#there are so many details of this au that i couldn't fit into this without derailing the point of the fic/scene

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Cross' Spy Adventures)

Hi guys! I'm back! This one has been eating at me so forgive me if it's a bit rougher than the others, but I hope you still enjoy! (And if plot details don't seem to line up? Remember Cross has no clue what's going on yet :] )

Context: Cross has been asked by Dream to do recover information on his brother's next plans of attack. He's not a very good spy.

(Hi to @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

Stars this place was big.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be on a castle grounds after so many years roughing it with Ink. Inns and taverns and tents. He wasn't sure how much he enjoyed being back in the throes of the rich and powerful's estates.

The cart-ride with the other new recruits had been pleasant enough, they were all decently friendly guys. A few were putting on that tough-guy facade, but none of them could've been older than 25. Fresh off the press, practically. Perfect soldiers to be brainwashed.

Cross had laughed and joked with them about what life in the castle might be like. How different it would be from the old daily grind. How maybe they'd pick up a hot partner in town on their patrols. How they hoped they'd eat like kings.

Though, Cross noticed that each of them got cagey when word of the King resurfaced. One birdish-monster mourned that she couldn't have served the last King, Nim, before she passed on to join the gods. Another spoke of the honor it would bring for him to serve the blood of Nim.

They seemed averse to even acknowledging King Nightmare's existence. Aside from his connection to Nim.

Now, the chatter was all silent, and Cross was among the many new soldiers who were ogling the castle as they passed around its outer wall and entered through a side gate.

It was, admittedly, impressive.

His own home kingdom had less of a castle, more of a monolith. It had been dense, and tall, and impossibly smooth. His father couldn't stand imperfection.

This castle was almost the exact opposite of what Cross had always known. The walls imperfect and overlapping, rather than brick it looked like it had burst straight up from the ground. Bumpy and imperfect and natural, and yet beautiful and structurally stable. He didn't linger on it, but he wanted to so badly.

Instead, he drew his attention ahead. To where a man stood, his armor decorated in the marks which indicated him as a reporting officer.

This man, a human with a crooked nose and a thick, black, beard held up a hand, and the driver of the cart tugged at his reigns, the horses pulling to a slow stop.

One by one, once given the signal, the soldiers filed out. Stating their rank, their camp of origin, and their name.

Cross was middle of the pack, and saluted the human as Dream had taught him and as everyone had done before him.

"1st Year Guard, Pierson Camp, Z." He reported.

He was not proud of his code-name. It physically hurt to say it with a straight face, but when he'd been talking about needing a new code name, Ink had excitedly suggested it.

Z, he'd said, Like 'X' but not! And Cross hadn't been able to shut the idea down when Dream had giggled and tapped his cheekbone, the spot just under his eyelight that held is scar.

Dream had called it fitting, and it'd been settled in a heartbeat.

Cross managed to say it aloud without any hint of suspicion and was waved off to join his fellow recruits.

They lined up haphazardly, but didn't dare to do more than grin and snicker between eachother at. Well. Anything, it seemed. They were taking this very casually compared to what Cross had been expecting.

Though, the moment the captain was done looking to the cart for any stragglers, he turned. The soldiers all went still and aligned themselves.

Cross wondered how they survived training if they goofed off like that so readily.

He watched as the cart which had brought them circled away, and he listened carefully as the man introduced himself.

"I am Captain Rogers. Your platoon will report to me for any and all management. I control your training schedules, your mealtimes, and your work hours." He called out to them, right there on the lawn "you are here today to serve the blood of the gods, and by Nim's watch you will not slack on your oath. No matter how much you loathe it here. Understood?"

Such a bold declaration of... unrest.

The soldiers, one by one, gave affirmative nods and salutes, Cross making sure he wasn't the first. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The captain led them about.

He asked for them to stay in formation, and Cross ended up towards the middle of the pack yet again, just close enough to hear the explanations of their duties, places on the grounds they were allowed to go, and what their daily routine was meant to be like.

Near the stables, they paused briefly, and the Captain was taking an extra long time explaining that the horses in the stables were not to be ridden without explicate orders from him or another commanding officer.

Cross couldn't help but notice the guys ahead of him whispering about something, and Cross followed their miniscule gestures off to the left.

A black cat, wirey and short-hair. It was standing in the shadow of a fence, and he didn't think he would've spotted it if it weren't for its big, green eyes. They were like little saucers in its head.

It was staring straight at him. Tail flicking. One ear twitched.

Cross tried to ignore it, but when he'd glance back, it was still there.

Until, suddenly, it wasn't.

By the time they moved on, it was nowhere in sight.

His old home hadn't had many animals, especially not roaming cats. He wondered if it was a 'barn cat'. Blue had explained the concept to him once.

Regardless, that thing was freaky.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the Captain announced that their last stop of the night would be to their quarters.

He could practically feel the relief rolling off of the guys next to him, and it took am effort to let his shoulders sag even an inch in imitation. The guy next to him looked like he might fall over, and Cross shared none of that exhaustion.

They would start their assignments bright and early in the morning, each of them would have a more experienced guard join them as a guiding measure before they were left to the duties themselves.

A much kinder grace period than Cross had been expecting, honestly.

The Captain escorted them down the halls, long and twisting. Each one held soldiers out of uniform, turning in for the night, going through their routines. As well as some moving out for the night shift. They ignored the rookies as they kept to their own business.

The Captain swung a door open, only to immediately block the soldiers in front from entering the space of relaxation beyond.

"Ah, Ccino, I was worried we'd missed you." The Captain spoke up.

"Soldiers, back up. Stand at attention." Came an order next.

Cross was faster than the others in recognizing the order, but forced himself to wait until the others stumbled into him to start moving. He wasn't sure why they were getting into this stance, but he knew better than to start asking questions.

They all stood in the hall, and Cross caught a few snickers from nearby lounging guards as the rookies stood there.

"The King called upon me, so I wasn't able to meet you where we had planned," a softer, calm, voice rang, "I figured I would run into you here before you turned in for your first night."

The Captain stood before them, and beside him, exiting the barracks, was a monster.

Cross tried not to stare, but he couldn't deny that this was odd. He'd never known a captain to bend to anyone but a higher up. But...

This skeleton was dressed in a servant's uniform. Granted, it was made of a thick, soft-looking brown and tan fabric, with an apron with more embroidery than he thought he'd ever seen in his life, but it was nothing too out of place.

Surely it wasn't a Knight. No, he'd been told they wore masks. He could tell this skeleton was not a Knight. He could see the full skull, soft and gentle, calm eyelights, and a body Cross swore had never seen a single battle.

No. Cross, stop that.

He didn't tear his eyes away, but he forced himself to look back to the skeleton's shoulder. No eye-contact, but still facing him. Good.

"Soldiers, This is our Head of House, Ccino." The Captain gestured to the skeleton at his side.

The soldiers all remained silent, and the captain nodded.

"If Ccino ever gives you any sort of order, you listen." The Captain's voice was harsh with this, the same way he'd spoken about the horses, and the kitchen, and the private training rooms they'd passed. "No questions, no hesitation, no disobeying. You understand?"

The squint of the Captain's eyes were more than enough for Cross to know better than to ask. Something like this was unfamiliar, for sure, but he knew when a soldier was saying something he truly believed in. Lived by. For better or worse.

None of the other recruits seemed to speak up. Cross certainly didn't. He tried not to let his nerves show as this skeleton, Ccino, let's his soft white eyelights skim softly from one soldier to the next. When they came to him, he desperately avoided the gaze, practically staring a hole into the soft fur scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding his spine from view.

"It's a pleasure to meet all of you," That calm voice again, "As you heard, my name is Ccino. I manage the Castle, it's grounds, and the people who stay within our walls. This includes all if you, as of tonight."

He seemed rather put-together. Pleasant. Cross didn't feel any unease. He was positive, now, that this was not a Knight. Yet, he couldn't figure out why such a monster would be held in such high regard, unless, of course...

"As you heard, our King trusts my decisions regarding these matters, which is why he asks you listen to my requests. However, I don't abuse this privilege, and it shouldn't dissuade you from coming to me if you have any problems." Ccino pulled his arms to cross infront of him, and once again looked over the recruits. "You may be our guard, but that does not mean you shouldn't recieve help as well. If you cannot find me, ask another servant and they will get word to me."

Ccino seemed... kind. That had to be it.

The sparkle of admiration in the captain's eyes. The way some of the soldiers watched. Maybe Ccino was the golden light in this dark place? Though, that didn't seem quite right.

"Stick to your duties, remain diligent, and you will be cared for here." He said softly. "Now, stand down and go rest. Your training tomorrow will be thorough, and you will need the extra sleep."

Oh.

Cross recognized the order, and his body moved a bit before his mind could catch up. He relaxed, as much as he naturally could, and took a step. Toward the barracks. Then paused and glanced like a deer in the headlights to the Captain and the Head of House.

Ccino just smiled, and the Captain seemed stoic.

"Seems Z gets first dibs on the cots!" The Captain announced, and with his approval, humor seeping into his tone a bit, and laughter echoing from the older guard who'd been observing?

Cross made the quick duck into the room and grabbed for the first cot he saw. Bottom bunk, closest to the door, the easiest way he'd be able to leave the long room of bunk beds.

The others hurried in after him, some laughing, others cursing jokingly at Cross having noticed the test first.

The test.

Of course it'd been a test. A test to see if they'd recognize Ccino as an authority figure. A test to see if they took the warning seriously. Cross just listened to the superior officer. And... put himself in the limelight of excelling new recruits.

If there was one good thing, though it was mortifying, the others didn't seem to notice what it was. They were too busy teasing Cross for the grape blush that enveloped his face the moment he sat to think it over. The others assumed he'd just slipped up. Listened to the prettiest person in the room.

Once again, Cross wondered how they'd made it through training. Though, it was good they just thought he was a stupid lover boy. Better than them realizing he was following orders on instinct.

It'd been a hard sell, getting to sleep, but he'd managed somehow.

.

The morning was much easier than the night prior. He woke up before the sun, before a lot of the others even showed signs of stirring. It was good he got up so early, sneaking off probably wouldn't be much of an issue.

Tomorrow, then. He'd do his sneaking tomorrow, after he got a lay of the land today. From what they'd been told, he'd be supervised today. Everyone would. It was different from what the Prince had told him, but it didn't matter. Policies could change, and Cross knew better than to disobey new policies.

The castle inside felt like a maze yesterday, he'd hopefully have routes inside, so he'd be able to memorize at least a few escapes. Orient himself. Worst case he could break a window.

He didn't want to leave any trace, though. The best scenario, as Dream had explained it, was that he'd get in, get the information, and get out. A week, maybe a week and a half tops. Cross wanted to spend as little time here as possible. He didn't want to fall into whatever mind-control he'd been warned of. He didn't want to run into the Knights. He certainly didn't want to see Dream's twin.

Though, he was curious. What he looked like. If he could see the sibling resemblance between the Prince and his supposedly brainwashed ruler of a sibling. It was honestly none of his business. If the King never saw his face, that would be all the better. He shouldn't know Cross was ever here at all.

The thoughts swirled in hid head as he stared at the bottom of the cot above his. Wood slats, the whole thing was sturdy wood, with decent mattresses and blankets and pillows resting on its support. It didn't creak at all, which was good. And surprising. Everything in the castle seemed so nice.

Mm, must've been a thing for the people here. Serve the 'gods' and live in luxury. It certainly seemed that was how the Prince's camp had run as well.

Cross couldn't be sure how long he was awake, examining the room and sitting still, but the sun managed to rise into the sky by the time he'd heard the slamming knock on the door to the barracks.

It was easy for him. When the Captain swung the door wide open and announced, in a hardy shout, that they were to be in the hall in 5? Cross rolled out of bed the moment the door closed again.

It pained him to move so slowly. He couldn't be the first one out again. Couldn't be the first one dressed. He didn't know why it took so long for the others to change to their uniforms and rub the sleep from their eyes. Monsters and humans alike! They hustled, some of them, and Cross was grateful a cat monster seemed to gather herself more readily than the others. An orange striped cat, her nose and the tip of her tail a stark white. Cross only noticed her when she rushed for the door, and he let himself trail her a moment later.

Thinking back, she'd been at the back of the group yesterday, joking with some of the others. Cross wondered what the energy change was all about.

He didn't get time to worry about it, though. The hall outside the barracks was busier than it had been last night, and Cross found himself facing, not only the Captain, but also several guards. They each seemed to be in full uniform, different than Cross' or the cat's which marked them as trainees. They seemed stoic before their captain, and Cross almost felt a moment if relief. Maybe this was a decent show of artillery?

No, wait, strong soldiers would be bad for the Prince. He'd have to get through these guys.

He shook away the thought, listening in as he stood awkwardly in the hall, another recruit lumbering out to stand where he'd joined the cat already.

The Captain looked them over, before nodding.

"Harper, you're with Jenna." The Captain ordered, pointing from the cat before gesturing towards one of the guard directly behind him.

Cross tried not to let his eyelights give away his observance as the guard stepped around her captain. She seemed to be a bunny monster, lots of fur and long, floppy ears tied behind her head. She, Jenna, saluted the cat, Harper, and Harper saluted in return.

"Listen to what your mentor tells you, got it?" The Captain asked, and Cross saw a few others exiting as he said this.

Those who started moving down the hall, and the Capatin looked to Cross. It was a kick glance, one look-over, before he turned and looked over his shoulder.

"Z, you're with Shep." And a gesture guided Cross towards whoever his mentor for the day would be.

From nearly the back of the crowd, snaked a dog monster. Black and white, short-trimmed fur. His eyes were brown and intense, and after a moment Cross realized this guard was shorter than him. He didn't like that when Shep saluted, he had to peer down to salute back.

He hardly even registered that they were already moving off, not unlike the two before them had done, until he'd taken a few steps to follow this small royal guard.

"So, you're Z?" Shep asked him as they stopped a few halls away. This one was largely barren aside from a few servants. Along each wall hung a huge tapestry, woven out of heavy threads and hung by a long piece of metal along the top edge.

"Yes, sir." Cross responded shortly. Not giving himself a moment to stammer.

Shep looked at his quizzically, before he leaned forward and sniffed. Actually just sniffed at Cross. It was still a few inches away, they didn't make contact, but suddenly he worried he was stinky. He's bathed before hopping on the cart, and he hadn't been exercising much, surely-

"Ah, you're not from this Kingdom! Not originally, at least." Shep said then, leaning away just as quickly as he'd gotten close.

Cross blinked, and he was sure his skull didn't hide his shock as well as he'd hoped. "I can smell the pollen on you, newbie. We don't have those kinda plants in this kingdom." He explained, and Cross internally cursed himself. Would he have to run? Would he have to-

"You know, I'm not from this kingdom either, I was born to the west." Shep admitted then, easily, using a paw to gesture loosely at the space between them, "I bet we'll get along just fine, newbie. C'mon. I'll show you around your route."

Cross didn't even get a spare second to defend himself, or puzzle at why a foreign monster would choose to come here. Shep was already on his way, back turned and hurrying down the hall at a brisk pace.

"As far as I know You're gonna be taking over my old route, inner portion of the castle." Cross listened, but orders were his second nature. As they walked, he eyed the tapestries hung along the wall. Long and intense, and yet, there was a moment where Cross could see the colors were more faded and worn.

"You'll mostly just be patrolling, watching out for anything out of the ordinary, waiting to see if you're needed for any specific duties." The images showed monsters, humans, monsters again. Depictions of complex circles and red splashes dripping from weapons and hands. And he noticed a trend, eventually. These must've been the previous rulers. The past Kings.

"Your patrols will be alone, the rooms in the hall aren't too important, and it's mostly servants that pass through that way." Cross almost lost his rhythm as they drew to the end of the tapestry, though the hall kept moving. There on the tapestry was a depiction of two little skeletons, one which seemed strikingly similar to Prince Dream, even in his adulthood. Beyond, the tapestry simply stopped. It was odd that King Nightmare hadn't bothered to get it finished with his own visage. Maybe his puppetmaster was waiting to put himself there instead?

"Still important, anyways. The servants halls are the easiest ways in and out of the castle, so we can't slack off." They turned a corner, and Cross pried his eyes away from the tapestry and back before him.

They passed a few more halls, before Shep stopped dead in his tracks, and Cross reacted quickly, spotting the way he peaked around the next corner.

Across the way, Cross spotted that they'd run into another pair who had also stopped. Only when Shep saluted did Cross think to follow his lead.

From the hall he couldn't see, emerged a figure.

Cross kept his eyelights to the ground, but the steps, the shoes, the heavy cape, and especially the dark and slimey tendrils which snaked along in his wake? That was the King. The one Dream had been so particular about not running into at all.

Two sets of feet followed him. Closely. He didn't have to look up to recognize that they must've been Knights. The easy weight of their steps, how close they stuck behind the king, the weight of the one's magic? Surely. He didn't risk a glance until after Shep lifted his head again. Cross only caught a glimpse of a tiger mask turning another corner before the three figures were gone.

In the tense silence, Cross swore he could hear his soul beating. He wasn't sure if it was fear, or indignance, or something else, but he knew being so close to the King had not made him feel good. Dream had been right, something about that guy was wrong.

Shep glanced around, and his ear twitched, watching down the hall where they'd left to.

The group across from them was already moving, towards the hall Cross had just cone from.

"You know, you kids are lucky Newbie." Shep voiced then, eying up the human rookie who was passing by. "When I first joined the guard, the King cut my tail off to prove my loyalty."

He said it so easily that Cross was speechless. What did he mean? Was. His tail was docked, but...

"What?!" The panicked whisper came from the passing humans who had obviously been eavesdropping. He expressed the concern coating Cross's soul and freezing him in place.

"Yep. I heard he used it as a cat toy for the strays." Shep confirmed loosely.

"Shep." Came the snap of his name from the other trained guard, though they didn't move to deny his claim.

Cross hadn't heard anything about that from Dream. Of course, he also hadn't heard about this introduction process either. He was flying blindly here, and suddenly he feared for his limbs.

Shep simply shrugged and kept moving forward. Cross wanted, badly, to excuse himself right this moment and go back and claim he couldn't do it. But he was here now, and he had a Prince to help. And a whole lot of people relying on him to prevent more tragedies.

The training wasn't hard. Shep stood with him, made small-talk, told him all the tricks to ensure he knew when someone would switch off with him, and then they had lunch.

He hated to admit it, but the food was delicious. He hadn't had something so filling in... maybe ever. He couldn't put his finger on it, not quite, but for monster food, it felt solid. Warmer. He felt less hungry after, and a part of him wondered if that was how they did it. The mind control. Was it the food?

But, no, surely not. He was still set on his mission when he went right back to his rounds. The food was just... strangely good.

The rest of the rounds were easy. Simple. And there was at least an hour after where Shep willingly guided him through the rest of the building. At least, anywhere he could.

Cross noticed, once, that Shep broke a rule. He ducked into the kitchen. Returned to a surprised Cross with two pieces of bread and handed one to Cross before tearing into his own. Apparently, from what Shep said, the main kitchen wasn't off-limits. Not really. Just the private one.

He didn't ask about the difference, he wouldn't need to know, after all. He doubted plans of attack were stached in the cupboards of a pantry.

And just as swiftly as it had begun, it ended. Shep said he'd be around the training grounds tomorrow if Cross needed him, and released him to dinner. After Dinner, Cross went back to the barracks.

Many of the rookies were talking all about their routes, others complaining that they had gotten cleaning duties for being the last out of the barracks that morning. They'd start training tomorrow. Cross tried not to contribute much, but he liked listening in. Understanding more about the place. The people.

It sounded like the King had crossed quite a few of their paths as well, and they didn't seem happy about it. Discussing in hushed tones how weird the King was compared to the last. Dark, secretive, hardly even a ruler. Cruel. He heard the human from before shamelessly telling Shep's tail misfortune to the gathered group, who all seemed to be riled up by it, exchanging other horrible speculations.

He needed to get this information. He just... he couldn't do anything until the others were asleep. So. Morning it would be.

.

Cross was a coward.

He knew as much, deep down somewhere, but as he woke up early again, he thought through his plan. He didn't know where he'd find any of this information he needed, he didn't know anything beyond his own route. He didn't even know what he'd be finding. He'd know when he found it, he was sure, but the last thing he wanted to do was get caught

He should've excused himself during dinner to go search around, or chosen a buddy to go wandering with. Shep had told him some things, he knew the room where the Knights trained was the indoor room, and he knew some areas no one went to. He knew the hall where the Knights and King stayed, Cross found it interesting they all stayed nearby, and he'd promised himself he'd avoid the space like the plague. He knew so much, and so little, all at once.

And he waited, thinking, so long that he... he just got up as the others did. Moved to his station to rotate shifts with the night guards. He just... did his duties again.

Well, they weren't his duties. He had no obligation to be here, not really. But the Prince had told him a week. A week and a half. That would make the most sense for an in and out. So, he wanted to respect that. And he had orders now to act out. Surely if he slacked off it'd be noticed, right? Yeah. He'd just slip away before dinner and say he went to train a bit more. Peak into some doorways. No biggy. Surely.

He worried about what he'd do to pick up a slack he hadn't even lost, all day. All through his rounds. If he showed it, his replacement at his last post said nothing, and waved him off.

Cross wanted so desperately to go searching. But. Before he could pass by the hall which would lead to the mess hall for the servants and guard? He glimpsed them from down the adjoining hall.

Two of the Knights.

One with a hood obscuring his face, casting a heavy shadow over everything, his eyelights a dull white. Though he didn't see a mask at first glance, Cross had to make some assumptions based on the one beside him that they were both Knights.

The other had on leather training armor, and a tiger's mask, red ribbons hanging from it, swaying with weight. He could see the skeleton's grin peaking from beneath the mask, and noticed how the tiger draped an arm over the other and laughed.

Cross didn't even give them a second to notice him, swiftly stepping out of the corridor and towards the dining halls after all. He didn't want to get in the way. He didn't want to be on their radar.

He needed to know when they trained. When they'd all be occupied so he wouldn't have to worry about them catching him off-guard.

Off guard. Ink would be having a hayday with that one if he'd made that joke back at camp.

Cross just kept moving forward, ducking into the dining space before the Knights even reached that hall.

.

Three days. It took him 6 whole days to learn more. To learn where the information might be. To learn where the Knights usually were at any given time. To learn how to navigate the place better. To not worry about getting caught.

He'd gone back to Shep one day, to test if he'd be told to go off the dinner or if he'd be sought out. He was not, so he had his proof that no one cared so long as he was doing his rounds.

He'd sat and talked. Asked about the Knights. (Shep had little to say that Cross didn't already know). Asked about training. (Shep said he was always out here now, running routines.) Asked about the king.

And Shep was interested about him asking on the King. Cross almost fumbled, but said he'd heard a lot of rumors. Shep had been here a while. What was true?

And Shep told him stories. In a low voice. Of the King breaking spines, of throwing objects with his tendrils, of sentencing folks to death over minor transgressions. Of his ruthless rule and cruel first. How he brought in servants and guards by force. Ripping them from their homes. How the king would declare traitors and have them hung.

Eventually, Cross asked him to stop. He'd heard enough.

Some of those things he'd heard from Dream, or the folks back at that encampment. Others were new. Insider information. Things he'd never dreamed of.

It was informational, and Cross decided that he'd keep learning more, until he was sure he had the perfect moment to strike.

.

He wasn't the smartest, okay?

Cross had done his rounds, and the moment he was done, he scurried off towards his destination.

He paid no mind to servants or guards, and used a servant's hall to arrive in the location he needed. The hall where the King's Study was located.

Yesterday he'd investigated the war room. Entering and closing the doors behind him, the room had been a mess of papers and figures and notes. The maps of each neighboring kingdom alone were strewn on walls, like the ravings of a mad-man. None of them had plans of attack, though. The light from his eyelights had been enough to illuminate each one as he approached. Every single one was a new defensive plan. Ways to deploy troops if they were attacked. Not one seemed unprovoked which was... strange.

Cross was almost unable to find any sign of the King's next route of action for his destructive feats, so he was resigned to search the study tomorrow. His only solace was that exiting the War Room had only been met with a servant a ways down the hall, and a cat pacing by, paying him no mind.

The cats in this place were many. Cross had never seen so many cats in one place, and when he'd asked at dinner, it seemed that everyone thought they belonged to the Head of House, Ccino.

It would make sense, Cross had seen the embroidery along his apron, plenty of paws and cat-like figures along the hemlines, between the branch and tree motif the entire building seemed set on holding tight to. But, it amazed him that there would be so many, allowed to run free. The King must've been very lenient with his Head of House, to allow so many creatures free-roam.

...then again, the Knights wore masks decorated with Big Cats. Cross had finally caught a glimpse of the Lion, out on the lawn while he was talking to Shep. He carried an Axe twice the size of Cross' torso, and he seemed to wield it with hardly any problem. Cross just hoped the little beasts weren't being sacrificed. He'd heard about the barbaric practices from Ink once when he had his head on straight. He hadn't had the guts to bring it up to the Prince. Or Shep. Fearing the answer.

And so, now, he moved for the study. When he knew no one would be around, when no one would see him or bother him. He could dig through the information, tuck it away in his ribcage, and get out of dodge.

It was mid-day. Apparently the Knights tended to have training about now, and the King always supervised. So the forbidden hall, as the others called it, was dead and silent.

It wasn't hard to determine which door was the study, the door was carved carefully with a beautiful tree, and the handle was a shining gold, as though it got less use than the other rooms. He tested the handle, it moved, and he slipped inside.

Of course it wouldn't be locked. Who would have the guts to go snooping around in the private spaces of murderous tyrant kings? Well. Cross would, but that was besides the point.

The inside was lit by a few stray candles, and Cross tried not to marvel at the luxury of the room. Everything was carved out of dark wood, with golden fabric lacing the cushions of lounge seats and the curtains which covered the windows. It was darker, used, but still gorgeous. The daylight filtered in through an open window, giving it a warm ambience. Cross didn't know how a room used by such an unpleasant man would be so calm and soft.

There was a case along one wall, large and long. Hung inside were masks of all different shapes and styles. Some were decorated with swirls and gems, but most resembled animals. A crane, a swan, a horse, a sheep, a hawk, a wolf, they all stared out at him with blank, empty, sockets. He wondered if these were used or not, but they seemed untouched.

And beside that case, in the far corner, sat a heavy desk, with bookshelves filled to the brim tucked just behind it.

The desk was heavy, and it looked to be covered with papers, letter drafts, just a quick glance over the contents told Cross this was just what he needed.

He stood behind the desk, unable to stop himself from lifting the papers up into his hands. From here he could see the door, as well. He'd know if someone was coming.

The first paper he looked at seemed to be the draft of a letter, addressed to someone by the name of Crop. The handwriting was beautiful, and Cross was lucky Ink knew how to write in so many dialects, or he'd have trouble deciphering exactly what this was saying. The cursive was precise. And... it seemed a half-finished letter asking about plants. The state of a harvest? No, that's strange.

Cross lifted the few pages which had been tucked beneath the first, confused. These ones seemed to be written in a much more unsure writing, but they held what he could only call sketches. Showing clouds and plants and... fields? Cross wasn't familiar with farming, but he could recognize a field anywhere. The paper had a few words underlined and circled, and they seemed to be later additions, added overtop by someone else. The words seemed to be mentioned again in the letter draft? It was completely innocuous. If this was the King's letter, he was just asking about the wellbeing of a farmer's harvest. Asking about improvements.

He moved them hastily into a stack and set them aside, reaching for the next haphazard bundle of paper. That couldn't have been right.

The next piece he scooped up was in that same pretty cursive, but this time it wasn't a letter. Instead it was some sort of list. Locations, some crossed off, and some untouched. Was this what he was searching for? Surely this was it.

He moved to grab the next page that had been beneath it. It held more context, it seemed. Notes scribbled down about how these towns needed changes. Action. Cross looked to the first crossed-off name, one he recognized from one of the woman at Dream's encampment.

The paper read of a faulty justice system, a lawman who needed to be checked up on for counts of bribery and false accusations. She'd said the Knight, the tiger, had arrived and asked for their head of city guard, the one who enforced rules and kept peace in their small village. Two days later he was killed, replaced by someone the King installed, and he started jailing innocent folks.

Cross looked to the next one, a pass where travel had been haunted by the royal guard. He'd been told they'd done it to halt people from mining in the area, a crop of wealth the King wanted to hoard. But this said that it was a mountain pass with frequent and dangerous rocks lines thanks to a sudden increase in storms since his rule. Notes reminding of supplies, and pay, and signs. Signs.

The next was not crossed off. An issue of bandits ransacked the town when people would enter or exit. Notes in messier scrawl seemed to pose solutions. Ideas. One that was circled said 'Send Horror, Autumn'. It was nearing the end of summer now.

This did seem to be the list that Dream had suggested existed, my twin is organized, he'll have a list with extensive notes, but he'd said nothing about the way the list wouldn't actually contain anything incriminating.

He skimmed again, but it seemed like nothing harmful. One lower down even acknowledged a damage caused during some sort of raid and to divert funds to someone. A random shopkeep in an outer city. This didn't add up at all.

He folded the paper silently and stuffed it into his armor, but kept looking. No doubt there would be something else. One of the lower pieces, something hidden away.

But the papers atop the desk seemed just as helpful in nature. Even ones like drafted decrees or laws to impose later were not unreasonable. One even seemed to propose a ban on child labor. What kind of tyrant would pass up a chance for easy workers?

Digging through the drawers revealed nothing more, just an impressive collection of quills, ink, and more books it seemed didn't fit on the shelves behind him. He wouldn't find anything more useful than these documents, he was sure. He... he just hoped the Prince would be able to see whatever evil Cross was obviously missing here. He scooped up another piece, one of the decrees, and then the letter draft to that Crop. Maybe they could speak to him? No, the planning was up to Dream. He was just here to get the information and go.

And now that he had it...

Cross sighed a bit, he couldn't understand why these were the things in here. In this innermost sanctum where only the trusted went. Everyone feared this King so much, Dream claimed he and his master were such a threat. And yet all Cross could find was a record of damages, and a plan to enact damage control. It...

"Having some trouble finding the dirt?"

Cross felt his entire soul freeze up as the voice cut through the silent room. It was quiet, and deep, and a bit gravelly. He didn't recognize it, but that didn't matter, because he knew he had been alone.

Almost all at once, a wave of presence crashed over his awareness. That damp static that had passed by once in the hall. Trailing the King. He didn't have to look up to know it was one of the Knights somewhere before him.

"Our King isn't usually one to make a mess." The voice said again, calmly.

Cross dragged his eyelights up, hands tentatively hovering at his sides. There, sat comfortably on one of the chairs, was the hooded one. Dust, Shep had told him.

Now, despite the shadow cast by his hood, Cross could see the faint details of his panther mask, black and hidden away in the darkness of his cover. He seemed entirely at-ease, not a care in the world, watching Cross. If his soul hadn't been sinking into his gut, Cross would've even thought Dust found the situation humorous.

He steeled himself, watching. Could he try and bluff his way out of this? Somehow? How long had Dust been there? How much had he seen?

"Any chance you'd believe I was looking for a good book?" Cross asked, though the bold humor he'd attempted to channel in the way Ink had done so many times before fell flat. Maybe his growing panic was clouding his mind, or maybe he'd never been much of a comedian.

Dust just stared at him, tilting his head a bit. By the way his eyelights changed shape, Cross imagined his sockets had drooped to give an unamused stare. Not a great sign.

"Are you going to try and run, or can I catch a break today?" Dust just asked across the room.

Mm. Cross didn't have much of a choice here anymore. Dream had told him, drilled it into his skull, not to get caught. Especially not by the Knights. They'd torture him. Kill him. The stories of what they did to traitors... Cross couldn't let this knight get hold of him. Couldn't be trapped. He had to get out of here.

He promised Ink he'd be back.

With that thought, his sword summoned to his hand in a flash. It was big, and bulky, and not the best for an indoor fight, but he'd make due. He just needed to get away from this guy. That was all.

His summons was clearly a declaration of intent, because he heard Dust scoff over the rush of adrenaline running through him and roaring through his ears. All at once, the electric charge in the room seemed to up itself. Bones, blue, cracked downwards from the rafters and planted themselves sturdy before the door and the window. His two possible exits. Dust stood up and stretched his arms before him.

"Alright, let's get this over with." Dust voiced, then.

Cross nearly let his guard down in the first moment. He felt a charge of energy coming from his side, and narrowly vaulted over the desk to avoid the spiked and jagged bones which rose where his feet had just been planted.

Momentum carried him now, and his sword was already poised for attack before his mind quick processed it. He slashed at Dust, growing rapidly closer. Hid swing was met with pure white bones that stopped his swing, just enough for Dust to avoid the hit with a split second to spare.

He was quiet, as they fought. As Cross lunged and spun and threw himself forward with grunts of exertion. It was unsettling, how the only noises were the cracks of his magic ripping into existence or Cross's sword cracking them to pieces like a lumberjack's axe.

He kept his attention on Dust. The magic had a pattern. The room was buzzing ambiently, and right before an attack it was like being too close to a fire. Just briefly. Cross barely managed to avoid spearing his ankle thanks to the crackle. He wished he could be a bit faster, though. Cross couldn't feel where an attack was aiming like he normally could. Dust gave no indications as to where an attack would be channeling either, almost like he wasn't controlling them at all. He didn't like it, it was unpredictable, and was wearing him down fast.

Dust kept dodging his swings, no matter how fast he moved, and eventually Cross stumbled. His shoulder connected with one of the random jutting bones. Dust stepped back just before it pierced upwards, and Cross grunted in distress as it drove him back a step as to not get impaled.

That was apparently his mistake. The moment he wasn't close to Dust, bones seemed to crop up all around him, gutting at different angles, just barely piercing the bone, little cracks forming with the force. Cross could feel each one jab a bit deeper than the last. Each time he reversed to get away from one or break away an incoming volley, another would arrive behind him at a new angle.

He hated that Dust stood back. Watched. The only sign that he had even broken a sweat was a slight heaviness to the up and down of his shoulders, and while Cross hadn't lost much HP yet, he was starting to feel the exhaustion creep closer, and each little wound and crack seemed to be draining him. Was this the strategy? Play with him like a living pin-cushion? Was this it's own sort of-

Cross shifted his stance and unsummoned his weapon as he jumped up and out of the quickly growing ring of spikes. He had to act fast. He had to get out of here.

He grumbled a bit under his breath, he didn't like trying to do this, but...

The moment his feet landed, Cross summoned up his other piece of magic. The part his father had embedded into his soul early on in his life which made him so powerful. He was sure his normally white eyelight changed shape in the split second it happened. Red, bright red.

It only took a moment, a tug at the very being, hidden away in the Knight's chest. For a split second, he could feel the control of foreign magic slip into his own hands.

For a moment, it worked just as he knew it would. His fist trembled under the effort, keeping an eye on Dust as the other seemed to stare at him. The bones he'd summoned all seemed to sink away at once, recalled faster than Cross could've hoped. Dust seemed to feel his magic stop responding to him.

Cross just needed to get the Knight downed. Not dead. He just needed out.

He shifted stiffly. One, concentrated blast of bones at the Knight. He seemed like he didn't want to risk taking any damage. That was all Cross needed then. Some damage. And he'd be free to escape back to the camp. Away from these weird monsters with their weird magic.

He let his palm open, directing the force like he'd done so many times, channeling another monster's magic against them. Controlling it against their will.

The feeling of electricity rose again. It spiked. It. It gathered in his hand, that burning feeling he felt when an attack had been about to hit him.

What?

It was too late to recall the intent once he'd released it. The moment he tried to command the magic, he felt it all roll back over him. Bones meant to be aimed at their owner came jolting straight at his front. And though he stumbled back, he couldn't escape the searing pain of a fire too hot to process escaping his bones and immediately rushing up his arm, into his chest, down to his feet.

He had to imagine, with the loud sound like a cracking whip, that that was what being struck by lightning felt like. Molten metal in your veins.

Cross laid sprawled, dazed, on the floor as his control magic puttered out. It hurt to breathe. To see. To exit. He was half-convinced his arm was completely splintered apart after the pulse of raw magic that had filtered through it, but he didn't bother to look.

His soul begged him to move, to get up and run again, but darkness danced in his vision as he stared up at the ceiling. He failed his mission.

He hated to see as the Knight rounded into view, standing cautiously over where he was laid. Floored by the backfire of his power. If the knight said anything, he couldn't hear over the loud ringing invading his head.

Though, instead of stabbing him through like Cross had expected, the knight seemed to duck down. A cool feeling encased Cross' wrists (so the other hadn't broken apart) and his soul suddenly felt exhausted. He felt exhausted.

No matter how much he wanted to stay awake, to escape, he lost this fight fair and square.

[eustasskiddsprosthetic]

wow so

I've been itching to revive my prince AU but have kept running into multiple deadends. And then it hit me.

What if Sabolaw arranged marriage?

Law wakes up one day to hear that he's set to get married to a prince from the East kingdom, known for its stability and powerful figures. According to Corázon, it wasn't Garp or even Doffy who arranged this marriage.

No, it's that little brat Monkey D. Luffy Law tutored for a horrible few six months.

And not just that. Luffy set him up with his brother Sabo. The smart one and the smart ass. Law couldn't believe it. Luffy hated him that much, huh?

Not much detail for now (thank God, I know). All I know is, Sabo wants to run away and suggests that Law runs with him. Law, thinking that he's joking, says no. Sabo smiles, conceals his hurt from the rejection and carries on.

One night, Law actually finds Sabo packing to run away. Law shouldn't be shocked and yet he is. Sabo's serious when it comes to things that matter.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Sabo smiles. "Running away!"

"And the fake body?"

Sabo puckers his lips. "I died!"

Law frowns. "Are you crazy? No, people will think I killed you!"

"No one will think that! You love me—everyone knows that. You'll be the last person they suspect, I assure you."

Law thinks Sabo's absolutely insane for doing this. Sabo was running here and there, monologuing over whether he should bring this or that.

He had an oversized backpack. Law knew that ultimately, he'll go light with his valuables, water bottle and a good book. He won't even bring extra clothes. This young man is a disaster and Law knew it. He'll miss talking about books with a smart man every night.

"Why are you looking at me?" Sabo said. "I love the attention but-"

"I'll go."

Sabo gasped. "Y-you?"

"Unless it ruins a plan," Law said. "I don't want to get in the way."

"Not at all!" Sabo was absolutely delighted. And then he looked serious. It scared Law a bit. "You're never in the way. I'm honoured."

And Sabo helped Law pack and off they went!

They go on shenanigans and go crazy. Sabo takes Law dancing and drinking. Sabo makes Law do stupid things, like ride on a drunk horse who kicked him off. Law is made to watch Sabo do stupid things out of 'courtship'. They get into fights with each other and strangers.

They bathe in random lagoons.

Law didn't like worrying about money. Law didn't like not knowing if they could eat the next day. Law didn't like Sabo making him wake up at dawn to run away from guards. He didn't appreciate Sabo not knowing what the fuck he was doing but he knew that he was at least okay with Sabo eating messily and laughing more loudly without decorum to worry about.

And yet, once or twice, Law catches Sabo staring at him with this soft look. Sabo's eyebrows relaxed and his lips part slightly. It's like nothing mattered more to him than Law's life.

"Law, do you mind if I ask you a strange question, since we're alone."

"Of course."

Sabo fumbled in his pocket and took out a small box. There's a ring inside, a more modest one than the one Sabo used to propose to Law for the press in the palace. It's silver with a small heart engraving.

"Will you marry me?" Sabo said so softly Law almost didn't catch him.

"We're already married?"

"For politics yes, but for love?"

Law laughed. That was so stupid. Sabo was careless in many things but the ring he bought fit perfectly on Law's finger. He blushed when Law teased him about it. Sabo said he took Law's love for him very seriously.

[mistress-of-malevolence]

For this year's Mer-may (which I definitely didn't almost forget about) I present Angler Fish N & Octopus Uzi~ just the sketches though.

◀◁Possible AU details below? ▷▶ Warning: Long.

Ok, so I've never really made an AU before. Still, While I was designing these I was trying to figure out how the sea/ocean creatures would work good not just with their respective species (worker, disassembly) and abilities but also how I could integrate their pre-existing designs so that they would look nice and make sense.

First, I decided I didn't want them to be robotic for this since I like working with organic creatures a bit more. Having flesh eliminates most movement restrictions when posing since the body material is malleable. while the idea of robot mermaids is cool, I didn't feel like drawing a bunch of joints and stuff like that. Second, If they were organic then I needed to figure out why they were fighting if it wasn't for a huge human plot to destroy rouge AI. And finally, how was I going to incorporate their powers like absolute solver and other such stuff without necessarily using technology. Having all these things in the back of my head while I was drawing led to the following, so without further ado, here's that ↓. This gonna be long, I can already feel it...

_______

◇Story stuff.

A long time ago, merpeople ruled the water in peace. Humans kept to the land and the only thing they had to worry about were the sirens: Natural predators to the merpeople.

In the eyes of the merfolk, sirens were dangerous. Mindless, bloodthirsty monsters that couldn't be reasoned with. fortunately, their naturally heightened senses left them sensitive to sunlight. This kept them mostly contained to deeper, darker waters than the merpeople usually inhabited.

During the day it was safe to hunt, play and generally flourish as a species and at night they would hide in sea caves and other small spaces that a siren would have trouble fitting into.

That's how it was for many peaceful years. Occasionally one or two would die a victim to the monsters of the deep, but that was just nature.

But slowly as time moved forward and Humanity continued to develop, the merpeople were driven to deeper waters to escape pollution and being hunted.

Uzi's mother, Nori began having visions of a terrible fate that awaited her kind if things continued as they were and after weeks of pleading with her people and her husband to heed the warnings, she went to the sirens alone. for what reason? No one really knows. It's a mystery that only she knew the answer to.

After getting stung by the sirens paralyzing venom, her husband Khan made the heartbreaking decision to put Nori out of her misery before the sirens could do any worse, leaving him to raise their infant daughter Uzi by himself.

The incident resulted in a lot of deaths and many of the families of those that had passed blamed Nori. Saying that she was a mad woman and rumouring that she was a witch who had been meddling in dark magic that caused her to lose her mind and wander towards her death.

Seventeen years later, Uzi had grown up to be an unstable and particularly angsty teenager with a strained relationship with her colony and her father. Uzi believed that the ever-looming threat of the sirens was not something to hide from, but to confront head-on. Such notions labelled her as her mother's daughter in the worst ways possible: Crazy, an incident waiting to happen, most likely going to get eaten by a siren for reasons they will never understand.

Khan had kept the colony safe since Nori's death by having everyone hide away in a cavern big enough to house them but with an entrance so well hidden that everyone believed that the sirens would never find a way in.

Inevitably, Uzi grew tired of cowering and after fashioning the first semi-modern weapon her people had seen out of sea trash and other things humans had chosen to toss into their waters, she snuck out to confront the enemy.

The siren's lair was decorated rather grimly, with the nest seemingly fashioned out of the bones of long-dead mermaids, skulls stacked up together to make the walls of the lair. Inside the dimly lit den was a single male siren who was in the middle of feasting on a mummified corpse which looked to have been drained of all its blood.

As soon as he noticed her, he rushed toward her with killing intent. Uzi's fight or flight kicked in as she brandished her weapon, but it failed to deter the monster in his bloodthirsty craze. He grabbed her by the shoulders, stinging her with the paralyzing toxin in his Claws. Uzi barely managed to break free from his grip by slashing his face with her weapon, sending him reeling back from shock.

Uzi immediately felt her limbs growing heavier but ignored it in favour of taking the opportunity to take the Siren by surprise. While he was distracted she threw her weapon to the ceiling causing an avalanche of skulls to come crashing down on top of him. Uzi had only a moment to breathe, thinking her enemy was buried and dead before a clawed hand burst through the top of the pile like a zombie about to dig itself out of the grave.

Panic surged through her and with as much strength she could muster she pushed away the darkening of her vision and forced the few tentacles that didn't refuse to move to propel her forward with enough force to hopefully finish the job.

The siren's head burst through the pile of death with a groan of pain, but before he could do anything else, he was knocked unconscious as rock made contact with his already aching head.

All was silent for a moment, Uzi fighting for consciousness as her vision continued to darken, whether she was just crashing from the adrenaline or if the toxin was shutting her brain down she wasn't sure. but then the monster woke up, a confused look on his face as he pulled himself out of the skeletons. he blinked and turned his attention to the little creature before him.

"Did you just hit me with that rock?"

"Holy crap it talks."

_______

◈Extra details.

-The sirens and Humans have a deal with each other that if the humans drive the Mer-people deeper into siren territory the sirens will kill the species off in exchange for making them more powerful.

-Apparently, the humans want them dead because they are considered a threat, and can't be reasoned with.

-this is a giant lie on the human part, as they have made no attempt to talk with the merpeople and plan to kill all the sirens after the mermaids are dead.

-Rather than absolute solver being a program I'm changing it to being some form of magic that the humans discovered mermaids had after analyzing corpses that had washed ashore.

-In order to gain this power plan on reverse engineering it from the merpeople's remains while eliminating the prospective threat to humanity at the same time.

-The humans claim that they will make the sirens more powerful by implementing them with tech that will supposedly allow them to live and hunt during the day.

-This tech would actually be something of a remote detonator that once activated would be used to kill all the sirens off at once.

-I haven't decided if all sirens are angler fish, but probably not because that would be boring for me to design.

-Not all merpeople are Octopi though, that's for sure.

-I'd say that since merpeople can be the same species without necessarily being based around the same sea creature, the babies would simply take after one parent entirely.

-This would make sense in this as to why Uzi looks like the spitting image of her mom.

-While trying to figure out Absolute Solver I was really channelling Ursula for Uzi with the skull and the octopus stuff and it all just kinda resulted in sea-witch.

-Both mermaids and Sirens got bioluminescence as a default so that we don't gotta stifle that glow they got in canon.

-Since it wouldn't make sense for fish to have screens and stuff of their faces and bodies, those dark areas where the face-screen would be are just body markings now.

-Uzi's hat is now a sea anemone that just kinda chills on top of her head, kinda like how they do with crabs in real life.

________

I know this was really fucking long but if you made it to the end, thank you very much for reading❤️

Im still workshopping this and I don't even know if anyone has already done something like this. I wouldn't be too surprised if they had since it's May and Mermaids are pretty popular... idk, if I make a fic I'll let you know.

[florsial]

Hey bestie I’m trial and erroring a Rabastan design and I’m struggling so what does he look/dress like in your gorgeous mind because no one gets him like you do

Hello :D and thank youu <3333

Okay, I have been thinking about his appearance from time to time. the main consistent detail is that he isn't very "sleazy" in looks. He's pretty put together. He is wearing an expensive suit, maybe a couple buttons undone, and a loose tie with those shiny black loafers, but overall he's pretty clean. His most casual would be dress pants and button up that's kinda undone.

(HIS FANCY STYLE GETS REGULUS SO GIDDY!!! Like if you ever saw those photos of someone standing on their s/o feet THATS SO THEMMM)

I've been torn over having him with long hair or short hair. But in the end, shorter hair is more fitting for him, I think. In a way that expresses that he doesn't have the luxury of keeping his hair long like Rodolphus if he's constantly fighting for something. So I imagine something like the short wavy hair you see when you search it up on Pinterest for men (don't ask me how I know that). When I first sketched him out, I gave him long hair but it didn't fit.

I couldn't find a proper description in the HP wiki nor do I remember what he is described as in the books when he first shows up. Only that is a thin man. So I think his face is slightly sunken in and his entire body is pretty lanky. And he's pretty tall (HEIGHT DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIM AND REGULUS HEIGHT DIFFERENCE!!). His hair and eyes are both pretty dark and his skin is a little tan since I actually see him as a very outdoorsy person and amazing, like, really smooth without blemishes (for some reason).

(Pandora starts breaking out when she hit puberty and she contemplates torturing Rabastan's skincare out of him) (he has none)

Don't take this as seriously, but I picture something like Victor from The Corpse Bride (I've never seen that movie honestly) but yk, just for fun lol.

He doesn't have this overly messy style because he's like this black sheep (Like Sirius or Barty) because of his mother's family influence. With his maternal (a side branch from Averys), he's very well dressed and groomed, they made sure of that! The Avery side of his family loves him, though it's partly because Rabastan looks/acts more like his mother.

This brings up another thing that is: he is very much a jewelry person. His suits, expensive but plain, are often decorated and slightly weighted down by layered necklaces with heavier stones and real metals and his fingers are more cold than warm by silver rings. He got his ear pierced at a young age and has so many passed down from his mother, like all his other jewelry. In a way, all of that seems almost like armor that covers/protects him.

Side note: HE WOULD'VE WIPED THE FUCKING FLOOR WITH THOSE SILVER FINGER GUARDS!

He would've HATED cheap jewelry and when mood rings were released in 1975, he choked when he saw Sirius wearing one for the first time. Rodolphus and Regulus almost called a healer because he was turning blue. (Sirius bought more out of spite after that)

Modern Au Rabastan would have a Rolex collection. I said what I said.

I know I bring up suits when wizarding folk don't wear that so, his robes are often plainer (compared to Rodolphus, keep that in mind) but still pretty expensive looking with complex embroidery. His more extravagant robes came from his mother (since I don't think that size mattered all that much between men and women or boys and girls). Cliche moment, but his clothes were very much darker in color, but not always black. More like a darker purple or a darker blue or green, I'm thinking something like what you would get when you use velvet, how colors are almost really shiny or almost black.

I can also see him using makeup! Though very light I think he's very open and knowledgeable about a lot of things since he was basically treated as a doll by his mother's twin sister :D

[thevegandarkelf]

QOTU Profile: Lydia Rae Vector

Those of you that know Vec & read her original profile may notice some tiny details I changed in order to fit the AU. Most of them are exactly the same though. Her personality remains unchanged.

The face claim I chose for her is a streamer I watch. She streams fantasy games like Baulder's Gate 3, Skyrim, and Dragon Age if you're into that. Her handle is rikkichuu on IG, Tiktok, & YouTube. I couldn't find a single clip of her wearing glasses, so just pretend she has some lmao.

The IG reel I made the GIF from

Also LOOK WHAT @dixons-sunshine MADE (she used Picrew to make it). She brought my sweet lil’ unhinged angel baby to life. I love her so much, look at how cute she is 🖤

TW: mention of suicide, mention of death while in the line of military service

➼ Nicknames: Vec (everyone except Georgie & Scud), Dia (Georgie), Vee, Buttercup (like the Powerpuff girl), my little bee/bumblebee, the Mrs. (Scud)

➼ She got the nickname ‘Vec’ in high school because of all of the Lydias in her graduating class.

➼ Her birthday is July 6th (she’s a Cancer bby)

➼ She was born and raised in the small town of Swanton, Ohio before moving to Atlanta for med school.

➼ She's 5 foot 7 with blue eyes and long black hair that reaches her waist

➼ She worked as a trauma surgeon in an emergency room at Atlanta General before the outbreak.

➼ If she hadn't chosen trauma surgery as her specialty, she would've gone into OBGYN

➼ She decided she wanted to become a doctor when she was just three years old. Her oldest brother was in an accident, and at the hospital, she saw a surgeon in a floral dress and white coat & asked her if she was a princess. The doctor told her yes, and she decided in that moment that she wanted to be a princess when she grew up (which she later learned was a doctor) and save lives like this woman saved her brother’s.

➼ She's passionate about women's rights and access to healthcare

➼ Her strengths include her empathy, compassion, and understanding, which helps to make her a great doctor

➼ She's 30 when the outbreak begins

➼ Her and her best friend, Georgianna Marianne Hawkins (Georgie), have been friends since they were little.

➼ She has three older brothers--Preston (5 years older than her), Jay, and Eli (3 years older than her. Jay and Eli are twins, Jay being two minutes older)

➼ All three of her brothers were Navy SEALs and taught her how to fight

➼ Her dad is an astronaut and was launched into space a couple of weeks before the outbreak began

➼ Her mom and her brother Preston passed away (in separate instances) about 5 years before the outbreak. Preston was killed in the line of duty during deployment, and her mom was unable to cope with his death and took her own life two months later.

➼ She blushes very easily and frequently

➼ She exclusively calls Rick 'cowboy'

➼ Daisies are her favorite flower because they symbolize the purity of love and new beginnings/fresh starts.

➼ Her favorite color is blue

➼ She’s very outgoing and talks a lot

➼ Her favorite music artist is Ke$ha

➼ She collects sex toys & buys a new one after every bad hookup. Georgie will sometimes help her pick a new one & offer her opinion.

➼ She’s very sex-positive and has zero shame in discussing her bedroom activities with people she’s close with.

➼ She likes to write and always has a notebook and pen on her at all times.

➼ She loves fantasy films like Lord of the Rings and attended many ren fests before the outbreak.

➼ She was once on a date where she sneezed and a spaghetti noodle came out her nose. Now, she can't even look at a box of dry spaghetti without getting queasy.

➼ She can sing as well as line dance. She had a friend in medical school who wanted to learn how to line dance, but they didn’t wanna do it alone, so they convinced her to do it with them.

➼ She has four tattoos--line work of a bouquet of daisies on the front of her right hip, line work of the moon on the front of her left hip (a bff tattoo with Georgie), a sternum piece of vines with blue flowers, and a cluster of bumblebees on the back of each of her thighs (hence why Scud calls her ‘my little bee/bumblebee’). She's incredibly selective with who gets to see her tattoos.

➼ She's no damsel in distress, she can handle her own & is hyper-independent.

➼ Her mom gave her the middle name 'Rae' because she was her only daughter and therefore her 'ray of sunshine.'

➼ Other than Georgie, her best friend in the group is Aaron. She's also very close with Maggie, Michonne, & Rosita.

➼ She's a wildcard and bit of a spitfire, and she certainly doesn't take shit from anyone, men especially.

Georgianna Marianne Hawkins belongs to @dixons-sunshine

Taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie

Hit me up if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist

Top GIF banner was made by me, QOTU divider and (c) below were made by Krys

[name-s-are-not-important]

Since you got so many postive reactions, I'll also add something Your story is boring. Its too long, its too complicated, the plot is too long, nothing happens, it's not RA at all any more, it has nothing to do with canon! Halt is a joke, there is nothing left of him. This is annoying, the whole story is annoying! Secondly, you dramatize the story too much. Why is Halt's mother a child when she gave birth to him? Don't you have enough angst from the plot, then you have to add such elements and make the king a pedo? A bit pathetic, if you ask me. Why is she so young? Why would Caitlyn be married so young? Nobody did that in the canon! Second, why, for God's sake, is everyone there gay? In the Middle Ages? What's that supposed to be? Third, you don't respect your own readers. You post new chapters without any rhythm, once every week, once every month, instead of sticking to any routine. People don't want to read something so inconsistent, it's stupid, it's annoying. Oh and all those references to Catholicism in the plot in and your made up religion. Is it really necessary?

It's a shame, because this could have been a really cool story… you still have a lot to learn, good luck!

Hello, I would say thanks for contacting, but then it would probably sound ironic. Well.

I understand that the pace of the story may not suit everyone, especially people who prefer short stories. However, I made it clear from the outset that the story would be long and complex. It's a whole AU and yes, I love worldbuilding and I won't apologise for that. I care about the details, but I also care about a balanced sinusoid of action. This isn't an action movie where you'll eat popcorn and laugh at the jokes, it's a marathon geared towards experiencing the story a little deeper. If it annoys you, I'm not sure why you don't just give up reading it…. you refer to the facts revealed in recent chapters, so you've at least made it to chapter 41, even though the story annoys you so much. Why? And why should it be my fault?

Let the numbers speak for me. Jadwiga Andegaweńska, King of Poland, married Władysław Jagiełło, Grand Duke of Lithuania, at the age of 12. He was 35 years old at the time. He took his last wife at the age of 70. She was named Zofia Holszańska, she was 17. Henry VIII of England took Catherine Howard as his wife when she was 17. He was 49. The youngest queen consort was Isabella of Valois, second wife of Richard II, aged 6 years 11 months and 25 days when she was married to him in 1396. The average age at which women were given in marriage in the Middle Ages was 12-14 years. It was only at the end of this era that this age changed to the late teens (16-19). The Renaissance brought a shift in this average to the early 20s. Yes, I am aware that we do not have such situations in the canon. Probably because the canon is a conglomeration of several different visions of the Middle Ages, which the author did not see fit to separate. Armaments, schooling, lack of illiteracy, developed medicine and finally, social realities all disagree. I am sorry to have to tell you this, but no princess married a plebeian knight because he was nice and she loved him. No princess ran around in the woods with a slingshot and none of them was likely to be allowed to become a super secret special task soldier because her parents couldn't cope with her upbringing. Canon has nothing to do with historical reality. In many ways it also misses the mark with my story. It's a fanfic. It's just a story, invented by me and loosely based on canon. It's AU - Alternative Universe. Where there's magic, religious wars and various things like that. But some of the stuff in there comes as a result of my fascination with history and the development of societies in different eras. Hence, certain phenomena, such as just the treatment of women, the age at which they were given in marriage, illiteracy, pestilence, economic dualism and sending children to war, appear in the storyline. Eileen is a monument to women, girls who were given in marriage to bear children to kings, to endure their outbursts of anger, beatings, rape and other forms of violence. Her story is very important to me and no, it is not there just to add drama. I'm sorry you see it that way.

Because we are human, we have always existed and we will always exist. Because it is a story written by a queer person and because as an author I can do so. I also pointed this out in the tags. Too many queer people reading books couldn't find themselves in the plot. I only write queer stories. And if in a story about blood magic, prophecies, human sacrifice, violence, wars and betrayals, you have the biggest problem to a few queer people in the plot, it's no longer my fault.

Listen, I'm really trying not to be mean. Let me say this as gently as I can. I'm not your friend. I'm a random stranger on the internet that you know nothing about. I'm not your school mate for you to talk to me like that. I'm an adult, I work full time, I'm writing my Master's thesis and I'm taking care of two children. I'm sorry that my few hours a week that I can spend doing something for myself, are not enough for me to write a 16-19k chapter once a week. How annoying and mean of me. Wow.

I wasn't inspired by Catholicism. But it's interesting that of all the world religions, this is the one that came to your mind. If you associate a fictional religion based on blood sacrificing, heroising self-harm and sacrificing children, cruelty to captives and hateful contempt for women with Catholicism, then who am I to argue.

It's been so much fun writing to you. And you don't offend me by saying I have a lot to learn. We all have. If one stops learning, one dies. And I still have a whole lot of queer, boring, annoying stories to write. Have a lovely day! And may your toilet seat be cold af at the middle of the night :)

[sunny6677]

APOLLO AND SUNNY'S RELATIONSHIP DETAILS!!!

I don't have much for them—but ehhhh

@rebootgrimm

- So I still don't know I'd he'd fit better as an uncle figure or brother figure—but for now I'm gonna say Uncle figure since he's kinda like brothers with Hermes jensns. He's like the cool uncle to Sunny though, and constantly talks with her about different things that catch her interest. He's probably played a few games with her a couple times—and likes to mess with her a lot.

- Apollo probably likes patting Sunny's head a lot. Just a feeling I get./silly

- Apollo and Hermes like to play games with Sunny, or prank her a lot together (which of course usually aren't too bad—they just like seeing her silly reactions). They both like talking with her a lot though, and do their best to make her laugh.

- In the Olympus AU, Apollo probably allowed Sunny to go out on his balcony with him one time, and played some piano with her to distract her from her situation. She struggled with keeping up with him, obviously—but he wasn't mad about it and just found it very endearing. He kept kinda giggling at her the whole time as it happened.

- Apollo likes playfully throwing Sunny around a lot or grabbing her for some reason. He probably held her up circle of life style one time too lmfao.

- Apollo isn't technically related to her through soul, but he sees her like family anyway.

- Aphrodite usually scolds Apollo when she thinks he's being 'too rough' on Sunny.

- Apollo has probably appeared to Sunny several times when she wasn't doing well, and has let her vent to him before. Which he's also been great at comforting her during since he's quite literally the God of Healing./lh

- Apollo has likely told her about the after life before?? Haven't decided on this one yet./lh

- Apollo knows Sunny is sometimes embarrassed by being babied by so many God's, but he likes to fuss over her anyway and just teases her for it./lh

- Sunny once got sick while on Odysseus' ship, and while miserable in bed, Apollo appeared to her. She tried to speak to him, but she was feeling so bad she couldn't speak properly and it came out as tired gibberish. Apollo just kinda softly giggled at her without understanding, before he decided to help heal her from her illness.

- Apollo has likely held her before so she could sleep during one of her more bad nights.

- Apollo probably proudly refers to her as his niece when speaking about her./lh

- Apollo usually makes it VERY obvious that he's there whenever she asks to see him. Like the sun gets suddenly brighter, crows appear (one of them likely being him in disguise) and as do swans, etc etc.

- Not sure if it would happen, but maybe Apollo kinda pranked Sunny so hard by accident one time that even Hermes got mildly upset and either scolded Apollo in his own way, or decided to teach Apollo a lesson by messing with him back./lh

[eyeslikewatercoolers]

fairytale for wedding planner au pls 🤞🏼🤞🏼🤞🏼

We all love the tried and true wedding planner au in this house <3

"What kind of story do you want tonight?"

"I want a fairytale,"

Sasha pursed her lips as she looked at the pile of picture books from the library. Most were about plants and animals, not any fairytales.

"I'm not seeing any fairytale stories over here. Do you mean like Cinderella and Rapunzel?" Sasha could recount a Disney story, that's easy.

Delia squinted her eyes as she thought to herself. Sasha pulled the chair in the room closer to the bed.

"Mama, you said that your job is to bring people their happily ever afters," Delia pointed out. Toddlers didn't have the biggest concepts of weddings, or at least not this toddler.

Sasha nodded, "That's right, baby. Do you want to hear about one of them?" Sasha never worked with any princesses from far-off lands, but some of her wealthy brides would be a start.

Delia shook her head, "No, I want the story of you and Mommy's happily ever after. Kerri told me it was very romantic, but she won't tell me what happened"

Sasha tried to hide her laughter. Kerri was likely being sarcastic and her innocent little sister didn't pick up on it.

"Okay, how about I tell you a story that's close to me and Mommy's? Since we aren't princesses, you know," She said matter-of-factly.

Delia blinked at Sasha, green eyes unchanged, "But you and Mommy tell me that I'm a princess,"

"Yes, you are our little princess." Sasha smiled as she pulled the covers over Delia. "Now, how about a story about the princess and the shopkeeper?"

(Not so) Long ago in a far-off land, a princess who lived in the desert was about to be married. The princess's mother introduced her to a king of a nearby kingdom. After a few dates, they announced their engagement to their kingdoms.

As the villagers celebrated, the princess searched high and low for someone to plan the big celebration. She got word from one of her maids who told her about a woman in a faraway village who made beautiful dresses and worked closely with many engaged couples for their weddings.

After a long carriage ride, the princess found the woman's shop in the village. She showed the princess her most elaborate dresses, the brightest bouquets, and the best food servers. But the Queen was the one to choose everything for the wedding, while the princess wasn't given any choices for her own wedding.

The princess became close with the shopkeeper. They bonded through endless dress fittings and decor shopping. As the wedding date got closer and closer, the shopkeeper felt more strongly about the princess. She fell in love with her, even though the princess couldn't love her back.

The wedding day came, and the shopkeeper stayed in her village. She couldn't say her goodbyes to the princess, she had to let her go.

But to her surprise, the princess rode into the village on her horse. She met the shopkeeper in Townsquare and professed her love. She told her she left the king at the altar and left without a word. She had fallen in love with the shopkeeper, wanting a new happily ever after.

"So the princess and the shopkeeper lived a quiet life in the village together. They had two beautiful daughters, and they lived happily ever after." Sasha finished the story as Delia's eyes fluttered shut.

She put on the nightlight before quietly shutting the bedroom door.

"You left out a lot of details, Mama," Kerri said from the kitchen table. She had been working on her college essay since dinner was over.

"I know, but she's two. I'll tell her the real story when she's older," Sasha said as she scooped out chocolate ice cream into two bowls.

Kerri shrugged, "I think it's still a weird story," she said as she happily took the bowl her mother passed her.

Sasha passed Kerri a spoon as she sat in the chair next to her, "But I wouldn't want it any other way,"

The mother and daughter spent the evening proofreading the essay while enjoying junk food. A simple chapter in a modern, no-frills, fairy tale and their happily ever after.

[leggerefiore]

speaking of live streaming. arceus have mercy on the s/o's soul when they convince the twins to watch them play Choo Choo Charles and live streaming the twins reaction (and their retaliation)

jfjdjs I have to write a small piece for that

also already did a small piece about Emmet's reaction so this one is a bit different to that one

cw: streamer reader au

--

▲Ingo▼

● He was the best person to have on your streaming while playing horror games. It was simply amazing how easily he gets frightened by them. The chat is also filled with so much back and forth about how he was expressive without expressions. You watched as his eyes remained glued on the scream as he suddenly was vocally scrutinising how the train was set up. You pulled the whistle to annoy him.

● Just as you began down the tracks, the scuttling of Charles was heard. Ingo's brow cocked curiously as the monster crawled up on you and the NPC. Ingo gasped and shook his head. “What have they done to Thomas?” he asked aloud, then jumped when it charged your train. You felt a bit bad as he genuinely covered his eyes when the NPC got knocked off and killed. Chat was alight with comments about how amazed they were, Subway Boss Ingo was scared and a few asked if he was into Charles romantically.

● By the time he calmed down, he bit his lip. “I'm not sure that I can handle this, dearest,” the older twin admitted, “You know how I feel about this so-called 'cursed train' material.” You laughed and nodded as he calmed down a bit. Nothing was really happening at this point, but then he was back in arms about how if that happened in real life you likely would have exploded instead since both of the trains appear to be diesel engines going quite fast. You politely handed controls over to Ingo, who then died continually in game before returning them to you. His cluelessness was endearing wherever it may be.

There were many memes sent to the Official Gear Station twitter account of edits with Ingo and Charles. A confused Depot Agent was not sure why this was happening.

▽Emmet△

○ Worst horror game player. He sits there with his smile, unmoving. His commentary is minimal. There are no strong opinions about the train vocalised. When you pulled the whistle, he reminded you that you were supposed to use it at upcoming intersections and if you saw anything on the tracks. You couldn't tell if he was holding back or genuinely was at a disinterest. You looked down to spot him grasping his shorts quite tightly.

○ When Charles was heard, you watched as Emmet tensed up. When the creature was on-screen, you watched his expression twitch a bit. As it charged your train, Emmet jumped back. He shook his head when the NPC was killed. You decided to break his uncomfortable tension with a comment you noticed in chat. “Is this Emmet wanting to fuck Charles or is he actually afraid?” you read aloud to him. Emmet genuinely burst into a loud fit of laughter at that.

○ “Mmm… Not my type of train at all,” he replied, “I like Subway trains most. Not that. Verrry sorry.” You could only give your own giggle when he started bluntly to describe the details between Charles and his beloved Subway cars. You also then had to hit your mic muting hotkey when Emmet proceeded to explain what the difference between Charles and you were and what was appealing between the two of you. You could only shake your head as you shut him up by demanding he play too. He proceeded to play the whole game.

Emmet felt distressed as the images of the monster from that game with your face edited on to it sent to his twitter.

[separatedleoau]

I know that Draxum is an asshole here, BUT please tell me a couple of cute moments between him and Leo?

The thing about Draxum in this AU is that he IS an asshole, he is very strict and when it comes to raising One he had spent 13 years dancing over the line of abusive parent

He will deny being One's parent (One would deny being his child too), so he might not be his dad legally or emotionally but he is his dad like... spiritually, I guess.

You don't get to raise a child, being his caretaker and his boss without accidentally filling the spot of "father figure"

I want to do a little doodle sheet of just Draxum raising One, but I haven't got the time so here are some of the scenarios I want to draw plus other things I have thought about but are not gonna be able to fit in the story in an organic way:

One learned to call Draxum "boss" bc he heard Huggin and Munnin calling him boss

At first he could just say "bo"

One has been a very talkative child since the beginning, and a very curious one, he would keep pointing at things and making noises until Draxum told him what that thing was.

He had a very long "why" phase that drove Draxum mad

Since he could walk he turned into a menace, it was easy to confine him into one place when he couldn't, but then he would just walk around and start climbing whatever he saw. Draxum lost him many times around the lab

Sometimes Draxum would be working or just chilling and he would hear a thud on the distance and sigh deeply, knowing One was climbing something and fell

One always had at least one bandaid on him because of this

He was going to tell him his human DNA came from Lou Jitsu but decided to first show him an old recording of Lou fighting on the Nexus arena so One could know what Draxum expected from him

One quickly became obssesed with Lou and Draxum decided against telling him the whole truth, thinking he would just become more annoyingly obsessed with the human if he did

Some days latter Draxum found One was still watching the video on loop, turns out the kid was memorizing the moves, he shows Draxum and fails to nail a very simple kick, Draxum doesn't give him any pointers of how to fix his form, just curious to see how far he can go without help

A week latter One surprises Draxum with the fact that he alreay learnt how to do it on his own. He is very impressed with the boy and agrees to his pleas of leting him learn martial arts

Draxum signs him in to a dojo on the hidden city. He doesn't last too long and gets kicked out for "being too agressive"

Draxum doesn't show it but thinks that's hilarious

After being kicked out of other two dojos he decides to train him himself while he grows a little older and he can sign him into a dojo for grown ups.

As a kid One insisted in being though how to manipulate vines like Draxum, he doesn't think the kid can learn to do it but teaches him just so One stops insisting.

It takes him a long while but he learns to do it. Draxum seems genuinly happy while teaching him.

He also enjoys his weekly sparing matches with One.

Draxum gave him his scarf as a gift

One's old uniform was almost completely black, just with some golden details to match him, One kept insisting he should be wearing blue since it is his favorite color. when he outgrown it and Draxum send to make a new one he gave in and let him had his blue accents.

[blorbologist]

I absolutely adore your historical Quebec AU!!! My friend is also super excited to see what you do with it. Do you have a tag for it?

!! Oh, thank you so much! I think I had the tag filles du roi AU, but I only see the original idea pitch come up for it. Which is unfortunate, I know I've written a lil snippet for it. AHA, found it! Enjoy <3

I'm not sure when I'll get around to actually writing it - longfics are a scary undertaking for me because I want to see them to their end, and I know just at a glance that it'd be a massive undertaking:

I am a huge nerd. Though my focus is biology, I have a visceral reaction to people spreading falsehoods or inaccurate information. I don't want to do that to part of my own history, which would mean a lot of research. Which is kind of tough, when I'm already laden with research for gradschool and history isn't my forte. Seriously, I don't want to describe a kind of paint that wouldn't exist, or the wrong type of snowshoe, or a prayer to a saint that was actually not well-regarded. Because this is a very rural context, I couldn't easily handwave a lot of the details without detracting from the immersion. So I need to know how Vex would skin and sell beaver pelts, and the going-rates for materials for Percy's pepperbox or I'll go completely insane and tear my hair out in shame.

I think trans Vax would fit into this setting super well (get an extra dowry from the king by posing as another Fille du Roi with his sister, even if he's Absolutely Not), but. Though I'm queer, I'm not trans, and want to respect Vax and not just have him endure getting misgendered by the church and crown constantly.

I also do not want to whitewash the history of Nouvelle-France: the French stole this land from the Native American people that lived here and co-opted them into their conflicts. There is a long history of discrimination, and genocide, that I'd want to tackle carefully, both as a white author, and because Vex and Vax would be Métis, with a French father. It's delicate, in a way that other historical AUs usually sidestep. (I would like to help educate people that Canada's image as the squeaky-clean goody-two-shoes cousin of the USA is a complete fucking fabrication, though, so it'd be worth the headache and heartbreak.)

It would also require a very different sort of prose and dialogue than I'm used to. Trying to figure out a nice balance between keeping that Old feeling while also having it distinctly come off as French (more than that, French Canadian) would be a mess! A delightful challenge, though :D

I really do love this AU, and the idea of sharing this fascinating (if very, very complicated and messy and tragic) part of history with the fandom means so much to me! It's just very daunting for lil' ol' me - the fact even two people are excited really made my day, though <33

Have a bit of worldbuilding: the Briarwoods killing Percy's family still happened... only it was because they owned land that produced excellent deposits that colored glass a rich, incredible green. They call it residuum, and sell it as a luxury good and claim it has many arcane properties. Because it glows in the dark.

It's actually uranium glass and thus mildly (very mildly) radioactive :3 But it's fun to think of the Briarwoods and their cronies irradiating themselves with their hubris! While feeling a bit magical for the time and setting!

[kitkatt0430]

1, 12, 22, and 35 for the fic asks?

1.) Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

I'm much more likely to daydream a lot before I start writing. Let my brain percolate on the idea for a while so it can take the form I like best. But sometimes I am possessed by the idea and must write it immediately. Which is how I ended up with many of my crack fics. Those are more likely to be 'struck with inspiration, must write them now' types fics. The more serious ones I probably daydreamed a bout a lot.

12.) Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

I think I answered this one the last time I did this game, but it's been long enough I'm gonna answer again.

So sometimes I'll outline fics. Vaguer outlines tend to help more than stricter ones as I tend to get the idea written down in a detailed outline form and then it's like I've restricted myself too much and can't write at all past that. Sometimes it does help keep me on track... but mostly I just wing it without the outline.

That said, outlines are very useful for when i have an amazing plot idea but don't want to admit I'm not gonna use it in its current form. Once I have the outline down, I can return to it later and reshape it into something that's actually usable. I've gotten fics like The City on the Hill and Just Your Average (Medical) Emergency that way.

The former of those two strayed a looot from the original idea. But at the same time still had a lot of the original concept still in there too. Where as the latter of those was actually pretty close with what I'd wanted from the start, but I was trying to force it to fit with something else - when I broke that original idea in two, I wound up with two fics that worked really well on their own. (The other being Wave Goodbye (To Plausible Deniability) ) Sometimes I just kind of have to recognize that what I thought was one fic idea is actually several.

22.) Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?

I'll usually start with giving the WiP some kind of name. Not necessarily a title, but just something that represents the main idea to me.

The City on the Hill was originally a WiP called Past Imperfect, which may have worked well when it was still a part of a larger arc about the Master, but when I cut out the Master entirely and reframed it to be about Ianto, the title becoming a reference to Ianto's strange dreams fit much better.

Sometimes I'll name a fic something as a placeholder and just stick with it when it's time to post the fic. Date Night was one of those. It was a generic name, but very too the point and I certainly couldn't think of anything that fit better.

Other times I'll think the title is one thing until the last minute, when I realize something else fits so much better. I don't remember what the working title for One Last Call for Alcohol was, but I do remember I didn't much like it. I ended up taking the final title from the lyrics of "Closing Time" by Semisonic. A bit over played on the radio at one point, but a song I've always liked nonetheless. So much so I used it's lyrics to title another fic as well, Every New Beginning (Comes from Some other Beginning's End). That one I chose the name early on, since it fit the mood of the fic as well as the theme.

35.) What’s your favorite fic you’ve posted?

I don't know that I can pick just one. Maybe I can at least pick a favorite type of fic to write?

I certainly do like writing fics of the fix fic variety. Canon wants to hand me lemons? Then I'm gonna burn it's house down. With the lemons. (Let's get some Portal 2 love, shall we?)

But then again, I love just What If type AUs in general. What if Iris or Eddie or Cisco was the Flash? What if Yuri Lowell never saved the world? What if squirrels invaded STAR Labs? What if Finn inspired a Stormtrooper rebellion?

Sometimes saying 'what if' is a fix fic. Sometimes it's just weird. Sometimes it's turning canon upside down and ransacking it's pockets for lint. So, yeah, I think my favorite type of fic that I write is definitely the AUs.

[greyias]

3. Things you say too quietly - - Grey/Theron

I know you didn't ask for a Jedi!Theron AU with this prompt... but the muses spoke, and well...

“I’m sorry that you couldn’t become a Jedi, Theron. You would have been a great one.” - Jedi Player Character, Shadow of Revan

Theron had grown accustomed to a few not-so-subtle glances in his direction and the echo of whispers as he passed. His surname, as well as the apparent family resemblance between him and Grandmaster Satele Shan of the Jedi Order, ensured that his ancestry would never be hidden in the long run. But usually the whispers began after he stepped off the shuttle.

He tried to smother a frown as he strode through the temple, weaving through the crowds milling on the landing pad. If the persistent whispers and exchanged glances between Jedi were any sign, something out of the ordinary was going on. Tython was typically a much more reserved place than this, and the atmosphere set him on edge.

When something was amiss in his environment, the reassuring, yet almost insignificant weight of the lightsaber at his hip was always a comfort. The comfort and familiarity of the hilt, of the bright green blade that shone when he activated it, was one of the few constants in his life. Despite what some in the temple may have claimed, he wasn’t quick to draw it — the legacy of Revan followed all of his descendants in pernicious ways.

The murmurs continued with each step, and he caught only snatches of information as he worked his way through the crowd. Perhaps a different Jedi would have stretched out their feelings and tapped into the Force to figure out what was causing the uproar. However, he and the Force had a unique relationship. What came naturally to most of his peers, Theron had to work twice as hard to master. Communing with that mystic energy never came easily to him, and he preferred not to waste his time and energy on petty pursuits when he could more easily use his normal senses. He preferred to be grounded in the physical, to touch something and confirm its reality.

Theron finally emerged from the crowd swarming around the platform and entered the temple’s great map room — and spotted the source of the uproar. He wasn’t able to smother the shock of surprise that ran through him when he saw the motley crew gathered around a table in the far corner of the room. He’d had little interaction with everyone on the Defender’s crew, but he could still recognize them from a distance. Sergeant Fideltin Rusk appeared irritated, the Chagrian’s lethorns twitching as he attempted to disappear into his seat. Doc, as he insisted on being addressed, was leaning back in his chair, attempting to smooth talk a nearby Padawan who was attempting to ignore him. The little astromech T7-01 emitted shrill beeps at his flirtatious crew-mate. If Theron’s mental translation was correct, it was a stern warning to the medic to stop clowning around.

Of course, the biggest mystery wasn’t what the astromech was saying, but why it or the rest of the crew were here at all. The last anyone had seen of the Defender, its crew, or commander was six months ago, when they and several other members of a covert strike team infiltrated a secret fortress and capture the Sith Emperor himself.

Theron’s gaze narrowed on the group, lips pursing together. The busybodies here didn’t know about that part, though. All they knew was that a member of the Jedi High Council and a rising star in the Jedi Order had vanished almost completely without a trace.

Rumors of new, powerful Sith cropped up, whose descriptions seemed disconcertingly similar to the missing Jedi. That was where Theron had been, gathering intelligence on these rumors at the behest of his former master, Gnost-Dural, and why he had come to Tython to deliver reports to the Council directly.

He was supposed to deliver the report alongside Jomar Chul, with whom he’d teamed up when the rumors started. During their investigation, however, it became clear that Jomar’s interest in the mission was very singular, centered on the fate of just one of the missing Jedi. They’d eventually split up. Jomar focused on his obsession, leaving Theron to chase the remaining leads on his own.

He had a feeling Jomar was going to get into trouble again. Just like when he’d crash-landed on Tatooine while scouting the Dromund Kaas system for Tol Braga’s strike team and needed to be rescued by the Order’s resident overachiever. Since “The Force” allegedly intervened and brought Little Miss Perfect in, they had kicked Theron off the strike team. Never mind that he’d already done extensive legwork on the scope of the entire mission.

The story of his life.

Theron’s talents in the Force had always paled compared to the alleged legacy he’d inherited, and the two most prominent rising stars in the Jedi Order had always outshined him. First there was the Barsen’thor, with their raw talent and diplomatic savvy. And, of course, the woman who had nearly saved the entire Order and the planet of Tython from Darth Angral’s wrath. Theron was off world in the Vesla system at the time, and when he’d returned, the temple seemed unable to talk about anything else.

He could have approached the Defender’s crew and asked for precise details of their whereabouts for the past six months, or inquire about the conspicuously absent members of their crew. But he suspected that if he just kept walking, more would reveal itself. So, with only an arched brow at the strange ensemble, he made his way out of the chamber.

Theron found his way to the large balcony in the main hall, which overlooked the Eye of Zallow hovering in the center of the vast room. The Chamber of the High Council was just to his right. The Council members were speaking to each other, their words indistinct but their concerned tones loud enough to be heard over the buzz of conversation in the hall. He couldn’t help but wonder if the return of the Defender’s crew was responsible for that, too.

That’s when he saw her, leaning against the balcony railing, gazing down at the first floor.

For a moment, Theron almost didn’t recognize her, and it was only that dim, electric hum that seemed to pass between only the two of them that revealed the woman’s identity. Gone were the squared shoulders that projected serenity and strength, as well as the ornate tunic she wore after earning the moniker “Hero of Tython.” Theron’s eyes narrowed as he took in the pale face, tight jaw, and dark circles that stood out beneath haunted eyes. She wore a plain, stained tunic that hung loosely around her. Her hair was still pulled back into a ponytail, but it hung limply around her shoulders. Possibly most alarmingly of all, her lightsaber hilts were conspicuously absent. It may have been six months since he’d last seen Greyias Highwind, but one look at her revealed she’d been through hell and back.

Theron could have walked into the Council Chambers — and probably should have — but found himself settling in next to her at the railing, as if drawn there by a gravitational force. With his gaze fixed on the Eye of Zallow, he simply rested his arms on the railing, making no attempt to speak. While he may not have felt like wasting energy attempting to connect to the Force in order to determine the source of some whispers, but the connection seemed easier here. He felt the raw emotions tumbling off of her almost effortlessly — although perhaps it was more her not shielding herself than any effort on his part — and he wasn’t sure what to make of what he was picking up. She was projecting a sense of loss and bitterness, but there was a fog over it, as if she was trying to conceal it from all those around her.

Theron kept his mouth shut, trying to push his own emotions to the side. The last words he’d exchanged with her hadn’t exactly been the kindest. He’d been frustrated by being sidelined yet again and took it out on her, calling her a glory hog, among other choice words. She’d even apologized later, as if she felt some remorse for his exclusion from the mission. But she also didn’t try to persuade Tol Braga or the Council to let him back in.

Of course, after six months of radio silence, the entire strike team presumed dead and now possibly turned traitor… in retrospect, it now almost seemed a blessing. At least for him, because it was clear from looking at her it had been anything but on her end.

“Sometimes I wonder,” she finally said, her voice so quiet he couldn’t hear it over the din of the temple, “if you should have gone instead of me.”

That drew his gaze up to her, and he studied her features closely. He didn’t need the Force to see the darkness that clung to her like a lingering stain. Her normally expressive face was masked in an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, but even despite that, her eyes still spoke much louder than her voice.

It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts (and stamp down his stubborn pride) before he spoke. “Look, I’ll deny it if you ever tell anyone, but we both know who the better Jedi is between the two of us.”

“I... I did not mean it in that way.”

He almost winced, but stopped himself. He was doing a fantastic job at... whatever this was, wasn’t he? “In any case, I doubt my presence would have made a difference.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, as if whatever he’d said was the most obvious and logical thing in the world. “I suppose not.”

He considered the report he was about to deliver, and the likely identities of the Emperor’s new dark enforcers wreaking havoc across the galaxy. If the rest of her strike team had fallen to the Dark Side — some of the Order’s best and brightest — it spoke of her resilience that she hadn’t joined them.

“You made it back, though,” he added cautiously. “That has to count for something.”

“Does it?” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but he could pick up the despair and resignation in it.

It was a far cry from the cheerful Padawan who’d fought alongside him against the Flesh Raiders in the Gnarls. Or the pompous and pious young Jedi who rescued Revan from the Maelstrom. Or the honest Knight who always seemed to land the toughest missions, earning her the Grandmaster’s favor. As much as he’d resented her outshining him throughout his Jedi career, seeing her in this state was much, much worse.

In all of his years as a Jedi, Theron had always been reaching. At first, for the Force — trying to establish a connection which eluded him repeatedly over and over until one day, suddenly, an intangible yet firm hand had grasped him like a lifesaver being thrown out into stormy waters. He’d been reaching ever since. For the respect of his peers. For his mother’s—er, the Grandmaster’s—acknowledgement. Trying to reach for some destiny which always seemed to be plucked out of his grasp every time his hand closed around it. Over and over, he kept trying, with a stupid persistence that would have a smarter person giving up and moving on.

The woman in front of him had once been the personification of everything he’d been striving for. He’d looked into her bright, shining future and compared it to his own. Who always came out on top? Who walked away with the fancy titles and the admiration of the whole Order? And who had to stand in the shadows, watching as she earned accolades for her bravery and skill? As he looked at this shell of a once great Jedi, he wondered if maybe all this time, he’d been reaching for the wrong thing.

And yet he reached out again — but this time, to rest a hand on her shoulder.

When she looked at him, he could see surprise mingling with something softer. As if he’d plucked some cosmic string, the surrounding air seemed to shift, and a silent symphony filled the empty spaces between them. A familiar warmth rose up, melting the fog that shrouded her. He pretended not to notice when she blinked once, twice, a curious shimmer almost clinging to her lashes.

Neither of them moved for a few beats. Then she extended her hand, barely brushing his before pulling back, a faint blush creeping up on her cheeks. The minor emotion rippled through the Force, and for a second, Theron thought he heard a tune that sounded familiar but couldn’t quite place it.

“Every moment is what we make of it, right?” he said, trying to move past any awkwardness he’d created.

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly upwards, the closest thing to a smile he’d seen since he’d last seen her. “When did you become so wise?”

“Well, you know — I’m a Jedi. Comes with the territory.”

A laugh. A sharp, clean laugh, as if it had been trapped in her chest and only now had a way of escape. For a moment, she was almost herself again. Almost. The gray pallor remained, as did a haunted look in her eyes, a tension she’d not yet released. But he could see a spark now, a flash of the past’s brilliance. He wondered what it would take to restore that light to its former radiance.

Probably time.

“That you are,” she said, her smile still on her face. “And a pretty great one too.”

“I think you and I both know who has done the most good.”

“It is not great deeds that makes a Jedi,” she sobered slightly, tilting her head at him, “but this.”

She reached out, placing her hand over his heart. Her eyes crinkled as she gave him a half-smile, and the air between them practically crackled. A divine warmth radiated from her fingertips, through his shirt, and deep into a forgotten part of himself and lighting a fire in him. Not the type that left a searing mark, but almost cleansing — as if something was drawing him out of himself and connecting with her, making another part of them both more whole. The moment hung there, the rest of the world reduced to background noise. That strange energy filled the air between them and seemed as natural to both of them as breathing. Perhaps it was the Force; perhaps it was something else. He’d figure it out... later.

Her hand dropped, and she took a step back, bringing the surreal moment to an end. It was as if the room suddenly reappeared, drowning out the strange music that filled the space between them.

For lack of anything else to do, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I should… report to the Council.”

“It is probably wise to not keep them waiting,” she agreed, tucking her hands behind her back.

They exchanged a glance, and he was caught off guard by the softness in her expression. She didn’t move as he walked away from her, but her gaze followed him as he approached doors to the Council Chamber.

He took a brief pause just before entering to glance back. She was still there, leaning against the railing, her gaze distant. Perhaps he was imagining things, but she still seemed to radiate the warmth that had filled the distance between them. He reached out through the Force, and was met by a familiar light. Then it was gone, as if tamped back down.

He turned away and was about to slip through the door when he heard her voice drifting to him, soft but somehow louder than the wind. “Thank you, Theron.”

That was the only thing she said. But it was enough.

He smiled — and walked on.

[mon-cheri-stanley]

im a little scared to share this but this is a crack au inspired by the apartment ending. basically stan’s wife IS the narrator

i mean it was SUPPOSED to be a crack au but then it became angst very quickly 😭

basically stan and wifey got trapped in the parable together, only difference was stanley kept resetting whenever he triggered an ending and she was forced to remember everything. she gradually transformed into a cocky narrator over (several decades?) and stanley doesnt remember any of it.

and yes i suppose she uses any pronouns at this point. she doesnt rlly care. does she even have a name? i dunno. thats been forgotten too. she'd always been The Narrator, but The Narrator wasn't Stanley's love anymore. maybe someday he could tell stanley, because there's no one else that he loves more deeply.

time for details and headcanons :D

- she worked as a journalist, but was far more interested in being a creative writer but couldn’t find the time. she’s fluent in french and bakes for fun, but stanley does most of the cooking.

- i don’t know how they ended up in the parable, they worked together countless times to find a way out, but every time stanley managed to cross an area and trigger an "ending", he'd show up back in his office, completely forgetting everything that happened. it continues like this for many years. she developed a script because it was too exhausting to keep up with filling stanley in every time.

- her voice changes dramatically from years of speaking. in this omnipotent state, she could change so many things about herself, and she could let other things go, like her physical body. she'd adopted the deeper, signature Narrator voice to help her detach herself from what life used to be. because hoping hurts when every death, every escape, every end is meaningless. it was far easier to see herself as a narrator with a script, rather than trying to fight and hope for things to change.

- it's why she'd sometimes leave stanley in his office to push buttons for months. it's why killing him through the countdown sequence had become less stressful and more maddening, more sadistic, more satisfying. it's why they're so attached to stanley, but also roots for his demise. why they appreciate his choices, why they loathe his attitude and disobedience.

- sometimes, she still wants to tell stanley how much she still loves him. how much she wants to go back to the way things were. to confront him. tell him the truth. she couldn't do it on every run, because it hurts when stanley forgets. so whenever stanley chooses a specific route, the cargo lift, she tries to prepare herself to tell stanley the truth, just this once. she hoped that it would ease the pain and exhaustion, but she can never get the courage to. stanley is always so interested in reuniting with his wife when he gets on that cargo lift, but once theydo that, what happens then? the game was just going to restart, as much as she yearns for even just a minute of time with him, the way they used to be.

- she’d given up on that hope. the narrator mocks stanley. he no longer had a life partner, united through their rings and their vows. not in the conventional sense, anyway. now, they were divorced, but also united in a painfully twisted way, one unknowing and the other doomed to boil in futile hopes. besides, he’d grown to know a lot about stanley these past few decades. his predictable mannerisms, the way he reacts to being tricked, or threatened, or cornered. the things he does to survive. he wouldn't have been able to learn these things if it weren't for the limits he could push upon him, with the promise that he'll be completely fine in the end, another blank slate with which he could do whatever with.

- in the epilogue, when stanley had been set free, he never learns the truth. and maybe that’s a good thing

anyway heres a more lighthearted doodle i couldnt fit anywhere lol

au or not i figured i’d make a wife design and i knew without a doubt that she had to be a total girlboss

[nexstage]

A little gift for @themissakat and their marvelous Fungus AU. Enjoy it!

TW: blood, injury, graphic violence

A clang between blades echoed in the cavernous walls, sparks of metal against metal were reflected on the little puddles of water, and agitated steps halted as the back of a tired, blonde girl touched one of the walls.

"You know I didn't think you'd be happy to see me after what happened at the tower... But I didn't think you'd try to kill me..." Sasha smiled but her heart was filled with uneasiness, her muscles were sore and sweat bathed her face. Anne, on the contrary, kept holding her sword steadily with an impassiveness so unnatural for her, not a sign of exhaustion.

'Go to the dungeons in the night' Sasha had said to herself. 'What's the worse that could happen?' She had said to herself. A lot of bad things could happen, quite a lot and none of them made sense. She'd found Anne but what she received was the blade of a sword going straight at her throat that she had to stop and her best friend fighting her without a reason.

At first, she thought it was because of their duel at Toad Tower and Anne might still be holding a grudge against her but something felt off. There was no yelling, no glares, insults, or accusations but a ruthless series of sword slashes.

Anne would never do that. She would never attack or be mad without a good explanation. Regardless, now that Sasha could pay attention to her appearance, she noticed many glaring details that didn't fit with Anne. The yet black armor with a red-orange eye that seemed to see right through her, and most importantly the neon purple color overtaking the Thai girl's eyes and many of the veins in the back of her throat.

She must be dreaming. She was dreaming, wasn't she? Because, since when Anne's eyes had changed color and decided to wear that armor? Did someone set her a trap and transform her into a weird version of the Winter Soldier?

In hindsight, she should've left those questions for later and not blink because one moment Anne was some meters away from her, and the next one, her sword was swung from down to up to cut her head in half.

Fortunately for her, Sasha could move her heron sword in time to prevent a gruesome death. What she couldn't prevent though was the right half of her vision going crimson.

Pain reverberated on her skull, on her right cheek, on all over her body. Her right hand touched the injury bathing the palm in blood, the slash was over her cheek scar, her eye, and ended almost at the center of her forehead, and it was an iron-stenching waterfall. If she didn't stop it in time, she would collapse and it would be over for her.

Anne's onslaught continued as the point of her sword went for Sasha's chest. She evaded it as best as she could; however, the movement made her dizzy as more blood tainted the rocky floor of the dungeons.

Having no choice, she took off her hand from her injured eye to hold better her sword. Anne launched at her again, an up-to-down swing against the throat, a right-to-left diagonal move to gut her, a left-to-right diagonal to open her chest, horizontal, vertical, diagonal, nonstop.

And each strike was stronger than the former one.

Sasha's stamina was depleting. It wouldn't take long for Anne to disarm her and deliver the fatal blow. She had 2 options: defeat Anne, get her out of whatever trance had her under its control, or run away and ask for help. But who? She didn't know this would happen. Grime was in the shadows as much as her about this issue. Marcy... Hell, where the fuck was Marcy? Was she turned into a Winter Soldier too?

What about Anne's dumb frog family? They were always with her, where could they be right now? But could she trust them? Would they believe in her story?

The point of Anne's sword barely touched her neck as Sasha jumped backward.

Oh, screw it! Let's go find those stupid frogs!

She tackled her friend and pinned her to the floor. Now the next step: knocking Anne out, but how? That armor looked more resilient and modern than hers.

The Thai girl didn't give her time to formulate a plan as she headbutted Sasha on the nose. The blonde groaned in pain; she could already feel the bump on it, some of the bones cracked and the blood flowing like water from an open spout.

Her dizziness, worsened by the headbutt, got in the way of seeing the sword advancing at her chest again but her instincts moved her fast enough to evade it; however, her left shoulder wasn't so lucky for the blade slashed through her clothes. It wasn't a deep wound but the blood loss from the other two injuries was taking a toll on her.

Desperate, she threw caution away and tackled Anne to clash her back against the wall hard enough to leave her unconscious which ended up being a terrible idea as the other teenager grabbed her ponytail with her right hand and lifted the sword with the other to behead her.

It was a vice grip, no way could she get out of this; nonetheless, the terror coursing through her veins was intense enough for Sasha to duck the swing at the last second.

Every strand of hair strapped by the scrunchie was cut, leaving Sasha with a messy haircut.

Not wasting any second, she elbowed Anne and the girl fell to the floor, then she kicked her sword and ran away.

"I'm coming back for you and Marcy, Anne! I swear!" She yelled as dread, adrenaline, and regret swiveled in her mind.

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

Surprise felt like an understatement when Heart came back with her bloodied armor and sword and a crudely cut ponytail.

They never expected Strength looking for the other stars not even fighting Heart inside the dungeons, after all, there were wanted posters of her so going to the place that wanted her head sounded ludicrous.

Whatever. The Core couldn't care less about that. What they were concerned more about was the fact that Heart was unable to kill the other star and came back just with a dirty ponytail as a trophy.

Perhaps it'd have been better to use Strength to get rid of Heart because the other one was useless.

Suddenly, their hands started shaking, from slight tremors to uncontrollable spasms, and two new waterfalls flowed from their eyes.

Lovely. Just what they needed.

"Wit, would it kill you to stop this childish behavior of yours for 5 MINUTES?!"

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Private Show (Choi Jongho) Rated

Pairing: Choi Jongho × Exotic Dancer! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Slight Fluff, Idol AU.

Summary: Knowing the maknae has been lusting for a certain expensive stripper, Yunho arranges a private dance just for him that includes a little bonus gift.

Word Count: 4.4K+

Warnings: Strip clubs, exhibitionism, voyeurism, pole dancing, masturbation, breast play, lap dance, spanking unprotected sex (always use protection), cum facial.

❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖

Paying no mind to the lovely lady that was currently running her fingers through his hair, Jongho's eyes kept wandering around the bright, neon lighted room, shifting around in his seat at times so that it would be easier to see the stage in front of him. The girl, feeling a bit disappointed to be slighted as such, turned her attention over to his companion, who was more than eager to accept her little dance on his lap. His large hands fought hard to keep them at his sides, knowing fully well the rules of not touching the exotic dancers. But there was certainly no rule about the girls touching the clients and some, like the bubbly and energetic one currently grinding on Yunho's lap, were more than happy to get a little handsy with them. He couldn't help the excited giggle as he tilted his head so she could glide her tongue down the side of his neck, loving every second of the attention he was getting. Noticing that his younger friend was hardly enjoying himself, Yunho sighed before taking out a couple bills from his pocket and holding it out for the young seductress. Wanting to leave him with one last souvenir, the stripper pulled one of the straps of her glittery bra down, allowing the male idol to get a glimpse of her nipple. Biting his lip, Yunho discreetly placed the bundle of cash inside her garment, sighing blissfully as he watched her saunter off to go entertain another man.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself." He pointed out as he looked at Jongho with a curious gaze.

"Maybe because I'm just not into these types of things..?" Jongho shrugged as he reached for the glass that was on the table in front of him.

"Bet you wouldn't be saying that if Y/N was the one performing."

Yunho smirked when Jongho sipped on his drink too harshly, lightly letting out a cough after choking on the alcoholic liquid.

"What?"

Yunho rolled his eyes at his friend.

"Oh come on dude, you practically drool and get hard everytime she's on stage."

Jongho lowered himself in his seat, gaze wandering uncomfortably across the glittery floor underneath him. Chuckling in an endearing tone, Yunho patted Jongho's back affectionately.

"Awww. Does the Ateez' baby have a little crush on the hot stripper?" He teased him.

"What?! N-no..." Jongho furrowed his eyebrows, moving away from Yunho as far as he was able to in their seating booth.

"I mean, I honestly don't blame you. There's a reason she's the most sought after and expensive dancer in this place."

Catching sight of one of the bouncers heading their way, Yunho inwardly smiled to himself as the plan he had devised was about to come into action, the main highlight of why he had dragged Jongho down to the club with him, albeit with very little resistance from the younger male.

"Excuse me sir? Miss Y/N is ready to receive you in the private room."

Widening his eyes at the bouncer's announcement, Jongho whipped his head over at Yunho, who had the biggest and somewhat unnerving grin plastered on his face, almost as if he was taunting the maknae. Jongho especially felt somewhat slighted when his Hyung dared to produce his infamous black card out of his pocket, waving it around in front of the other's unamused face.

"Of fucking course you'd be able to afford a private dance with her." Jongho rolled his eyes, trying to seem as though it didn't bother him that Yunho had actually gone out of his way to book a personal session with the most desired woman in the establishment.

"Black card privilege my friend." Yunho giggled, putting his card safely back in his wallet after making sure to flex it.

"Oh suck it." Jongho grumbled, no longer to hide his annoyance at not being capable of affording exclusive time with a sexy woman who could charge 6 digits an hour solely because she was that gorgeous and lavish to look at.

Slumping an arm over his malcontent friend, Yunho leaned in to finally speak out the crucial part in his devious plan.

"Jongho, I booked the private dance for you kiddo."

With mind unable to believe Yunho's words, Jongho looked at the older male in confusion and almost as if he was in a daze. Chuckling, Yunho cupped his younger member's face and closed his agape lips.

"Don't drool just yet, you haven't even seen her."

Slipping himself out of his seat, Yunho extended his hand out towards Jongho, helping him up before proceeding to lead him out of the main hall and up the stairs. Jongho felt the pounding of his heart resonating in his ears, mouth slightly feeling dry the closer they approached the door of the private room. Gulping as he realized just behind those 2 doors he'd be faced with the very personification of his lustful desires, Jongho's hand slightly trembled as he reached for the doorknob. Snorting softly at the younger member's hesitation, Yunho leaned in and opened the door for him.

"Trust me Jongho, Y/N is actually very nice and will make sure you're comfortable at all times." Yunho assured him whilst simultaneously pushing him inside.

"How the hell do you know that?" Although Jongho's inquiry was more as a mental question towards himself, he was not ready for Yunho's answer.

"It's not the first time I've spent money for a one on one session with her-"

"Uh what?!"

Without getting any further explanation, Jongho watched as Yunho waved him a goodbye and closed the door, the light beeping sound letting him know that it was secured with a lock. Turning around, Jongho looked around and admired the soft pink aesthetic the room had been decorated with. It had a somewhat innocent and angelic vibe to it, which he didn't particularly dislike. In fact, he thought it was rather cute as in his mind he was already picturing a deep red lighting and a bunch of chains rattling across the walls. It was a pleasant contrast.

"I'm glad you seem to like the decor, I was here to make sure every detail would be to your liking."

Whipping his head towards the voice that startled him with their presence, Jongho's breath was caught when he saw none other than Y/N leaning against one of the walls, lips curled up in that mesmerizing smile of hers that never failed to melt him. With slow steps, she approached him, a completely tactic and intentional move so he'd be able to check her out from head to toe, and boy did he make use of it. He licked his lips as he took in her off white costume, consisting of a pearl beaded and lace bra that made sure to push up her soft looking breasts in the most alluring way, matching lace panties that had pearl studded clasps at the hip sides, no doubt intended for fast and hassle free removal. Her legs were accentuated by thigh high white stockings and the criminally high platform heels that helped her figure look elongated and more graceful. Her abdomen was decorated with a diamond belly chain that was fitted around her waist, a tiny pink butterfly pendant dangling in the middle, matching the pendant on the diamond choker that adorned her captivating neck. She had gone a lot more softer than she usually other for on her makeup, blush pink and soft coral main the focal points on the apples of her cheeks and lips, barely any color on her eyes save for the winged eyeliner that helped make her eyes look more enigmatic. Several parts of her body had been brushed with sparkling highlighter, mainly focusing on her shoulders, cheekbones, collarbone and the sides of her arms and thighs. Her hair was even styled differently, soft curled ends piled up into two half ponytails, the rest of her hair let down in similarly styled waves except for the long parted bangs that helped frame her face into having a more cutesy and angelic aura.

"Of course...." Her silky voice brought him out of his trance, making him focus his attention on her words.

"I did have a little help. Your friend told me a few things you seemed to favor." Her soft and semi mischievous giggle made him feel slightly abashed with himself.

Coming up close to him, Y/N took hold of his face, slightly squishing them in an affectionate manner.

"Don't be shy baby. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Leave everything to me."

A soft gasp escaped Jongho's mouth when she playfully pushed him to sit on the cushioned seat behind him, nearly falling off but managing to catch himself before that happened. Strutting over to the pole in the middle of the room, Y/N looked at him and sent him a heart fluttering wink.

As if on cue, the lights dimmed just a bit as a slow and sensual song started to play. Whipping her hair around, Y/N's arm outstretched itself to take a firm hold of the pole. Kicking one leg off the floor and using it as momentum, it stayed outstretched while her other leg bent around the pole as well, helping her to spin around expertly the pole. No matter how many times he'd see her do it, Jongho could never stop himself from whispering a soft 'wow' at how effortlessly and natural she made it seem when he knew very well it took a lot of strength to execute such a move.

Spinning around a few turns, she carefully planted her feet back on the ground. Making sure she was facing Jongho, she kept one arm on the metal bar behind her as her body slowly slid down, back supported on the pole. She made sure to keep her legs parted, hips swaying side to side in rhythm with the music, her free hand caressing her bare inner thigh with a teasing motion. Once down on the floor, she stayed on her knees as she trailed her hands up her torso, cupping her breasts and giving them a hard squeeze. Jongho widened his eyes when he watched her turn her back to him, still on her knees as her hands reached up to unhook her bra. He watched with anticipation as she peeled the straps off her shoulders, taking it off one arm, then the other until it was tossed across the room.

"Oh fuck-" He groaned when he came face to face with her bare chest for the first time since he started going over to the club. Being such a popular dancer, Y/N only fully stripped in settings like this, private room to wealthy paying customers, a privilege he now got to experience thanks to Yunho.

Taking hold of her breasts once more, she kneaded them between her palms, letting out a hiss as she purposefully pinched them to make them as hard as possible. As if the sight couldn't get more erotic, she lifted her hips slightly off the ground and proceeded to roll her hips up into the air, giving Jongho the perfect imagery of how she would look if she was on top of him, dick filling her pussy. After playing with her perky tits enough for his amusement, she got up once more and went back to the pole. Holding onto it, one hand a few inches away from the other, she lifted her body up and kept her legs spread as she spun around in a straddle spin. She made sure to keep a cheeky smile towards the man watching her performance, noticing that his hand began to rub dangerously close to his very obvious hard on.

"Oh sweet boy, don't worry, I won't keep you waiting." She giggled inwardly to herself.

Expertly, she spun herself down, legs further spreading as the eased into a middle split onto the floor. Y/N didn't stay long in that position, quickly bringing her knees together as she used the pole to help her get up off the floor. Circling around to be in front of Jongho once more, she turned around once more and bent down to touch her ankles. Her hands then proceeded to glide up her legs until they reached up to her barely covered ass cheeks. Wanting to play with him more, she playfully gave her ass a rather mild slap and if she had been able to she would have seen the effect it had on Jongho, the idol lightly jolting up from his seat as one of his hands twitched against his lap. Hands coming up to her hips, her fingers quickly snapped open the pearl decorated clasps on her underwear, the garment dropping fast onto the floor just like Jongho's mouth.

"Oh my god.." Was all he could mutter as he gazed at Y/N's bare pussy that was tempting him to go over and eat it up. Y/N did not make it any easier as her fingers once again reached back to spread her folds apart, letting him see just how wet and glistening they were. Feeling aroused and wanting to play with herself a bit, Y/N turned around to face Jongho again as she sat back down with legs spread. Hand reaching in between her thighs, Y/N threw her head back as she rubbed 3 of her fingers against her throbbing clit, spilling out the hottest moans Jongho had ever heard. His eyes stayed trained on her core, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as he saw how engorged and swollen her pussy lips were becoming thanks to her fast hand movements. As if the picture couldn't get any better-

"Jongho..." He tensed up when he heard her mutter his name. Opening her eyes, Y/N giggled at his shocked expression.

"Yes babyboy, you're not the only one who's getting turned on." She admitted, her rubbing becoming more intense and her sounds starting to get more high pitched. She could have made herself cum right then and there but she immediately halted her movements when she felt herself get too close to climaxing. She had already made up her mind that if she was going to cum, it was going to be on Jongho's cock, the very cock that she had been craving for quite some time. She vividly remembers the first time she saw him, sitting there in the crowd, eyes locked on her. Unlike the usual and common stares she'd get from other men that only displayed carnal lust and appetite, Jongho's eyes were different. They looked at her with pure adoration, staring at her as if she was an absolute goddess. He looked past her sexy body and dance and peered deep into the art and beauty of it, admiring each and every move she'd make onstage with fascination. Every time she'd perform and he was there, he always had an expression that seemed as if he had just discovered a priceless treasure or gem and Y/N loved the way he looked at her. He made her feel alive again, reminding her of why she loved performing, a love that had almost gone extinct after being viewed as nothing more than an object of entertainment and pleasure by many others. Seeing Jongho stare at her the way he did then, the way he was looking at her now, refueled that passion that had been buried deep inside her, being awakened once more by the man sitting in front of her.

Getting on all hands and knees, Y/N began crawling over to Jongho, the boy noticeably stiffening the closer she approached him. Sitting right in front of him, Y/N didn't hesitate to press her palms on his thick thighs, rubbing them in a gentle massage. She continued a pattern of stroking his thighs, thumbs occasionally pressing down hard. With a mischievous smirk, she hovered a hand above the tent in his pants before pressing it down to start palming him.

"Oh-Oh..." Jongho's breath hitched, thighs clenching at the feeling of her touching his intimate place, a picture he only got to live in his dreams up until that moment.

"You feel so big and thick even under these layers of clothes. Do you mind if I get a closer look?"

Noticing his hesitation and getting an inkling as to why it was, Y/N leaned forward, burying her face in between his legs as she placed her mouth right on top of his clothed bulge. Jongho outright moaned loudly at the contact, hips involuntarily bucking up each time she closed her mouth over his tent, only to open it back up before repeating the ministrations.

"Y/N please....." Jongho whined. Y/N giggled underneath him, the vibrations doing nothing but riling him up further. Giving in, Jongho began to unzip his pants, his hands sudden being pried off as Y/N took over and finished the task of undressing him. She pulled his pants and briefs down to pool around his ankles, face marveling at the sight of his erect cock right in front of her.

"Oh I was right. You are very thick and big."

Getting up, Y/N sat herself on top of Jongho's lap, the man underneath her gasping when she started rolling her hips against his, her wet folds coating his cock with her juices.

"Y/N are...are you sure this is ok?" He finally voiced out the biggest concern he had about all this.

Chuckling, Y/N wrapped her arms around Jongho's neck, leaning in close enough that her lips fanned over his own.

"Honey, it's perfectly fine. The only rules that apply inside these 4 walls are the ones that I set."

Taking hold of his hands, she placed them on her hips before continuing.

"And the number 1 rule is having you touch me as you please."

Jongho hesitantly ran his hands across her sides, still apprehensive about getting himself or her in trouble. Pouting slightly, Y/N began to grind her hips harder down onto his cock, gasping softly each time her clit felt stimulated by his shaft. That tiny action served to have him slide his hands down to cup her ass, squeezing harshly as he himself began bucking his hips upwards, matching the pace that she had set. He kept his eyes trained on the way her breasts bounced each time she moved fiercely on top of him. Releasing his grip on her ass, he placed them on top of her pillowy mounds, giving them tight squeezes that had Y/N shuddering when his thumbs brushed against her nipples, being extremely sensitive in them. After toying around with her sensitive nubs, making sure to flick them every so often, Jongho licked his lips before pressing his face against in between her tits. Opening his mouth, he latched his lips against one of her nipples, giving it harsh suckles, loud and sloppy noises being heard even over the music. Y/N closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his warm mouth on her boobs. Her fingers came up and tangled themselves on the back of his hair, palms unconsciously pressing him into her chest even further, back arching so that he would be able to take more of her soft flesh inside his mouth. Releasing the first nipple with a loud pop and a thin trail of saliva, Jongho knew it wouldn't be fair if her other nipple didn't get payed the same attention the other got. With a groan, his mouth once again enclosed over her nipple, practically devouring it into his warm and wet cavern.

Y/N's hip movements started to become more and more frantic. After having teased Jongho and herself so much before, she was beginning to feel much too hot and bothered, her pussy feeling empty and in desperate need to be filled with a fat and thick cock. Pulling Jongho's face off her chest, she suddenly got off his lap so she could move over towards the ottoman on the other side of the room. Getting on all fours, she presented her ass to Jongho once more, hand reaching in between to play with her reddened clit.

"Jongho please fuck me. Fuck this little hole of mine and use it as you want."

Not wanting to wait to see if it was a dream that he would wake up from or not, Jongho got up from his seat and began walking over to the exotic dancer. His clothes started to form a trail across the floor as he stripped out of every article of clothing he had on, the last garment dropped right as he came up behind her round and firm ass that was just begging to be slapped by one of his palms. Cupping the sides of her ass, Jongho rubbed the tip of his cock against her slickened lips, his precum mixing with hers, some of it even oozing down lightly on the floor. Any other time she would have appreciated how soft and gentle he was being, but right now that was the last thing she needed.

"Jongho don't tease me. Just drill that cock inside me and break me like one of those apples you break." She didn't even care that she accidentally made it known that she knew very well what he was capable of doing. Jongho on the other hand got a smug smile on his face after finding out that she had actually gone out of her way to do research on him.

Y/N had to press her hands against the top part of the couch to keep herself from holding forward after Jongho plunged his cock deep inside her. Not giving her dripping and warm walls time to prepare, Jongho began slamming his hips against her ass, his shaft being squeezed by her wet and clenching walls that made sure he wouldn't be going anywhere. Needy moans and cries of pleasure echoed in that room, most of them coming from the girl that was being impaled to the hilt by a thick cock repeatedly without mercy.

"Yes! Just like that!" She cried out, deep breaths spilling out as she pushed herself further back into Jongho's thrusts.

"You like being fucked like this?" He growled from behind, dropping one hand to slam hard against one of her cheeks that was rippling each time he pushed deep inside her core, the action making her walls contract painfully around Jongho's cock.

"I- yes! Fuck yes baby I do! I love being fucked as if I was nothing more than a glory hole." She shamelessly admitted.

Jongho once again brought his hand up and then dropped it down, giving her beautiful and supple ass a few repeated smacks, the loud cracking of his palm on her skin continuing to sound across the room until her flesh started to turn a pink-reddish hue. After getting his fill of making sure to slap her ass, Jongho cupped the sides of her soft cheeks, fingers digging harshly into her skin as he spread them out as much as they could, admiring the way his cock entered and re-entered her drenched hole.

"Fuck! You feel so good inside me baby, your going to make me cum."

Hearing those words made the male idol drive harder and more forceful thrusts into her body, using the power in his hips as his cock continued to stretch her tight hole. Y/N was losing her mind at how good the pleasure felt, she wouldn't have been suprised if her agape mouth was drooling saliva down her chin at the point. She focused on nothing else except relishing in how deep Jongho's cock was in her. She loved how rough he was being with her, and Jongho could also tell, her long drawn out screaming moans being a big clue that she was taking his hard thrusts very well. Too well. Swear began to mist both of their bodies, dripping down their foreheads and temples as his merciless pace continued. Y/N began to contract violently underneath him, her moans turning into full on wailing.

"Oh fuck! Jongho I'm gonna-"

She was caught off, lips only managing to spat out piercing whimpers of ecstasy as her juices seeped out and onto his length, warmly coating the entirety of his shaft. Y/N couldn't stop clenching around his cock, almost as if her body was purposefully trying to prolong her mind breaking orgasm. Feeling her spill all over him, Jongho's pace became more sloppy, less calculated, a clear indication that his own climax was not too far behind.

Knowing exactly where she wanted his cumshot, Y/N pulled away from Jongho's cock, quickly turning around and getting on her knees as her hand wrapped around his shaft and rapidly jerked him off, eyes looking up at him as she lowered her face even further so his tip would be right above her forehead.

"Oh shit!" Jongho spat out, head thrown back and eyes shut tightly, unable to hold back from cumming after realizing what Y/N had in store.

Within seconds Y/N felt his cum start to shoot out towards her face, tongue poking out to catch some of it. She loved how hot, thick and sticky it was. Her free hand came up to fondle his balls, proving to help in extending his high as much as possible as well making sure that more cum would be pumped out of him so that it could be splashed on Y/N's pretty face. The girl giggled as a second load shot out unexpectedly, drowning her face in cum as she swallowed what had been collected in her tongue. Jongho was panting almost feverishly when his high finally started to rescind, allowing him to calm his heartbeat that was pumping ferociously. Peering down, he let out a shocked exclaim as he saw the stripper's face drenched in his cum, a huge smile on her face that turned even brighter when she felt him get hard again in her hand. Making sure that his boner wouldn't go anywhere, Y/N leaned in and pressed a kiss to his tip, tongue poking out to dip into his slit.

"Your friend paid for 5 hours and we've only used up 2. What do you say we make his money worth while?"

❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖

Taglist: @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers @multidreams-and-desires @deja-vux @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @a-soft-hornytiny @daniblogs164 @yunsangoveryonder @minhyukmyluv @nanamarkie @mingismoon @ateezbabysitters @rainteez02