#there are so many so i'll tag some prominent ones

[viridescentelf]

Investment - Sylus x Reader

sup bitches, i am feral for this man

DISCLAIMER: i know extremely little about Love and Deep Space, I can‘t start playing it bc I know I will lose years of my life lol I don‘t want to fully commit to the brainrot that Sylus would do to me in game nsdksks (all i know is he‘s hot, he‘s rich, he‘s like into selling weapons ?? he‘s a dragon??????? idk??? lol)

So I just kinda took his beautiful face, plopped him into my own realm with what I know and wrote something so I can stop thinking about him.

The lore isn‘t accurate at all lol sorry but i just can‘t play it.

SUMMARY: You‘re an undercover cop on a mission to seduce a prominent mob boss‘ lackey. Sylus takes notice of you and decides to intervene.

If you want to listen to the music that inspired this fic, here you go. Bonus: if you can guess the song I had in mind for the performance, I'll write a short fic of your choice.

WARNINGS: possessive and obsessive behavior, prostitution, talk of violence

Part 2 will be NSFW

Word Count: 5kish

—————

„Do you copy?“

The radio chirped quietly, while you discreetly pushed the miniscule device deeper into your ear.

„Yes Sir“, you answered barely audibly, looking at your own reflection in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself: a done up face, more skin than you‘ve shown in a long while, hair quaffed and tied up to avoid it getting caught somewhere during the performance. The invasive voice of your chief in your ear mumbled the usual blabber such as „stay alert“ and „focus“ etc. while you finished the last touches of your look.

You were in a room full of people. Lockers and costumes adorned the walls, the lights reflecting in the colorful sequence.

The dancers lent you some jewelry; they treated you extremely kindly. No one here knew you were undercover, so they treated you like they always treated newcomers: expecting a scared person unsure of what they had signed up for, they held your hand and comforted you with calming words, the usual phrases you would think of. You smiled as a return of affection when they spoke to you, but your mind was racing with the plan you needed to complete. As kind as they were, you couldn’t let that distract you.

Your mission today was fairly straightforward: seduce one of the underlings of Alastair, a notorious mob figure in this area, then corner and interrogate them in order to find out where their boss was hiding.

There was no other way to penetrate the cluster of security that the mob kept going, seeing as cameras and mics were hidden everywhere in the city, run by them. All of the criminal underbelly hid in plain sight when venturing through the streets and were pretty much impossible to track down. Alastair was one of many heads of the mafia here, albeit one of the less influential ones. Your unit zeroed in on him, because he seemed the most promising to break.

An informant within his circle found out that Samira, your target, gained a massive privilege from Alastair: visiting the mob run auction house this very evening. With finances covered by her boss, Samira could have a special evening of watching burlesque performances and enjoying paid sex.

The auction house had a simple system. If you wanted a performer, you had to throw roses and outbid the others.

The roses were all tagged and had different colors:

Red was the simplest, equaling 1k.

Purple was 5k.

Blue was 100 k.

Bronze was 500 k.

Silver was a milli and extremely rare. You knew Samira had one.

And finally, Gold, which was an exorbitant amount. The owner didn’t even bother telling you the figure, being that it was never used.

Your boss knew you could dance. And knew you were Samira‘s type.

The informant arranged everything: the owner of the auction house had been paid off so that you could join and perform on your first day. He had no clue who you were, he just thought he gained new meat.

So, here you were, stretching at your seat.

You weren’t too nervous, you knew you could flirt and get your way in other aspects of your life. Why not on a grander scale?

The owner placed you sort of in the middle of the rotation, where most average performances took place. The cheaper options. He didn‘t want to risk you being an absolute flop and disappointing the customers.

It didn‘t matter. You only needed to get Samira‘s attention. Then you could go on with the mission.

A petit dancer tapped you on the shoulder and asked if you needed any equipment during your performance. You paused, looking at them through the mirror, going through the routine in your head.

„Just a chair“, you decided eventually.

The dancer blinked and giggled to themselves: „Wow, that‘s it? We have aerial hoops and stuff like that if you want…“

You smiled back. You couldn’t help but notice how young they looked.

„Thanks, but I‘ll just take the chair.“

The person turned, about to walk away, when you thought of something:

„I‘ll take a ladder too, please.“

You watched the roses fly onto the stage where a young man had just finished his dance with feathers and beautiful cloth artistry. He bowed several times, throwing kisses into the crowd. You could see a particular pile of purple roses with the same tag becoming more prominent at his feet. Seemed to be the best bid.

The owner bellowed into a microphone: „Sold for 15 000 to the gentleman in the silver tux!“

You saw the young man clap happily when the winning bidder walked on stage. It was an ugly looking guy, tux far too tight and in a gaudy hue, dark hairs peeking through the holes between his shirt buttons. He wrapped his stubby arm around the dancer, who gracefully leaned into the touch and escorted him off stage.

You knew there were lounges above the stage. You were supposed to take Samira up to one and question her there.

Your boss made himself known again: „Y/N, stay calm. Zero in on your target. She‘s bound to give every rose she has.“

You cleared your throat, which you had agreed would be yes while others were too close to you.

It was your turn. The stage hand checked with you once more if you had everything you needed while she plucked and pinned your outfit for the final time. You nodded in response, simultaneously confirming the music you picked to accompany your act. She seemed a bit flustered at your answer, you knew the sound was unusual for the establishment. It normally played slower, more sensual tempos. Acts also rarely required strobing effects, like yours.

But you had to make an impact. This was your one shot at getting to Samira. You needed to stand out. And if that meant standing out with a wilder song, dance and lighting, then so be it.

The owner blabbered on into the booming microphone about you being new and how „fresh“ you were (whatever that meant), while you ascended the ladder by the side of the stage, shielded from view. One poor sod was tasked with holding the ladder in place, you could hear him swearing. It was quite high, but you had enough practice. You knew how to catch yourself without injury.

The echo of the microphone died down and you could hear a few cheers already, the crowd expecting a timid little person, terrified of their new environment. They seemed to relish in young, helpless creatures feeling lost and scared in front of them.

But that wasn‘t you.

The music crept into the hall, the quiet beginning misleading the listeners of what was to come now. Your ears were waiting for the beat cues so that your arrival would have the maximum effect.

There it was. You bent your knees on the top of the ladder and pushed yourself hard into the air towards the middle of the stage, stretching as far as your muscles allowed.

At the perfect time, you landed into a beautiful split with a mighty crash. Catching yourself with your hands to avoid any pain, you immediately struck a blind smile into the crowd while your eyes quickly scanned for Samira. At your impact, the sounding cheer deafened the music briefly. Facing the crowd obstructed by heavy lights, you started your routine. It was so hard to see. Eyes still sweeping over the shadowy members within the seats, you struck pose after pose showing off your figure, while letting the rhythm guide you into more sensual movements.

You realized you wouldn’t be able to find her from where you were, so you decided to continue your dance and find a way to reach the edge of the stage without being too obvious.

The music slowed for a moment, allowing you to grab the chair by the side entrance and drag it behind you while your heels slid sultry across the wooden floor. You dragged it semi close to the front and started your section of dance with it there. With a teasing smile, you slid onto the chair, each movement deliberate and full of flair. You rested one hand on the back of the chair, your hips swaying as you played with the rhythm, inviting the audience into fantasizing you being on their lap. Your legs extended with a controlled stretch, a perfect balance of strength and seduction. As the music pulsed on, you rose with a fluid motion, effortlessly transitioning between powerful and sensual poses, your eyes locking with the crowd, blindly trying to locate your target. Every flick of your wrist, every arch of your back, was a testament to your rhythm and control, turning the chair into an extension of your body, your partner in this captivating dance.

Climbing all over it, you used this part of the song to show off how far you could arch your back and made your ass pop a few times to massive cheers. You had to show what you could offer, anyway.

You were halfway through. You had to do something drastic to find her.

This wasn’t part of the routine, but you decided it was necessary. Climbing onto the chair, with one foot on the back support, you teased the onlookers by tilting it back and forth, waiting for a moment in the song where the fall would make the most sense.

Forcing the tilt further, the chair fell over with you diving into a quick and practiced tumble and coming up right at the edge of the stage. You turned quickly and let your hair fall over the edge of the stage, opening your eyes with a lusty grin etched across your face. You scanned the rows as fast as you could.

Samira was luckily easy to spot, she sat in the second row, completely enthralled with your act. Her short black hair half-up and yellow eyes pointed directly at you while her toned arm hung over her chair.

You looked straight at her and winked, blowing a kiss at everyone watching but stopping for her once again, trying to seal the deal.

Samira wouldn‘t break eye contact with you, a look of sheer determination to have you.

Easy as fuck, you thought to yourself, getting up to continue and finish the act.

The beat intensified and you hit every move with sharp muscles and graceful ease, finalizing your act with the most alluring pose you could think of: your body turned away with your head facing the crowd.

A final wink. The hall erupted with applause. The roses already started flying in and you noticed Samira‘s tag being part of the massive pile before your feet. The owner was already prattling on about how this was such a rarity with someone as talented as you. You bowed appreciatively as the roses kept coming, Samira‘s pile growing more and more: You spotted a bronze. And then the silver one.

Bingo.

Samira grinned triumphantly. Elbowing the poor sod next to her, who had no more roses to give. The crowd all accepted that she had outbid everyone, a silver rose was just such a rarity.

The owner laughed into the microphone: „What a show! Wow Miss Samira. Looks like a massive bid for the young thing. 1.5 million going once, going twice-„

A flash of red made your spine thunder. It came out of a high balcony. You saw something flying towards you, like a dagger. Your reflexes betraying you, you caught the thing flitting towards your face and held it between two fingers. The sparkling, priceless hue glittered, as you gaped at the beautiful golden rose.

„My- my word! 50 million?!? I- uh 50 million going once, going twice…“

Your stomach dropped. No.

„S-SOLD! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!!! WHAT A MILESTONE FOR US, SOLD TO THE GENEROUS MR. QIN!!!“

You heard the chief in your ear shouting profanities. Something about the informant not telling him he would be here as well?!

„Y/N, you have to get out of there. Now!“

You couldn’t move. The shock cascaded through you, as you watched a tall, domineering figure descend the balcony stairs. Your eyes briefly flickered to Samira, who was yelling some insult at no one.

Stepping into the light, the red eyes were the first thing you noticed. They stared into you, plucking every nerve you had.

You recognized him immediately. You had heard about Sylus Qin. But you never thought you would lay eyes on him. And definitely not like this.

He wore a tailored maroon suit, the jacket draped casually over his broad shoulders. His salty hair danced in the limelight, perfectly kept and styled to stay out of his piercing gaze. Walking towards you, the almost invisible grin on his face made your heart convulse anxiously.

It seemed his presence not only stole your own ability to move a muscle. The entire venue quieted, a few hushed voices whispering in the background. It was like an evil spirit had entered this space and stolen the sound.

He approached you determinately, never letting his red eyes leave your own.

Your chief was shouting in your ear that you needed to leave. His screaming broke the charm briefly and you were able to tear your own eyes away from his to look for a quick exit strategy. You spotted a door across the seats with a staircase sign. Perhaps you could find a window somewhere there and squeeze through. It was worth a shot.

Just as your muscles got ready to turn towards the crowd, Sylus‘ arm swooped around your shoulder, squeezing you into him softly.

You dared not move. You had no way of knowing what he was capable of. His aura was mighty and something about his cologne made you forget you had a tongue. Looking up, he eyed you from head to toe. Your outfit didn‘t leave much for imagination.

„What a sight you are. I couldn’t resist spending a pretty penny on you. Let‘s not waste a moment.“

The depth of his voice made your stomach flutter, involuntarily.

He guided your movement without force, your body just simply obeyed him. You were both walking towards the place the last dancer had led their benefactor. You knew there were rooms up there.

He stopped in front of the owner. Giving a brief nod, the infamous man with his arm around you spoke again: „With the amount I paid, I‘m taking this one with me.“

The owner blinked rapidly, eventually nodding stupidly in agreement. Even if he didn‘t want that to happen (you were obviously popular), he couldn’t risk one of the biggest buyers to become disgruntled. The sheer panic rose further and nestled itself in your throat.

Your figures disappeared from the crowd behind the velvety curtains. Sylus kept walking and your head followed the very obvious Lounges sign that passed by you.

Where was he taking you? What was going to happen? And how could you escape?

He aimed for a small decline, leading to an emergency exit. A few of the stage hands scurried out of his path while the next performer entered the limelight. Your breath was caught in your throat as you both descended the four steps, reaching a long, bleak and concrete hallway with a door at the end of it. Your radio crackled unnervingly; you could make out snippets of words your chief was trying to verbalize. Then he vanished completely. There was no service here. No safety.

Your footsteps echoed in this hall, your heels clacking in sync with Sylus‘ shiny dress shoes. The way was narrow, so he squeezed you further into his body. You tried to keep your shoulders steady, the smallest bit of resistance you could muster was worth it, in your mind. You weren‘t going to just submit.

You were close to the exit and you pictured how you could elbow his side and make a run for it once the door opened.

In that moment, Sylus moved quick and shifted you with one hand so your back was against the cold and textured wall. The swift movement took you off guard once again and you held up your fists, ready to defend yourself.

He quickly grabbed your wrists, with surprisingly little pressure, but you weren’t able to follow through on the punch you wanted to give him.

„Steady there, officer. That’s no way to treat someone who just saved your life.“

Your eyebrows twitched in confusion. The question obvious on your face. He knew you were a cop? How? And what did he mean by saving? He just bought you!

Sylus’ eyes scanned you thoroughly. Then he laughed to himself, the exacerbated air hitting your face softly.

„Can I let go of your wrists or are you gonna try and punch me again?“

„Don‘t make me.“

He tilted his head: „Oh? Cocky, aren’t we?“

You weren‘t sure what was happening. Your eyes flitted to his hands then back to his intense stare.

Sylus let go of one of your wrists, but held the other one pinned against the wall. A seeming compromise, or a trick?

You could punch him, if you wanted to.

But you wanted to know how he knew. How did one of the biggest mob bosses know your identity?

Sylus free hand reached up to your check, a finger brushing your earlobe. You flinched.

„The radios all of you use are extremely cheap. Real easy to track and crack into, if you have the right software. I’d suggest moving to newer models, if the city allows the price uptick…“

His finger invaded your ear and pulled the iridescent, tiny thing out before you could stop him. You tried to grab it from him, but he held it up like a boy teasing his younger sibling.

You tried to jump to get it. When that didn’t work, you tried to wrestle your way to the door, but he turned you easily and pinned you back against the wall with one hand.

He smiled and you heard a small click. Then the broken shards of the radio fell to the ground. You stared at them in disbelief. What had you gotten yourself into?

You looked up at him angrily. His grip on you seemed so limp and careless, but you could feel that he was capable of hurting you, if he felt like it. You were cornered and unsure what you could do. How could he have known about this heist? Had he bugged the police station?

Perhaps you needed to play along, learn what you could and watch for an opening. That seemed to be the best course of action. Trying to fight him right now wouldn’t go well for you.

Sylus watched you stare at him and seemed to sense that you were calculating and questioning, then he grinned: „You really thought you were going to trick Alastair? With that weak of a security system? Sending undercover plans through text messages… I weep for this city…“

He shook his head theatrically. You raised an eyebrow. What?

„Because of your careless chief, Alastair knew of your cute little plan. If I hadn‘t intervened, he was going to kill you tonight. Samira would drug you and deliver you to his doorstep. Then he’d probably enjoy you a bit in his sick way-“, He gestured vaguely at your figure, „-before dumping you in the river.“

It was clear on your face that you were distraught at this information. You knew the mob had a ton of resources, but if what he was saying was true, they were never going to get anywhere. They were always a few steps ahead. But could you really trust what he was saying?

„What the hell do you want?“, you hissed.

Sylus grinned again.

„How about dinner first? You look hungry. But first, we need to get you an outfit. As beautiful as you look in this, I can‘t be seen with you looking like a floozy.“

He let go of your wrist and flung his coat off of his shoulders, draping it over you.

„I promise to enlighten you after we‘ve had a meal. And seeing as though I paid a decent amount for this date, I assume you won‘t be rude enough to reject the idea.“

You gaped at him. You were about to retort, when his arm flung around you again while he simultaneously opened the door.

Streetlights flooded your senses and a black car stood by the pavement, ready for the two of you. Your head whipped around trying to locate anyone you knew, looking for your chief, any comrade. Anyone!

No one. They were all on the other side of the building, and you had a feeling Sylus knew this.

He opened the door for you, one hand still around your arm. Reluctantly, you lowered into the strange car.

The driver greeted Sylus and called you Milady/Sir, simultaneously starting the engine and taking off. He drove through the city with a speed that was definitely illegal, but no one seemed interested in stopping him. There were more pressing matters in the city than speeding.

Sitting in the car, your eyes frantically searched the streets for an opening to roll out.

„I wouldn‘t try that, if I were you. Doors are locked.“

You turned to him and watched him type something on his phone. Then he brought it up to his ear and spoke in a language you didn‘t recognize.

While talking, he turned to you and eyed you up and down: „What size are you?“

He was serious about the outfit thing? You must be dreaming, this couldn’t be real.

You didn’t answer.

Sylus waited for a short while, scoffed, then turned back towards the call: „Your size.“

He guessed. And correctly? What?

Sylus finished the call and continued to type something. The rapid noise of his fingers tapping his screen was all you could hear. The silence was bugging the hell out of you.

None of this made any sense. It would’ve been so much easier to just let you get killed by Alastair. It’s not like your death would’ve meant anything to the police station, it happened daily.

What was the purpose of this entire spiel? What did he want with a cop in his backseat?

Was it simply just sex? Some weird fantasy he was fulfilling?

What was his plan?

These questions raced through your head and you couldn’t help but want to know the answer to all of them. Your tongue was shaking with a strong urge to ask what the loudest question circling in your brain.

“Why did you help me?” you finally said.

Sylus kept scrolling on his phone, not looking up: “We have similar interests.”

That wasn’t really an answer. You kept staring at him.

Sylus’ red eye finally turned towards you, noticing you weren’t satisfied with his response.

“I promise to tell you everything after dinner. Now, go enjoy the scenery.” He waved his hand at you, gesturing for you to leave him be.

Perhaps you could take this undercover thing a lot further: learn as much as you can about one of the biggest threats in the city, then run away and get the entire force to come after him.

You decided to wait. You couldn’t do anything else, anyway. There was a looming panic festering within you and you weren’t sure how long he would keep you alive. You needed to stay alert, but hopefully learn as much as you could to take back to the station.

Once you knew of his plan, you would run and report.

You sat at one of the largest dinner tables you had ever seen. Sylus sat at one end, you at the other.

You were in a giant penthouse on the outskirts of town. The place was decorated with many boxing trophies and high-end art. Everything looked expensive.

The food was fantastic. You had been reluctant to eat it in fear of being poisoned, so Sylus had stood up, taken a piece of your meal and put it in his own mouth – proving that it was safe.

Before the meal, a butler had delivered a beautiful outfit for you – classy, elegant and it fit you like a glove. You changed in an enormous guest bathroom. Your favorite necklace really harmonized with the outfit, as if Sylus had taken notice of it and planned it accordingly.

Despite everything looking and tasting divine, you were still sitting across one of the most dangerous men in this city. This was someone who hurt people. He was this city’s most wanted and you were sharing a meal with him.

You needed to remind yourself that he bought you at an auction. He was there, because he enjoyed that lifestyle.

You couldn’t trust him.

You both ate in silence. It was awkward. Sylus was on his phone the entire time, either taking calls or texting.

As you finished the last bite of your exquisite meal, Sylus set his phone down with a soft click. The abrupt absence of tapping drew your attention. His piercing red eyes met yours across the expanse of polished mahogany.

"I suppose you're ready for answers," he said, his deep voice resonating in the cavernous dining room.

You nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the curiosity and apprehension roiling inside you.

Sylus leaned back in his ornate chair: "As I said before, we have similar interests. You want to get rid of Alastair. I wouldn’t mind him gone, either. But your methods will never work. I can offer my assistance.”

Your brows narrowed. A deal?

“I assume that assistance isn’t out of the gracious nature of your heart.” The words just left you. You couldn’t stop them.

Sylus chuckled, a low rumble that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Perceptive. I like that." He stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the table. With deliberate steps, he made his way towards you, each footfall echoing in the vast room.

"You're right, of course. I have my own motivations." He stopped beside you, pulled the chair closest to you out and slunk into it, his proximity making your heart race. "Alastair is a thorn in my side. He's unpredictable, volatile. Bad for business."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity overcoming your caution. "And you're not?"

His lips quirked into a half-smile. "I'm calculated. Alastair? He's a loose, dumb cannon that keeps causing fires I have to put out. He needs to go."

You blinked. The chair made you feel tiny, it was so wide and expansive that you could’ve easily sat cross-legged. It caused him to feel even larger than he already was, being so close to you.

“So, what? You pulled this entire charade just to get rid of some competition? Surely you don’t need my help to do that. Spit it out, what do you want?”

Sylus watched you, his eyes mapping your face. The lingering stare made you forget to breathe.

He was extremely handsome. It was distracting.

Sylus leaned in closer, his cologne enveloping you in a heady cloud. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, "What I want, pet, is someone I can trust inside the police force."

The term of endearment sent an involuntary shiver through you. You tried to mask it, but the slight quirk of his eyebrow told you he'd noticed.

"Don’t call me that. And why would you think I'd ever agree to that?" you challenged, forcing steel into your voice.

His laugh was low and rich, ringing in your ribcage. "Because, pet, you owe me. I saved your life tonight. Without my intervention, you'd be nothing more than a cold corpse floating down the river by now."

The stupid nickname bothered you, endlessly. But you dropped it nonetheless.

“That’s what you say. I have no way of knowing if that’s true.”

Sylus rolled his eyes and flicked his phone out of his pocket. Typing something quickly, he pulled a video feed onto his screen and held it towards you.

You were watching Samira in the auction house hallway, pacing frantically up and down on the phone.

“That fucking twink outbid me. What the hell am I gonna tell Alastair?! …. 50 million… yeah I know… it’s a huge fuck you…. no dipshit I can’t just pick another one. I literally bet all of it on that cop. Plus he knows the difference, these whores are built different…-”

Sylus pulled the phone away from your eyes, nodding in your direction for you to reply.

You swallowed hard, your mind reeling from the implications of what you'd just seen and heard. The reality of how close you'd come to death tonight was sinking in, leaving you feeling shaken and vulnerable.

So it was true.

Sylus leaned back, giving you a moment to process. His red eyes never left your face, studying your reactions intently.

"I still don't understand. Why go to all this trouble? You could bribe anyone to work for you with the money you have. Why..." you trailed off, a horrifying thought suddenly occurring to you. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, really looked at him for the first time since you'd arrived at his penthouse.

He was undeniably powerful, clearly wealthy beyond measure. And he'd just spent an obscene amount of money to... what? Have a little cop sex slave on the side? Why was he at the auction house to begin with? If not for that?

Sylus leaned his elbow on the arm rest and placed his cheek in his hand. His eyes wandered down to your chest, where your necklace swung quietly.

“Is this some sick kink of yours, buying people and making them fulfill some weird fantasy? Like your personal plaything?”

His eyes widened and a hearty laugh escaped him with such force that it made you jolt inwards.

“You think I bought you for sex?” He laughed even harder. “Pet, I don’t need to pay for that. Trust me.”

You started to get annoyed. Standing up from your chair, you tried to make yourself feel bigger by creating this distance.

“Then what? Why the fuck were you at the auction house then?”

Sylus looked up at you, tilting his chair back and forth playfully: “Again, pet. Your chief has shit security measures. I saw an opportunity…besides...”

He stood up as well. His towering form cast a shadow over you once again.

“I couldn’t just let a pretty thing like you die, now could I?”

Sylus’ cologne swirled into your nostrils and you shook your head to concentrate. Looking up at him, you couldn’t help but focus on the beautifully carved jaw line that pointed down at you. Blinking hard, you mustered up the last shred of courage and sanity you had:

“I’m not some trophy you can buy.”

Sylus' eyes sparkled with amusement at your defiant statement. He took a step closer, closing the already small gap between you. The heat radiating from his body made you acutely aware of your own.

"A trophy?" he mused, his voice a low groan that seemed to vibrate through you. "No, you're far more interesting than that."

His hand reached out, fingers gently brushing against your necklace. The touch was feather-light, but it sent electricity coursing through your veins. You held your breath, unsure whether to step back or lean in.

Then he brushed your hair away from your shoulders, tucking a strand behind your ear.

“I’ll give you some time to consider. I can really use a friend in the force. And you can use me, and my resources, to destroy Alastair. A fair exchange in my opinion.”

He turned away and walked towards a large door. With one hand on the handle, he shifted his face to the side to look at you once more.

“My driver will drop you off wherever you’d like. He awaits you downstairs.”

Your brows narrowed again.

“You’re letting me leave? Just like that?”

“Of course you’re free to leave. I never said you were a prisoner. I just, technically, own you.”

A sly grin stretched across his lips. With that final statement, Sylus opened the door and closed it behind him.

The complete silence in the room enveloped you.

What the fuck just happened?

You walked towards the elevator and pressed the button.

You were alone. Free to leave.

Free to tell the force your location and have him arrested.

The elevator descended smoothly, each floor passing in a blur of lights. You found yourself touching the strand of hair Sylus had tucked away, his phantom touch still lingering on your skin. The weight of the decision before you pressed heavily on your shoulders.

You could run to a payphone and call for backup right now. You could end Sylus Qin's reign over the city's underworld with a single dial.

But you didn’t want to.

Shaking yourself once more, you closed the elegant coat Sylus had provided for you and walked towards the exit.

It had been a long, strange night. You needed sleep. And you needed to think.

[leighsartworks216]

Kiss-Proof

Sylus x implied fem!Reader

Inspired by this fic by @peachlynnie

Also inspired by an Archie comic lol

Warnings: fluff, kissing, established relationship, lipstick, implied sexual content at the end

Word Count: 948

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (fill this out to be tagged in future fics)

How he got roped into this situation, he has no idea. Not that he's complaining. What could be better than his partner straddling his lap, kissing him over and over again?

You plant a kiss at a bare spot on his cheek without ceremony. You pull away, hopeful, only to deflate when the vibrant imprint of your lips are left behind. "Ugh, this one transfers, too." The tube of lipstick is tossed off to the side with the other failures.

Sylus grabs the makeup wipe from the previous attempts (almost completely covered in various shades of pink and red). His hand holds your jaw warmly, thumb on your chin, as his other thumb brushes the wipe over your lips.

He could suggest taking you shopping to the high end stores that would most certainly have lipstick proven not to smudge or transfer, but then you'd have to get up and stop testing it. His lips still have some red staining them, and his cheeks, neck and forehead are almost completely covered. He'd hate to stop now.

"How many more do you have to test?" he asks.

You shift in his lap, forcing him to stop his ministrations in favor of holding your hip to support you. You grab another lipstick tube from a pile andshift the remaining ones around. "Like, five more? At least one of these has to work."

He shifts his legs, settling you back into place, and draws your attention back to him so he can wipe away the last smidge of tint at the corners of your mouth. "If none of these work, I'll buy you some more," he promises. He nods slightly as he sets the wipe aside. "Go ahead, try this one."

You use a little compact mirror to help you get the shade on right. It's a warm red, bloody and tempting. It’s the same shade as his eyes after a couple glasses of Gin Fizz, when he looks at you with unbridled affection, enhanced with his slight intoxication.

Sylus would be the first to admit how much he loves watching this. He loves the comfort you have to propose this silly idea, to crawl into his lap with a bag of lipsticks and makeup wipes and the intensity of an executive making a pitch to a board room. He loves getting to watch the concentration on your face as you glide the applicator over your top lip, following the natural line to ensure it's perfect. Loves the mild frustration when you mess up the corner. Loves that you trust him to fix it with the wipe wrapped over his thumb nail. Loves the quiet thanks you mutter before you get back to work.

Fully applied, you hum impatiently as you turn the tube over to read the directions. "'Wait two minutes.' Damn."

"The best results take time," Sylus teases.

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. "Fine. What should we talk about for two minutes?"

He hums as he taps a finger on your hip. "I don't think I ever asked: Why are you so eager to find a lipstick that doesn't transfer?"

"Well," you wipe your thumb along his lip, dragging the lingering color with it, "it's embarrassing to drink from a glass and leave a big smudge behind."

He chuckles. "That's what's got you so worried, sweetie?"

You trace the rouge up to his prominent cupid's bow. "Mm, not completely." You wonder what he'd look like with lipstick on him properly. You're sure he'd look amazing. Hell, even like this, covered with all your kisses, he looks good. You're damn near convinced he can pull any look off.

He squeezes your sides. "Tell me," he implores, voice soft and tender.

You sigh. "When we go to auctions, I feel like I can't kiss you," you admit quietly. "Everyone there is so... imposing. I don't want to, well, do this to you," you gesture at all the lipstick stains, "and ruin your reputation."

"Sweetie." He cups your cheek in his large hand. It holds you perfectly, always. You lean into it without a second thought. He smiles. "My reputation isn't that fragile. Besides..."

His voice gets lower as he draws you in. You could get high on the way his eyes flicker to your mouth. His nose brushes yours, hot breath shared in the centimeters of space left between you.

"How else will they know who I belong to?"

Your breath hitches. His mouth is on yours, seeking, claiming, drawing you deeper into him. You feel the creamy texture of smudged lipstick as you hold his face, slide your fingers along his neck into his hair. It streaks along his perfect skin.

His tongue licks the seam of your lips, begs for entrance. You tug at his hair as you let him in. He groans into your mouth, sighs a wanton rendition of your name. Your shirt slips up your waist as he dives a hand below the fabric to press against your bare skin.

You pull away sharply. "The lipstick!"

His eyes look murderous for being disturbed, by you of all people. Still, he contains himself enough not to dive right back in. Just barely. What he can’t contain is the furrow in his brow and the frown he wears.

You ignore the smudges of color on his skin, matching stains on your hands, as you tilt his head up to better look at his lips. They're still stained with that light red from before, but-

"Sy! It worked! This one didn't smudge!"

"Perfect." He pulls you roughly back down to him, biting your colored lip before licking it sinfully. "Let's take it for a test run, shall we?"

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy

[tapiocakisses]

keigo takami × reader | minors dni

tags : fluff, slight angst, love confessions, name reveal

warnings : implied sexual content

"I'm done in the bathroom." You announced, walking into the bedroom in some of Hawks' spare clothes. He says they're his clothes, but you know he got them for you. They didn't have the holes in the back for his wings, and they weren't his exact size. You've been at his apartment a lot over the past several months – it's been nearly a year doing this with Hawks. "You have some spare clothes in the basket there." You gestured to the door and picked up the discarded clothes. You threw your dirty clothes in the hamper next to the bedroom door. He'd wash them for you tomorrow.

Hawks didn't say anything, but he watched you clean up everything. As he stared, there was a certain feeling in the air, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

You turned to the hero and frowned slightly. "Hawks?" You asked, walking over to him and gently touching his cheek. "You okay?"

Seemingly snapping out of a trance, Hawks nodded quickly. "Yeah." He gave you a weak smile. "I'm fine. I'll get cleaned up in the bathroom." You nod and drop your hand from his face, watching him with slightly furrowed brows. The hero gave you a reassuring smile, but it seemed a bit tight. He looked distracted.

Hawks got up from his spot on the bed, feeling the blanket fall off his waist and reveal his naked form. He felt his face redden some as he grabbed the blanket to cover himself. You let out a small chuckle as you used the smaller towel in your other hand to dry yourself off and stepped out of his way. "Go ahead. Don't take too long, okay?"

Hawks nodded, the blush still prominent on his face as he practically scurried to the bathroom. You laughed to yourself at the sight, finding it cute. His serious demeanor in battle and carefree attitude with fans and the public were very different from these moments. Haws seemed more authentic and his real self. It didn’t feel forced.

It was a comforting thought.

Half an hour later, Hawks climbed back into the bed with you, laying on his side to face you. You were on your stomach, scrolling through some videos. You looked up from your screen as you saw the hero lying beside you. A red wing draped over your body as he slid further into the bed. The feathers were soft but also a little sharp around the edges. Almost the opposite of Hawks. He had more rough edges than he let on. Like a piece of broken Plexiglas. He doesn't do much damage, but he can hurt you if you're not careful.

Hawks is the type you handle with care.

"How are you feeling?" You ask, voice airy and quiet as your fingers brushed through Hawks' feathers. The tips of your fingers played with the base of some of the smaller ones. A shiver made its way through Hawks' body, feeling your comforting touch on his wings. "Comfortable… and satiated, I think." Hawks let out a light laugh.

This one was very different from him usual laughs. Those were loud and casual. This seemed genuine and softer. Hawks had a gentle air about him in these moments. When the doors and windows were closed, the room was dark, and he was in bed with his favorite person - you.

It was comforting being with you. He knew he had so many secrets he couldn't dare share without putting everything (you) at risk. He loves the peace you give him. He loves how you make him feel. You're pure, divine love. You look at him without shame or anger. You're stronger than he could ever be. You've captured his heart and his soul. He loves you more than he'll ever love himself.

Hawks stared at you silently, allowing you to feel over each feather. It was comforting to have someone touching him so tenderly. It was like you loved him.

"I never expected this," you whisper as you're raking your fingers through his feathers. "You know that I'd be sleeping with the Hawks."

"Keigo."

"What?"

"My name. It's Keigo… Keigo Takami."

You stare at Hawks - no, Keigo - for a while, unsure of what to say.

"Wh - What? Hawks -"

"Keigo." He corrects, grabbing your hand in his. "Call me Keigo. Please." He practically begs. "I need to hear it."

After staring into Keigo's eyes for a few moments, you oblige him. "Okay, Keigo." His name feels heavy on your tongue, but it felt so natural to say. You could see the way the tension left his body. He looked vulnerable and almost scared.

"Keigo." You repeat, pulling your hand from his wing to touch his face. Keigo leaned into your touch and sighed, visibly relieved. He looked up at you with his cute, doey eyed expression. "Why did you tell me your name?" You question.

Keigo only shrugged. "Because I love you." He confessed. He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world — falling in love with the person he swore he wouldn't.

"Keigo…" you said slowly, pulling your hand from his cheek - not missing his small pout - and began sitting up. You put your hands in your lap. "I thought we agreed not to fall in love…" You paused to look at him. "This is just sex… right?"

Keigo shook his head and sat up. "Not anymore. I love you, [Name]." He repeated himself. He reached a hand out to touch your shoulder, only to stop it an inch or so away. "Do you… not love me?"

You frowned at the pain - the desperation - in his voice. You finally face him, that same pleading look in his eyes. You stared back at Keigo, lips parted slightly as you tried to force the words out your mouth.

"Of course I love you." You whisper. "I just…" You bit the inside of your cheek. "I don't know." You sigh. "I didn't want to lose this." You gestured between your bodies. "You've seen parts of myself I haven't shown anyone ever. I don't know what I'd do if I lost this… security."

A smile tugged at Keigo's lips as he took his turn holding your face in his hands. "It's like for me too." He whispered. "You're my first everything, [Name]. You're the first person I've loved and I want you to know that. I want this to be more than sex, more than casual…"

Keigo grabbed your hand into his and kissed the back of it. "I want to be yours." He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his smile growing. He looked like such a dork like that.

A sweet, romantic dork.

"Are you sure? What about everything we wanted to avoid? The press, crazed fans…" You frown, the worry digging into you. You had an agreement. Throwing caution to the wind seemed like a bad idea.

But to be with Hawks? To be with Keigo? The man who just shared a sacred part of himself with you? You'd take that chance.

"We'll figure it out, [Name]." Keigo whispered, lowering your joined hands and leaning in slightly. "You're smart and I'm optimistic." He tilted his head as a lopsided smile pulled at his lips. "We're a powerhouse, dove."

A short laugh escapes your lips. "A powerhouse, huh?" You raise an eyebrow and lightly bonk your forehead on his. Keigo pouted before nodding. "Yes."

"I guess that wouldn't be too bad." You agree.

"It'll be amazing, my dove." Keigo promised, leaning in to finally kiss you as your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your Keigo.

[1117feverlessdreams]

Liquid Courage

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🌀 🍸SUMMARY: Working beside Mingi at a bar was always fun. The flirting, the jokes, and the teasing made work more enjoyable, until the connection became too intense to bear. The boss leaves you alone to close one night, and your coworker makes you a special refreshment with lots of (s)creams.

🌀 🍸 TAGS: Alcohol use, intoxication, cursing, explicit name-calling, use of babe and sugar. fingering, oral sex, nipple play, fluff, and protective intercourse.

🌀 🍸 WORD COUNT: 7.4k

🌀 🍸 A/N: I tried to depict Mingi in a way that was true to his personality. He is truly loved by everyone he meets and I wish he knew that!

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You jump in fright from the repeated eager shouting of your name. “Y/n! Mingi! I need the both you over here, pronto!” Naturally you were startled, but not all too surprised by your boss's authoritative tone.

“Sorry boss...”

It’s been an unfortunate occurrence that your attention has been highly selective all early noon. The behavior was oddly out of character for you, but very typical for your coworker.

The underlying truth of the matter is that you’ve come to your senses- you have an excruciating crush on your co-worker, Mingi.

It had only been one year since you landed the job at the bar, and things where going really well.

You just didn’t want to fuck it up by, you know... fucking.

You've both heard and seen how work “relationships” tend to end. Nine times out of ten, the outcomes aren’t that positive. If anything, it creates a toxic environment to both parties, and the working environment as a whole.

You place down the washcloth on the bar countertop to finish your insignificant task of drying off moisture from spilled drinks and the bottom of cold glasses.

It was a non-obvious call for distraction to escape the unbearable thoughts…given that the culprit for them is in your vicinity.

The spiky pink-haired charmer frees his grip on the countertop while a customer is speaking mid-order, signaling to them that he’d be right back with his pointer finger.

They wave him off politely to attend to his vital duties, but if he were you in that situation, you would have to be dealing with all kinds of bitching and moaning.But yet somehow, in some way, Mingi had the same effect on customers as he did to you.

Maybe it was the black and white suited uniform your boss made him wear for business. But for you it was the face card, his sterling silver jewelry, and hot pink taper haircut that was the most effective.

“Yo, boss!” Besides the shivers that trickle down your spine from his baritone vocals, his informal acknowledgement to your boss makes you cringe. The last thing you need is to be overstimulated by more of your bosses obnoxious yelling.

He approaches shortly right next to you to face your boss who stands near the exit.

With a tight-lipped smile, your boss inhales a deep breath as he tilts his head kindly toward you. An exhale follows when he turns it back toward the discourteous and taller man next to you. “You never fail to meet my expectations Mingi.”

With a light nod, Mingi remarks, “My pleasure boss man, no need for the formalities.” He then gives you a small elbow jab as he smiles in his egocentric joy.

“I'll have you know they aren’t positive…’boss boy’.”

The most awkward stare-off you’ve ever been in the middle of begins, given that your weren’t in very many.“Oh…” Mingi mumbles.

You spare a side glance to watch as his prominent chest sinks in, shooting his previous confidence to plummet to rock bottom. He catches you looking at him teasingly, shamefully averting his eyes from your warring grin.

"Oh is right. Now, as I was going to say...", your boss announces, "’I’ve been calling on the both of you so often this morning, and it’s because I’m going to have to leave you guys alone for closing tonight."

As if your heart wasn't drumming against your chest from standing next to your work crush, or being yelled at by your boss on an hourly basis, it kicks you in harder at an extraordinarily fast rate.

There was no way you could psychologically endure the rest of the night by being alone at Mingi’s side for several hours.

Your boss continues on to reveal, "I’ve gotta stay at home with the wife. There’s a huge chance of her going into labor at any time is what the doctor is saying.” You smile and nod from your coherent understanding of home, wife, doctor, and baby.

“That’s understandable boss, you comment sweetly, I hope she delivers safely, and that you both have a healthy child.”

Mingi nods in agreement, using the moment as a chance to extend out his large hand for your boss's to clasp, triggering the jingling of his chained ring. “You’re already the best father of the year my man!” It’s not as shocking when the jingling sounds once more as Mingi’s hand falls back down, sulking in the denial from your boss.

“I appreciate that Mingi…really.” A chain of keys is slid effortlessly out of your boss's Carhartt jacket pocket, then seamlessly thrown backward into your clutch. “Y/n, you’ll hold the keys, and you will be left responsible to assist in locking things down tonight.”

Mingi takes a step forward and gestures to himself with his hands and an offended face proclaims, “Yo- I mean, boss…what about me?I’m right here.”

“I see that.”, your boss sarcastically remarks.“Keep tabs on Y/n, and help her if she needs it.”Mingis facial expression is like a gaping fish’s mouth out of water, suffering and speechless.

With no remorse your boss turns the other direction. After a few steps he naturally opens the bar door to let a customer inside, displaying a storming parade of heavy rain.

“You’re lucky I don’t fire your ass Song, but you keep those customers flowing in like a frat boy chugging a keg tube!” The door jingles as he finally takes his leave right out the exit, closing you in with inescapable temptations.

“Idiot…, you whisper, “why do you have to be that way around him?”, you shake your head in disapproval to the upset and adorable duck faced man.

He whines childishly to your dismay. Without a choice in the matter, he walks behind you as you both make your way back to awaiting customers that are dinging the bell obnoxiously at the bar.

“What did I even say wrong?” Mingi approaches the customer whose order was inconveniently interrupted, and seated closely from your group intervention.

“Beats me.”, the customer says in between laughter.

...

Today was your first day working at the pub without a boss.

Unfortunately, today of all days- did they leave you alone to deal with drunk customers and your seemingly impossible- newfoundingly attractive, and sober coworker, Song Mingi.

When the evening begins to roll in leading to what might be a fateful night, things began to get a lot more hectic.

As per usual, there are the guys who come in after a bad day, a troubling situation, or a bad life. Mainly because of work or a partner they need to shake off. A drink or many was the anecdote to temporarily forget.

A customer attempts to sit on a bar stool as he tramples around it before managing to successfully put at least half his ass on it. "The music in here…”, he groans with both hands on his head, “it s-sucks man!"

Mingi approaches him with care and interest, but no regard for his behavior. It’s the same as he would treat any other customer.

"I’ve been telling the boss man to let me DJ y’know? But he likes to go on about what I play is too loud." Mingi then begins to mock your bosses voice in a fairly amusing attempt, using air quotes with his long fingers for emphasis. "Anyway, he isn’t here with us tonight…thank goodness.”

The last bit he says under his breath, but not anything you can’t hear from preparing drinks beside him while he takes orders.

“Oh! you mean-you mean that old dude?!” The drunken man says in realization as he lets out an ungraceful burp. "He doesn’t know anything about what’s hot in today’s music!” in a dramatic motion, he swirls his finger in the air and pointed directly at Mingi."Turn on that good shit pinky!”

After some pre-contemplated thought, Mingi gladly makes his way to the end of the bar, raising his hand to signal the DJ for the cue.

He’s quick to pull it down when he senses you approaching behind him, smiling timidly as he turns to face you. "Play something club worthy at least, that’s my only request." You shrug your shoulders and step aside from behind him, walking back toward the front end without a care.

"If only the boss heard that come from your mouth. He'd never believe me in a billion years.", he whispers.

Mingi does a few hand signals you couldn't effectively translate, but upon hearing the cue of “club-worthy music” play through the speakers, you realize the DJ perfectly understood.

The drunken man stands up quickly from the stool, utilizing the bar top for stability. It was when he moved away from the bar top that concerned you when he began to trip over his own feet again. For the upteenth time Mingi leans over the counter and grabs his fore arms to help him keep balance.

At times, he was sweet in that way.

The drunken man widely grins as he once again points at Mingi. "I like you, and-and I really like this alcohol.” He points up his finger twirling it around in the air as if he was casting a magic spell. “Give me a round of shots for this whole bar Pinky!"

A uproar of excitement from all across bar powers over the music. The man rises from his stool to cheer with them, uplifting his hands like he was given the role of a God.

‘Surely…,’ you thought, ‘after this night ends, that man will wake up in the early morning to dial the line of his bank. Considering the fact we’re getting busy as the hours tick by.’

…

Every workshift would be uneventful if your customers didn't come in variety packs.

There were the Cougars. Middle-aged women trying to keep up with the times, so time doesn't catch up with their age.

Said one of many women walks up to greet you both at the bar in a sultry walk. Possibly in hopes of causing a swarm of bees to get a taste of her special made honey.

The essence of Mingi captures her eye however, and she decides to sit in a stool that so happened to be free right in front of him.

Her tight leather leopard print pants stretches as she moves with every inch. She looks downward when seated to shimmy her gargantuan boobs on the counter while wearing a matching top that holds in the drooping.

As flamboyant as the cougars usually are, it was a necessity for her to top everything off with a long lion trench coat that she moves behind her to suit properly.

You continue making the drink for the rounded tables while Mingi deadpans at her in a standstill behind the counter, paying no mind to the display she's trying to showcase.

"You know"...she begins, squishing in her boobs with no need for adjustment, "I usually don’t go for just any young man… ‘specially the ones with pink hair", she adds. "But you might’ve just changed my mind hot stuff.”

Her hands smooth over her chest for another time, yet they travel inside the top she was wearing.

Out of it, she pulls out a thick wad of folded bills, racing her hand forward to Mingis front pocket. In the boldest way possible she grabs hold of his tie and inserts the cash and pats in securely in his chest. She even goes the extra step to tuck the tie back in, smoothing the now wrinkled material with her Y2K duck nails.

You’re stunned as you watch Mingi immediately take hold of her wrist decorated in a forearms full of pandora bracelets. “Let me change it again for you, sweet pea."

The nickname took the lady aback, as it did the same for you. If only it was directed at you, but in a different context, it makes any bad day better again.

“That guy right over there...”, he continues, pointing to one of the younger men that come in often- ‘a bad life’ you think. “he’s been wanting to buy you a drink ever since he got here.”

As she turns her head in the point of Mingi’s direction, he carefully releases go of her wrist carefully to not cause a mishap. “He’s kinda hot”, she says fanning herself with the loose hand, "Oh...but are you sure you won’t be upset sweetheart?”

Mingi lets out a light laugh, shaking his head no in the most nicest way possible. “Not at all pretty lady. I can’t interfere with potential love at first sight.”

She thinks for a moment and sighs when a decision was made. In moments she gets up from her stool to readjusts her previous adjustments. Pants, boobs, and the train of her fur coat.

For the first time she looks at you, and then Mingi again. In her mind you can tell she read over something in you that you couldn’t comprehend. But your instincts tells you, she knew something. “You’re a cute little fella. Keep that pink hair going, I just know somebody’s gonna love pulling that at night.”

Her smile grows wide as she waves in your direction, "Bye, honey. “I hope those drinks aren't the only thing you'll be mixin' up with tonight… if you know what I mean."

Oh, you knew.

You were nerve-wracked for Mingi to think the same with different feelings, unattracted ones. "Wow…and to think she isn't even drunk yet.", Mingi mutters as you both watch the pair initiate conversations.

“Was he really wanting to buy her a drink?”, you asked in curiosity.

“Nah, he’s been looking around for someone for the past half hour, and she obviously need some attention so…perfect match.”

"You are absurdly evil sir." You gaze at Mingi’s stark figure with his eyes trained on the new couple.

You take the time to admire his side profile, thinking about how his nose could fit into small spaces. Or how his lips could suck-

“I prefer to be called Cupid.” He turned his head to meet your hypnotic gaze, winking at you in surprise.

To your shock, and even Mingis, the next hour consisted of the couple grooving and grinding on the dance floor. Right after that skipped out in each others arm with a chime for the exit door.

“Cupid it is.”

“Ditto.”

…

The final boss, your mortal enemies, the hot girl groupies.

They always arrive together knit in arm, and they settle down at the front end rounded tables. In the midst of their original conversation they all catch a glance at the sexy bartender across the room.

Separately, one by one, they all come up to order drinks with an underlying mission to capture the thing inside Mingi’s pants. The success rate is usually zero.

A young woman, both your ages, walks up quick with confidence from her groups table. As much as you hate to admit, her white halter top and denim-distressed booty shorts could do a number on your chances.

What makes things worse is that at this time of night, the led pink lights come on. Which means the hues of Mingi’s spiky hair becomes more fluorescent than it is in the morning light. It brings on too much attention, and a great cause of more distraction from your duties.

As the cougar has done earlier, she leans over counter with to forge her boobs to the front of her chest. Except…she was a lot more obvious about her intentions.

She flicks her chin toward you, smacking her gum with a popping jaw. “She your girlfriend?”

Mingi looks back to see you flustered from the unwanted attention. You were supposed to make drinks and give it to him, to give to her. No where in that interaction were you supposed to be involved in any conversation besides complaints about the drinks.

He gives you an attractive smile with his full lips, tracking your face and body with his eyes. “Nah, she’d be lucky if she was though.” What kills you is that Mingi maintains the eye contact with you and not the girl. It pissed her off and you as well in a sense. Although on the inside did you feel so fucking confident.

Mingi’s way with words uplifted your self esteem from time to time. But damn was the girl in front of him furious, her self esteem was depleting, and so she had to resort in ringing the bell in desperation to redirect Mingis focus.

“Can I please get a strawberry lime margarita…and with a little sugar around the rim too, please? I like licking around the tip of it y’know?“ She traces the counter top in circles with the tip of her finger, flickering her tongue as she holds eye contact. “ It makes my tastebuds really happy…”

He repeats the order- the strawberry lime margarita with a sugar rimmed part. "Strawberry lime Margarita with a crystalized sugar rim.” He writes it down but doesn’t hand it to you like usual, instead he tells you to step aside so he can make it himself.

You could tell the hot girl loved that by the way she bit her lip while Mingi mixed things together. When he’s finished, he slides the drink onto the counter and directly in front of her chest. “Your drink that you ordered.”

Her focus doesn’t even land on the drink because she’s so caught up in his physique. "It looks perfect! Thank you, um…” she looks over his suit for a name tag to notice there wasn’t one. A open opportunity for what she’ll say next-“…what did you say your name was?”

"Well… I don’t recall you asking but-.” he leans over-the-counter, interlining his fingers on both of his hands as he looks her deep in eyes, “Mingi. If you must know."

The girl leans forward and cups Mingi by the chin, which he shows no discomfort in feeling. “You’d be lucky if I was your girlfriend, Mingi.”

“Oh yeah?…, He reaches up to pull her hand and hold it in his, pulling it toward his lips which you have to look away from to withhold any rotten jealousy. "Looks like I’ll be unlucky for the rest of my life then.”

You nearly twist your neck to see the baffled look on the woman’s face, she yanks her hand away and pulls her drink off the counter, spilling the slushy ice of the margarita on her sparkling white halter.

The girls from her table gasp as they watch the scene from afar, they all urge her to move to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

“Stupid jerk!” She says wailing, shivering as the blended ice falls onto her porcelain skin, making her top all red under the hot pink lighting. She looks at you as she speeds away to the bathroom and mutters, "What a waste."

It could've been the drink she spilled that made her say that, but eye contact conveyed her non-verbal message. The only problem is that you were there, and in the way. Perhaps she and Mingi might have had a chance without your presence as a scapegoat.

Mingi rises back up, straightening his broad back into place. As there were no other customers at the counter, he turned back to you and continued to give you that distinguished look as he leant back on the bartop. "I meant what I said about you though. Luck doesn't knock twice."

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REWIND

Life had became so boring to you that you fix your attention on other people’s happiness instead of manifesting your own.

It was a never ending thought, one that you wanted to escape from for just a moment. Which in turn lead you to sit on some pubs bar stool.

You watch the bartender come from the back with blinding hot pink hair, as much as that set him apart, you recognize the personality of his character. He was unapologetically himself and so helpful at the same time.

His hand was so fluid with every drink he mixed and poured over into the glass cups. Not to mention, he looked delicious in the pink lighting and his semi-formal undersuit.

After minutes of patiently waiting in your stool with no rushed timing, it lets you feen more to linger at his stature until he struts quickly to your stool.

“How ya doin today babe?”He arrives with a pen and pad, prepared to write down the contents of your order.

“Life could be better”, you reply nonchalantly with shrugged shoulders, “I suppose that’s why I’m here.”

He leans in to be more attentive, weighing his palm on the bar’s countertop with furrowed brows which were a lighter pink. “Well I hope that at least for the time you’re here, I can make it better.”

You blush as you fight off a geeky smile from taking up the entirety of your face. “I hope so too.”

You weren’t looking at him, but he let a smile just as big reveal on his own. He was so fawn that someone as pretty as you blushed because of him.

“Well, It’s a Thirsty Thursday and our special is an island vibe. It’s a blue sugar rock sour cocktail with vanilla whip shots.” He pulls out a menu from his so side to push it in front of your sulken body. “If that's not something that gives your interest a peak, then what can I get for you to drink?”

You've heard him reuse the line with multiple customers which made it easier to decide if you want the drink or put in a different order. As next in line you had your mind made up, but his presence and being the current customer has you contemplating your decisions again.

"I don't know what I want, what do you have please?"

He blinks at the menu and looks reluctantly behind him at the array of alcoholic drinks and mixers on the shelf. Then pointing to the tap on the bar. "Well what do you like doll face? I'll make you anything you ask me to babe."

The intimate nickname alters the nerves in your brain to make a unanimous decision, but at least you know what you don’t want. "I don't need anything strong because I need the energy. I prefer any of sweet drinks you have.”

“Oh I see.”, he says nodding slowly, likely because he’s encountered your type before. “How does something like a pina colada, a Mai tai, or a strawberry daiquiri sound for you babe?”

More decision making. The thing in your life that hasn’t exactly been your forte. You sigh, covering your stupidity with a small smile. “Can I just get all 3?"

“Damn…”, he trails off, scratching the back of his head which in result creates more spikes. “That is a lot of energy…but I got you babe, coming right up.”

“Yeah it's just that type of night, I guess”, you mumble, mainly to yourself. He leaves to pull on a pair of black gloves. He begins walking away to make your drinks but you stop him in his tracks.

He turns his head swiftly and walks backward to lean in with a close ear. You grow flustered at such a caring action, whispering your additional request. “Can I also get that special too please?” “Sorry…”

"Of course!” He says with a polite grin, “anything to make your night a little bit sweeter.” His piercing eyes leaves yours with two taps of his fingers on the bars top to go make all four drinks.

He later sets out a platter for your drinks and describes the flavors and mixes, even though you've seen every step with your never ending stare, but how good did it feel just to hear him talk.

“Thank you, they all look so pretty.”

He shrugs in shoulders lightly from the slight embarrassment that stems from your compliment. “I just wanted to see your eyes brighten up and that genuine smile, you look so upset coming in here.”

Your act was tucked behind the curtains as soon as he brought your true emotions into the light. “I was. But I’m better now because of you, thank you.” You lift up the specialty drink, offering the sweet cotton candy haired bartender a cheers.

He reveals a wide tooth smile, one that you found adoring to compliment his handsome nature. “No problem. It’s what I aim to do.” He waves you off as he walks away to assist other customers. Later that night he comes back to wipe down the countertops, finishing last next to you.

You let out a deep, heavy breath and his attention was focused on your contentment from how good the drinks were. The room around you feels fuzzy as you began to grow tipsy, smiling like a maniac with whip cream and sugar on your lips.

“Did that hit the spot?,” he asks with a cute giggle.

“Hellllll yeah.” It was obvious the drinks had an instant effect, considering you chugged them all within a fifteen minute period.

In between shakes of the towel and drying his hands, he giggles once more as his eyes scans over your face. “Speaking of spots…you do got a little something right here.” He uses his thumb to swipe his own lips, explaining where he sees it on yours.

You mimic him, scooping bits on your fingers and licking the clean with your tongue. “Is it gone?”, you slur in a whine, growing sad to think you looked silly in the vulnerable state you were in.

He chuckles and shakes his head know as he points out more residue using himself as reference. “No sweetheart, here too.”

“Am I good now?”

It’s not gone, and he knows it, smiling goofily. “Looking sweet sugar.”

You smile with closed eyes likely because you’re so relaxed from the chilled drinks. You open your eyes in awe to the upbeat scenery and meet the bartenders eyes again, seeing he was already staring at you. “Are you guys hiring by any chance?”

“Yeah! We could definitely use another bartender, but the boss man is picky. Were you thinking about joining the crew?”

“If that’s okay with your boss then sure”, you shrug.

“I can make it okay.” He drags his hand from the bar top and holds up his hand to signal for you to hold tight. I’ll be right back sugar.” You watch him disappear to the back. Before you didn’t recognize it, but you feel yourself sadden again as you realize he was actually nice company.

A man, shorter and yet broader emerged from the back rooms. He surveyed the area until he spots you, pausing like he found what he was watching for.

“Are you this young lady I’m hearing great things about from this boy?” You nearly choke as you began to sober up, recollecting all sense of intellect you’ve lost from four alcoholic drinks.

“That I am.” You state enthusiastically while clearing your throat. How do I have the pleasure of knowing you?”

“I own the place, and I heard you were interested in the bartenders position.” You gape subtly at Mingi who stands behind one the wall, prompting you a supportive thumbs up.

“Oh y-yeah absolutely. I’m new in town and I’m looking for a fresh start. Hopefully at a fine working establishment like yours.”

“You got experience as a bartender?”

“Uh… “Mingis encourages you to continue with beckoning hands, then hiding behind the wall when his boss takes a look back to what you seem so lost in. “No, I do not.”

“So then, do you want to learn?”

You shake your head affirmatively without a thought. “Yes, of course! If I was given the opportunity.”

The muscle headed man ponders your interview like exchange. He walks away to the back once more before coming out with a feminine version of the bartenders uniform. “Come back here tomorrow at the same time you came in today, and with this uniform on.”

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“You’re not hired yet dollface.”

You wipe the smile clean off your face and nod like you have a great understanding of what you are exactly. “Right.”

The boss walks away once again to the back and Mingis cross paths naturally to meet you back at the counter. “Don’t worry, you are 100% hired.”

You cock your head to the side, blinking at a rapid pace to organize the thoughts in your mixed up mind. “But he literally just said I wasn’t?”

“He never hands out a uniform to just anyone babe. Then he told you to come back the very next day? He sees potential inside of you.”

You marvel in his excitement for you. It was like he pleaded for you to to be given the chance. “It’s all because of you, I cant thank you enough.”

“I’ll accept you coming in tommorow as a good enough thank you. Don’t let me down sugar.”

The next night you came in at the exact same time, with your formal button up blouse and trousers. You got to stand next to Mingi behind the counter as he gave you hands on training experience.

Even thought you were nearly drunk, you were lucky to land the job so easily. With the spontaneous opportunity you hoped to get closer to where you wanted to be.

Although meeting Song Mingi already led you off to a great start.

...

“Mingi get down before you buss that dense head open! I just wiped the damn counter down.”

You thought after that all the chaos and havoc would be gone after closing, but now and still is your coworker acting worse than all of the absurd customers put together.

He was standing on the countertop and jerking out pelvic thrust in mid air with a bitten lip.

“Mingi!”, you shout. He seemed to had finally get the hint as he climbed down. But he still remained on the countertop sitting with his legs over the edge.

“Sugar. Babe. It’s a Saturday night and we are the only ones here.” He holds onto your shoulders gently and peers into your eyes, stopping you from the unnecessary cleaning of already clean surfaces. “We can do whatever we want. You know that right?”

You peer back at him, nearly hypnotized to agree to every word that left his mouth. “Yeah sure. You mean you can do whatever you want, and I take the fall for it?”

You shrug his grip from you shoulders and step back with the towel in hand. “Okayyy, I get that boss man left you in charge. But we work at a bar that also has an entire kitchen behind it, and a freaking dance floor.”

Mingi gets down completely to stand closer in front of you peering down into your eyes once again. “I mean cmon, if i was in charge-“

“In which, thank goodness you’re not.”

He deadpans as you cut him off, but remains relentless in his persuasion. “Don’t you wanna let loose a little bit babe? “I mean, while we still have the chance.”

It was a exciting thought, to ‘let loose a little bit’, and you know how Mingi is always the life to a dead party, even when it was just you two.

With his charm you are coerced to give up and throw your hands on the air without any cares to give. “Fuck it.” Mingi cheers and jumps like he’s on trampoline with no control. “But, stop doing that! And because this is your idea, I’m not cleaning up after, deal?”

Mingi chuckles and stops immediately but proceed into a small harmless dance. “Yeah sure, no biggie. He waves your condition off blatantly as you try your best to master a stare that was intimidating, but you honestly didn’t have it in you. It’s party time sugar, Woohoo!”

Mingi swings an imaginary cowboy lasso in the air, turning his back to presumably wander to the kitchen to grab a few things.

“Here’s some of the hard stuff, and I know you might not want to drink it because of your sweet tooth. But I think it’s time you could stop being a baby, and party like an adult tonight.”

You spot the array of said hard drinks, none you see are keen to your liking. “I only drink the sweet stuff because it doesn’t hit as hard. Three shots of whiskey and I’ll start having out of body experiences.”

“That’s why you have to balance it, sugar lips.” He places a shot glass down. “One shot,” and with the other hand another glass. “One water.”

MANY SHOTS AND MANY WATERS LATER…

“I’m gonna throw up. I’ll be back, I’m going to the ladies room.” After some much-needed relief, you come back to the front of the bar soured by a special aroma.

You were going to ask Mingi what the smell was until you saw him and began to connect the dots.

“You perve! Don’t just stand there looking at me!” Your pervertedness came into play by staring at Mingi placing pepperonis over his shirt where his nipples are.

You shake your head and sit at the stool across from where he stood behind the counter. “Why would I bother looking at you, you’re a walking man child.”

“My mom thinks it funny…” He walks to the back counter to grab a round tray and settles it down between the both of you at the front counter. “Care for some pizza? It’s fresh.”

You’re quick to grab a piece, you could eat anything to fulfill your empty stomach. “Holy shit that’s hot!”, you flick your tongue, tumbling the burning ingredients in your mouth.

Mingi pays no mind as he’s busy swirling his tongue out for cheese, wrapping the muscle around the lengthy pull.

You watch him tentatively with his flexible he could move the muscle, another dangerous cause for distraction.“You’re still an idiot, even when drunk.”

He takes the first bite of his slice aas he bends his head downward to look at you fanning your burnt tongue. “Who says I’m drunk?”

You place your slice down on the tray, waving your finger to Mingi. “Noooo, you’re definitely…drunk.” , you slur.

He giggles and adore you as you try and eat more slices. “Alright sugar, let’s take a break.” He fills another glass of water and brings it out from behind the counter with him for you. “Let’s dance.”

Mingi placed on some music from your boss’s jukebox given that the DJ left and packed up not long after closing. Assumingly for another gig.

He walks toward you and gently grabs your wrist. It was the most softened touch ever, but your tipsyness overrides your sensory abilities and you yank away from his hand. “Give me a second dude! Don’t you ever get tired?”

He doesn’t take you seriously but he backs off in respect. “Party doesn’t stop until you drop babe.”

You fully turn around in the stool, reassuring him that you didn’t need any help until your nearly fall flat on your face. Fortunately, with Mingis quick reflexes, he could both catch the glass of water and you before breaking yourselves on the marble-wooden floors.

As soon as you reached the dance floor Mingi handed the drink of water onto you and undressed into his button up with a few tabs unbuttoned.

The most random of songs began to play out of your bosses jukebox. A Spanish song with bongos, maracas, and horns began to sound on the overhead and controls the groove of Mingis body.

“Cmonnnn, stop it! You look ridiculous.”

He looked anything but. He dances in salsa, pacing his feet forward and backward as his shirt exposes a bit more of his chest.“We’re the only ones here! ‘Sides, I know you like what you see…” ,he licks the side of his mouth, doing a spin as he pokes out his butt in your direction.

You couldn’t help but spare the slightest glance, but he didn’t get the pleasure of seeing it. “I already told you what I see when I look at you.”

“Yeah, when I had pepperoni nipples! Now you get to see the real things.” He does another spin move that allowed him to take off his shoes smoothly. He cha-chas while backing away, beckoning you to follow him with his two fingers.

It looked as if something else was conjuring as you gained in proximity, like he was alluring you into an inescapable trance.

“Ugh…get a grip, I’m not gonna keep chasing you.”

Your wrist is indeed gripped by him. In a pose of salsa duo, he pulls you tightly into his chest. “Gotcha.”

You were spunned, twirled, and even tossed in the air before you finally grew tired and Mingi decided to go solo. You got a hold of that much needed water and nearly downed it in one go.

You were gonna go back in for the remaining bit until you saw Mingi thrusting wildly and a wicked idea crossed your mind. In a playful manner you began to hype him up and you almost felt guilty for what you were about to do when you saw his gorgeous smile. But you do it anyway, and you’d do it again if you could see his soaking wet man tiddies.

He freezes in surprise, mouth agape as he looks down at his own body.“What you do that for?”

“Well I didn’t have any money…I was just cheering you on.”

Mingi scoffs, not believing a word you said to be reasonable. “Fine then. It’s your turn. He steps away to bask in the embarrassment you might feel in your performance. But inconsistently for him you were boosted by liquid courage. “That way it’s fair and square.”

“Whatever…deal.”

For your performance you wanted to convey a different vibe. To go through the list of songs, selecting Britney Spears, “I’m a Slave 4 u” as your pick.

You sway you hips side to side as you get in the rhythm, snapping your fingers along to the kickbacked drums.

♫ I know I may come off quiet, may come off shy.

But I feel like talking feel like dancing when I see this guy. ♫

During the lyrics you pull Mingi off from off the wall, and onto the VIP sections couch.

♫ What’s practical? What’s logical? What the hell who cares?

All I know is I’m so happy when you’re dancing there. ♫

Your arms wrap behind Mingis neck, and you boldly climb onto the couch with your knees on the side of his thunder thighs.

♫Baby, don’t you wanna…dance upon me? To another time and place.

Oh baby, don’t you wanna…dance upon me. Leave behind my name and age. ♫

You roll your hips mid air above his private to withhold any boundaries, feeling on his upper body in drunk fun while he stretches his arm on top of the furniture to watch the show in relaxation.

“I bet those dumb girls couldn’t give it to you like this right? Offering their bodies to you for you to please and nothing else. Selfish bitches.”

Mingi cocks his head in amusement. From the beginning to now you’ve been full of surprises.“Sugar…are you jealous baby?”

You sigh and pause as the song continues to maintain its sensual stance. “Yeah, so what? How would you feel if I had almost every single guy that came in here wanting to screw me?

You smooth your hand over his upper body once again, playing timidly with the flaps of his button up. “You probably think you could do so much better than them huh?”

He smirks with his quirked plush pink lips. “I know I can. But I can show you better than I can tell you pretty. Can you do better than those women say they can?”

You reflect his same expression, adding a quirked brow for a challenge. “I can show you better than I can tell you pinky.”

You lower yourself to move in closer to his lips, and you both meet each other half way, kissing personally in harmony.

In nervousness you pull away, contemplating the rushed fuse of your actions. “I didn’t, I don’t know if-“

“It’s okay sugar.” He smooths a hand delicately over your head. “I want you to show me. If you want to…can you show me? Please?”

You nod, advancing to your next move of running your hand between his chest and unbutton his shirt. At the last button you free it open revealing his slim waist, your relentless temptations enables you to feel it tense at your gentle touch.

You peer at him through doll eyes, growing shy from the intensive heat of the moment. “How far do you want this to go?”

He cocks his head while biting his lip, bringing up his fingers to lift up your chin. “I think I recall a little birdie saying they hope drinks weren’t the only thing you were mixing up with tonight.”

“Mmmm.” you hum playfully. “I also think the little birdie said someone would love pulling this at night too.” You run your fingers through his soft scalp, sticking up the colored short hairs.

“And an early bird…” he shifts his bulge up against your core, “gets the worm.”

A surge in your body makes you reckless in ripping off his pants, and he does a master job of taking them off his ankles with his feet which you fairly helped with.

You sat up to grow rid of your clothes, sunken to your knees when you were skin and bare.

He was already up and rock hard, but to see you gawking at the size of him and it nearly covering the entirety of your face made him impossibly harder. You take him in immediately pulsing at the base of him.

He groans at your teasing, lifting your head up to bob it downward. You look in between your eyelashes as you swallow him with a stretched mouth. His head was tilted back as his mouth outputs pleasured whining. You squeeze onto his meaty thighs when he began to twitch. You were gonna take him there to his climax, but he stopped you in advance.

“I have condoms in my pockets. Inside you is where I want to be.”

You smile and cupped his face before giving him a chaste kiss. You reach down to grab his discarded pants and dig through his pocket to find the condom. Never had you have a partner that wore the greatest size. You thought it might’ve popped off given how large he truly was.

You waste no time climbing on top of him and directing the tip of him on the inside.

You both moan in unison with Mingis arms splayed on the couch, and yours in his shoulders for support. The muscles of his hips buck you upward and shaking in mid air.

He groans as he cheers your bouncing on with slaps to your ass. He cradles your boob in his large hand hook his mouth onto your nipple, blowing it softly to watch it erect. You feel them harden and soften with every suck and blow. It felt so good that is was painful.

With every deep thrust you both grew closer to climax with the slick stimulation. Mingi came as he whines from the surging shockwave, his thrusting comes to a slow with the will to get you in the same place. He pulls out, making the cum filled at the top of the rubber visible.

You fall over on his shoulder as he carefully flips you over. He spreads you open to access you inner flesh to slip in his chained ringed finger, and slurp up your clitoris like a rabid dog.

It only takes a matter of minutes to have you convulsing and pulling at his sweaty strands. Mingi slams your body back onto the cushion with no urge to stop until he feels you on his fingers and tongue.

“That’s right sugar. Give me all the sweetness you’ve got. Cum for me babe.”

A squelching noise indicates your means of arrival. Mingi releases you and removes his mouth. His chained ringed finger follows afterward, a string of your slick drags along your spongy walls.

Mingi marvels at the sight as he turns his hand, smiling wide as you look at him with low lids in effect of your orgasm. “I know you said for me to clean up afterwards… but I say we both made a mess no?”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Thank you for reading.

Much love,

xoxo

[trainsinanime]

Is there a specific scientific term for what I'll call "harm construction", meaning "thinking of ways that something harms someone in order to condemn it"? There must be, right? I see it all the time and it's not new. Let me give some examples in random order.

One of the first cases where I really remember it was at least a decade ago, an online article by a British newspaper, about how an online store had put a pole dancing pole in their toys section. A bit of an embarrassing mistake but nothing more.

However, that article provided several quotes from a British couple who said they were very worried, because their kid could have seen that. It seems pretty clear that their kid did not, in fact, actually see it, but the newspaper treated their concern as if it was a genuine thing to worry about. It was utterly ridiculous.

A more recent example is a call-out ask I received a few months ago and, of course, immediately deleted, but it's still been living rent-free in my head since then, because it was so horribly bad. I'll not repeat the exact wording, but they were annoyed that their victim blog (which I don't follow and haven't for years, if ever, and they don't follow me) was annoying and sometimes said mean things. They very ineptly tried to explain that this might have been part of the reasons why someone else, completely unrelated, sent out hate messages to yet another person. That was the harm that was so big that it supposedly justified a targeted harassment campaign. (If you're the person who wrote that call-out ask, please rethink your life. You were only increasing the hate in the world, not making anything better. I suspect the sender wasn't anyone who actually follows me, but just in case).

The biggest and most prominent example of harm construction right now is of course all about trans people, bathrooms and school sports. Conservatives and TERFs alike need a reason to oppose the existence of trans people beyond "I personally find them weird", because saying that out loud gets them correctly branded as bigots. How do you turn "let's be really mean to a marginalised group" into a progressive cause? By saying that the existence of this group causes harm. The problem with that is that trans people existing does not actually cause any harm, it's literally fine.

So in an effort to construct harm after all, they have searched far and wide for something that trans people could even theoretically damage, and the only things they managed to come up with are "there might be someone with unexpected genitals behind that bathroom stall door" and "the sanctity of gender-segregated sports". If it weren't for their cultural and political power then it would almost be funny how little potential harm they managed to find and how much they have to amplify it. They're just another couple in the newspaper worried that their kid might potentially see a website.

If you look for it, harm construction is everywhere, because we all sort of agree on a surface level that dividing people into "normal, acceptable" and "weird, must be punished" isn't nice, but the instinct to punish people for being "weird" is still alive and well and many people refuse to question it.

At a completely different end, anytime someone uses the word "normalisation" about a fanfic on Ao3, that's another example. We all know making blorbos do weird things doesn't actually hurt anybody (assuming proper tagging and so on), but we still want to punish people who do it wrong. So we construct harm, by arguing that seeing something on Ao3 might "normalise" the thing and make it more likely that someone will do it in real life.

These examples are very different, at very different ends of almost all scales of power and cultural influence and meaning, but the core idea is always the same. So, yeah. There must be a better term for this.

[the-teufort-nine]

My TF2 Fic Rec List [ Fanfics I've Read That You Should Too]

*cracks knuckles* right, let's get started! X Reader fics are not included bc I already did a list of them for an ask. Mind the tags and ratings, as always. I'll add to this as I collect more, but its decently long as is

Symbol Key:

** = Incomplete

~~ = Personal favourite

++ = Under 10k

SpeedingBullet:

~~Running Blind by TheTriggeredHappy

(( Scout's eyes are badly damaged in battle and for some reason, Medic's gun can't fix him. Until they figure out how to heal Scout, he needs someone to look after him and keep him safe.

Sniper is given the job.

[3rd person limited, Scout's POV, some character development done on a whim] ))

The SpeedingBullet fanfic. If you like Scout X Sniper, and you haven't read this one yet, I don't know what to tell you. You are severely missing out on not only a great romance story, but also fantastic team dynamics. Also has an available Podfic!

++From a Hospital Bed by SlightlyLessThanAnon

(( Jeremy wakes up in the hospital, his brain struggling the find coherent thoughts as the world churns around him, in and out of consciousness.

He finds the team may care about him a little more than he thought they did. ))

Short but sweet. More whole team fluff than strictly SpeedingBullet. Very cute.

~~Golden Brown, as well as its sister fic, Take Me Out by Ali_Ker (Alina_Kerrin)

(( After seeing his co-worker in a new light, Scout is faced with unknown feelings and a new, distracting perspective on things. ))

This lovely author can be found here under the handle @alikerao3

Grouped these two together because they are they same story, but told from the perspectives of Scout and Sniper respectively. Definitely a bit of a heavier read, especially for anyone who has dealt with Catholic guilt or internalized homophobia, but my God is it worth it. Don't just read one thinking it isn't worth it to read the other fic. Read both. Also, check out the song that inspired the title.

~~Going Through The Motions by AussieBookworm

(( Working under RED can be repetitive at times - but nothing like this. After a curse is fired his way, Scout is forced to live through the same day over and over and over again. It should be easy for someone as perfect as Scout to break the curse, right? As long as he doesn't have to confront the things he's been feeling towards Sniper it should be a piece of cake! ))

Possibly my absolute favourite TF2 fic right now. Scout gets character development out the ass, Demo has a prominent, important role, and there's a plot twist so good it had me tweaking out. TW for Suicide as a method used to get out of a time loop. Absolutely incredible, and it needs more love.

Gills and Gunpowder by popkeeki

(( Monsters are becoming increasingly rare. Between getting pushed to the periphery of society or being targeted by traffickers, life is hard when you are not (entirely) human. Like many others, Scout tries to keep his true form a secret. It has never really been a problem. That is, until a nosy teammate catches him mid-swim. ))

SpeedingBullet Mermaid AU!! Good luck finding a fic with this premise that also reaches this level of quality.

**~~Pet by Anonymous

(( Sniper's terrified of losing the one person he has in his life. It turns out there's a convenient solution to that: just make sure he has no way out, and the rest will follow.

Scout wakes up in a van he knows all too well, loopy and hungover, and Sniper's waiting for him.

*

Or: Learning to live with claustrophobia in small spaces Or: Making the best of assisted living Or: You can’t outrun a fucking bullet ))

Are you like me? Do you enjoy Scout whump and Yandere!/Possessive Sniper? SpyDad? Do you want more of it in your life? If the answer is yes, than Pet is for you! No NSFW, just pure, delicious kidnapping and one-sided love.

General Fanfic Recommendations:

++Something's Up With Respawn by Camelot_taurus, Old Works (HarveyDangerfield)

(( Respawn starts to glitch, and the Administrator sets Engineer to work fixing it.

It doesn't take long for him to find out exactly what's going ))

Super funny, weird little oneshot. Basically, Respawn starts glitching and producing fucked up, Paperjam Dipper-esque clones of the Mercs.

++Mask Off by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout is sick. Really sick. 'If we can't get this fever under control it's the hospital or the morgue' sick, and Respawn can't help him this time. They'd already tried that. He's gotten so delirious he's fighting Medic every second he's awake, not really lucid enough to remember so much as his own name, much less that of any of the team. Medic is ready to put him under full sedation and try and work things out from there, but Spy has an idea. ))

Wholesome SpyDad fic. Spy actually acts like a dad for once, for his sick little bunny.

~~++Scout, Respond by MatryoshkaDoll413

(( Scout wakes up in a dark, unknown place, with rocks bearing down on him and a spotty recollection as to how he ended up there in the first place. The only thing that keeps him sane is the voice of his team in his ear, telling him to talk, to breath, and, more than anything, to stay awake. ))

Scout gets trapped beneath a collapsed building, and receives comfort from his team over his headset while they race to dig him out. Super cute, definitely a must read, and I've done so more than once.

pick it all up (and start again) by bugbee

(( The clues had always been there, he had just never wanted to see them. Maybe neither of them had, instead content to deny the truth before their eyes for the rest of their days because it was better than confronting the alternative. Except Scout had died, and Spy wasn’t able to keep on pretending for his last moments. A part of Jeremy was glad for it, despite the simmering rage and betrayal and hurt. So when he tried to look God in the eye and tell Him that Tom Jones was his father… He couldn’t. Not really.

(Scout discusses his parentage with God, and stays dead for a little while longer. Well. A lot longer. On the plus side, he gets to attend his own funeral reception.) ))

An alternate take on Scout's death from the comics. Very Scout centric, obviously, and ends happily.

~~A Little Bird Told Me… by the_soup_specter

(( Medic learns a secret— something personal, powerful, big enough to cause a rift in the team of mercenaries that could tear two of them apart. And for once in his life… he’s not sure how to proceed.

With no better ideas, Medic decides to ask his fellow mercenaries for advice. But as dueling viewpoints begin to pile up, will he be able to make a decision before the team is changed forever? ))

Medic learns Spy is Scout's dad, and spills the beans. Everything turns out ok, but man the aftermath initially ain't pretty.

~~seven times he has to explain (and one time he doesn’t have to) by conner_is_alive

(( the trans scout obsession has me in a vice

also if i don’t vent my trans sadness i will literally rip a government building down brick by brick lmao ))

The fic that made me a trans Scout believer. If you're on the fence about that headcanon, maybe give this fic a read.

**~~Kith And Kin by BOREDGrace23

(( Mick never thought much of the BLU team. They were just clones, after all. Designed to be their opponents in a meaningless war.

That's why when he woke up, his vision blurry, his brain blistering from a headache like he'd just woken up from a hangover, and several burning questions about what had happened, he thought it was strange that they hadn't killed him already.

//

Or, BLU are clones and RED are decidedly not. They’re then forced to work together when their teams disappear. ))

If you like Emesis Blue, or horror in general, go read Kith And Kin. And when you finish, go give @boredgrace23 some love for such an incredible fic.

**++Der Junge by UpInFlamesWriting

(( Everyone on the team knows that Scout & Medic do not get along. They're like Sniper & Spy, except less bloodthirsty about it. Medic scares Scout, & Scout doesn't give Medic a reason to like him. When the two of them start being more than friendly all of a sudden, the team starts to worry, especially when it becomes obvious that Medic & Scout are keeping secrets from them. Scout & Medic are not about to tell the rest of the team that they are a pair of transsexual men, especially when Medic agrees to help Scout in his transition. For all the weirdness that goes on in the base, the world is not kind to queer people, & they aim to keep the reason behind their friendship a secret, even if it kills them. ))

Trans Scout and Trans Medic solidarity fic. I need more of this.

Eight Mercenaries and A Toddler by ChaosandMayhem

(( When Respawn malfunctions and their annoying Scout is turned into something far more precocious, it'll take all of the RED team's wits and patience to look after him. At the same time, Engineer must find a way to turn Scout back into an adult before the BLUs-or anyone else-realizes what's happened. No pairings, just a bunch of exhausted trained killers and one hyperactive child. ))

An Ancient Text from 2012 and the only FF.Net fic on this list, EMaAT is a classic for me. Lot's of Spy backstory, if memory serves. Quotes from this live rent free in my mind.

PracticalEspionage:

++Under the Lake by Her_AngelEyes

(( Engineer goes fishing. Hilarity ensues. ))

Don't let the description fool you. This is a non-con/mind break fic. If you like darkfic stuff, than this is for you~

[honeysorwell]

a ring and the (Super Bowl's) ring

pairing: Restaurant!AU Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Super Bowl's prompt by anon + Valentine's Day idea by me.

Synopsis: When the chef and owner of the traditional Italian Restaurant Schemmenti’s Cucina says that she will never get married again, few people really understand and respect her. Y/N is not only one of the people who understands her, but she is also the one who matters the most to Melissa. And the ring she gave the redhead on Valentine’s Day is just a bonus.

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (I tagged you all because you are all on my tag list for my other Melissa's fanfic, so since this is also a fanfic for Mel here you are!) (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning (for Melissa mainly): marriage proposal!!!

Words: 2,3k

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 + Chapter 2

Link on AO3

The inspiration for this is also the fact that: no one writes AUs for Melissa even tho our lady has a lot of potential for AUs thanks to how many interests she genuinely has; the fact that she thought Gary was buying her a replica of a Super Bowl ring; no one writes fanfics about Melissa finding someone who genuinely accepts that she doesn't want to get married at all and is happy with her just like that; and Valentine's Day is just around the corner;

and yes! part two will be posted tomorrow, because I wrote two parts (one where the Eagles win and one where they lose) so just stay tuned for the game hahaha… (I won't be tho, and that's why I'll only post this part two tomorrow.)

Enjoy!

“Chef! Chef!”, the young waiter called loudly as he entered the kitchen looking for the red-haired woman, keeping a smart distance from Melissa when he found her amidst the chaos of the pens in the hot stove where she was browning some onions.

The kitchen that the redhead had dedicated her time, heart, and soul to, and that until seconds ago was vibrating with the nervous energy of the orders in her restaurant but that now stopped completely, was just taken over by the nervousness that transformed the energy there into a pressure cooker ready to explode.

Although she was in her element, Melissa found it strange that her waiter had called her directly, and her restless feeling was, justifiably, mirrored by all her workers. Some dish was wrong? Was the poor waiter there to inform her of a client's complaint?

"Yes, kid?"

“The table reserved for a party of 20 in the center of the restaurant! They’re here and they’re asking for you.”, the waiter, whose name she refuses to remember since they always give up, smiles at her as he explains, so the redhead imagines that no one was exactly asking to talk to her because of a bad thing, “Oh... And the guy with the mustache told you to take off your apron before talking to them.”

It wasn’t common for Melissa Schemmenti (the talented chef and owner of the traditional Italian Restaurant Schemmenti’s Cucina, who delighted the clientele with her dishes every day) to leave the kitchen to greet ordinary customers. Only the most famous, or food critics, or those really kind people who waited until the restaurant closed had the privilege of meeting her, but when she looked out the kitchen window in search of who was sitting at that prominent table in the middle of the restaurant, a sweet smile painted her lips when she saw all those sitting there.

Her family is there.

At least a good part of it.

Her mother, Marie, Mary Camille, Maria Cristina, boy Tony and John Anthony are all looking at her expectantly as she goes out of the kitchen to stand next to Gary. It's rare to see her siblings looking at her with such happiness, and for just a second Melissa wonders if she's forgotten something important.

Looking closer, the redhead notices that even two of her cousins ​​are there. Rocco, with his wife and two children, and Annette with her husband. Wow.

But, some part of the table was empty and the redhead couldn't be more confused to notice that three of her siblings are not there – Seamus, Toni and Kristen Marie – but as she approached the table in question, the thought just slipped from her mind. After all, not even she knew why they were there so maybe it wasn't that important.

"You know you don't have to book a table when you come here, right? Especially when all these parasites are here almost daily.” Greetings and complaints begin to sound throughout the table instigated by her arrival, but the talented chef of Schemmenti’s Cucina just ignores everyone’s words with a smile, placing a loving kiss on her boyfriend’s lips before reprimanding him affectionately, “You just need to show up here and we’ll find a table for you, Gary.”

“I know.”, the man in question says, delighted with the fact that even on a busy Tuesday night for the restaurant, Melissa still looked as beautiful as on her days off, “But I wanted this one today.”

Before the redhead has time to question him why, Gary stands up from their table with a nervous smile, gently tapping the inside pocket of his leather jacket that held a small velvet box, not wanting to draw Melissa’s attention to it after all, he was just checking to see if the precious thing he handpicked himself was still there.

Leaving behind a distraught redhead with her hip propped against the wooden table, Gary made his way to the restaurant's small stage, where musicians played softly in the background. All the customers' eyes turned to him curiously as the man positioned himself under the soft light. And there, Melissa panicked.

Neither of them could say whose heart was beating faster.

"Sorry to interrupt," Gary began speaking into the available microphone with a shaky voice, "I just want to say a few words about the wonderful person who graces not only our stomach but also our sight tonight."

When he looked at Melissa, and although her eyes were already glued to his, the head chef's mind could not be further away.

Her mind was in denial, working hard to remember if that day was their anniversary, or perhaps the day they shared their first kiss, unable to accept the need to realize the trap that was unfolding dramatically in front of her.

The tension in the air was palpable, but with a gentle and loving gesture, Gary asked for Melissa to come closer.

Confused, she looked back at her family, just lost and confused, but the eyes of those who shared her surname shone amidst smiling faces, and there, as she walked carefully toward her boyfriend, her heart raced, not with happiness, but with apprehension.

He wouldn't do this.

He can't.

Right?

“Melissa,” Gary said, taking her hand and finally kneeling down, to Melissa's desperation, “You are the reason I wake up every day with a smile on my face. You bring color to my life and I can't imagine a future without you. I know you told me you don't intend to get married again but I just need to know if you would do me the honor of being my wife?” His words echoed through the space, full of love and hope as a deep silence momentarily settled in, where everyone there awaited the chef's answer.

But Melissa, with her hand being gently caressed by her boyfriend, for the first time in his own restaurant, felt like she was going to vomit.

The desire and expectation in his eyes were palpable, but she had been clear so many times.

She didn't want this. Not again.

She didn't want marriage or the commitments that it entailed.

And he knew it.

She made that clear to Gary again and again. And he knew how painful her divorce had been. The redhead remembered nights when painful memories would eat away at her mind until she shared them with him. How could he have the courage to ignore her feelings so easily? In the midst of her clients? In her restaurant? And invite her family to watch?

But then, only then, she recognized the looks in their eyes.

They knew. Her family knew.

The same ones who had heard her say over and over again how much she didn't want to get married again.

Ever.

The feeling of being disregarded took over her. A weight that made her wish, even if just for a second, that she had burned herself in the kitchen the day before so she could have stayed home instead of going through that.

She was so embarrassed.

Her boyfriend didn't listen to her. Her family didn't listen to her. No one listened to her.

When Melissa opened her mouth to respond, her words failed to come out. She fixed her gaze on Gary's anxious, hopeful smile, trying to find a way to express the turmoil that was forming inside her. But she knew that only one word would be enough.

“No.”, and when she finally said it, her voice cracked.

She knew that her answer had hit him like a crash.

The murmur of the audience grew around them, mixing disapproval and empathy. Gary stood still for a moment, the ring box slipping from his hand as he searched for some light in the eyes of the woman he loved. And Melissa was also on fire, but with pain and guilt for disappointing him.

“I understand,” he finally murmured after a while, forcing a smile that definitely didn’t reach his eyes. “I just wanted you to know how I feel… And maybe you…”

“I understand. But I can’t. I’m so sorry. It’s better if we end it here,” she interrupted, her voice firm, despite the pain.

The thick tears began to slide down his face, and Melissa felt her heart break inside her chest, but she knew there was no going back.

It was necessary, she knew it was. And she also knew she would cry herself to sleep that night.

Looking around the restaurant, feeling the eyes of her customers burning her back as some of them left their tables, overwhelmed by the weight of the scene they had witnessed that night, she wanted to disappear.

But instead, even when she heard her name being called by her entire family, especially her mother whose voice sounded more enthusiastic than all the others, Melissa silently returned to the kitchen. After all, she still had a kitchen to run.

Only after the end of the workday, when everyone had left and the redhead was drinking a worrying amount of wine in the closed kitchen of her restaurant, footsteps were heard by the redhead in the dining room.

Melissa had made it clear to everyone in the restaurant how much she didn't want to see anyone. But maybe her words also didn't mean anything to her employees too.

"Does everything I say just turned meaningless now?" she shouts towards the dining room, but when her eyes find the three people who were missing earlier today, her voice softens even amidst the confusion of alcohol, "How did you all get in here?"

Seamus, Toni, and Kristen Marie are moving too fast for the redhead to see with the amount of alcohol she consumed, and if Melissa were a little more sober she would notice how all three of them are looking at her with a huge amount of sadness. So maybe it was for the best.

“You’re almost cute when you think a few well-done locks can stop a Schemmenti. Imagine three!”, Toni says softly with a sweet smile as she approaches the redhead, gently placing a kiss on the chef’s forehead and looking for a clean, dry glass to fill with water and force her sister to drink.

Irritated by the unsolicited contact, Melissa thinks about greeting her by calling the owner of the brown eyes Antoinette, but oddly enough, the touch of the younger sister caresses not only her temple but also her soul.

“Hey Mel.”, Seamus says, but he doesn’t lean in for a proper greeting. The middle brother of all the women, whose existence was discovered only after everyone was adults just approaches his older sister to confuse her. The man's clumsy approach makes the redhead focus on the tall, blonde figure who is now once again trying to put the hairpins she used to break down the back door of her sister's restaurant back in place. Knowing that the mere sight of Kriste Marie being the one responsible for invading her property would cause enough distraction, Seamus takes both the bottle and the glass of wine away from his older sister while Toni replaces it with water without her noticing. At least not now.

"Kristen Marie.", is said with as much disdain as affection, which makes the blonde one let out a small smile at her older sister before responding with the same intonation:

"Melissa Ann."

The three Schemmentis who have just arrived gently sit down next to the redhead, who strokes the rim of the glass of water in front of her with the tip of her index finger after rejecting it.

"You're late for the shit show, ya know? It was during dinner.”, she says stammeringly but is quickly cut off by her brother.

“I guess we arrived just in time then.”, he says softly before directing a particularly disappointed look at Kristen Marie when he sees that the blonde one has taken the glass that used to belong to her sister and is now drinking the wine left there by her.

“I knew you would say no! We all knew!”, Kristen says angrily, as if ripping off a particularly stuck band-aid on the redhead’s skin, but one that everyone there knew needed to be changed.

“He warned us a month ago, sent a message in a group with all of us and asked us to be here for the proposal.”

“I said it wouldn’t work out, which obviously started a fight with Ma. Antoinette agreed with me and Seamus here said he would let you know.”, Kristin says again, monopolizing everyone’s attention for a few seconds, but as soon as she finishes, Melissa can see out of the corner of her eye that Seamus lowers his head in shame.

“Mom got really furious, she said we were rooting against your happiness.”, Toni says in a soft voice, but the redhead knows better.

She knows that “we” is not really “we”, but it is Seamus. Ma probably told Seamus that he was rooting against her happiness, and that’s probably why he didn’t tell her, and when she realizes it, the head chef gently stretches her right hand toward her brother.

He, in turn, gently kisses her fingers, still in silence.

“As if Kristen wouldn’t love to see you get engaged just to plan which white dress she’ll wear to your wedding.”, Toni tries to make a joke with a nervous smile, but she quickly regrets it when she sees the tear that runs down her older sister’s right cheek.

“What if… if…”

What if no one wants me?

What if no one accepts me on that condition?

What if I’m alone forever?

“No.”, Kristen interrupts Melissa almost like a growl, as if she can understand all the horrible questions that are going through her sister’s head right now, “Eventually they will understand this too. All of them.”

“Promise?”

“We promise.”, is said in unison by all three siblings, and this sound alone is capable of softening the redhead’s mind and heart.

[brutally-loving]

Welcome to my fuckass self-shipping blog. I am KRUEGER and you may use HE/THEY pronouns for me. Main blog is @esotericdivinity. My art account is @tenacious-brute. I would love to make more self-shipping friends, especially if our f/os share a base media!! Uhh, yes I will talk about my favorite men here- And only here. Comprehensive list of all of the ?? fuckers I have, and my DNI list below.

The Favorites, my fictional husbandssssss

I won't even lie: I don't really share my mains. I will indicate if I do or do not! And if I don't, I will not observe anyone else who selfships with them, I will ignore it. I also would possibly block if I am harassed?- But I can't foresee this happening. I am so so happy to see people who share f/os from the same media!!! Please come talk to me.

I'm gonna sort these by who I'm most fixated on followed by who I don't share, to who I do.

Choso Kamo, non-sharing (Jujutsu Kaisen) - HELLO??? UGH DOWN BAD- I'm so down bad I'm kicking my feet I'm punching mattresses it's an issue now. Sighs he's my new boyfriend AND my current fixation. Yeah. If anyone wants to talk about him with me, has any headcanons or anything, I'll love ya forever 💪🔥 (you will now find anything relating to him under the tag #krue's canon boyfriend)

Aoi Todo, non-sharing (Jujutsu Kaisen) - OH NO ANOTHER- ANOTHER FIXATION. He's my second boyfriend alongside Choso. I need him. I'm gonna get aggressive about it I need everyone to know how much I love him SOB SOB SOB (I'm working on getting him a tag alongside Choso... sighs. My men 💞💞) if anyone ever sends me asks about him I'll giggle btw

Granolah, non-sharing (Dragon Ball Super) - I've had him for like. 2.5 years. Maybe more actually... anyway, he's adored. I would punch walls over him lowkey. I could yap about him tons at some point... But I won't unless prompted!! HES MY HUSSBAN 💞💞

Clavicus Vile, non-sharing (The Elder Scrolls) - I LOVE HIM YAYAYAYAYAYA He's so. Grr. I cannot defend him or my love for him but?? Whatever! He's him 💞 i have had him for over 2 years, despite consuming his media for over 10. It's kind of crazy dydhdhd. Oh well!!

Silvers Rayleigh, non-sharing (One Piece) - Actually a perfect husband idk. Uhh Rayleigh when he runs with Roger is the one I’m fixated on and absolutely adoing of. Anyway he’s gorgeous and I think we should hold hands and watch documentaries… I've had him... for not long. But this doesn't make him any less important!

Troy Calypso, sharing?? (Borderlands 3) - He is NUTS and terrible and horrible and I NEED HIM- I cannot defend this fixation. I have an AU written for him, and that is where he is my f/o!! I adore him thoroughly.

Caesar Zeppeli and Joseph Joestar, sharing (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure) - They belong together. Who am I to separate them? Polycule go???- Oh well! I might talk more about Caesar bc I feel like he needs more love, but I adore them together and want us all to hold hands. Ugh. They're everything.

Caesar came first, back in 2020, but Joseph slowly won me over through 2021-2022. And here we are. I adore them both so, and I think that I should be able to love them so so much 💞 pretend Joseph doesn't have canon events that are important to some things... I need him with Caesar and I- In my mind, they're in a vacuum and that's it. Susie Q loves us all and her and I go to the spa together btw ☝️

Esidisi, sharing (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)!! - He was debated since the last time I fixated on JJBA (2022 summer or so??), but only recently did I really take him in. I'm always down to yap about him, but he probably isn't as prominent in my brain as others.

Corazon, sharing (One Piece) - I haven't mentioned him tons but he belongs on here too tbh. Sending him so many kisses!!!

Will update as needed? I guess- thanks for reading!! Please please feel free to ask questions- (Last updated: February 3rd, 2025)

DNI: those who share the aforementioned characters that I do not, proshippers (specifically those who condone or romanticize pedophilia, incest, beastiality, rape, etc etc), anti-lgbtq+ people, racists, sexists, literally anyone who's just kind of harass-y?? Yeah please don't interact. I really appreciate it because that shits just not cool.

I write and draw commissions, and will take donations!!

P@ypal is caiushadeon@gmail.com

Ca$happ is $sharpset

and ko-fi is here!

[graylinesspam]

Getting into the Percy Jackson books in my old ass age was a mistake. I should have read them in highschool when they were popular. I even knew that at the time. But i figured, hey, better late than never. Wrong

everything about this series is written in such a way that I need some kind of consensus on what the fuck are we thinking about it. Like Percy, bless him, is such an unreliable narrator. And i know what he's missing most the time. it's not subtle. but there's nuance. And there's huge fucking concepts that just aren't being explored by the characters because they're fucking 12 and aren't thinking that critically about it yet. And i neeeed to know what the fandom consensus on some of this is.

I can smell the fanblogs, deviantart, and decade old discussions all over this series. It was literally written for preteens with access to the young internet the way it used to be. And you might be saying, "duh, OP, if all these discussions are already out there why not look them up and do the reading yourself? Isn't that how you get into any fandom?" And your right, i would with any other series. Except that every time I look at a PJO tag there is a slew of characters, prominently displayed, that I haven't even met yet. And that was fine when I was reading the first book. I kept thinking every single time I started a new one, surely this is when I'll meet the missing kids. Then i won't have to worry so much about spoiling it. Right? RIGHT??

Surely Annabeth, Percy and Grover can only go on so many quests by themselves before we get the whole crew involved. Fucking loud buzzer noise on that one. I mean I'm glad we have Tyson now but shit guys. It's just been these fuckin guys the whole time. We get maybe one new character a book and half of them die... Then I thought oh, the war is coming surely we need a bunch of characters to fight in that. HA yeah, not any of the crew though. Well we got Nico but other than that. I don't know these people. I have never even seen fanart of them. Where is this Will guy at? huh? Where's That Blonde boy, Jason i think?? WHere they at?? What the fuck is up with the purple camp shirts? The 7??? what is the 7??? I ain't even seeing fanart of Clarisse and she's been in every book but i can't escape the emo boy and his blonde boyfriend....

I can't even glance at the pjo tag without incomprehensible spoilers staring back at me.

I am six fucking books into this series and there is no sign of the MOST POPULAR CHARACTERS. How many of these books do I have to read just to be able to talk to you people???

I mean I'm gonna, but damn.

[velvetvexations]

I've been going down a rabbit hole because I had the thought that surely it'll be possible to come up with a source for where CASAB language came from, it simply isn't that old. (And I could feel the inevitable "you can look it up!" that ended up coming in the time it took me to look it up.) And I was totally wrong, the origin was either offline, never indexed, or on now dead blogs. But that doesn't mean I couldn't find anything.

Some initial context: there is a fair amount of SAAB, DSAB, and least frequently ASAB around 2010. The phrase "assigned x at birth" goes back to at least 2003. The earliest use I found of both the phrase and acronym CAMAB was Feb 20, 2012. More uses start showing up quickly. The arguments on if it came from intersex people or trans women start in months. Interestingly, arguments as early as late 2012 claim that it was always CASAB and that ASAB was a de-politicization. Admittedly, the first uses of the exact phrase and acronym that I can find are in trans contexts (although many of the earliest are discussing intersex people and the medical abuse they face as well).

I then tried to find more about the concept of coercive sex/gender assignment. The earliest I was able to find in a trans context was from Sept 2010. However, I do quickly find fairly prominent feminist texts discussing coercive surgery of intersex people, as well as intersex texts discussing the coerciveness of the sex binary, from 2004 and 1999, at least, respectively. So the concept of coercive assignment quickly goes back to intersex people, regardless the exact phrase CASAB. All of this was interesting! LMK if you want citations. And now I'm going to close this information with a bit of a pivot.

This is the language intersex people have been using to describe going through coercive surgery in an attempt to force them into the sex binary. Most modern dictionaries say it's either exclusively or primarily for intersex people. ASAB is used much more frequently in trans contexts. I think perhaps there should be a long period of thought before coming to the conclusion that it's so important to signal that all sex assignment is coercive that the group of people that have faced direct physical violence in order to uphold the sex binary needs to either be forced to use another term or have their experiences erased through conflation with perisex ones.

10/10 no notes anon, thank you for sharing this. I'll put it in the tags.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

OKAY ... yan!jason... I could think about this going with both jasons if we thread carefully so bear with me EVERYONE 🎉🎉♥️🎉♥️🎉🎉💞💞🌟🌟💞🎉🎉

As you mentioned, yes your fics w ak!jason kinda thread on the yandere line (specially on the gilded cage series but tbh i could yap about this series separately teehee), which is why I asked first since none are tagged with yandere even though it borders onto it BUT it goes deeper and more unhinged than that

The one thing to like about yandere is how easily the line between infatuation and obsession can blur and 'how far can I go for them' becomes 'how far will i go for them' and you can play with this as you like

Observant and self conscious as Jason is, he is somewhat aware that this is terrible, 'somewhat' because he manipulates himself (and later you) to believe its out of love and infatuation

Of course (unless is Arkham Knight) he wouldn't outright kidnap you and keep you locked up without social interaction

I think it'd start gradually, slowly and indirectly encouraging you to stay at home longer (no longer needing to go out for groceries, gifting you things you want to keep you occupied, and when you go outside, he is there as well). Also, seeing the news reporting the latest criminal activity makes you a bit more aware about going outside (in this case, not going)

Jason used to be under the Bat's wing, is a former crime lord and he isnt feared for nothing, he knows how to do his stuff even if he doesnt think about it, but he cant predict that he is falling into the trap himself.

Now, if we think AK!Jason was just a bit silly, he is definitely...um... very silly now

I've been thinking a thooousand ways a yan!AK!Jason would go but the most prominent is him seeing you as his literal angel or savior.

You had been so kind to him when he looks like he's been through hell, wouldn't you spare to be just as kind when he reveals said hell to you?

And he believes its unreal someone is can be unceasingly sweet to someone like him. You have to be something else, something greater, something he cant let be tainted under Gotham's dirty hands. He understands this philosophy better than no other— understands you better than anyone else, and he loves you, so why not?

This must be fate testing him, to see if he is worthy protecting someone so precious.

So when he puts his plan into action, you are the first step he will execute. You loved that monster before, surely you will do it again, right?

rate 1 out of 10 and I will come back with more goodnight raeba..e.....💞💞♥️♥️💞💞

Interesting, interesting. I really like how you pointed out that he's manipulating himself and you. Because, at the end of it all, even if he's doing the wrong things, at least he's going it for the 'right' reason. He's keeping you safe, alive, close, no matter the cost.

I'll ramble more below the cut:

I'm gonna throw my opinion out there and tell you I can't really picture Jason acting like that in normal circumstances, or at least over an extended period of time. Maybe he'd treat you like that in his early crime lord era, before he has his claws in Gotham. Or if something really bad was happening in the city, but even then, once the problem passed, it wouldn't be an issue. (But that's just me)

I just think that Jason would want you to have a normal life? If you wanted nothing to do with him, wanted to be a civilian, and go out and be someone without him, I really think he would let you go. I mean, he'd keep an eye out for you, but I don't think Jason is the kind of person to force you to stay with him. (That's just more of a character analysis tho, I'm not saying anyone shouldn't write him one way or another)

But, AK is a whole different person, an entirely different Gotham. I looove the idea of combining some kind of vague religious factor into AK. (I have so many wips that play on you being larger than life to him) Because yes, he can't let the filith that is this city taint you in any way. Not when you're so good.

And say, if you knew him before the asylum, you're still seeing that boy you knew, still trying to help and understand and be there. And by the time you realize your presence is only making it worse, that you can't 'fix' him, it's already too late.

It's hard to even consider leaving, because you do love him. And he whispers that he loves you back in the middle of the night. So that has to mean something. How could you leave when there's so much love? You both know there's something wrong, but if no one's getting hurt... are either of you willing to voice there's a problem?

It would just be so easy to let yourself be manipulated by his games, so easy to stay locked away and safe with the wool over your eyes. But is it the right answer? Will it save either of you? I don't think so, but will taking that step to change anything? It would be hard, almost impossible. But you'd have to try. For the people you love. For yourself. For him.

[the-thursday]

Hello everyone, this post was long overdue, and finally, prompted by our beloved Howls also leaving, it's time for me to rip off the bandaid as well.

I would also like to announce a sort of departure from Ranger's apprentice fandom.

I do not know how many from RA fandom era from few years back are still here but I assume mostly newer blogs keep up with this account.

Take a lil history walk with me, if you will. I joined this fandom around 2017-18. I was very active around here, posting all kinds of stuff, fics, takes, incorrect quotes, art and whatnot. I made many friends with whom I had a great time and I am happy and honoured that I am friends with some of them till this day. Fandom became the second home to me as things hadn't been exactly easy irl and maybe I fixated on it too much, but gods know I loved this place so much. And I wish for everyone to experience this happiness and just as I made friends who became a significant part of my life, I wish that for you as well. Being surrounded by amazing and wonderful people and sharing similar interests is one of the most pure joyous feelings in this world.

As 2020-2021 rolled around, some of you know that things in my life picked up a harsh pace and I started to drift away. In 2021 I left the fandom because of that and unpleasant things with one of the people here. It was one of the most gut wrenching decisions I had made.

In 2022, I started gradually getting worse, but also had the courage to come back at the end of the year. I felt happy and welcomed and I am so grateful to everyone who made it happen, who supported me and gave me another breath. My mental health kept getting worse but I wasn't alone and that has been everything to me.

Now it's about a little more than a year since I've been back and again, I've met wonderful amazing people who I am happy and honoured to call friends. I don't regret coming back and I am happy I did, however I think it's time for me to go again. And below, I hope to explain why.

Like I said, I've been getting worse. Last autumn and this winter have been very difficult for me and I had to rethink some priorities, as life is going on the time left for me to invest in fandoms is getting thinner and thinner. Unfortunately, among them, isn't keeping up with this fandom. With my next words I hope not to insult anyone. The truth is, I don't find enjoyment in the fandom and content itself anymore, or more like, as much as I used to. I don't exactly vibe with posts for roughly the past half a year and I don't mean this in negative way, I just think it's for me to move on. All of the new people that I've seen have wonderful content and while I don't exactly vibe like I used to, I can see that you're having fun and that's important! People come and go and I do wish all the newcomers and seniors who are still here to have a great time, but I don't think I have energy, capacity and vibes to be part of it anymore. As you know, my blog has been very much inactive for a long time, aside from dumping my dumb sketches or reblogging something here and there. And rather than letting it rot, I'd like to cleanly move on. Anyhow, on self deprecating note, since really it's not like I've been someone prominent I don't think this is a loss to the fandom and this makes it easier for me.

So to summarise, my leaving is about personal things, my life moving and the fact I don't have the mental capacity or motivation to actively keep up.

So what does this mean? I won't be posting RA related stuff on this blog anymore. This blog will turn into a neutral main blog and I'll create one side blog for art that I hope to continue to make and maybe one blog dedicated to the work of Brandon Sanderson.

However, it doesn't mean that I am not up to goof around about RA anymore, however this will be done in DMs. If I sometimes get to draw and post RA related art, it shall be posted on my new art blog with RA tag. However, I don't think there's a high probability of public RA art from me anymore, because 1) need to move on and 2) I have a very strong and maybe confrontational opinion about art in this fandom that has given me a bad taste and discouraged me from enjoying making it and posting it. I won't go into details because I don't want to sour this post for myself and for y'all with it.

I want to thank this fandom for everything it has been for me and for everyone and I wish y'all some happy fandoming!

Yours only,

The Ranger Thursday 11

[whiskey-bumblebee]

Uptown Girl (part two)

Pairing: dbf!Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Accessibility/Diversity notes: 99% gender neutral, but one use of 'she' for reader. Reader can swim.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Implied (public) sex, smut, dbf!hotch (reader is an adult).

A/N: The daybed I'm imagining is like this

Tagging: @ssamorganhotchner @hausofwhores <3

"Slow down," You breathe.

"Sorry, sorry," Hotch replies.

When he pulls away from you, his lips are puffy, his hair is mussed, and the collar of his polo is completely off-centre. You smile and run your fingers through his hair affectionately, smoothing it flat again.

"Pretty boy," You murmur, and he blushes under your attention.

"Do you want to swim?"

You eye the pool behind Aaron's head. It looks inviting, the blue almost as nice as the Caribbean. Almost. The pool floatie also looks inviting, and that's when you realize that you're looking for an excuse.

Aaron shuffles slightly up the daybed, until his hips are between your legs, rather than his face. You run your fingertips over his bare shoulders, taking in each freckle atop his skin. Thanks to the warm weather, and your afternoon in the sun, his skin was warm, and seemed to be taking on a bit of colour.

"If I'm doing a bad job, you can tell me," He kisses your neck affectionately, trailing kisses over your chest.

You laugh. "No, not at all. I just wanted to talk."

The gauzy white curtains flap in the breeze, sending cool air over your bodies.

He rolls off your body and relaxes on the sheets beside you. You bite your lip as your eyes rake over his body. He's shirtless, a sheen of sweat over his skin, and his jeans are hanging low on his hips. It's with a pang of guilt that you notice his prominent erection. He notices you noticing him, and reaches for one of the many throw pillows on the bed.

You laugh as he moves the pillow in front of his hips, obscuring your view.

"Damn, you're tempting," You sigh. "And you're good. I just don't know if I can come in public."

You gesture around your pool area, which is, of course, empty. Having sex in the open air is erotic, yes, but it's also cast a shadow of self-consciousness over you. Your neighbours are miles away, but you never know who might be testing a new drone, or whether one particularly loud moan might carry through the summer air to some unwitting person's ears.

"What did you want to talk about?"

You bite your lip again, nudging at the throw cushion which he's still holding in place. Hotch laughs, but holds firm.

"C'mon, talk to me. I promise I'll make love to you later." There's a boyish grin on his face, but that doesn't stop your stomach from dropping at his words.

Practiced as ever, you plaster on the wild child smile. You slip away from Aaron and dive into the pool. Aaron chases you, which you know without even having to look. Sure enough, once you surface, you see the ripples from his splash radiating to the edges of the pool, and you watch as his body glides towards you, under the water.

He runs his hands up your calves, then your thighs, settling on your hips as he swims to the surface. He doesn't even have to ask; as soon as his head pops out of the water, you brush his hair back so he can see.

He smiles at the gesture as he opens his eyes, keeping his hands firmly on your hips.

"You're avoiding me."

"You've been giving me head for the last ten minutes," You hold your grin in place, but it's starting to falter. "We have different definitions of avoidance."

He says your name slowly, and your grin finally fades. Your mouth falls into a frown, and his expression quickly matches yours.

"Hey," He says, rubbing his thumbs in circles.

"I don't think I can look at you and say the things I need to say," You breathe, dropping your hands over his.

He nods, and swims over to the stairs in the shallow end. He takes a seat roughly in the middle, so that his chest is above the water, but the rest of his body is submerged. Propping his elbow on the edge, he rests the side of his head against his hand.

You slip onto a floatie, lying on your back and pulling your sunglasses over your face so you can look at the sky comfortably. The sun immediately undoes the cooling effect of the water.

"I'm listening," He says, and you're not sure whether you're hearing his dad voice or his profiler voice. It seems too gentle to be interrogative, but there's an edge of seriousness.

"So, you came over," You start, unsure exactly how to phrase your thoughts.

"I did," He replies.

"And I'm really glad, and I'd like you to stay, as long as you can. And I really," You can't help but laugh. "I really would like you to make love to me, if this doesn't completely kill the vibe."

You take a deep breath, dropping one of your hands into the water so you can run your fingers through it.

"But it's only because I made up an excuse."

"It isn't," He interjects. "I'm here because I was desperate to see you. You know that. I missed you while you were in New York."

You sigh.

"I want you... I want you to be here because you want to be here. Not because I called and you came."

He says your name again, dragging out the last syllable.

"Aaron," You reply before he can interrupt again, and you take another deep breath, steadying yourself. "I want you to be here because… Because you love me."

The silence is so long, so excruciating, that you slip back into the water so you can stare at him and read his expression. You've drifted to the deep end of the pool without realizing, and you swim over to the nearest edge so you don't have to tread water. It's completely unintentional, but all of a sudden, the pool's entire length is between you and Aaron.

You stare at him. He's staring off to his right, his fingers threaded through his hair. It's still silent, and even the sound of the water lapping at the pool's walls has ceased. You resolve not to say anything until he does. You've played your cards. If he doesn't like them, he can fold.

He looks over at you, and the expression on his face is something you don't know how to read. It's not one you've ever seen before, and for a second you're angry at yourself, knowing that your poker face is thin. Anyone could read you: desperate for his affection, on the verge of tears, like a dog waiting at the front door after a long day. And because it's Aaron, you might as well have hired a skywriter to spell out the words above you both: I love you. I love you, I love you. Please love me back. I don't know what I'll do if you don't love me back.

For a few more painful, long, minutes, he just stares at you. You hold his gaze and map his features, trying to make sense of them. His lips are pressed together, although not so tightly that it's his tell for repressing a spiteful comment. His jaw is fixed, but all of the times you've seen him in profiler mode, it has been. The typically hard line of his brow is soft. His eyes are marginally wider than usual. His head is normally inclined slightly forward, a result of sitting hunched over a desk for so long, but also, you know, a way of making his features appear sharper, harsher. When he tips his head forward and makes eye contact from under his brows, anyone will confess anything to him. He's never used that look with you, and this is no exception. You note that his head is in a neutral position, even tipped slightly back.

You don't need to be a profiler to know that it's a vulnerable expression for him. He's outside of his shielded norm, and the head tilt, with its many meanings, also has the practical effect of baring his throat to you. Okay, you think. There's a vulnerability here, but I knew that already.

"Come here," He says, finally.

The silence has been so long that you almost think you're imagining his words, which isn't helped by the fact that he said them quietly. But he's looking at you expectantly, so you paddle slowly over. You leave a slight distance between you, but it's shallow enough that you can comfortably stand.

"Is that what this is about? You need me to tell you that I love you?"

You nod, uncomfortable at the way he's phrased it, but you know that it's true nonetheless.

"What's your expression?" You ask. Even if this goes terribly, you want to memorize it. If this is the last way you'll ever see his face, you want to file it away forever.

Your question prompts a change; he looks surprised. At least you can recognize that one.

"My expression?"

You nod gingerly.

He stands up and walks towards you, closing the distance.

"This is what it looks like when a man is watching the love of his life beg for something she's always had."

It takes a minute for his words to sink in, but as soon as you've processed them, you smile so widely that an ache sets in. Hot tears spill over your cheeks, liquid relief overflowing.

He wraps his arms around you, and you rest your face against his shoulder, your nose turned into his neck.

You can't help it, and you laugh even as you're crying.

Aaron strokes your back, holding you close as your emotions work their way out of your system.

As you calm down, he starts to sway the two of you side-to-side. You rest your right hand against his chest, and he keeps his arms wrapped around you.

There's nothing you can say that will rival what he's just said, so you're happy to stand in silence.

He takes your chin in his hand and guides your face towards his. It's like you're kissing him for the first time, and for a moment, you just stay an inch apart, watching him look at your lips. You share breath like it's the most natural thing in the world. You close your eyes and feel his lips against yours: slow, soft, reserved. It's a kiss with no ulterior motive than to be shared, passed back and forth between you like a cigarette.

When you finish, Aaron's hand is cupping the side of your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek.

"I'm getting cold," You murmur.

He nods, and presses his lips to yours for one last, short kiss.

He leaves you standing in the pool, watching as he walks over to the daybed, retrieving your towels, long-abandoned. He nods for you to get out of the pool, and you practically float up the steps.

It's with all the tenderness in the world that he wraps a towel around your shoulders, and your hand brushes his as you take hold of the corners, keeping it in place.

He takes your free hand in his, kissing your knuckles gently, then leads you to the house.

[goodluckclove]

Author Ask Tag?!

hey @goldfinchwrites tagged me in a thing! cool! thanks, man! i'll use this as an opportunity to share a little bit about one of two projects i plan to work on starting in march while I wait for migration patterns to be beta'd. i'm playing around with an episodic radio show-style series that i'm calling sunderland forever.

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

so sunderland forever centers around the end of the world, seen through multiple, perhaps unconnected individuals. starting in portland, oregon, reality has started burning away. it started with a small black hole hanging in midair, seen in an abandoned lot near the columbia river. but it's slowly growing. and there are rumors of additional "cue marks" as some call them being found in other parts of the city. places that touch the cue mark as it expands are suddenly wiped from memory, even if they haven't yet been fully eaten by the void. the same goes for people - maybe.

there's nothing anyone can do. no one's really reacting in a way that makes sense. it's more mundane than anyone would ever expect from the end of the world.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

smart writer answer: I was fascinated by what I've read so far of Christopher Brown's A Natural History of Empty Lots. Portland is a city with it's fair share of abandoned structures - some spent years in limbo before suddenly being vanished into vacant concrete and gravel seemingly overnight.

We also have a lot of living things we either struggle to understand or choose to push aside entirely. Sunderland, a semi-industrial neighborhood in Portland, has been home to an RV Safe space for unhoused individuals to get their vehicles off the street and congregate for easier access to crucial services. This park, built to be temporary, is set to close at the end of March to give space for the Bureau of Transportation to store maintenance equipment. Despite plans for a new RV park opening nearby, the entire situation reads as an odd reshuffling of a very prominent problem.

You wouldn't think it would be so easy to avoid a 25k-square foot building, much less a growing population of human beings. And yet it happens so often. So it's an intriguing concept to explore what it looks like when reality starts taking over the forgotten, much like how nature takes back an abandoned structure. What does that look like, and what - if anything - changes when the forgotten is no longer our decision?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, or help the reader grow as a person?

honest writer answer: i've missed writing scripts and this seems like a cool way to get back into that. you can also do more with radio plays, despite the obvious limitations. this concept is like kind of satire and it's potentially more timely than i'd prefer. but i'd still be aiming for a sort of dark absurdism akin to eugene ionesco's play rhinoceros.

uh but no one's trying to achieve anything. if they do try it might not really work. that's kind of the point. reality is literally burning away in a way so unfathomable that most people eventually have to shift focus and keep on going to work and taking care of their children or whatever.

i don't have a lesson. i don't have anything i'm trying to prove. it just seems like a cool concept to explore.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

chapters = episodes

episode length = maybe like twenty minutes? definitely one-act length.

answer = who fucking knows

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

original concept! it'll probably be on soundcloud or something. maybe my patreon. wherever i post it it'll be free.

When did you start writing?

writing anything? twelve. i wrote a 10k novella. wrote my first novel at thirteen. wrote and produced my first script at sixteen. published at - eighteen, i think?

wrote this? i haven't. i'm still percolating and reading to develop different concepts. i have till end of february to finish migration patterns and then i can switch gears.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

write a lot. don't be afraid of failure. you're going to fail, that's part of the thing. failure in art doesn't look the same as it does in life unless your failure is also an act of public bigotry or literal crime. write a lot. like, write something right now. be indulgent and weird and too into your material. get comfortable with a silent reception because in original fiction you're going to have a lot of it and it's fine. enjoy what you do. also take breaks and live life so you can enjoy that too.

uh i'll tag some cool folks that are also wonderful writers you should groove on!

@mushroommanchanterelle (his lore drops on penumbra lately have been legit wild)

@xarrixii (flash/burn is fantastic it has been such a wonderful confusion having to engage with a serial that isn't finished yet)

@afyerarchive

@holfelderwrites124

@fenmere

(i know there are more of you but i'm trying to think of people i'm pretty confident have active projects. if you have one also just get in on this you are tagged too! tag you're it!!)

[creatively-cosmic]

some cookie subspecies classifications with visuals to accompany. if you want to see unfiltered rambling about what these mean copied straight from discord then feel free 2 look below the cut. lotta thoughts on it

firstly heres the initial chart we drew about this to kind of explain the way things flow down. the elements are the nine elements in kingdom and the beasts are NOT the beast cookies btw.

the BASIS for a lot of this that i'll clarify first; in our lore, cookies are usually made with a traditional gingerbread recipe, with the addition of (at least) two primary ingredients- one Edible component for flavor, and one Magical component for. well. magic. the magical ingredients can often be inedible, but baking them into a cookie can help soften it up (so to speak), as well as hone and amplify its properties.

the ingredients used will determine what a cookie will be classified as on this chart, as well as how heavily a cookie hones their magic during early developmental stages.

[id also like to tag @promniight whos pastry dash au was a big inspiration for me 2 start brainstorming on this kind of stuff. i tried very hard not to make any elements a direct ripoff but the system of "different ingredients bringing out different characteristics" was so good it made me start hyperfixating on this goddamn game again OUHDNKDLLJNDS]

anyways. because i dont have the energy right now to make everything pretty, from here on you will be subjected to my raw 1am discord concept ranting about the different classifications, what they mean, and how to identify them. i'll also put examples of cookies under each blurb!

starting at the basic cookies and ill just rattle off from there. first is the STANDARD build. most basic of basics you can possibly get and the template for all the rest of these. its so bog standard that its entire palette is ripped straight off our gingerbrave design we just made it more sexually ambiguous. this one is essentially what you;d get if you baked a living gingerbread cookie with No extra special ingredients. in its most natural state, its a plain body with a natural dough color, hair and eyelashes matching its frosting (white is the most common and traditional, esp for eyelashes), with its eyes, mouth, and jam all having a monochromatic palette (ex in the example theyre all shades of the same blue).

a bog-standard magician is the exact same deal, with a few differences to reflect the further prominence of their magical ingredient. if the first example is an unspecial gingerbread cookie, this is a gingerbread cookie with extra glitter. their eyes, mouth, teeth, and innards can have a secondary color that reflects their magic, rather than the monochromatic palette of the first. these cookie's hair also grows faster because of the higher amount of magic active within them causing their bodies to develop in that way, so unless a magician is very good at maintenance, they'll likely have longer hair and more prominent eyelashes. this is how i have justified my awesome big fantasy eyelash swag

these traits will run pretty standard across the board (ie the natural cookies have monochromatic eyes with shorter lashes while the magical ones tend towards crazier colors with frilly lashes. this isnt actually all that reflected. maybe multicolored eyes are a rare trait for all i know. lets not overthink that yauy)

OKAY SO the natural cookie builds. with how many possible animals there are on gods green earth its impossible to account for every possible variant there could be so i went extremely generic. broadly speaking its a case-by-case basis- i think these four show pretty well the degrees of prominence those Living Thing traits can have across them (this includes plant). at minimum, the ingredient will reflect through their like. hair and patches of their dough, and the "fleshy" bits like the eyes and mouth, as seen on the plant example. from there traits will most often show up at the cookies back and "edges", or where edges laid during the flat period of their life (something about edges being crispy and cooked more, idk), as seen on the terrestrial cat cookie example. then it'll bleed further "in," as seen on the avian, leaving really only the face and torsos dough visible. then with the aquatic cookie, its just all in, dough fully covered in those colorful scales and fins. on each of these i drew them with the most common builds seen throughout our designs but any of them can go in any way- a fish could be as subtle as a few gills on the neck, and a plant could be practically a walking flower. in fact an example of a "fully plant plant cookie" would be our imagining of millennial tree, as his body is built up out of wood, his dough covered in a layer of bark. swag. also avians get an extra appendange instead of their arms being wings because cookies are baked in an inherently humanoid shape and that mold is hard to break without further asension. its easier to tack new limbs on than to completely reshape whats already been hard-baked in. and also the wings look cool like that smiles

ill cover fae next because i grew the spirits last so im following my mental order

a fae/daemon is often classified in the eye of the beholder. theyre that amorphous middle ground between the fairies and demons that cant quite be pinned for what they more closely abide by.. theyre fluid and usually revel in that fact. of course, theyre extremely magical, but with those natural ingredients still prominent. theyre double dipping, those sons of bitches. the most typical form is that it's nigh indistinguishable from a standard member of any other class, only able to be identified by that slight offness to them, and their low-contrast eyes that have no pupils. theyre often shapeshifters of some kind so its usually likely that this cookie form isnt even their real one anymore, especially if theyre magically inclined enough to have ascended.

[fae / fae / daemon]

a fairy has a more concrete form than a fae, traits typically including translucent wings of some sort (doesnt necessarily have to be insectoid, its just common), emotive pointy ears, a pale discoloring at their extremities, and eyes that are (similar to fae), low-contrast, but usually more vividly colored and having pupils that match the color of the whites. though other traits arent absurd to see- antlers and flowers (a la plant cookies) and rarer but not too uncommon examples that come to mind, and in the current fae society on beast-yeast (god i need to rename that), ashier dough colors are often seen due to the use of metals like silver, iron, tin, or fucking. mercury apparently. as the magic ingredients in their dough, due to being one of the most readily accessible materials that could offer such properties- materials scavenged from the remains of the witch's banquet hall. (dark enchantress left no magic or ingredients behind... but the silverware probably wasn't worth the effort. tgey were forced to eat forks when they were two years old)

angels are like fairies to the next step. being adjacent to elemental spirits, i think they can come in varied colors and shapes, but can be generally identified by multiple pairs of pale, near-white wings and eyes, with their extremities fading into that color as well (talk about a . magic touch . booyah). theyre can powerful, but tend to be less chaotic than raw elementals or neutral fae. i dont have a lot on angels yet but i think wind archer classifies as an angel.

[fairy / angel / angel]

demonsss . guys that tend to embrace the mischeif of the neutral fae/daemons but usually in a more physical manner. like fairies and angels, they tend to have wings, but far more tangible ones- albeit less useful for actually flying. maybe that excess of magic just loves making cookies sprout extra appendages. yk what jot that down. for all i know those could be more arms on all of em. THE MORE IMPORTANT PART IS unlike the fairy wings and even angel wings to an extent, these ones are Solid. Tangible. fairy wings you go right through like mist. angel wings probably work like oobleck. these are tangible Doing Shit appendages. i realize now i forgot to draw the tail but they also tend to get those. long, slender, prehensile is the typical way. they also have long expressive ears and can be pretty quickly identified by their eye trait of white slit pupils on sclera. OH and the darker discoloration on their extremities. you can tell example demon isnt just a Bat avian because of the lack of fur, the white pupils, and the discoloration. okay ? swag

dragons. wgat if demons were really really big and more of a creature. dragons can come in many many many shapes and sizes. especially dragon cookies. the most broad explanation is … a bit chimera with it. traits of an avian, a terrestrial, and an aquatic creature mixes into one greater beast cooked up on the demon cookie frying pan. aside from being broadly recognized by being the "Monster" of the cookie classifications, you can more accurately pinpoint one by, you guessed it, the eyes. wings, tails, scales and horns are common but they cant be your ONLY judgement- after all, you can find those things on any other cookie. cmon now. dragon eyes will, very consistently, be multicolored- a trait that is shared among all fae that i FORGOT TO MENTION UNTIL NOW FUCKK AAAH is that, unlike other cookies, they lack a white outline around their sclera. fucked up ey? for dragons, their eyes are all pitch black, aside from that outline- that's the primary color- and their pupils- thats the secondary. it also makes them look rad as hell. otherwise dragon traits to body ratio follows the same logic that it does for the other Beasts Y Plant cookies- given a lot of dragon cookies are just natural born dragons reincarnating themselves into a cookie form bc theyre all fucking insane i guess, this ratio is usually All Dragon so you wont usually see a shitton of dough.

[demon / demon / dragon]

with elementals the biggest thing that defined them is the fact that their body is, either partially or wholly, composed of the element they embody. in a fashion that folllows the Natural cookies stuff, partial elementals will usually have their edges, extremities, and hair composed of that element. a lot are just entirely That Thing though. this can and does make life difficult for some people (ie imagine being a guy made entirely out of Don't Touch substances like Poison or Fire or Electricity. taht would suck. not to mention the intangible ones like Light and Darkness). aside from the obvious Special Guy made out of Slutch stuff, you can pinpoint them pretty quick by their eyes being entirely one color, with only white pupils to break it up. no sclera, no outline. thats why i specified that on dragons and demons. the difference matters. whee

ghosts are the easiest ones because no cookie is born as a ghost, rather Reborn as a ghost. be it through spiritual willpower or rebaking the body anew (looks around), a more accurate term would. honestly be undead. because they arent really a ghost in the traditional sense given the entire point is they still have and inhabit their body. its just. spiritually unstable. rebaked cookies will naturally be much more stable ghosts than those who just put their own crumbs back together, but all of them, having their souls at least partially seperated from their bodies, can fade in and out of a less tangible form. you can fade through anything if you make your crumbs fine enough. self-revived ghosts are usually the easiest to identify, with large, deep, and visible cracks across their bodies, as well as areas just straight up missing pieces. rebaked ghosts will also have those cracks, but moreso as scars- spots that were missing would be filled in with discolored dough (hard to make the exact recipie twice down to the exact color). all ghosts will have tapered off fingers and toes (funny claw justification. i can imagine it simply being a matter of the dough wearing away over time, faster at the finer points. like a candy cane). they'll also very rarely bleed- most of that jam is either coating their dough to hold together, or condensed in their soulstone so as to protect what's left of it. something like withdrawing itself. their hair and stray crumbs will be naturally floaty (strong emotions can extend that effect to their immediate environment). and the eyes, always the main giveaway- hollow, showing the dark inside of the head, with purely white sclera and pupils being their primary color. a bit haunting innit

uhh ok tldr guide for the road

standard cookies are just some guy. humanoid. monochromatic eye colors. white outline around sclera. cookies follow this guide unless specified otherwise.

magicians are just some guy but with magic. you can tell theyre magic because they get Two Unique Colors in their eyes and their hair grows faster.

natural cookies show their naturalness as the edges. we love extra appendages here. plants grow leaves and animals grow fur/feathers/scales/whatever else. yay

neutral fae/daemons are the silly putty of the equation but usually they look like just some guy but Watch Out. can be easily identified by pale eye color and a complete lack of pupils.

fairies get funny translucent wings and big elf ears. they dont have white sclera outlines, scelera barely sticks out from whites, and whites are the same color as pupils. their extremities are a Little pale

angels favorite color is white and anything near it. theyre practically glowing. multiple wings/extra limbs/whatever. eyes are like entirely blank i think i forgot to say that. extremities are the same near-white-if-not-white color as the wings and eyes.

demons have white slit pupils and pointy ears too. their extremities are Darker. their wings/extra limbs/whatever are fully tangible but arent super functional but its ok bc they look cool. and they have prehensile tails to compensate. also their sclera outlines are black instead of white

dragons follow the same principals as the natural squad and posses traits of at least one of each (terrestrial avian and aquatic beast). their eyes are black except for the places where they arent. pupils are one color and sclera outlines are another and thats it. the rest is black

elementals are when a guy is made of an element. their eyes are one color everywhere aside from white pupils. ez ghosts are crumbled cookies. you can always tell theyve been crumbled bc cracks. they have creepypasta eyes (hollow w white sclera and colored pupils) and dont bleed. theyre floaty!

[discord rant over] if you read this far thank you and i hope this is even remotely comprehensible. a lot of cookie stuff is still in workshopping and even this will def get more fleshed out as we brainstorm for it.

if you made it all the way down here, send in a kingdom cookie (not a beast or ancient) and i'll try and sketch a design for them in our rewrite! this is not me promising anything, i just want to do more designs and. this seems like a fun way to do it perhaps. in general, feel free to shoot any questions about the rewrite our way too!

also: a rough chart of where the kingdom cookies could fall in terms of classification. this isnt really final or super concise

[kodared]

₊˚⊹ No me mires con esos ojos. ☆˚- _ MoonBerry _ -

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°•. ★ .•°

“Astro, M’fine.. I just need to get a bit of sleep and I'll be okay for the next run tomorrow. “

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Based on the Artwork of the lovely @Strolling.Star on Tiktok and @Strexxed.Vylxd on Instagram!

Two-Part Fanfiction! Second half to be uploaded soon!

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Sprout is trapped in his Dream, and who else would come to his rescue other than Astro?

WordCount: 1,645

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- Part 1 (You are here!) -

- Part 2 -

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“ I’ll be alright Astro, promise. “ 

It had been a particularly stressful run that evening. The main run didn't go as planned, and even the common toons who tagged along were hurt, which weighed heavily on Sprout's conscience. 

Every time he blinked he swore he could see the events of the day replaying over and over. Rudie, covered in ichor diving for Boxten with no time for him to escape before he was impaled in the arm. 

It wasn’t Boxtens' fault entirely, No. He just didn't see Pebble rounding the corner in time to move off the machine. 

As the group of main toons returned to their rooms for the evening Astro stuck beside Sprout. He made an effort to make sure he made it to his room safely without passing out, and the bags under his eyes were especially prominent today. 

His many hands fidgeted under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders anxiously as he looked up at the taller toon. 

“Are you sure… You don’t seem alright... I can swing by your room and make you some tea, Teagan always says it helps.. ” 

Sprout felt his eye twitch as he reached and rubbed at his face. Trying to wake himself up a bit more, he didn't want to sleep. If he slept he would see Ichor. The substance that kept them alive always came back to haunt him in his dreams most nights. 

…He never told Astro of course. He already spread himself much too thin helping others, and even still a few slipped through the cracks no matter how hard Astro tried. 

No. He didn’t want to be a bother. 

Instead of telling his partner his woes he pulled his hand away from his face and gave a meek smile as they neared his room. Stopping just short of it as he turned to face Astro directly. 

“Astro, M’fine.. I just need to get a bit of sleep and I'll be okay for the next run tomorrow. “ 

Dandy never really allowed the toons breaks from Ichor runs, especially the mains, but Astro would be damned if he wasn’t tempted to ask for one for Sprout right this instant. 

Now that he was looking at Sprout dead on he could see just how prominent his eyebrows pinched together. A clear indicator he wasn’t really okay. He was used to picking up on the little things the other toons did. 

He was supposed to help the others, and to help he needed to know when things were wrong. 

Astro felt his worry spike as he continued to pick apart the little details Sprout tried so hard to hide from the others. Astro always noticed. He noticed how his leaves slightly frayed out of the usual style he used, how he bounced on his feet more, and especially the eye bags. 

…But he wouldn’t pry. It wasn’t in his nature at the end of the day, no matter how worried he grew for Sprout. 

Instead, he spared a glance down the hall, making sure the others were squared away in their rooms before slipping his blanket down just a tad. Letting his two hands reach up and cradle the side of his face. 

Neither of them made an effort to hide their feelings towards each other, but still, Astro never liked showing his hands. It always drew questions. 

Sprout practically melted into the other cool touch, his artificial warmth seeping into Astros' naturally cold hands. 

“...Please tell me if anything is bothering you… I can help..” 

He was made to help, but he didn't say that of course. 

Sprout just carefully reached for his second set of hands still buried under his blanket and softly squeezed them. Trying his best to reassure his partner as he felt his eyes slip shut momentarily against his will. 

He quickly regained his balance and sat up slightly, pulling his face out of Astro's hands. 

“ I promise Astro… Go rest my Nova.. “ 

Astros' hands meekly went back to holding his blanket corners as Sprout still held his bottom two. Giving a weary smile as he tried to read Sprout's expression. How he wished he could know what was going on in his mind. 

“ You as well… I'm right across the hall if you change your mind on that tea…” 

Astro knew he wasn’t going to rest anytime soon, and if his assumption was correct neither was Sprout. Hopefully, he would see reason and just come to get him if he needed anything. 

Sprout let out a soft and airy chuckle as he gave Astros hands a final squeeze before turning to go to his room. 

“ Of course, sweet dreams Astro,” 

He then turned and went into his bedroom. His door softly clicked shut behind him, leaving Astro in the hall for a few moments before the moon went to his bedroom. His mind filled with anxiety for his partner. 

…He would have to be sure to keep an eye out for his dream tonight. He hadn’t been seeing any from Sprout for a while now. 

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—-----

Sprout didn’t sleep for a good long while that night, not that he really wanted to anyway. His knees ached as he lay in his all too stiff and creaky bed. You’d think Sprout being a main toon would atleast get him a better bed, but nope. Dandy was stingy as ever. 

He flopped on his back and stared up at the ceiling. If he zoned out hard enough it almost made him feel relaxed. 

…But it always crept back. The Ichor. 

A constant force in his everyday life no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. No one knew how it started infecting them, not even Rodger of all Toons could pinpoint anything. 

He sighed and let his eyes fall shut for only a few seconds. Feeling his body relax ever so slightly into his mattress before feeling something cold and slimy drip onto his cheek.

Slimy and cold. 

He sat up with a start as he felt his heart hammering in his chest, he couldn’t breathe as he swiped it off of his cheek. Scrambling for his bedside lamp. 

His hands were slick with either sweat or Ichor, he couldn’t tell anymore. His skin prickled with artificial goosebumps as he felt around on his table. 

…Only to feel a cold and damp jello-like surface give way under his palm. His body reeled back as he tried fruitlessly to push himself back onto his bed. 

His front half of his body fell forward, almost as if gravity didn't exist anymore as he felt his chest heave in a blind panic. A terrible sense of vertigo took hold of his mind. 

His hands pulled away from the surface he thought was his nightstand so he could hold them in front of his body. Bracing for everything and anything. 

He screamed, or at least he thought he did, he couldn’t hear himself over his ears that began to ring. 

He fell face-first into the darkness surrounding his bed as it all encompassed his being. 

His face felt uncomfortably warm and wet at first as he fell into the Ichor that surrounded his bed. His torso and legs followed soon after. His arms flailed to gather some semblance of gravity as his conscience reeled to grasp the situation. 

A pipe must have burst filling his room with Ichor. He hadn’t been paying attention. He shouldn’t have tried to sleep, he shouldn’t have even laid down. 

He was supposed to support everyone. Why did he always fail? 

Sprouts' hands eventually breached the surface of the Ichor. His legs kicking to tread and keep himself afloat desperately. His mouth momentarily opened to gasp in the air he craved, only to get a mouthful of the dark substance. 

It burned the back of his throat as he tried to breathe. The dark liquid was heavy in his mouth as he tried not to taste the liquid that hurt so many of his friends. The bitter tang settled on his tongue as he hacked and heaved. 

He was going to die here. He was going to die and it was his fault, he should have been watching his friends' backs. He should have been up and making sure none of the Ichor got onto the main floors they lived on. 

He spat out what he could as he tried to keep afloat. His heart desperately clattered in his ribs as he felt his chest was about to burst. His legs ached from how hard he had to tread to keep afloat. 

His lungs burned and all he could think about was his friends. He would never get to bake with Cosmo again. He would never get to bake cookies for Pebbles or hear Vee’s snarky remarks. 

He didn’t like Rodger very much because he tended to pry but he would never get to tell the detective off again. He would never hear Rodger complain about Glisten. He would never hear Teagan and Tisha idly chattering in the kitchen while he baked. 

His heart panged as he remembered the most important one, someone who meant more to Sprout than just a friend. Astro.

His Supernova. His star. The center of his heart, his Sun.

The Ichor soaked his scarf and it held heavy around his neck. He pulled at his once beloved scarf now wanting nothing more than to yank it off. 

He thought of yelling out. To scream. To thrash and fight to live. 

…But if all the Ichor was in his room right now his friends would be none the better. He just hoped the others weren’t awake for it. 

He stopped fighting against the Ichor and felt his hands fall away from his scarf. Letting the heavy and waterlogged fabric tug him down into the neverending sea of darkness. 

‘I’m sorry everyone. I’m sorry Astro.’ 

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.

.

.

“...Oh my dear..” 

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I wrote this for funsies because of the impeccable art drawn by @/Strolling.Star over on Tiktok, do go show them some love! Their style is truly something that I believe all can enjoy no matter what you ship. Speaking of ships, please do not go into the comments of my work, or anyone else's for that matter, talking about Fruitcake. I MIGHT write it in the future, but if greeted with "Where's Cosmo??" Comments I'm gonna just delete them. Let people ship what they want as long as it's not harmful! I do hope you all enjoyed! Until the next update!!

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