make with the last of the fruit punch. 

He was just as drunk as she was, real happy. All sweet and pliant for her as she walked her fingers higher under his shirt and pinched one of his nipples. She laughed, low and sultry, as it hardened in her touch and pressed herself closer to him.

"Absolutely shameless," Suguru reinforced, breathing hard. Then he hummed with a barely suppressed smile, his own hand snaking its way into her purple hair and holding the back of her head. "Mmm, the absolute worst," he murmured.

 "And yet here you are, all red and shit," she accused, "Why's that, huh? What's got you all worked up?"

"Not sure," he said. He grinned into her neck, and when she pulled back her eyes were all bright and dazed, chewing at her bottom lip. "You're being awfully sweet. Maybe it's just the alcohol, but..." his voice trailed down to a whisper right into her ear, "I think you deserve something sweet for being a good girl for me, don't you?"

"I'll make you fuck me out here if you keep talkin' like that," she warned, her nails raking down his chest just sharp enough to make him hiss. He'd ask for more later. She could already tell he was in that kind of mood.

"You think I won't," he purred. His hands were on her hips now, rubbing his thumbs into the fabric of her silky dress over the curves he loved so much. He smiled and laughed to himself, his dark eyes glinting in the porch light. "And what if I did? Would you be able to get me into that costume then? All your leverage would be gone."

"Shit," she bit out, just before she smashed her mouth back into his, pressing him hard against the outside of the door. Suguru moaned out loud, parting his legs enough for her free hand as it glided along the outline of his cock. The other rolled his nipple between her thumb and forefinger and Suguru's head fell back against the door with a dull thud. Boe took her opportunity, kissing his neck while she palmed his cock head.

"You want me to come out here?" Suguru breathed into her hair, "Mmn, Boe --"

"I'm the worst, right," Boe mumbled into his throat, stroking faster while her other hand grabbed at his ass. "I'm the worst, he says to me, I swear to God --"

But now Suguru's hands were feeling greedy too, huge and clutching hard at her hips now, holding her in place while he spread her legs and jammed his knee right up against her heat. Immediately she rolled her hips, feeling his dick hot and hard through his pant leg. She was already working herself up, just how he liked it, eyes shut and mouth gasping.

Suguru could barely keep his composure. He watched her, transfixed and pressing his thigh harder into her, flexing his muscles to give her something solid to get herself off on. Fuck, he wanted to see it. Boe always wants it, she can't help it, she's just honest with herself about it and it makes Suguru hot under his skin every time. Hot enough that he forgets about everything but holding her down and driving her crazy until she's had all that bratty attitude fucked out of her.

He sunk his teeth into her neck, pawing at her breasts through her dress, feeling the hard metal of her piercings and shivering.

“Suguru,” Boe whined.

"Yes? Go on," Suguru murmured, tugging her earlobe between his teeth. He whispered, his breath hot, "Tell me what my good girl wants. Maybe you'll get it?"

He bounced his thigh just a few times and she came, laughing and groaning into his neck, gasping through it. It sent more shivers all up and down Suguru's spine and he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, making a whole slew of noises that no one would ever have expected him to make. Especially not on his front porch, still wanting more and more and more from her.

Finally he detached himself, quirking up an eyebrow in mock-sternness. "Now, are you going to let me open the door? I can't become the cow boy of your dreams unless we go inside."

Boe clapped her hands, bouncing on her toes and nodding. "Yes! Yes, let's go!" She giggled, tugging on his arm.

Sweet fucking lord, Suguru thought bleakly.

Keys in, door opened, and finally he shoved Boe's stumbling ass inside. "A headband with little ears," Suguru mused, shutting the door. "Pink too. Why'd it have to be pink? He couldn't have picked at least brown or black? This is absolutely ridiculous. I can't believe how into this you girls are. Which one of you is the pervert who thought of this first?"

"Well it was supposed to be like... Yeehaw cowboys," Boe told him, setting his shoes by the door. She reached out once the door was bolted, tugging Suguru in by the belt loops. "But he fucked it, and now here we are."

"So I assume Sarah liked it anyway?" He asked, letting her pull him along.

"Oh, yeah," Boe answered with a smirk. She planted a little kiss on his lips, then pulled away smiling softly and just a little fuzzy. "C'mon now, Buttercup. Let's get you all decked out."

Suguru groaned, "Don't you dare call me that during."

She smirked at him again and he sighed. 

Into their bedroom they went, her kicking the door behind them and sitting expectantly on the end of the bed. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her back straight as if a nun with a ruler was going to slap her wrist if she didn't sit properly. Her eyes followed him, wide and excited. He really couldn't let her down now. 

Suguru smiled at her as he flicked the button open on his pants. He let them fall, then reached up to unbutton his shirt while her eyes followed every movement of his hands. Silky black hair fell down in waves over his shoulders as he bared his toned chest, then folded the shirt over his arm. 

On the dresser was the accursed little white bag with the costume inside. He sighed placing his shirt down and opening the bag with a second more dramatic sigh. 

He had been at least a little hot under the collar since the party. Watching all the girls drunk and shaking their asses to the music. He was trying to hide it since he'd made the mistake of looking sideways at Boe with her face all flushed and smiling as she grinded her ass on Sarah and Rin. Only now was he truly and honestly aware of how badly he wanted her, how badly he wanted to be inside her and how pretty and bright her green eyes were.

"Close your eyes," he said, waving his hand her way, "It'll be a nice surprise, right?"

"'Kay!" She chirped, closing her eyes and smiling like a dope.

Suguru snorted, reaching into the bag. The cow bell inside clanged and he grimaced while she visibly shivered and giggled. He rolled his eyes, setting it down to keep pulling out the rest of the blasted thing.

Straps on his thighs first, then up went the little thong. He looked at himself in the mirror, the heat rising to his cheeks before he looked away with a scowl. On went the tiny top, clearly meant to be a tank top. It would have been one on a woman probably, but his broad chest stretched it into a tight little crop top. Straps next, but they didn't fit around his pecs so he chose to just put it around his waist and let the rest of it hang down.

Finally he sighed as he picked up the headband. Turning it over in his hands he narrowed his eyes at a set of tally marks made on the underside along with a crude marker drawing of Gojo and Sarah. Twenty-three? For what?

"Ugh," he cringed, realizing Satoru must have been tallying how often they orgasmed wearing it.

"What?" Boe asked, her eyes still closed but her grin widened.

"Nothing," Suguru sighed, slicking back his hair and placing the ears on his head. 

Taking one last cautious glance he saw himself in the mirror. Absolutely ridiculous. He looked away again, inhaling through his nose before he moved closer, stopping right in front. The clanging of the cow bell certainly didn't help calm his nerves, but then he cleared his throat. "Okay."

She opened her eyes and he closed his as she squealed with joy. He heard her footsteps as she walked around him on her toes, felt the fucking giddy vibrations in the air too.

"Oh my god," she barely contained her giggles, "Holy shit. Suguru this is so amazing!"

She flicked the cowbell and cackled at the loud TING!

Suguru cleared his throat, then tipped his head back. She instantly took a step back, trembling. That look in his eyes! Real dangerous. That's the one. That's the one that always straightened her out quick. 

Her hands glided up his chest, her lip caught between her teeth again and her eyes half-lidded.

"I saw you watching me dance, Buttercup. You want me to take care of all that milk you've made for me?" She purred, fiddling with the bow on his chest, trying so hard not to crack up and ruin the effect, but it was a lost cause.

"Boe," Suguru said, seriously, "Do not call me that again."

Boe's face changed. Suguru knew that look. Oh, shit. Oh fucking Christ, did he know it. He tried hard not to grin. "Oh-hoh? You mad?" She continued, egging him on further. "What are you gonna do about it, Buttercup? You won't do shit. You're just gonna sit there and let me--"

Suguru gave it just one beat, maybe two, but suddenly his hand was on her upper arm and dragging her. She yelped out, "Hey!" But he got her up and onto the bed.

"I get it," he murmured in her ear, his hand on the back of her head. He shoved right up tight against her, his cock hard and grinding against her ass, and oh fuck, he's not surprised to feel how hot she is too. "You like pissing me off. You like a little trouble, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're--" Boe started, but it's a shitty protest. Even she can't deny it, because okay, she does like it when he's mad. She fucking loves it when that composure breaks and he gets real mean. Shatter that calm persona. Bring out the real Suguru who doesn't give a shit about being dignified and just wants to tear her apart.

So of course she doesn't want him to think she'll just roll over. She struggled up onto her arms, pushing back with a devilish laugh, "Ooh! You can't deal at all, huh?"

Suguru pushed his thigh between her legs, hard, and slipped one hand up her dress and onto her hip. The other kept its grip on the back of her head, forcing her back down. "This is me dealing with it. This is exactly what it looks like when I'm dealing with it. Do you want me to show you what I'll do if you keep it up?"

She winced as the rim of the metal bell dug into her back. Then rolled her eyes with a huff, "Oh, yeah, tough guy, fine--show me what you'll do."

Suguru paused, tilting his head, shrugged-- and then grinded his knee between her legs. Hard enough to make her yelp and gasp, her ass lifting off the bed when her toes pushed her up. 

He grabbed a fistful of her hair on the back of her head and caught one of her hands, locking it behind her back. His mouth was right against her ear, panting, which was so fucking hot Boe could barely stand it. He's hard and he's panting; he's getting off on just the idea of what he's gonna do. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that's just-- Boe couldn't even see straight, it was so hot. 

"Spread further," he growled.

"Make me," Boe whispered.

Suguru groaned softly, grinding his hips forward against Boe's. "This was fun," she huffed, "But it's over now."

He blinked. She snapped her wrist out of his grasp, rolling over onto her front and pushing him back with her knee. Fuck, he's strong, but she's quick when she wants to be. Sitting up, she had him by the waist and pushed him back one step, closer to the wall until her back was the one that hit. 

Her back?

Suguru's whole solid body pushed up tight against Boe's. He had his arm not just around her waist but blocking one of his arms too, right against his side. That does leave one of her arms free and she pushes back at his chest.

God damn she loved it when he got this way! She could have just given in and just let him do anything he wanted, but sometimes the struggle was just too much fun. She's not weak by any measure, her shove pushed him back a few inches, but he locked in harder and braced. He snatched that free wrist once again, pinning it to the wall above her head. 

"Now look at you," he murmured. He nuzzled her cheek, lips skating gently along her jawline; Boe shivered hard despite all her best intentions. "You don't get to put me in this stupid costume and then tell me no. You don't get to run away from this."

She smirked, swiping her tongue across her teeth. "Oh yeah, Buttercup?"

Suguru bit down hard on the side of Boe's neck. She grunted, thrashing against him, but he had her pinned too well. "Maybe I should rephrase that since you didn't understand," he breathed, "You're not going to leave." He dragged his tongue across the shell of her ear, swirling a slow circle around it. "Not until I've gotten what I want from you. Not until we play this stupid farmer game, got it?"

Her knees buckled-- damn it! She's not ready to give in but that hot breath and his cock grinding into her thigh and that grip on her wrist, and how the fuck is she suppose to stay upright? "Suguru," she moaned.

"Come on."

Arms around her waist he guided her back to the bed and forced her to sit back down. He pointedly ignored the sound of the cowbell before he spoke again, his voice low and gravelly, pure sex and sin. "Stop playing hard to get, bitch. This is what you spent the last few days begging for."

Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes, Boe thought dizzily, but no, that's a line that should really piss her off. Bitch? Begging for? "Fuck you," Boe hissed, with a smirk, "I won't beg for you, Buttercup."

Suguru just grinned at her. "You will."

He didn't give her the satisfaction of back-sass, because he was on her. He was on her, kissing her and thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. She moaned, clutching at him, because she can't not, but fuck! Was she really gonna give in this easy? What was the point of the cow costume if they were just gonna play their normal games? 

Suguru drew his tongue back to lick around her lips and suddenly she surged forward. Her hands slid down his body, down miles of toned muscles to the hem of that little spotted thong. His breath hitched as she fondled him, cupped his balls and tilted her head to meet his gaze with their foreheads touching. 

"I think I'm due for some vitamin D," she purred, stroking and teasing just around his shaft, "Think you got enough to satisfy me?"

He huffed, his breath growing ragged faster than he planned. She started to get up, but he spun her around and traded their positions. Sitting down, he pulled one of her legs over his and forced her to straddle his hips. She twisted on him for a moment, but his hand clapped down on her shoulder and the other grabbed her wrists and held them behind her back. So much for going anywhere. She wouldn't run now anyway, he could see it in her eyes. She always let him win in the end.

"You're gonna milk this cow completely dry," he whispered, smiling despite the darkness in his eyes, "Understand? All of this milk?" His hand lowered between them, cupping his heavy balls, "You're gonna take it. And you're gonna thank me for it."

She bit her lip, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Am I? Are you sure I can drink all of that?"

"You can and will," he insisted, his hand stoking back up her body, a hot breath escaping when his thumb caught against her clit ring through her dress.

He chuckled when she shuddered, biting at the curve of her neck and shoulder. "Every last drop," he whispered, biting down hard and sucking a deep bruise into her skin. "You won't stop until I tell you to," he continued as he drew back, "Understand?"

And oh, oh god, that blew her fucking mind. The combination of such a ridiculous outfit but her boyfriend's absolutely stellar domming was pure ecstasy.

She turned her head in time to see him conjure a curse to reach out, picking his belt up off the floor and into his hand. For one split-second he left go of her wrists, but the realization hit her a moment too late. The belt wrapped around them and cinched tight, and she was done. 

"Don't really feel like going anywhere now, do you?" Suguru murmured, "I'm guessing you'd much rather stay right where you are."

Boe squeaked, shrugging half-heartedly. She twisted her shoulders, looking up at him through her eyelashes, but didn't dare say anything. Her toes curled against his calves and she chewed at her lip again. 

And then he finally did it-- both his arms went up and  his hands grasped at her dress. He tensed and tore, the zipper snapping and ripping down with a bunch of satisfying pops. Up it went, over her head and into the floor with a Thwap! 

Wasting no time, the bra was next and his teeth were on her right nipple ring. She cried out as it clicked between them, his tongue teasing and swirling it. Then to the other, his other hand splayed out on her spine and dug his fingers in.

"You should have been the cow," he mumbled, "It would be more fun if I was the bull."

"Aah!" Boe's head tipped back, her eyes squeezing shut. His fingers joined his tongue, both of her nipple rings being tugged and teased and making her hips roll against his. He thighs bounced with impatience, his cock throbbing and already pushed out of that tiny thong. 

"You know how to milk a cow, don't you?" He whispered, pointing his tongue to flick at the ring once before he looked up at her. "Some cows need a little more help to get it done. You think you've got what it takes?" He paused for a beat, waiting for her answer. Nothing came so he smirked, tugging on a nipple ring once again and repeated, "Do you?"

"I-- I--" she panted, her eyes barely open enough to see him. 

"I'm going to use you like a milking machine," he chuckled, "I'll slide this big cock right inside you. Make you scream. And then I'll fuck you until I feel lighter."

"I want you so much," Boe whimpered. 

Suguru took a few unsteady breaths to collect himself. He growled, "The hell with it." And shoved her legs apart. He pushed his fingers into her, hard and deep, watching her arch and moan on his lap. She panted as he curled his index and middle, but when his thumb brushed her clit ring she actually cried out. 

"Oh god," she whined, "More, please... Just fuck me already! Please!"

He rocked his fingers in, good and deep, pressing and rubbing. His thumb kept brushing over her clit and she shivered. Her head was spinning. Mind going hazy. His hand brushed her hair back and he let his cheek brush hers as he leaned in to whisper, "Come."

The coil snapped and she moaned. Hips jerked against his, wrists pulling at the belt, gasping for breath and head whipping. His thumb kept flicking, dragging it on for ages and ages. Her eyes felt like they did a full 360 in her skull before she could focus on him again. 

He kissed her forehead, kissed her eyebrows-- when she closed her eyes he kissed her eyelids too. "Good girl," he breathed, "You're so beautiful when you come."

Suguru brought his mouth to hers, tongue thrusting into her mouth. It's sloppy, a hard one, and after a few seconds of his tongue filling her mouth she stopped to focus on breathing. Near as she could tell, Suguru was trying to fuck her mouth with his tongue and he wanted her to hold still and take it.

Eagerly she did, letting him in. He pulled back for a split-second to look into her eyes and whatever he saw there made him hiss out "Yes" before coming back to kiss her again. This time it was slower, easier, more seductive. Suguru licked into Boe's mouth, coaxing her tongue forward, and she shuddered and shook and finally, finally let herself give in and kissed him back. 

It set off fireworks for Suguru, or at least it felt like it. He moaned quietly against her lips, pulling her closer by her hips and squishing his cock between their bodies. One rock of his hips and his piercings clicked against hers down below, both of them moaning into each other's mouths. The cow bell jostled just enough to make a few soft clinks.

Boe could only breathe heavily through her nose, trying to stay conscious as he suffocated her with his mouth. She had to wait. Had to be good or else he'd make her wait longer. Arms under her ass, he tilted her hips into position and dropped her onto his cock. "Oh fuck, oh yes, Suguru..." She breathed, settling in as he shoved her into position and exhaled with relief.

"Move," he commanded, his voice calm and even, "Get to work. Make me come and take all my milk."

She nodded meekly, biting her lip. Then she drove her hips down, twisting and grinding for a moment. Suguru's head slowly tipped back as she went up slow and then back down, a rumble deep in his chest. "That's it," he praised, "Good girl... That's it..."

"Suguru, Mmn, oh fuck... Suguru!"

"That's it, that's it," hips steadily rising to meet hers, balls pressing against her ass again and again, "Tell me--you want it. Tell me."

"Fuck oooh fuck," she panted, head lolled back and eyes squeezing shut.

Suguru reached up, fisting her hair and pulling. "Answer me, slut. Answer me," He growled.

"Fuck you," Boe moaned, trying her damnedest to rock her hips down against his thrusts now. "Fuck--fuck you, fuck--oh, God--"

"You're gonna come," Suguru panted, dragging his lips up her neck, "You're gonna come and milk me dry. Because you--" his last three words were harsh and low, matching his heavy deep thrusts, "You--love--it." 

Boe sobbed out a breath, shaking as Suguru took over completely. Thrust after punishing thrust that wouldn't let her hide from the truth even if she wanted to. The cow bell rang at full force, clang clang clang! "Ohh fuck," she moaned, "Yes! Oh, yes, love it so fucking much, Suguru... Fuck me, fuck me .. fu-fuck me!"

All he could do was pant, losing his mind. Eyes closing, gasping, shaking. She grinded down hard, tilting forward to catch more friction, and her clit ring caught just right. Gasping, she was coming with loud broken moans. He fumbled for the belt buckle-- twisting it and throwing it off. He needed her hands free, needed her to touch him too.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers gliding through his silky hair. One hand wrapped a healthy amount around and with one hard tug he was coming too.

"Boe!" He shouted. His hips stuttered fast, knees bouncing and toes curling. Her nails dug into his scalp and he gritted his teeth as the pleasure and pain dragged it out further and further. With one more groan he dropped his head to her shoulder. His hand moved to stroke up and down her thigh, slowly and lazily, soaking in every twitching aftershock.

"Love you," he murmured into her shoulder, feeling the tremble in her chest of her soft laugh before she whispered, "Love you too."

Their breaths slowed, still heated and mixing together as they kissed in gentle pecks. Boe tensed her core, feeling him throb once again. She blinked, then glanced down at where he was still nestled inside.

"You're still hard?" She asked, "You usually need a little break in between. I'm surprised."

He was beginning to pant again, his eyes almost glazing over and a little smirk pulling at his lips. He tilted his head and whispered, "I'm not sure what's come over me, but let's not let it go to waste."

She snickered, "Well, you won't hear me complaining."

The bedframe creaked dangerously and she huffed, "If this one breaks I'll be really pissed." But already she was bouncing slowly, her hands resting on his shoulders with her long nails sinking in.

"I'll fuck you on the floor then, Miss Farmer," Suguru purred, sitting back on his palms and enjoying the view of her riding him, "It may be just the alcohol, but I feel like I could go all night..."

"It's the costume," Boe breathed, chuckling breathlessly. Sinking down on him again, moaning high on her throat, she was already feeling it as he grew to his hardest once more.

Suguru wasn't fairing much better -- she was so warm inside, so wet. His hands were gripping too hard at the comforter, he could feel his nails tearing a few loose threads, but he just couldn't find it in himself to give a shit. And then Boe moved her hips in low swirling circles. He sat up, grabbing two healthy handfuls of her ass and grinned up at her.

"Let's turn this into a rodeo, cowgirl," he rasped, "Better hold on. This cow likes to buck hard."

"Oh shit!" Boe swore, knowing her eyes were huge in her face. Shocked at that wild look in his eyes just before he's planted his feet and really fucking giving it to her. 

Loud heavy slaps of skin echoed in the room, both of them losing themselves. The cowbell clanged loud, bouncing off his chest and nearly hitting his chin. 

“It’s so fucking good, you’re so, you’re so, God, Suguru!!"

He was gone. She was glistening with sweat and the bouncing of her tits was hypnotic. Whatever was left of his mind tapped out entirely and he wrapped his strong arms around her hips with his hands spread over her ass. His mouth caught a nipple and his tongue ring clicked against her own ring, making his already unstable rhythm stutter.

"Ah! Ah! Aah!" Boe held on for dear life, wiggling and grinding around him, all the muscles in her stomach clenching up. Her hands tangled into his hair and her back arched, pushing her breast more into his mouth. "Ohh, God, more, please I --" And so Suguru did. He swirled his tongue, letting his ring catch her nipple ring as his teeth gently massaged as well. One of his palms glided up her back to drag his nails down her spine. "Suguru, yeah -- yes -- oooh!"

"That's a good girl," Suguru laughed, breathless and panting between words, "Ride this cow. Hold on tight."

"Gimme it all," she cried out, "Oh fuck yes! Oh fu-fuck yes! I want it! Come inside me again!"

Suguru was pretty sure his mind completely whited out. She was riding him just as hard as he was thrusting, making all kinds of sounds with her mouth open. The bedframe was really taking a beating, but if they broke another one he knew he'd still brag about it.

"Good girl, good girl," he chanted. He swallowed hard when she squeezed up around him just to make him feel good. She always had to have an attitude first, always wanted to piss him off, but the truth always came out. And his truth was that he fucking loved it when she was a brat. He loved putting her in her place as much as she loved being put there.

“Yeah,” Boe panted. “Ah, Suguru — yeah —” 

“Like doin’ all the work. Like getting fucked? You like getting fucked, slut?” 

“I love it, I love it, it’s so fuckin’ good, baby, it’s so, God, fuck —“

"That's right you do," Suguru managed, "Damn right you do. This pussy is mine. All fucking mine."

Boe's moans cracked and shuddered in her throat, and Suguru felt it. He knew she was about to come, but her weight felt just right and so good crashing into his bucking hips. He held her hips in his big hands, fingers bruising the top of her ass, manhandling her like a doll and forcing her down balls deep with every push. He took a moment to smack her ass hard, reveling in the yelp. She'd give him shit about it later and he couldn't fucking wait. The cow bell was so fucking loud!

"S-s-su-suguru-- m'gonna-- M'gonna-- !!" Boe gasped, coming while grinding her clit against his belly, squeezing up around him so hard inside that Suguru thought he might pass out. Her head fell back, fisting Suguru's hair in her hands, shoving her face into his flushed pecs. It's too much, all way too much. The smell of his skin, his hot satisfied love sounds; those long silky luxurious gasps and moans in that deep voice.

"Boe, fuck," Suguru grit out, and when Boe finally shuddered back down, he held her in place so he could once again fill her with his come. Hips jerking and head nodding. "Fuck-- Boe, that's it..."

It lasted for-fucking ever. All Suguru could do was let his toes curl in the carpet, sweating and groaning and riding it out. Boe made soft little noises, little sweet whimpers, and even as Suguru was coming down he still couldn't handle it.

"Keep moving, cowgirl," Suguru mumbled, delirious and happy, "Every last drop of milk. Just for you. Hold it for me. Don't let any slip out."

Obediently Boe rolled her hips again, breathing hard and scratching her nails at the base of Suguru's neck, the muscles in her legs twitching. It felt so good Suguru couldn't help the sound he makes. “Mmn, you’re good to me,” he murmured, “Milked me pretty good didn't you, cowgirl. Feel it? All of that?"

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, dreamy. She dipped her head, hoping for a kiss, and Suguru gave her one. His mouth moved wet and soft against Boe's when she gives one of her lusty sighs. “Suguru,” she mumbled, rolling her hips slower and slower, drooping with satisfaction. 

"Darling,” Suguru whispered to her, “Baby doll. My beautiful girl.” 

She shifted, lifting off of him slowly with her nails gliding up his chin. With a sly smile she stretched, giving him a little show as he looked over her body. His eyes lingered on her breasts, then hips, ass and thighs. He chuckled, low in his throat, and sighed.

"I'm going to love you all night," he murmured, missing her already. Boe smirked at him as she tied her hair back.

“Guess I can suffer through it,” she teased, then tilted her head, "But more than twice in one night? Are you sure?"

He grinned, flicking the cowbell, "Well, maybe Satoru was onto something, mm?"

Want your own custom smut fic? Check out my Ko-fi!

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

So.... how are we feeling about heresy so far? :'))))

It is exquisite.  It is beautiful.  It is so well done.  It hurts.  

Narratively, the writers who I know have worked on this, are ones I trust.  I know they will not betray that trust and that the discomfort they have created within their audience is temporary and will become something even more beautiful when they are done.

I can feel their love of the characters and the story.  It is apparent in all the details, in all the resonance, in all the beauty they are manifesting now.

And I admit that I am also quite envious.  We are witnessing the work of a team of people who are masters at their craft.  I shall turn my envy to analysis and appreciation.  The writing within Destiny has not just been inspirational to me.  It has been instrutive.  I have learned.  My own words, my non-fanficton words, are changing because of my exposure to this, just as they have whenever I have experienced something profoundly beautiful and well crafted in ways I am trained to deeply understand.  

I have been carrying on dozens of conversations simultaneously all day yesterday, in short brief bursts in the night (for I struggle with insomnia) and now into today.  So many cherished people, some familiar for quite some time now, some who have only just started speaking to me, some who have not spoken to me in a while, have been reaching out to me.  

Because I have been so loud and prolific with my love and appreciation for these two characters, for their story, for their connection to each other, I have become a nexus of touchpoints. Humans stretching out their fingertips through the ethereal space that is is digital communication.  And I have been reaching back with my own, talking, soothing, appreciating...

And I love this.  I cherish it.  But deep within me there is such a painful aspect of this entire experience that isn’t the good kind of pain.  

The grief depicted in the Destiny narrative now is a fictional one, and is being handled with expert care, shepherded sweetly with loving hands by everyone who has worked to create the beautiful living work of art that is this silly shooter videogame.  But there is another narrative external to that.  

I am able to enjoy the narrative within the game, because I trust the ones who wrote it. I have seen their skill.  I have seen their love of their creations.  I believe in their ability to tell me a story that is beautiful and will not cause lasting harm. 

But the external narrative, that once upon a time there was a game with people who worked on it who loved it, who cared about their players and tried their best to give us something beautiful and meaningful, to delight and enthrall us and their love and artistry was rewarded by job that paid their bills and enabled them to continue to make glorious art with guns and cowboy space wizard magic...  That narrative is not one I can trust.  

The sense of deep injustice and unfairness that the writers who were instrumental in bringing the story we are currently experiencing were discarded after making something so beautiful... discarded, in fact *during* making this thing we are all so emotionally connected to each other through right now... is sharp and painful.

They will not be able to write stories like this any more. 

There are writers who remain.  They have big shoes to fill and some people are only just now realizing how big and how talented the previous wearers of those shoes are.  I trust that the remaining writers, too, love these characters.  But they are not the ones who gave us the story we have in the game right now.  They are different humans.  Their stories will be different from what would have been.

For those abandoned writers, this is their last gift to us within the Destiny universe. I will cherish it and hold it close. And I struggle in doing so, to turn to my own words, my silly fanfictions, my gifts of love, reflecting the love already within the narrative back and out into the universe, because my words cannot bring back those people’s jobs.  

Because if I could somehow do so, I would. Because they deserved better.  Drifter and Eris deserved better than to have people who treated them with so much love and commitment and skill ripped away from them and discarded as though they meant nothing, as though the writing is not one of the most valuable and important aspects of what makes Destiny what it is.

Those writers were betrayed.  They did everything right and still lost.  And that knowledge is not the good kind of pain. No amount of love can fix it. 

But even though it cannot be fixed, that does not remove the need for the love.

In many ways, it makes the need for love even greater.

Art is not made in a vacuum. When I write my silly stories, I have been reflecting love, their love, the Drifter & Eris’ love, the love of every single person who has ever worked on Destiny with their whole heart, trying their best to make something beautiful.  And I will continue to do so. 

Because there is not enough love in the world. 

Because we must make more.  

We must.  

This is what it is to survive.

[mollywog]

Everlark Executioner AU inspired by this post

Read on Ao3

Had the messenger arrived a day earlier, he would have been greeted by a yellow flag above our door, and had to turn back, summons undelivered.

The odds, however, are not in my favor.

My sister, having been ill the week prior, had quarantined us both at home. She hadn’t been fearfully sick, just unwilling to put her patients at risk. The flag hadn’t prohibited me from hunting alone but it had kept the townspeople and duties away for a spell.

I should have known my temporary reprieve would need repaid in spades.

So as my luck would have it, there's no obstacle to the trembling messenger boy delivering the summons. It seems my services are needed for a midnight hanging.

I am an executioner by chance, not choice. Well that’s not exactly true.

Though the Capital acts as judge and jury, the districts must supply the hangman. And because no one willingly seeks the position, about once a generation, they hold a ceremony to select a new one. They call it a reaping: someone’s idea of a joke. Haymitch Abernathy’s name had been drawn twenty odd years ago after the previous executioner had disappeared into the wild, never to be seen again. Haymitch should have been it for another decade or so, but he’d given everyone a scare two years back when he fell off his horse and into a coma for a week. He came to no worse for the wear but the district officials decided he needed an apprentice lest they discover him face down in a ditch with no one to measure their next noose. My name had not been called, but my sister’s had.

I ‘volunteered’ to take her place, but there was really never a choice in it. She never would’ve survived the social isolation let alone the job requirements.

After that my sister and I moved to the far edge of the District near the woods. It’s better not to know the condemned or subject the town to my presence. Most people know the proper direction of their anger, most don’t blame the executioner, but they still avert their gaze and hold their children tighter to their chest as I pass.

My sister, Primrose, on the other hand, is universally admired; a born healer in a place where there are few and the need is great. If I keep myself scarce, they still seek her out for treatments.

Prim is somber as she hands my satchel up to me. She’s used to hearing news from town ahead of time but with our week sequestered, we know nothing of who I may face. But Midnight hangings are reserved for the most deprived criminals,so I’ll take solace that the wearer of my necklace will be worthy of it.

The hanging tree mars the district skyline. It looms ominously over the landscape, growing as I approach the center of town.

The fog thins as I arrive at the tree, a noose is already in place as invitation to the crowd. The messenger this morning claimed the hangman was indisposed, but Haymitch has at least prepared that much before absconding into his bottle; He will have taken into account the wearer’s height and weight when selecting the rope's gauge and length: I inspect his work. Likely a man: Average height, but well fed. I release a breath: no chance it will be a child today.

In the Justice building I check in with the clerk and settle in a seat. Dropping my head back, I close my eyes, pretending to nap, lest someone try to speak to me. I hear fragments of the gossip: three murdered.. a fire… caught red-handed. At least this time my nightmares will revolve around the condemned’s actions and not my own.

Time crawls by. The growing clamor outside is my cue that the time is nearing and I shrug on the executioner's robe, rubbing my sweaty palms down the fabric at the thighs. The hood isn’t necessary, Haymitch gave it up years ago, everyone knows who we are, but I flip the material over my head anyways. If only it could shield me from my conscience.

I had always assumed Haymitch drank because he didn’t care. Now I know it’s the opposite; he drinks because he can’t help caring. I refuse to fall victim to the bottle, it doesn’t solve the guilt, I suppose nothing will, but there are other ways to live with myself.

I take the dose of elixer Prim packed with enough time for the herbs to take effect, making me feel hollow enough to perform the job, but as I exit the Justice building, I'm immediately on edge despite the tonic

Something’s not right.

Through the numbness I can feel the stilted weight of the crowd. The low simmering of discontent is unexpected. With the allegations, I’d expected eagerness if not indifference.

I take my place on the platform. The mayor nods in my direction distractedly.

Head Peacekeeper, Thread, emerges from the prison, two uniformed men in tow, dragging the limping convict. His head is bent, obstructing my view of his face, but I take in the broad shoulders and yellow hair. Another surprise. The man I am to execute is from the merchant side of town, where most have the means to survive without breaking the laws or bribe the Peacekeepers into turning a blind eye.

The man is placed beside me and I discreetly peer around my hood for a better look. The name registers right before it is spoken. My stomach drops.

Peeta Mellark

Oh, no. Not him. No, the odds are not in my favor today.

Why him? I think. Then I try to convince myself it doesn’t matter. Peeta Mellark and I are not friends. Not even neighbors. We don’t speak. Our only real interaction happened years ago. He’s probably forgotten it. But I haven’t and I know I never will.

At eleven and in my lowest moment a boy had risked a beating to give me two loaves of hardy bread. The loaves and the hope it provided saved my life. I haven’t yet found the courage to thank him, and now I never will I think as I stare at the boy with the bread’s limp form.

I’ve broken into a sweat despite the chilled breeze. The Mayor reads the charges, but I hear nothing except a buzzing in my ears.

I’m fighting through a violet haze to make sense of my dilemma. I cannot kill this man, but refusal to do so will earn me a spot swinging beside him. Damn Haymitch! This should have been his problem, and I could have wiped my hands clean if Peeta Mellark. But no, that’s not right either. My debt and his death would haunt me for the rest of my miserable life. Besides, something in my gut tells me I am meant to be here, that there’s still yet something I can do.

A single word floats to the top of my memory.

“Nightlock,” I murmur, no more than a whisper, but it’s enough for the mayor to pause his reading. In the years of my apprenticeship it was only mentioned once. Haymitch had been drunk. Much drunker than usual when he’d discussed a small list of extenuating circumstances and loopholes. When I’d pressed him for more, he’d told me to ‘forget it’ before shattering a bottle and demanding I leave. I had left, but not before hearing him break down in sobs. I’d seen him in all forms of drunk, but never so much as to weep. So, of course, the word was immediately, irrevocably branded into my brain.

“Excuse me?” The Mayor interrupts my muddled memories.

“Nightlock,” I state more firmly.

At the sound of my voice Peeta lifts his head and sways on his feet. The motion reveals what his hair has concealed; a lump, angry and purple over his eye. He’s likely concussed.

There is a mixed reaction among the crowd at my outcry: mostly confusion, but some of the older spectators understand the implications of what I have said and begin whispering among the crowd. The Mayor mops his brow, his pained expression cautiously hopeful, “Do you wish to enact the nightlock clause Ms Everdeen?”

“I do” my voice sounds foreign to me; More fierce and decisive than my foggy mind.

“And Mr Mellark do you accept?” I grasp his arm urging him to stand straighter, supporting him under my shoulders. “Trust me,” I whisper. He has no reason to believe me, but I suppose it doesn’t matter; his only other option is the dangling rope.

His mouth twitches in something of a grin. It can only be a reflex though, I’m surprised he’s lucid enough to slur out, “I do,” and when he does, I’m uncertain whether it’s in response to the mayor or in answer to my plea.

Either way he’s said the words; The ones that will save him from the gallows and bind him to a new fate

“Then I now pronounce you man and wife,” The Mayor’s voice booms over the crowd. “Congratulations Mr Mellark, you’ve been granted a pardon.”

The Hanging Tree Series

[aghost-writer]

Enough

Chapter 12

This is a Yandere MHA/BNHA x Female Reader Fic!

MDNI!!

Y/N stepped into the changing room, the buzz of excited voices and laughter surrounding her as her classmates admired their hero costumes. The air was thick with nervous energy, everyone gearing up for their first combat exercise. She kept her head down, feeling a little out of place among their chatter and anticipation.

Unlike the others, Y/N hadn’t put any thought into a hero costume. She hadn’t expected to be in the Hero Course at all, let alone participate in a battle simulation. Her duffel bag was filled with nothing but plain gym clothes—a black tank top, leggings, and nothing special. She found an empty corner and started changing, trying to remain unnoticed in the midst of her more enthusiastic peers.

"Hey, Y/N, right?" Mina Ashido’s voice called out, cutting through her thoughts. The pink-skinned girl, already suited up in her vibrant costume, bounced over with energy radiating from her. "Where’s your hero costume?"

Y/N glanced up briefly, a small shrug accompanying her response. "I don’t have one. Didn’t think I’d need one."

Mina’s eyes went wide. "Wait, you’re just gonna wear gym clothes? No way! We need to fix this!"

Before Y/N could respond, Momo Yaoyorozu stepped in with her calm, regal presence. "Y/N, if you'd like, I can make you something temporary using my Quirk. It won’t take long."

Y/N hesitated, her hands pausing as she adjusted her shoes. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself, but Momo’s offer lingered in her thoughts. The idea of having something a little more fitting for the exercise, something with a bit more flair, was tempting.

"You’d really do that?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at Momo.

Momo smiled warmly, already thinking through the details. "Of course. Just tell me what you’d like, and I’ll make it happen."

Y/N leaned back against the locker, her mind spinning with ideas. She wasn’t usually one to stand out, but if she was going to, she might as well go all in. A playful smirk tugged at her lips as she considered how far she was willing to take this. She briefly thought of Aizawa, wondering if he’d find it amusing—or infuriating.

"How about something sleek and black," Y/N said, her tone light but carrying a teasing edge. "Make it a bodysuit with the back cut out, something dramatic. Oh, and add a blindfold. I think it’ll give me an edge."

Mina’s eyes widened in surprise before bursting into laughter. "A blindfold? You’re really going all out, huh? Femme fatale vibes for sure!"

Y/N shrugged, a confident grin spreading across her face. "Why not? It’ll make things interesting."

Momo blinked at her, her mind already working. "I can do that. It’ll only take a few minutes."

As Momo got to work, Y/N took a moment to observe her classmates. Each hero costume seemed to reflect the wearer’s personality—Ochaco’s was cute and practical, Mina’s vibrant and playful. Y/N felt their curious glances on her, but she merely smirked, the idea of pulling off this bold look only adding to her sense of amusement.

A few minutes later, Momo handed her the finished outfit. The black bodysuit shimmered faintly under the fluorescent lights, the back cut out in a bold, dramatic fashion. The blindfold she requested was a deep, matching black, and the whole look was sleek, daring, and mysterious. It was as if she was preparing for a mission in the shadows. 

Y/N slipped into the suit, adjusting the straps and smoothing it down as she checked herself in the mirror. The fit was perfect, almost as if it had been made just for her. She felt a small thrill at how the outfit transformed her, giving her a confidence she hadn’t expected.

"Damn," Mina whistled, taking in the full effect. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to seduce someone."

Y/N tilted her head, her smirk returning. "Maybe I am."

Ochaco giggled nervously, glancing from Y/N to the others. "I think everyone’s definitely going to notice you now."

"Good," Y/N replied, her voice calm but assured. "That’s the point."

She turned back to the mirror one last time, brushing a hand through her hair as she admired the way the outfit made her feel. The blindfold added an air of mystery, and the cutout back gave the whole look a touch of allure. It was the kind of attention she didn’t mind drawing—but only for the right reasons.

"Time to make an impression," she murmured to herself as she grabbed her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. The others, still buzzing with excitement, followed her out of the room.

As they walked toward the training grounds, Y/N’s mind wandered to the battle ahead—and to a certain dark-haired teacher, who was likely watching the simulation from the sidelines.

Let’s see how this plays out, she thought, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips.

The morning sun bathed the training field in golden light, signaling the start of another intense day for Class 1-A. Y/N had walked over with the other girls, her new black bodysuit stretching across her form as she took confident strides. The material was sleek, hugging her curves just right, and the back was cut out in a daring design. She was still getting used to the feel of the outfit, the cool air against her exposed skin and the tightness around her torso. The blindfold she wore over her eyes added an extra layer of challenge. It wasn’t that she had to wear it—far from it. But she figured, why not make things interesting?

Mina, who was already bouncing on her heels with excitement, couldn’t help but glance over at Y/N. “So, Y/N,” she began with a teasing smile, “you ready to take on today’s training? I can’t imagine what kind of craziness you’re about to pull off with that outfit!”

Y/N shot her a quick grin, the blindfold covering her eyes adding an extra layer of mystery to her smirk. “We’ll see. I’m here to do my best, but I thought I’d make things a little more interesting.”

The girls continued walking toward the training area, their chatter filling the air. Y/N kept her head down, her hands absently adjusting the blindfold as she wondered just how her classmates would react to her outfit. The bodysuit was functional, but its revealing nature made her feel like she was daring everyone to look her way. 

“I’m not gonna lie,” Ochaco said with a giggle, “you’re definitely going to steal the spotlight today. I mean, that blindfold! Are you really planning to fight with it on?”

Y/N shrugged casually, her gaze shifting between Mina and Ochaco. “Why not? I’m up for a challenge. Besides, I think it’ll add to the fun. It’s just training, after all.”

Mina’s eyes widened as she looked at her, taking in the daring outfit. “Girl, you’re seriously pulling off that femme fatale look. Are you trying to distract everyone?”

Y/N let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “It’s just a suit. If they get distracted, that’s on them.”

As they neared the field, Y/N could already see the rest of her classmates gathered at the starting line. Izuku was there, nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet as he adjusted his gloves. When his eyes landed on Y/N, they widened, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Y-Y/N?” Izuku stammered, his voice faltering as he looked her up and down. His face flushed an intense crimson, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his reaction.

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice smooth with a teasing undertone.

Izuku scrambled for words, his face reddening further. “You—uh—you look amazing! Your costume is so cool! I mean, it’s really unique! Definitely not what I was expecting…”

Y/N smirked, feeling slightly satisfied with the effect she was having on him. “Glad you think so, Izuku,” she said, her voice light but still teasing.

Before Izuku could stumble over his words again, a voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Y/N turned to find Bakugo standing with his usual scowl plastered across his face. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his sharp eyes narrowed at her with disapproval.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, unfazed by his usual abrasive tone. “Momo worked hard on it, actually,” she replied, her voice casual. “And I wanted something bold. You got a problem with that, Bakugo?”

The class went silent for a moment, the other students eyeing the exchange. Some of the boys looked surprised, while others were clearly trying to hold back their reactions. Y/N couldn’t care less—Bakugo was always full of hot air.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she continued, her smirk growing as she met Bakugo’s glare. “Maybe you should try complimenting someone for once.”

Behind her, a few girls chuckled softly. Even Mina couldn’t help but giggle. Bakugo’s face turned a shade of red that could rival a tomato, his mouth opening and closing as he sputtered in irritation.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, idiot!” he snapped, but there was less heat behind it than usual. His scowl softened a little as he huffed and crossed his arms tighter.

Y/N’s smile deepened, thoroughly entertained by the rare moment of Bakugo being flustered. She turned away from him, noticing the other students still eyeing her with curiosity. 

“Honestly, Y/N, you’re rocking that look,” Mina chimed in, grinning widely. “You’re making us all look like amateurs.”

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing over at Momo, who was watching her with a smile of pride. “I’m just here to do my best. And I couldn’t let Momo’s hard work go to waste.” 

“Oh, stop,” Momo said, laughing modestly. “It was no problem at all. You look great.”

Y/N smiled at her and winked. “Thanks for the help. You really knocked it out of the park with this one.”

“I love the whole vibe!” Ochaco added enthusiastically, her voice filled with admiration. “You look like a total badass! I’d be so intimidated to face you in combat!”

Y/N grinned at Ochaco, her lips curling upward in a playful way. “Well, that’s the idea. Gotta keep everyone on their toes, right?” She raised an eyebrow, surveying her classmates' reactions. “If they’re scared, that’s just an added bonus.”

Todoroki glanced over at her, his usually stoic expression unreadable. Y/N couldn’t quite place what he was thinking, but his gaze was piercing. Still, no one commented further—most of them had learned better than to provoke her in front of the whole class.

“Well, now that we’re all here…” All Might’s voice boomed from the center of the field, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “Let’s get started with Hero Basic Training! Today, we’re going to run a simulation: heroes versus villains!”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as she turned her focus to All Might. She was always excited for training, but simulations like this were her favorite. The adrenaline, the challenge—it was what she lived for. The thrill of the competition was always high, but today, there was something else in the air. Maybe it was the blindfold, or maybe it was just the tension of wearing such an eye-catching outfit. Either way, she was ready to dive in.

“The scenario is this,” All Might continued, grinning widely. “The villains have taken control of a nuclear weapon and are planning to deploy it. The heroes need to stop them by either capturing the villains or reaching the nuclear core before time runs out. If the villains capture all the heroes or hold onto the core until time’s up, the villains win. If the heroes manage to stop them, the heroes win.”

There was a murmur of excitement from the class. Y/N didn’t get too wrapped up in the details—she knew what she had to do. Her mind was already focused on strategy, her instincts kicking into gear. The rest of the students seemed ready, but Y/N knew she had something extra up her sleeve today.

“All teams will be drawn by lots,” All Might continued, gesturing toward a container filled with folded slips of paper. “Let’s see who’ll be working with whom!”

As the teams were called up, Y/N stood back, her arms crossed and her expression calm. She wasn’t nervous—far from it. She was more curious about who she’d be paired with. There was a lot of talent in Class 1-A, but she wasn’t sure who would complement her abilities best. But, like always, she was confident she’d make it work no matter who her teammate was.

Finally, when the last of the teams had been drawn, All Might clapped his hands together and looked around at the gathered students. “All right, Y/N, you’re with me!”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into an amused smirk. “With you?” she asked, her tone light but intrigued.

All Might grinned back at her, his usual excitement filling the air. “That’s right! I’ll be teaching you a thing or two during this exercise.”

Y/N glanced over at the other students, noting their expressions. Some of them were impressed, others just curious. But she couldn’t help but be curious herself. All Might was a legend, and she had heard so much about his strength. Still, she wasn’t one to rely solely on brute force. She’d have to rely on her own abilities as well as her wits if she was going to keep up.

As she walked over to join All Might, she noticed Tenya Iida coming up to her, his usual serious expression on his face. He adjusted his glasses as he approached, a nervous excitement in his demeanor.

“Y/N, you’re with All Might?” Tenya asked, his voice full of admiration. “That’s incredible! I’m sure you two will be a powerhouse!”

Y/N gave him a small smile, amused by his earnestness. “I hope so. We’ll give it our best shot, right?” She raised an eyebrow, glancing at him curiously.

 “What about you? Who are you paired with?”

“I’m with Todoroki,” Iida replied, giving a nod in Todoroki’s direction. “It’ll be an honor, of course. He’s very capable, and I look forward to working with him.”

Y/N gave a light chuckle. “You’ll do great, I’m sure of it.”

The countdown to the start of the simulation began, and Y/N’s focus sharpened. The field was about to become a battleground, and she was ready to dive in headfirst.

The simulation was in full swing, and Class 1-A was about to experience something unlike any of their previous training exercises. All Might and Y/N stood side by side in the villain role, tasked with guarding the nuclear weapon. Their mission was simple: prevent the heroes from achieving victory. But the way they would go about it was far from ordinary.

All Might’s booming voice was unusually calm today, his usual enthusiasm dimmed by the weight of their roles. He glanced at Y/N, his gaze sharp yet approving. “You know the plan, Y/N?” he asked, his tone serious, a subtle shift in his voice betraying the rare tension that ran through him as he prepared to test his students from the other side of the battlefield.

Y/N nodded, her expression serious and focused as she adjusted the straps of her villain costume. Unlike her usual attire, this suit was darker, designed to make her blend into the shadows and strike with precision. “I’ve got it covered,” she replied with unwavering confidence. “We just need to make sure Hagakure and Denki don’t get anywhere near the core. If they’re expecting a flashy villain fight, they’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

Her lips curled up into a smirk as she glanced at All Might. “They’re heroes, right? But we’re playing the game on our terms.”

All Might chuckled softly, an approving nod following her words. “I like that. Don’t forget, though, we’re not relying on sheer strength today. We need to outsmart them, too. Let’s see what you can do.”

With a quick thumbs-up, Y/N moved into position, disappearing into the shadows with practiced ease. The villain role suited her perfectly; it was all about subtlety, misdirection, and deception. She wasn’t a typical brute force villain; her strength lay in her agility, intelligence, and ability to manipulate her surroundings to her advantage.

The heroes had already begun their approach. Hagakure, the invisible girl, and Denki, the electric enthusiast, were an interesting pair. While both were skilled in their own right, they lacked the combat experience to keep up with the tactical prowess Y/N planned to deploy. She could feel the familiar buzz of excitement as she prepared to play her hand.

As Hagakure and Denki rounded a corner of the training area, Y/N’s heart raced with anticipation. It was time. She had already studied their movements, anticipated their next steps, and knew exactly how to catch them off guard.

With a sharp intake of breath, Y/N sprang into action. Her movements were fluid, fast, and deliberate, as she closed the distance between herself and the unsuspecting heroes. Her heels clicked against the concrete with an eerie sharpness as she sprinted forward, her target in sight.

“Where do you think you’re going, heroes?” Y/N’s voice cut through the air, dark with malice, as she confronted them head-on.

Hagakure, invisible as ever, made her move toward the nuclear core, but Y/N was already on top of her. Without warning, she darted forward, her speed blinding, and grabbed Hagakure by the wrist, halting her advance. The surprise attack left Hagakure no time to react or escape.

Denki, eager to protect his teammate, launched a bolt of electricity toward Y/N. But she had already anticipated the move. Her reflexes were sharp, her movements precise as she ducked under the blast with ease. The crackling electricity shot past her, narrowly missing her by inches.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Y/N taunted, her voice dripping with mockery as she effortlessly dodged Denki’s next attack. The air around her crackled with energy, but she remained unphased, her body moving like a dancer, every step calculated and graceful.

From the sidelines, All Might watched in approval, his eyes sharp as he observed his student’s performance. “She’s got them thinking. Good work, Y/N,” he muttered to himself, a hint of admiration in his voice.

The battle continued, but it was clear that Y/N had already gained the upper hand. She danced around Denki’s electric blasts, moving with a fluidity that left him struggling to land a hit. Meanwhile, she kept Hagakure at bay, blocking her every attempt to escape.

Though Denki was increasingly desperate, Y/N stayed calm, acting the part of the seasoned villain with ease. Her quirkless state added an extra layer of depth to her strategy—she didn’t rely on overwhelming power, but on speed, adaptability, and intelligence. Every step, every move, was calculated to outmaneuver her opponents, forcing them to play by her rules.

It wasn’t about overpowering them; it was about getting them to make mistakes. She needed to make them feel like they were in control, then take it all away in an instant.

Denki hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out his next move. Y/N saw her chance. Her eyes narrowed, and like a predator, she closed in on him. In a blink of an eye, she struck. A swift kick to his side knocked him off balance, sending him sprawling to the ground. Before he could recover, she swept her leg in a fluid motion, taking him off his feet.

“Too slow,” she said, her voice low and cold. She moved like a shadow, her presence almost imperceptible as she took control of the situation. Denki, struggling to regain his footing, could do little but watch as she outpaced him at every turn.

Meanwhile, Hagakure, realizing the gravity of their situation, scrambled to escape, but Y/N was already steps ahead. She blocked off every possible route, her movements precise and deliberate. She toyed with them, her every action pushing them further into a corner.

By the time All Might stepped in, the match had already been decided. Hagakure and Denki were defeated, their movements sluggish and disoriented as they realized they had no way out.

“All right, you two,” All Might called out, his booming voice cutting through the tension of the moment. “That’s enough. You’ve lost this round.”

Y/N stood, arms crossed, watching Hagakure and Denki struggle to get up. She wasn’t a cruel person, not by nature, but in this moment, playing the villain had felt oddly satisfying. She had been in control, had outsmarted them, and had made them second-guess every decision they made.

As Hagakure and Denki conceded, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of triumph. She had done well—better than she expected. This wasn’t about victory for victory’s sake. It was about proving to herself that her abilities, even without a quirk, were enough to outwit some of the best heroes in her class.

“Great job, Y/N!” All Might called out, beaming with pride as he clapped her on the shoulder. His usual enthusiasm was back in full force.

Y/N gave him a small smile, her expression calm but satisfied. “Just doing my part,” she said, her voice light. But inside, she couldn’t help but reflect on the strange feeling of satisfaction that came with this victory.

She had been on the opposite side, playing the villain, and yet it had felt strangely fulfilling. The game had been hers to control. The heroes may have been quick to act, but in the end, they had underestimated her. Perhaps this was what it felt like to be on the right side of things for once. She had played her role to perfection—and for the first time, the chaos of the villain’s world felt like home.

[weirdoldstans]

Stan gets made temporarily bladder incontinent (magic or medicine idc) and has to wear diapers until it clears up. He tries not to let Ford know, thinking it’s embarrassing having to wear them, he does find out, but he assures Stanley that this will only last a week, and there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But when Stan finds out he’s actually kind of into this? Boy he can never let Ford know now. He would die of embarrassment. Of shame.

But Ford being who he is, snoops through Stanley’s things one day, finding his diapers. Just regular, plain white adult diapers. When he asks Stan about, genuinely upset he may have missed something, Stan can only stutter, not wanting to say that he stopped needing them weeks ago, so Ford interprets that Stan was never cured. Going on and on about his bladder and finding a close doctor to go to about this. Stan, who’d rather his brother find out he was a freak than go to a Doctor just blurts out that he likes them. And then him and Ford are just staring at each other, Stan’s face red hot, Ford’s gaining a steady blush as he just says “…oh,” and walks back to their room.

Stan contemplates the pros and cons of jumping overboard when Ford comes back with his computer open to a web site that caters to adult diaper wearers and asks Stan to pick some designs out. And then switches tabs and tell him to pick some clothing and pacifiers and toys out.

Turns out all those weeks ago, when Stan did medically need the diapers, something was awoken in Ford, and he began researching all about it. Feeling ashamed for wanting to see Stanley all dressed and diapered up. Who would’ve thought that his baby brother was also into. Twins for you, I guess

OH I LOVE THIS VERY MUCH

ford discovering his kink for stan in diapers IMMEDIATELY going into research mode, finding out that lots of people are into this actually, finding all sorts of sites and forums that spark exciting- and, okay, rather embarrassing -ideas in him, but feeling bad bc surely stan is Suffering and ford is being a Terrible Brother

and god i love the idea of stan pissing off some magical creature so it curses him with this temporary incontinence- but in fact it has blessed him with new ways to have weird kinky sex with his brother! thanks, Piss Fairy!

[galacticnova3]

To be clear: the Master Crown is into no one. There’s no such thing as a “we” or “us” with it in the end. It might act like there is for a little bit after making itself known, just to get its hosts to drop their guard— a golden artifact immense power that speaks in your mind and gives hints and suggestions as to what you should do isn’t necessarily a bad thing if it isn’t seeking to replace you in your own body or something like that. If it’s saying you’ll be doing something together, and you’re still ultimately calling the shots, well, why not enjoy the power it brings? You can do anything you want! Cursed doesn’t always mean evil, it just means there’s something more or less permanent and arcane in nature attached to it, so maybe this spooky cursed crown isn’t actually all that bad. Besides, it isn’t as if nobody has heard rumors about Galaxia or the Triple Star’s true natures, and the knight and rat both helped save the world to some degree(twice if you count the events of Star Allies).

Of course what it doesn’t inform its wearer is that the “we” and “us” are very temporary, and it isn’t going to be the Crown that takes the back seat when things change. Said change won’t be instantaneous, though; if it has its way it will be so gradual its host won’t be able to tell the difference. First it’s nothing, then it starts making suggestions, then inspires ideas, influences your actions, thinks your thoughts for you, controls your body… It’s not quite like a ferocious monster devouring the soul in one fell swoop, but more akin to a disease with no outward symptoms. A parasite. It spreads slowly, feeds, feigns being beneficial, makes the host feel powerful to distract them from the fact that they’re beginning to rot from the inside, feeds, conceals the fact that their very mind is not immune to the infection. If all goes to plan, its wearer will be reduced to a husk in both body and soul without questioning it or the being that gave them so much power.

In some ways it’s better to stay ignorant like that. Winning once it has you is all but impossible regardless of your awareness, and it punishes resistance. Not necessarily directly, but perhaps in the way a trap punishes a struggling animal; tightening the snare the more they try to pull away, spreading the glue the more they struggle, letting them paint cage bars with their own blood as they thrash about. It’s not ideal for either of you, though, hence seeking to give the host a false sense of security. Convince them they’re in a castle and they won’t question all the walls around them. That’s the closest thing to mercy it will ever grant, really; the choice between thinking you’re in a warm embrace and realizing you’re being strangled, choked, drowned.

Not every being is susceptible to it, though, but those rare few are outliers, and hardly ever something it would see as even an inconvenience, let alone a threat. It wants to rule alone with absolute power, and if it gets its way, anything that it can’t control or assimilate will simply be destroyed; if it can’t have them, nobody can, not even the individuals themselves. It has no desire for peers, like-minded or not. If anything those sorts are adversaries; if the goal is complete and utter control, there are no allies and there is no friendly competition. There is only those it has power over, and those it does not. Accepting an equal would mean relinquishing control.

Anyways all that is to say the Master Crown doesn’t care about milfs and would probably also hate Star Dream for wanting to kill all of the things it wants to assimilate and/or rule over. Thank for comig to my ted talk