#tinting armor is addictive

[shift-shaping]

actually dragon age inquisition is fun and good you guys are just mean

[write-tama]

"a long day at work." (MCD Scenarios)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ( MCD!characters) x (guard!reader)

sypnosis ; security has been intensified due to neighboring villages are in fear due the threat of O’Khasis, meaning that you haven’t been able to spend some alone time with your partner. But finally, you’ve been let out of work early, which means you have a night to your lover!

containing ; Laurence Zvhal, Garroth Ro’meave, Dante (for some reason I can't find his last name?!). Established relationship, immense fluff! Reader is referred as you/yours.

author’s note ; hello MCD side of tumblr! i decided to post this just as for fun and to let out my little obsession on MCD lately. Pardon me if some things sound out of character I haven’t watched the series since I was like.. Ten maybe?! and I’m currently rewatching s1. But anyway, hope you enjoy!

9.26.24 | 2.7k words

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LAURENCE

Despite you two being guards, you’ve been stationed on the other side of Phoenix Drop since he is one of the head guards that stands alongside Lord Aphmau. But finally, after what felt like so long, the two of you finally were able to see each other tonight. Laurence was home before you. Being such the romantic he is, he had dimly lit candles scattered along the house and a bouquet of your favorite flowers sitting on the table, waiting for your arrival. He even stopped by Emmalyn’s library to pick out the new set of books she had purchased recently.

He was patiently sitting on the couch, undressed to a white long-sleeve cotton shirt and baggy pants. You came through the door, completely exhausted with your weapon slung over your shoulder. The sound of the door creaking was enough to make Laurence stand up immediately before grabbing the flowers from the table.

“There you are, my love..” He purred. The feeling of his arms wrapping around your body was enough for you to drop your weapon and to bury your face into his addicting scent. He pushed the door closed behind you before reluctantly pulling away to present you with his gift you didn’t even notice at first.

You couldn’t help the giant grin forming on your face as your hand rested upon his cheek. “I missed you too, sweetheart.” you smiled. You took ahold of the bouquet, admiring the selection. “I can see Cadenza helped you out tonight.” You chuckled, feeling the silk ribbon that tied the flowers’ stems together. A content huff blew through his nostrils as he buried himself into your palm.

“Hey.. Can a man not do his best for his loveliest?” He said, playfully rolling his eyes. He turned his face around to kiss the inner part of your palm. “I would’ve done more for you, you know that, but I figured that we should just have a night in bed together. Just you and me.” A comment like that was enough to send a flutter through your chest.

After a standstill of silent kisses and snuggles, the two of you finally headed upstairs to the bedroom to unwind for a night of comfort. You hung all your armor next to Laurence’s armor stand before joining him in bed. On your nightstand was a new collection of different novels from neighboring villages.

“I remember the last time we spoke, you said that you practically read every book from the library, but this morning I helped Brandon unload a crate of books Emmalyn had ordered, so I figured I’d pick some out for you.” Laurence smiled, his voice a bit lower now as he was relaxing into bed. You joined him on your side of the bed, letting the warm covers wrap around your legs. As you looked through the selection of three books, a warm tint deepened your complexion.

“You shouldn’t have..” You mumbled. “Hey! Did you ask Emmalyn for permission before taking these books? One of these books are all the way from Scaleswind!”

Laurence sat up before burying his face into your side, sighing. “Yes, your majesty.” He sarcastically replied. “She figured it as a kind gesture for all of the work we’ve been doing. Now shush up and read me a bedtime story!” He playfully remarked, sounding a bit like a child. Despite his snarky little attitude (that in all honestly, made you love him even more), you decided to start on the book from Scaleswind that way you could return it earlier than anticipated. With a candle illuminating the pages, you softly read to him. He laid down beside you, a protective arm wrapped around your waist, but at the same time cuddling you. Eventually, Laurence fell silent. You had assumed he fell asleep, so you decided to place a bookmark in between the pages before blowing out the candle next to you. You properly laid down next to him, burying yourself into his chest.

As your eyes fluttered close, you heard a soft voice call out your name.

“My love?” Laurence mumbled.

“Yes, Laurence?” You quietly replied, not wanting to break out of your exhausted-state.

“I love you.. After all these years, I never thought I’d be with the person of my dreams. Sleep well, my angel..”

With that, he fell right to sleep. Your heart skipped a beat as heat rushed to your face. Gently, you scoot up and brushed a tuff of hair from his face.

“I love you too..” You spoke barely above a whisper.

Maybe it was the dark playing tricks with you, but the corners of Laurence’s lips tugged into a gentle and content smile. <3

GARROTH

The guards of Phoenix Drop work hard, but there was not a single doubt that Garroth worked ten times harder. For most nights, you were the one that arrived home first. Despite your protests against your own exhaustion, you would fall asleep before he got home. You would only feel the shift of the bed in the middle of the night to signify that he had made it home safely, but again, before you could wake up, he was right back to work.

But thank Lady Irene herself, Garroth finally had a night off. Brian had offered to take the night shift from him, seeing at how exhausted Garroth seemed lately. Along with that, Dante also seemed to notice your exhaustion which is why he offered to take up your shift as well. Whether the two conspired with one another to finally give you two a day-off was a discussion for later.

Garroth was off of work first, and it felt abnormal. The moment he placed his sword into the racks and stepped out of the guards’ station, he felt a sense of emptiness. As he trailed himself back to his house, he thought of what he could do for you once you got home. He figured maybe a homemade dinner together would suffice. Though he had to admit, it’s been quite some time since he cooked a proper meal for himself, epecially for another. He stopped by the farms and local butcher for some groceries, and then arrived at his abode.

He decided on a simple meal— a steak with a side of vegetables and mashed potatoes with a basket of freshly baked bread he picked up from Kawaii~Chan. The table had a white cloth decorating its surface with the basket in the middle, two plates on either side, and a candle to light up the scene. He was nearly finishing up frying your steak when you had walked in, your helmet by your hip.

“Garroth!” You exclaimed, a bit surprised. The excitement had woken you up from your tired state as you dropped your helmet onto the wood floor and hugged him tight.

“Good evening, my knight.” Garroth grinned eagerly, just as thrilled to see you. He ran an idle hand through your hair. “You’re just in time for dinner. Go get undressed and take a seat.” Not wanting to waste another second, you picked up your helmet and immediately placed your armor away, dressing down to some comfortable attire. By the time you headed back downstairs, Garroth had placed your steak on your plate and he had taken his seat.

“Garroth, this smells amazing.” You complimented, a bit amused. You had never seen Garroth cook a full meal before, in fact, you can’t recall ever seeing Garroth cook at all. Garroth chuckled, gesturing his hand to take a seat in front of him. You took your seat in front of him, admiring the dish before you. The steak looked juicy and cooked just the way you liked it. The vegetables were fresh and vibrant of color. Even the potatoes looked thoroughly mushed and creamy!

“Heh, yeah..” Garroth chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Back in O’Khasis, we still were taught how to cook despite having our own chefs. It was important to my father that we were skilled in even the most basic necessities. My mom just enjoyed spending time together though.” He smiled, thinking back on the fond memories.

You decided to finally dig in. One taste of that steak and it felt like the flavors were melting on your tongue. You squealed in excitement, not having something as delicious as the dish before you. “G-Garroth, this tastes amazing—! Even more than amazing, actually! I don’t even know how to describe it.” You cried. You could barely express your appreciation verbally as you savored and tasted every bite. Garroth’s face flushed in a bright red as the candle light illuminated his face.

“T-Thank you..” he stuttered. “I was nervous that maybe I had lost my skill after years, but I guess I still got it, yeah?” He joked. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his shyness. The two of you spent the rest of the night chowing down on such a gourmet dish, and telling each other the adventerous stories the two of you have been through, enjoying a perfect night together at last. <3

DANTE

Dante, being fresh out of training and this being his first real job as a guard, worked extremely hard and long hours to prove himself as a worthy knight. You fell in love with him the moment he walked into the village, but you didn’t realize how intensely he worked. Some nights after duty, he wasn’t able to say much other than to crash into bed. It’s not like you had any more energy than him. The paranoid feeling of invasion washed over you as you were constantly on guard duty, patrolling through the outskirts of Phoenix Drop.

One evening, despite Dante’s protests, Garroth had ordered Dante to take the night off. “Dante, you’re a profound knight despite your short-term experience. It’s time you take a break from all that work you’ve been doing.” The head guard assured, placing both palms on his shoulders. Dante was about to protest again, but his mind started to wander. He’s been doing all this work, and yet, he doesn’t recall having a night with you since he offered his love to you! Dante felt like a fool, and he knew that you’ve been hard at work as well. Dante sucked in air through his nostrils before sighing in defeat.

“You’re right, I.. I need to go.. Shoot, I need to go!” Without a word of explanation, he ran out of the guard tower, throwing his sword into the racks. Garroth stood, sort of frozen as he watched Dante run out the door. Laurence, who was snacking on a piece of bread, came downstairs and stood next to Garroth.

“Welp, there goes one our of guards. Might as well pull Dale out of retirement.” Laurence joked.

Dante, who was still dressed in full armor, bursted into Kawaii~Chan’s cafe, in search of desserts and treats. He practically threw diamonds at the poor girl, who, luckily, just finished prepping freshly baked goods for her shop. Dante grabbed the first basket he spotted and ran out the door, quickly shouting his gratitude.

He remained as discreet as possible, looking around the village hoping that you wouldn't see him off duty. The blue-haired knight knocked on Brandon's door, beckoning for help before running inside the two of you’s shared home. He grabbed a blanket, a lantern, and a spare bottle of wine he had bought from Logan a while ago.

The plan was to set up a date night on the beach. With Brandon's “expertise,” he was able to set up a lovely picnic by the the glistening shore. The red and white checkered blanket laid flat on the sand with the basket and wine in the middle, rose petals scattered around, and the grace of the moonlight completing the scene. After Brandon and him finished decorating, he told Brandon to tell Garroth to lay you off of tonight's duties in hopes that you would be present for tonight's surprise date. Dante sat eagerly by the shore, waiting upon your arrival.

You were running head-on to the docks in a panic with your sword handle tight in your fist. “Dante!” you cried. “I came as soon as I could! Is everything alri—?!” before you could finish, you met with his deep blue eyes and the moon’s light illuminating his figure. You paused in your tracks, both in awe and confusion. “Dante..?” you called out his name again. At this point, you weren't quite sure if you were awake.

“Hey...” He nervously chuckled. He stood up and walked towards you, leaving his footprints in the grainy sand. He offered his hand towards you, thankful he was still wearing his armor otherwise you feel his palm building up with sweat. You reluctantly took his hand before he lead you to the picnic. You gasped at the sight, not expecting such a romantic gesture on what felt like a typical night.

“Dante.. This is.. Oh my goodness..” The words couldn't muster up in your throat as you admired the scenery. The warm-colored lantern contrasted beautifully with the moon’s cool-blue light.

“I-I'm sorry if it was such short notice.. Garroth gave me the night-off and—” before Dante could continue with his anxious rambling, you shushed him with the biggest, more reassuring hug you could.

“Are you kidding me? This is amazing, Dante! Oh my Irene!” without another word, you took Dante’s hand and led him to the blanket, where the two of you sat comfortably. You two wasted no time blabbing the night away while chowing down on Kawaii~Chan’s delicious desserts.

As you rambled on about your knightly whereabouts, you noticed that Dante took a pause in eating and was staring deeply at you.

“Dante..?” you called out his name, tilting your head a little. Dante blinked before sitting up straight.

“Nothing.. I just.. You look gorgeous in the moonlight, love.” Dante softly admitted. A blush formed on your cheeks, and you couldn't help but look away.

“I-I could say the same for you..” you meekly replied. “Just— don't scare me like that again, okay!”

Dante stared back at you, a little clueless. “Scare you—?” it was as if a flick of lever, Dante realized what you were referring to. “Oh, Irene, what did Brandon do..” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Realizing that it wasn't Dante’s fault, you sighed and explained. “Well.. It wasn't just Brandon.” you admitted. “Laurence and Brandon ran up to me in a panic, exclaiming that O’Khasis had docked and I needed to be there immediately because you were hurt! I can see why I was foolish believing those two of all people.” you rolled your eyes as you trailed off.

Dante let out a deep sigh before scooting closer to you. “I'll be having a talk with them tomorrow.. For now, let's just enjoy this moment, just you and me, okay?” he gently assured, wrapping an arm around and rubbing your shoulder.

You couldn't help but agree, letting your eyes flutter close as the two of you listened to the calming waves of the sea. <3

A/N ~ thank you so much for reading! There's currently a hurricane in my area, so it was nice using this as a distraction :) I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, like, and even replies are super duper appreciated :3

[isa-ghost]

Arre there any hc's that you can give about amfn!phils possession? I gotta say it's one of the coolest possessions I've read

YOU BET YOUR SWEET FUCKING ASS I DO

Me vibrating with self control to avoid spoiling anything that isn't already revealed:

Hope you didn't think you'd be getting any major spoilers for stuff I've yet to reveal >:3c Nice try Sniff.

Also thank you!! Possession is one of my favorite things to write. >:)

qPhil headcanons masterlist

Awake Me From My Nightmare fic

Phil is a prisoner in his own body right now. Ender King is using a couple things in order to keep him suppressed so he can remain in control.

Phil's body is not built to house a god for long periods of time. I've only just started to show it in the beginning of chapter 6, but it will be slowly falling apart at the seams the longer Ender King is in control. :)

To remedy this, he's going to start pounding down gapples like his life depends on it. This will bring back an addiction Phil kicked long ago.

Ender King's possession of Phil physically manifests in equal parts vaguely draconic and enderman traits, all of which are of course purple or black, sometimes teetering on pink like an enderman’s eyes. Tbh I should doodle possessed Phil. Some of my friends have made fanart not too far off if you check my AMFMN tag (and reblog their art)!

From chapter 7 onwards, the polycule and Bagi will be finding traces of evidence suggesting Phil's body is deteriorating the longer it's being possessed. This will include feathers, blood, and belongings.

A few chapters will peek at how Phil's condition is in greater detail. I'm not going to tell you how yet ;) Currently that's planned for Chapter 11, but I might introduce it sooner if I feel it works right.

Like in canon, Phil is inhumanly strong, fast, and powerful while possessed. Case in point: Downing the polycule and breaking their full set of armor with just one hit.

Also hinted at in the start of chapter 6, Phil's body can channel Ender King's magic. Or more accurately, it's being forced to. I'm waiting on more canon lore crumbs from Phil to determine how this might be possible if it isn't just Ender King being like Because I Said So. Predictably, this intensifies the strain Phil's body is being put under, which is damaging him worse and making his body deteriorate faster.

Phil's voice is distorted and demonic sounding, like there's 2 of him speaking. You can distinctly hear his voice as well as Ender King's deeper one layered together. He can also growl and roar like the Ender Dragon.

To purge Ender King from his system, Phil will have to do so physically AND mentally. I will not reveal how that will play out. :) That's late-late game plot.

I WILL say Phil can and will have moments of clarity. Not necessarily in control but not out of it either. It'll be a struggle to speak and move, but it will stop Ender King for very short periods of time. One of my favorite angsty fucked up moments comes as a result of this at the end of Chapter 11. By far my favorite cliffhanger planned.

Phil will have very little if any memory of any time Ender King is in complete control. For example, he does not know he attacked the polycule at Phil y Missa in Chapter 5, nor does he know what the Fuck Ender King did at the start of Chapter 6. Which btw you'll learn what that was in Chapter 7. =)

Phil is completely and utterly corrupted when fully possessed, not just his body outside. Inside too. His blood and tears are tinted purple.

Because Ender King doesn't need to eat, he won't be eating until he chooses to keep Phil's body afloat with gapples. Phil is starving the entire time he's possessed, which Ender King will use to his advantage to better keep Phil smothered. It will also contribute to how fast his body is falling apart.

All damage being taken by his body is only damaging him, not Ender King. He is not only a vessel but a meat shield.

[blitzendoggo]

Headcanons and Canon info Mass List

Unlike my Ao3 version of this, every time I get new canon info or a new head canon it will be it's own chapter because I won't be using this as a reference sheet.

~~~

This has to be broken into chunks just so I can keep it organized so lets start with:

Places:

Vontral- the main continent and is flat

Riftreach- New York city but in Egyptian style. Built over the rift and everything goes up because going underground is basically illegal

Gada-Yama- Business hub full of Moritermes (termites) with a temple to the death god directly under the mound

Wainua- city that half in the sea

Abellio- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Ruins of Inanis- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Aragdus- TBA, I'll update this once I rewatch the first episode of s2

Franklin- Home of the Franklin castle where the "Frankies" are trained. Frankies are really tough mercenaries

Firetounge Outpost- Thought to be a volcano island, is actually a mindflayer lookout/faciality.

Lotterton- nicknamed Slaughterton. Crime town where our heroes started their journey.

Is- Mining town.

Parian- Where the Victora festival happens and Dramaticus (and other famous fighters) live.

The United Federation of Goblin Territories- read the tin. Its a Goblin society that the governments of the world let exist

Bowenburg- Classic fantasy town. Where Glib's magic school was.

Characters:

Glib

Canon:

Poison Dart Frog Vampire

Acidic skin that only affects fabric

Was turned into a vampire in early twenties is pushing thirty

God of Death, maybe?

Glib as a human was painfully average. Just a generic person

Warlock with a (dead) kraken patron

Name has always been Glib

Has a fear of heights that was developed after crashing the bird with Canyon

His slime has a slight blue tint

Maybe has hollow bones (? Panda said it before immediately saying he was bullshitting that)

Body temp is ice-cold

Anger issuesHE'S THE MOST HANDSOME FROG YOU'VE EVER SEEN (rolled a 23 for hotness)

Hates Skeezvol

Headcanon:

Glib has a caffeine addiction, so he drinks blood coffee (coffee made with blood instead of water)

Glib can't touch fabric, so his blankets/bedding are made from furs

When Glib was human, he would run his fingers through his hair as a nervous tick, and its one of the few things he misses about being human (with the others being that he wants pants and to be tall again).

Adopted by a fairly rich Grung family when he was born, which is why they called him Glib.

Grew up in a mansion in the woods

Is always the last one to wake up

Has Gambit-style Cards

Canyon

Canon:

Full name is Mystery of the Canyon

Very Blunt and violent

Is infused with chaos magic

Headcanon:

Sheds constantly

Covers his mouth when he laughs because he used to self-conscious of his sharp teeth. 

Puts up a constantly relaxed front, but is much more aware than he acts (hence high intelligence)

Is a decent cook, but will shed in the food

Is not allowed to have caffeine because after being given one cup of mild coffee he had zoomies so bad that Callisto had to "sedate" him with magic

S.G.

Canon:

Genderless-Changeling (with pearlescent white skin) from a village with an unusually high number of psychics (which includes themself)

Master gaslighter

Is allergic to lemonlimes (which is a fruit that grows in Vontral)

Does not have facial features/looks like a mannequin

Massive crush on Captain Mercury

Has a godcomplex

Has a salt lamp Genie named Djarrid

Kermit just lives in their armor

Was homeschooled

Crime background that takes place in Is

Thinks Skeezvol is a 14/20 (possibly because of crown?)

Thinks Human Glib is very average

Is a 7/20 because of no features

Is the God of Wealth now

Considers Glib as her best friend

Headcanon:

She cannot cook to cave her life.

 Like nearly burnt down the kitchen trying to boil water levels of bad

Doesn't like coffee and will only drink super sweet teas

Has the best bed, no matter where they go

Mr. Goodbid

Canon:

Half-elf hitman

Has a glorious mustache

Works in contracts

Hates kids

Drinks whiskey

He always smiles (but when he's angry/scared it's thousand-yard stare style)

Loves Pirates and Business

Doesn't actually like bug people, just their city

Has daddy issues (Naethan why?)

His constant smile comes from Dramaticus' persona

Has never missed a Victora festival

Wears contacts

Has a negative 1 to constitution

10/20 

Very selfless

God of law

Suit is white with a green tie

ACAB Goodbid

Headcanon:

Full name is Johnny B. Goodbid

Has a massive family and is the oldest of six

His siblings are Garry, Ein, Thomas (who married Linx and has an adopted little girl named Ruth), William, and Mellany

Is an amazing cook and does all the cooking for the team

He owns Capri Suns as a money laundering front that became its own business because it was just that good. 

Goodbid either drinks black coffee or sweet-iced tea, no in between

Is traumatized from being attacked by the ghost under Riftreach so it terrified of ghouls

Almost went to train at Franklin Castle, but decided against it

Skeezvol XIX

Canon

An old man, 4'7", human, blind (no eyes), long beard, frail-looking, barbarian

Immortal but will be killed by a mistake made by a frog man

He sees through tremor sense

Is a nat 1

Headcanon:

Lost his eyes while teleporting around, but because he's immortal the surgery didn't kill him

Zalkas

Canon:

6'7" Acid-Dragonborn paladin

From the Order dimension

Has two kids (at least one daughter named Leviathan) who play soccer

Was a commander in the Order Army

Its on-sight when he sees S.G.

Is ridiculous strong

Owns a tavern after accidentally killing the pervious owner

Has a trident and sickles as weapons 

Wants to be friends with Glib

Speaks infernal

Scared of bugs (denies it)

Horrible at lying and is very blunt.

Headcanon:

Unofficially adopts Rolf once they return to the tavern

Misses his kids and wife, but does not want to return to the Order Realm

Is completely Asexual and Panromantic but does not understand the difference between romantic and platonic attraction.

Prophis

Canon:

Is an elf chaos God

Is Bisexual

Has a dead(?) sister

dating Callisto (1/2 of Eldritch Gays)

Is a natural 20/20, this man is so hot

Headcanon:

Mom friend

Loves kids

Will shut down Callisto if he starts throwing a tantrum

Loves to sing

Is a morning person

Loves making flower crowns because he and his sister used to make them together when they were young

Palnaros

Canon:

Moves like a marionette

Upside down head

Centipede body

You know your nightmares? Yeah its just that

Headcanon:

Voice is unnaturally high and disjointed

Would hold onto vowels for longer than he should when speaking

When moving he would make a creaking/cracking rubbery sound like stretching dried out leather over old wood and twisting both.

Callisto

Canon:

A very powerful sorcerer

Dating Prophis (other half of Eldritch Gays)

Is also very hot

Is Gay, but respects women

Headcanon:

Is not a morning person in the least

Only likes Prophis' singing

Used to love kids but now tolerates them (they reminded him too much of Prophis for the millennia that they were separated)

Simps for Prophis so much. Like he is a prideful man, but if Prophis told him to bark, he would not hesitate.

Bello

Canon:

Three-foot tall Chaos Butterfly from Not-Here, Chaos Dimension

uses he/they

Eats(?) stars

Wants to find flowers, doesn't know what flowers are

Wings are made up of shifting change-glass

Is kind of oblivious

Speaks Celestial

Likes riding on people's shoulders/head

Slightly illiterate

Headcanon:

Wings have an ever-shifting heat to them that moves with the changing colors

Blob

Canon:

Glib's familiar

Vampire-bat squid

Was sarcastic, is now traumatized

Has a slight stutter that gets worse when he's anxious

Love language is physical touch

Appears out of a puddle that forms under/near Glib with a splash

Headcanon:

Is so traumatized by the kraken's death that he won't leave Glib and when they sleep, he lays on Glib's chest

Doesn't actually leave Glib, too afraid that something will happen to them.

Dramaticus

Canon:

Little Wooden-Puppet Man

Barbarian fighter that lives in Parian

Is a very famous celebrity

It the God of Light

Is afraid of fire

Headcanon:

Was called Pinocchio until he started performing

Aldor

Canon:

God of knowledge

Is dead

Was a stick in the mud

Looked like a really young 80-year-old

Headcanon:

AroAce

Not completely emotionless, but damn close

Reylias

Canon:

Air Genasi

Was the leader of chaos faction

Is the god of monsters

Killed the Kraken

Sociopathichas a chaos sword that can become a whip

Headcanon:

Was raised by Prophis and Callisto but once Prophis was put away in the portal, Callisto couldn't handle raising Reylias by himself so he put him into an ageless sleep until the factions split and Callisto woke him up, changed his memories, and made him the leader of the chaos faction so he could find his dad again

Rolf

Canon:

5'7", skinny, ginger, dark eyed Paladin

Techincally the smartest PC in game

Wannabe Cult Leader

Is 16

Is a shut in

Terrified of bugs

Headcanon:

Gets adopted by Zalkas

Has a single mom and has never had a father-figure

Lady Katarina the (Formerly) Wicked

Canon:

Snow-owlen, beady-red eyes, 3'6", and wears a blood-red cloak

Was an evil lady, had a crisis, and is trying to be better

Is feared by almost everyone

Worked with Mindflayers and thinks they are super sweet and fun/easy to work with

Headcanon:

Loves animals and would never hurt them

Kyland

Canon:

Prophis' dead sister

Died of a sickness

Psychic

Is brought back to life? 

She has her memories from before she died.

Headcanon:

She's younger by Prophis, but not by much and Prophis used to braid flowers into her hair when she was upset

Djarrid

Canon:

Pink salt-lamp genie

Vaguely Russian

Licking the crystal results in a chaos affect happening

Doesn't remember his "real" name

Headcanon:

Is afraid of Prophis because he saw him as Palnaros too much

Doc

Canon:

They/Them

Rambles a lot

Has a lizard

Is from the future

Saved S.G. when they were younger

Headcanon:

Is on the Spectrum and is hyperfixated on the dimensions/time travel

Captain Mercury

Canon:

Hot merman

Is the God of the Air

Has a sentient ship named Sky Skimmer

Himbo

Walks by using wooden legs

26-years-old

Headcanon:

Is Gay, therefore doesn't realize that S.G. is flirting with him because he thinks that she knows

Has a slight crush on Goodbid, but is too much of a himbo to realize that its a crush and not just ''extreme friendship"

Barium

Canon:

Gold warforged from Is

Goes by Barry

God of metal

Was stuck as a statue for maybe 700 years?

Headcanon:

While in the statue, he spent his time by singing work songs

Friday

Canon:

White horse with a green mane

God of Fate

BIG GIRL (could fit four people on her back easily)

Headcanon:

She considers Goodbid and SG to be her parents, and that why she wasn't made at them.

Extra Information:

Canon:

Inside Goodbid's briefcase is the main set of the office and it smells like shoe polish and mustache cream

Vontral is flat

There is a star invasion maybe going on?

The Earth Dimension is inhabited by Shadar-Kai (Shadow Fay) and were rule by Skeezvol

Headcanon:

I refer to Goodbid, Glib, Canyon, and S.G. as Team Chaos

Team Chaos is a queer-platonic Polycule. They do not know that they are a queer-platonic polycule and think that every friendship is like this.

Goodbid's briefcase has doors, but all the hallways lead back to the save room.

[heretic-altias]

Auragust Prompt 1 - Scales

Ever since she’d left the Steppe, Jacky’s scales had always stood out. Eorzeans often had never seen an Au Ra in their lives, and even the people of the Far East were mostly used to the shining white scales the Raen had. Still, while she hated the attention they drew to her at times she did like her scales. They reflected the light just a bit, almost like matte black steel. While Jacky wasn’t usually one to place value in appearance, she had always liked her Xaela traits. They marked her as a warrior, someone who had survived the harsh world of the Steppe. Even the imperfections told a story. The scar causing them to overlap strangely on her left forearm had been earned protecting Akku from Zeno’s blade. The strange blue tint on the edges of her right forearm’s scales told a more shameful story - that of a fool who thought she could fight all of her battles alone. Alright, she liked her scales but not those particular ones. They were a sign of the corruption she’d brought upon herself and it was easier to just cover them with her coat sleeves and try to forget sometimes. Save for the ones on her face, her scales were rarely visible, guarded by clothing and armor for the feeling of safety it brought.

But sometimes, she liked to feel the sun on them. Particularly after her adventures in Ishgard where it had constantly felt like her horns would freeze off. The desert sun in Gyr Abania was nice, and warmed her scales to the point of being soothing. It was an almost addictive feeling, like if she laid in the sun for too long she’d never be able to get back up. Quite frankly it was terrifying. She had stepped outside onto a balcony in a tank top one time while they were staying in the Ala Mhigan Quarter guided by some deep rooted instinct. Mostly just to see why she was drawn to it, the sun had felt nice on her face scales, what about the rest of them? It had been too comforting for her liking, she just couldn’t allow herself to relax that much. She’d very nearly fallen asleep in the chair out there before she realized how completely her guard had dropped, spooking herself out of it. As nice as the warmth on her scales felt, she would never allow that again.

[trashfox6]

The Scars On Your Skin

[My entry for Khunbam week Day 3: Comfort/Injury]

Thin steady fingers brush against his skin, right beneath his ribs and Khun resists the urge to shiver.

"And this one?" Bam asks him, voice hushed and soft as his fingers press against the old scar. Moonlight streams in from the window, twisting in the air and spilling over the bedsheets as it illuminates Bam's face,and it makes a giddy feeling rise up in Khun's chest as those familiar gold eyes blink up at him.

Khun glances down at where Bam's fingers are pressed, eyeing the old scar that was near faded with time. "I think it was Hand of Arlene. The Armor Inventory took most of the damage but it cut into my skin with the weight of the rocks."

A low hiss escapes Bam and his fingers press more insistently against the old jagged scar. "A simple cut doesn't leave a scar like this, Khun-ssi."

Khun shrugs. Sure, it had broken a few of his ribs and pierced through the skin but that's what happens when a whole building explodes on top of you. He had survived it and that was enough.

"I'm sorry."

Molten eyes of honey gold gaze at him, filled with regret, so much regret and it makes Khun want to reach out, to touch him, to do something to erase the sadness in them.

So he does, and the euphoria of being able to, of not holding back, he can have this, is soaring through his nerves, singing siren in his veins. Khun cups Bam's face with his hand, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against the soft cheek and Bam leans into the motion, nuzzling into the hand with a sigh.

Khun presses a soft kiss against the other cheek before murmuring, "I'm not. If it hadn't been for that, maybe I wouldn't have met you again and kept believing you were dead, Bam. Maybe we would still be living like that, you alone in FUG and I would be climbing the tower, living a nightmare. And if it means having you here with me now, I'm not sorry about that." 

His words float in the air and he watches the regret in those golden eyes ease, melting away like snow until Bam is looking at him, relaxed and ethereal in the glow of the moonlight. Satisfaction burns low and steady in his gut, the knowledge that he has the ability to reach Bam like this, ease his worries and it's addictive, to have this, to be this to Bam.

His boyfriend - boyfriend gods is that really what they are now - presses a kiss into his palm and gives him a shy smile, soft lips curling up into an expression that makes Khun's head dizzy.

"I'm glad things aren't like that. I'm glad I can be with Khun-ssi and everyone like this again," Bam tells him before pulling back from Khun to return to his earlier task, mapping out the scars on Khun's skin, nimble fingers tracing patterns into his skin and sending shivers up his spine, electric and tingling.

Bam's fingers glide over his skin before pressing against the long thin line across Khun's stomach. "This was-"

"Kiseia," Khun completes his sentence quietly and watches as color drains from his boyfriend's face. Bam's eyebrows draw together in distress, bottom lip trapped beneath his teeth as he stared at the scar left on Khun's skin, the remnants of the old ghosts of his past. 

"I was so scared," Bam confesses, and his thumb rubs against the clean line and sends heat twisting under his skin as he peers up at Khun from under long lashes, eyes clouded and heavy with the tangible tension between them.

"You were bleeding so much, Khun-ssi. I was-" his voice cracks and he cuts off. Bam lets out a long low breath, frustrated, closing his eyes. He stays like that for a few moments, taking deep breaths in and out until the frustration drains out, his fingers tapping rhythmically, before looking at him again.

Bam looks at him as if he's searching for something, sunshine eyes piercing through his skin and burying into Khun's heart. Khun doesn't know what he's looking for so he smiles back at Bam, as reassuring as he can make it, to put all his love for this man in his expression. 

He probably looks sappy. He feels sappy and dear god, what has Bam done to him? But Khun can't regret it, not when Bam looks at him like that, as if the world itself started and ended at him.

Bam nods to himself. Whatever he was searching for in Khun's face, he seems to have found it because he leaned down until his face was hovering near Khun's stomach. 

Khun gasps at the sensation of warm lips barely brushing his skin, right over the scar left by Kiseia. When he looks down, his eyes meet Bam's, honey gold swirling into something darker and the sight is a forbidden thrill that sends heat coiling through him.

"Is this okay?" Bam murmurs against his skin, his hot breath fanning across Khun's skin, sending a crimson flush rising up his whole body.

Always. The word sits in Khun's throat and he lets it. Not yet. He can't say it yet but there's certainty resting under his skin, in the way Bam looks at him and he knows he'll be able to tell him one day.

So instead Khun nods and Bam smiles at him like he's hung the moon in the sky before those same warm lips are pressing soft kisses into the skin of his stomach, and it takes all of his willpower to not melt because dear god where did Bam learn to do this? When did he learn how to kill Khun with his gentle kisses, scoring desire with each press of his mouth, breath hot hot hot against Khun's skin like an inferno burning under those lips.

When Bam raises his head again, his eyes are dark and intent, focused as his fingers skim up from Khun's stomach to just above his heart before his expression freezes, eyes catching on the vibrant scar there. 

"That's-"

"The bomb Rachel put," Khun finishes for him. Bam's fingers trace the edges of the giant scar, and Khun lets him. 

It's an ugly scar, all gnarly and jagged edges, purple and yellow and still healing. To him, it still feels like yesterday. But for Bam, it was 3 years ago. 3 years of Khun being asleep, not being by Bam's side.

"Does it still hurt?" The question is murmured to him, voice soft, so soft that Khun would have missed it if they weren't sitting close like this. 

"It doesn't hurt at all. The Yeon flame healed it," he reaches out to grip the hand laying on his heart before intertwining their fingers and squeezing Bam's hand reassuringly. "I'm okay now, Bam."

The other man squeezes his hand in return, his expression softening. 

"I'm sorry for that too. I shouldn't have brought her along with us. Endorsi even warned me and I didn't listen."

Oh Bam. 

No matter what happened, Bam was Bam. Kind, so kind and sincere in every breath and everything that he was and how could Khun not fall in love with this man who shone like the brightest star in the sky?

Khun wraps his arms around Bam's waist, using that as leverage to tug him closer until he had Bam in his lap and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Listen to me, Bam. That was not your fault. That choice was hers and hers alone. Her actions are not your responsibility and they never should be." Khun tucked a stray bang of hair behind Bam's ear as he watched Bam digest his words but knowing that no matter what he said, it wasn't that easy to erase those years of pain and Bam blaming himself. But that's okay. He's willing to remind Bam for as long as it takes.

"Besides," and here Khun smirks, leaning his lips close to Bam's ear to whisper, "I heard you went to avenge me. I'm very flattered, you know."

A rosy blush spreads across Bam's cheeks, and it warms Khun's chest like a ray of bright sunlight.

Bam turns around in his arms to face him, and for a moment something flickers in his eyes, wildfire and raging and lost, as he gazes at Khun's face. 

When Bam looks at him like this, it steals Khun's breath away. Bam looks at him like- like the sun rose and set with Khun, as if all the amazing things in the world couldn't match whatever it was that he was seeing in Khun's face. 

"I had to. She nearly killed you, Khun-ssi. And she was proud of it. I couldn't- I can't forgive that," the words tumble out of Bam's mouth, jagged and hurting. 

"I don't think I could live with losing you again."

It takes everything in Khun to not pull him into a kiss right then. The utter sincerity of his anger on Khun's behalf is… touching didn't even begin to cover it. He had accepted years ago that Rachel's existence was one that Bam would keep chasing as far as he could. 

But Bam had chosen Khun. 

Bam had chosen Khun and the realisation of that made his chest feel heavy with something that burnt bright and fierce and dangerous, wrapping around his heart with a satisfied purr.

He grasps Bam's hands instead, bringing them to rest above the scar on his heart, covering them with his own. "I know. I'm right here. You haven't lost me and you're not going to."

Bam's eyes shift from his face to their hands and back but he doesn't pull away. Instead he sits there, feeling Khun's heart beating under his fingers and Khun lets him.

Khun would let him do that all his life if that's what it takes to assure Bam he's going to stay by his side. 

It takes a few moments until Bam starts relaxing and Khun lets go of his hands, leaning back with a smirk to ask softly, "You were doing something, weren't you?"

Bam's eyes flit up to meet his before a stunning smile crosses his face as he nods. His fingers return to traversing the expanse of Khun's chest, curiously poking at the other scars littered on Khun's body.

His fingers pause at the blooming red bruise still visible on Khun's neck and this time it's Khun who feels his face warming up. Bam's fingers brush across the bruise lightly, so lightly the touch is barely there and yet it sets his nerves alight.

Bam's mouth is curled up into a smile that looks sweet but feels tinted with far too much mischief to be good for Khun's heart as he reaches out to brush his fingers against the hickey on Khun's neck again. 

This time Khun can't hold back the excited gasp that escapes his lips and Bam chuckles, the sound low and rumbling and shooting liquid need into his veins. 

Khun reaches out to tug a lock of brown hair, "That was mean, Bam."

The look Bam gives him is filled with innocence and Khun doesn't believe an inch of it. It's amazing how well Bam can pull that look off even now when Khun knows he isn't as innocent he looks.

Bam seems to get the hint however and his fingers resume their journey across Khun's skin, pausing to tap at his collarbones with a cheerful hum here and there in between, leaning forward to press fleeting kisses against each faded scar.

He asks Khun about each scar, from the tiniest cuts to the calluses on his fingers and Khun tells him, each piece fragmenting and spinning and coming together, a kaleidoscope of memories, of the pieces that make up Khun Aguero Agnes. 

It should feel scary, this. Telling anyone about the parts and jagged edges of himself and how they fit together and fell apart, this should feel terrifying. And yet with the gentle fondness in Bam's tired eyes, with his firm fingers pressed against Khun's skin, fear is but a distant dream.

Bam listens to him like Khun is telling him the secrets to the universe and it makes warm glowing satisfaction burn deep in his throat, in his heart, wrapped under his skin like the most comforting blanket.

[dearlazerbunny]

Let it Go (Ch. 1 of ?)

Pairings: platonic avengers team x reader, potential background loki x reader

Words: 1800

Genre/Ratings: -WARNINGS- there will be an (unsuccessful) suicide attempt by reader- chapter will be explicitly marked in advance. Drug (pills) and alcohol abuse, lots of negativity and self loathing. There will be an arc, but said arc is going to start in the eleventh circle of hell and inch up from there.

Summary: *not far enough into this one to give an accurate summary, so this’ll have to be updated eventually. enjoy for now!*

If I see another ad for Frozen, I might go homicidal.

I pass at least five of them as I work through rush-hour Manhattan at a snail’s pace. Smash Hit! Instant Classic! #1 Movie in the World! Awesome. Fantastic. Happy for you, Disney. Now please, dear god, get it the fuck out of my face.

I jerk away from narrowly shoulder-checking a businessman hustling down the sidewalk, speaking rapid-fire into the phone glued to his ear. It’s like a very, very fucked up dream; everyone in the world is in on the joke, and I just didn’t get the invite. Maybe they were spying on me. Sure, it could’ve been inspired by a fairytale, but who knows? I could sue. Demand fifty percent of the profits for copyright infringement. That’d be more than enough to set me up with a cabin in Alaska, somewhere all I’d have to worry about is making friends with the polar bears.

On the subway, I notice someone has Let it Go blaring from their earbuds. No less than three little girls are wearing something blue and covered in glitter. One has a cheap blonde plait clipped into her hair, accented by a snowflake charm dangling from the end. I suppress the urge to rip it off her head.

It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I want to say. It’s not Disney-dreamy like the mouse has made it out to be, living in a palace and making magical snowmen and singing power ballads about self-acceptance and overcoming your demons. In the real world, you quell those demons with a fistful of benzodiazepines, because if you don’t, something like a car alarm or a slammed door will make spikes of ice splinter through the floor around you. It’s constantly wearing three hoodies at a time, so that way if a stranger on the seat next to you brushes your arm, they don’t immediately get third-degree frostbite. It’s getting a papercut and watching the blood freeze on the tip of your finger, then melt back to liquid when you break it off and toss it away. It’s getting hospitalized when an inner-city charity doctor takes your temperature before you can object and your body temperature is barely higher than freezing, so they pump you full of warm saline and cover you in foil blankets and all that heat makes you sick, so you have to rip the IV out of your arm and walk yourself back to your apartment in your hospital gown while dodging orderlies and strange looks from passerby at 2 AM.

The kid and her parents get off at the next stop. The subway clicks along. I try to make myself smaller as the car fills up with more people.  

Maybe if they’d had Xanax in Arendelle, Elsa wouldn’t have had to deal with all that “conceal, don’t feel” bullshit. She wouldn’t be able to feel anything with all the pills and booze she’d be mainlining. Take it from me, babe, it’s a lot easier to drug those demons away. Much more effective than a song.

Something in me feels a weird flare of pride for handling this… whatever the hell it is better than a fictional cartoon princess. Then I want to laugh, because goddamn, my life is pathetic.

My meeting spot is in a back alley near Bryant Park. Some NYU kid is pawning his Klonopin for party cash, I guess. I think if you’re rich enough to be a frat boy at NYU you probably don’t need the extra fifty from your prescriptions, but whatever. I don’t have a ton of other avenues at this point.

I scan the neon bottle, then shake it open and count the pills inside. “These are only a half milligram? Fifteen.”

“Dude, we said forty.”

“Yeah, for a milligram pill. These will barely last me a week.”

“Twenty.”

“Fine.”

I don’t think the universe agrees with my choices.

The sky splits open with a shriek that balances the world on the edge of a knife. One heartbeat. Two. He and I both look up at the clear blue, unsure. Between the skyline, I see something- somethings- begin pouring from a split in the universe, ugly and black and hungry.

I wrench the bottle from the kid’s hands and run.

Run, run, run, don’t look up, don’t look back, oh jesus what the FUCK IS THIS- Midtown is a nightmare. Not from Friday traffic this time. People are scrambling, screaming and crying, trying to flee the scene. An entire side of a building gets shaved off and falls to the ground like an iceberg. A gas line broke somewhere because everything is hazy with fumes and starts shimmering rainbow colors. I round a corner, cursing and trying to keep my ratty converse on my feet as I dodge rubble and ash- don’t look up don’t look up don’t look up. I can see my breath starting to crystallize around me as my anxiety spikes, and I try to force it down. Don’t think about it. Now is so not the time for that.

In the middle of the street, six brightly clad superheroes stand with grim but determined looks on their faces. There’s Tony Stark in his mechanical suit, Captain America brandishing his shield. The star stands out like a beacon in the smoke. Cool, coolcoolcool, they’ve got this, right? They’ve totally got this. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to befineohholyshitthat’sabigalien-

I try to use an overturned car as cover. Dart to one, breathe, press my back to steel and try to shake my body back from shock, wait for a moment of silence between the chaos- run to the next pile of rubble. My footprints are outlined in frost on the cracked pavement, clean white against the ash raining from the sky. As I slam myself up against another car, heaving, I have a prime few of Captain-freaking-America bashing three ugly aliens in the face with his shield, battering them to the ground. He stops for a moment to flex his fingers, wipe some of the grime from his face.

He doesn’t see the alien rushing him from behind, mouth open and yawning in some sort of hideous grin, poised to shove a glowing blue gun against the Captain’s muscly back.

I don’t think. My feet move without my telling them to. I can taste the ash as I dart to the middle of the street, as close as I dare. The air around me is impossibly frigid. I’m not controlling anything at this point, but I can deal with that later. Hopefully.

“DUCK!” I scream as loud as I possibly can over the sound of metal and roaring monsters.

His eyes snap up to meet mine. He heard me, somehow, and then he actually heeds a random girl standing amidst the carnage and hits the deck so fast I can hear the whiplash. It’s hot enough to make my skin boil, but if I stretch my hand out and pull, I can feel something begin to crystallize in my waiting palm-

Fissures crack open in the concrete beneath me. In my hand, a thin lance of ice extends to a deadly point, too weighty for its slim frame, and while I should have all the grace and skill of an alcoholic drug addict, my aim is good enough that the alien now has an unforgiving pole of ice sticking through its breastbone. Frost creeps from the hole in its chest, discoloring its sickly black armor to a grey tint. For a moment, it's suspended in time, unmoving- then gravity takes hold and with one last nightmarish shriek it crumples to the ground in a heap.

Huh. Whaddya know. I flex my fingers, breathing hard. Take that, Elsa. Screw the power of love, I just single-handedly saved a national icon.

Said icon is picking himself up off the ground, a new layer of dust coating the front of his uniform. He looks behind him, at the ugly corpse and the ice that inexplicably hasn’t started to melt in the city’s heat. Then his eyes are on me, hard and curious.

Oh. Fuck.

Instinctively, I pull my hood up further over my head, hopefully obscuring more of my face than before. What did he see? Could he memorize my face? He knows I’m a freak show, that’s for sure. Fuck. My brain kicks in and I run, skidding over broken pavement and letting the sheer terror of a crumbling New York fuel my steps. Either we’ll all be dead by the end of this, or the strange girl with ice coming from her hands will be little more than a hazy memory after all this is said and done. I hope. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it- cold prickles on the back of my neck and pushes me back towards being just another face in the crowd.

  There are over a dozen police blockades to try and control the battlefield, and between them and the rubble raining from the heavens, it takes me what feels like hours to crawl back to my underside of the city. It’s punctuated by the grinding of metal and shattering of glass and sickening cracks of lightning from Midtown, making me flinch and wring my hands deep into my sweatshirts to keep them busy with something other than frosting the ground over. Don’t think about it.

I shove my shoulder into the door, forcing it open, then close it the same way from the opposite side. I flick the locks closed, secure the ball and chains. Each one is encased in frost by the time I’m done, and the doorjamb is clogged with ice. I’m suddenly irrationally thankful that there’s only one window in the apartment. It’s a stupid comfort- those things were leveling skyscrapers, a ratty building like this would be flattened in an instant-

I wrench open the nearest drawer, sending the contents rolling. Bottles clack against each other; pills rattling against the plastic. It’s the most comforting thing I’ve heard all day. I pull one out at random, pop the lid, down it dry. In the back of my mind, the large green monster roars. I shudder and swallow another, this time chasing it with swigs from the obscenely large bottle of booze on the desk. It burns all the way down in the best way, chasing the little orange tablets and promising the sweet release of nothing.  

That should last a day. Maybe more. I fall into the bed, already feeling the combo tug at my system, making me heavy and slow. Maybe Manhattan will still be standing when I wake up. Or better yet, Manhattan will still be standing, but I won’t. I’ve never been that lucky, but it never hurts to hope.

[love-sapphirerose]

Optimally Maximal Relationship Failures

https://www.deviantart.com/antoni-matteo-garcia/art/Optimally-Maximal-Relationship-Failures-863430102

This demotivational poster is super aggro and mega highly Anti-SessKagu, Anti-KogAya, Anti-InuKag, Anti-Kagura to some extent, Anti-Kouga to a vastly significant extent, Anti-Kagome to a huge extent, but also Pro-Sesshoumaru, Pro-Inuyasha, Pro-Ayame, and highly Pro-SessAyaInu. Sit back and relax, as I tear into Sesshoumaru's and Kagura's failure of a relationship, Kouga's and Ayame's major fart of a romance that should never have been, and Inuyasha's and Kagome's annoying volatility, why Kagura does not deserve Sesshoumaru, why Kouga and Kagome only deserve my ire, wrath, and fury, and why Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame deserve so much better in each other. Furthermore, this is my contribution to this year's Red Ribbon Reviewers' month. Behold, my dear readers, my three greatest NOTPs of all time. Sure, I consider Naraku with anybody my greatest choice of a NOTP because someone as manipulatively dastardly such as Naraku deserves to be alone, done for, and truly deserves jack shit! However, that is too obvious of a choice. These three are the ones that make me want to tear my hair off and carve the hearts of Kouga and Kagome out with a blunt knife as well as tell Kagura to vamoose. As you can clearly tell, I have put these from bad to worse to the worst, with Sesshoumaru x Kagura being something absolutely unpleasant, Kouga x Ayame being a whole lot more atrocious, and Inuyasha x Kagome being the indubitable equivalent to toxic waste mixed with gallons of poison. Ergo, SessKagu is a bad pairing, KogAya is so much worse, and InuKag is the absolute worst pairing to exist in Inuyasha. I am aware that there are a good number of people who love to pair Sesshoumaru with Kagura because of how appealingly sexy they appear together. However, now that I have discarded those rose-tinted glasses for good, I can see this failure of a relationship for what this signifies and this all falls on Kagura's shoulders. Lest one forget that Kagura killed Kouga's tribesmen of her own volition and got pleasure out of that, trapped Miroku and Sango at Mt. Hakurei also by her own volition, kidnapped Rin, used Akago as a vessel to feed on Kagome's dark side, was manipulated into serving Princess Kaguya in the false hopes of wanting her freedom, and tended to mock Inuyasha. All of these atrocities would make Sesshoumaru fully cognizant that Kagura is far from being his equal in a relationship. Her dirty record as well as her hissy fit at Sesshoumaru for not helping her desire to be free from Naraku make her a co-dependent partner which can only spell failure in the long-term. As a mother to Rin, she would definitely fail badly because of her aforementioned dirty record and she would not be fully worthy of any sort of emulation. For someone like Kagura who is a formidable fighter, she has abused her wind powers to cause chaos and misery. Her passing may be tragic, but the awful deeds she has done are not worthy of my forgiveness. At least Sesshoumaru is free from being in a co-dependent relationship with that polarizing wind sorceress. Kouga x Ayame or KogAya is a couple I will never understand the appeal of. Yes, they are both wolf yokai, but these two could not be any more different, as Kouga is a big bluffer of a bully and a Karma Houdini and Ayame is a naturally brave, strong, fearless warrior princess with hidden depths that should have been fully realized! I have dreaded at the thought of these two ending up together because of all the failures and atrocities that would all resurface if Ayame were to find out all the horrible crimes Kouga has committed against an innocent young girl, Rin, and his entire tribe. This also extends to him not being the strong fighter he has made himself out to be and nothing more than a perennially pathetic loser who has relied on the Shikon Jewel's power instead of harnessing his own strength, as if the Shikon Jewel shards on his legs are a metaphor for steroids being used to give someone an artificial boost of strength and power. If Ayame dared to discover all of those atrocities, crimes, and rubbish Kouga has committed, she will be undoubtedly appalled at him and would repudiate him for good. I will reiterate that all of my sympathy goes to Ayame because of the fact that she deserves so much better than this pathetic waste of effort and time and deserves to grow as a veritably formidable heroine worthy of emulation, especially to all the young girls of the world. The mere fact that Kouga and his wolves killed innocent villagers including Rin who has lost her family and had to wander the world alone before she was revived Sesshoumaru through his Tenseiga and got away with murder, mainly relied on the Shikon Jewel's power to accelerate his strength and speed without working that on his own, and did not avenge his fallen comrades at the hands of Naraku and Kagura should all make Ayame's insides turn and make her reject Kouga for good and for all. Ergo, Ayame does not deserve this pathetic Karma Houdini and deserves to estrange herself from him forever, thus making her be the mother Rin truly deserves and will gladly give her her unconditional love and compassion to help her grow as a person. Speaking of couples I do not understand the appeal of by any shape of the imagination, we have my most dreaded NOTP of all time in the form of Inuyasha x Kagome or InuKag. Even as a child of eleven years old, I did not tune in to Inuyasha to see their soap opera fart of a relationship desecrating Adult Swim let alone the airwaves no matter where I was watching this series. I mainly tuned in to Inuyasha to see him growing from strength to strength and kick loads of butt, especially in his full yokai form. Furthermore, the more I saw Kagome and her brand of shrewishness, manipulativeness, brattiness, pettiness, jealousy, and callousness, the more irritated I became. There was barely any semblance of a romantic relationship blooming between Inuyasha and Kagome, as it was more of Kagome being the owner to Inuyasha's pet, especially where the Beads of Subjugation and the purpose of Inuyasha's sword Tessaiga are concerned. The Beads of Subjugation were used for Inuyasha to not do anything rash while the Tessaiga, aside from being a sword of destruction, was also intended to be used to protect those who are oppressed. Being the manipulative shrew Kagome was, she believed this would give her leeway for Inuyasha to shield her and be her "knight in shining armor" who will save her from all forms of danger without honing her own skills as a fighter. What is worse is that Kagome extends her manipulation to Miroku, Sango, and Shippou aka The Dunderhead Family to be nothing more than her pathetic posse and have them jump on a certain bandwagon that has brought Inuyasha a whole bunch of trauma. I am, of course, talking about how he was still hurting from the guilt he felt when Naraku manipulated both him and Kikyou into betraying each other. Miroku, Sango, Shippou, and especially Kagome never understood Inuyasha's pain and trauma in the slightest and The Dunderhead Family think that anytime Kagome was hurt it was all because of him. Furthermore, there is the fact that Inuyasha and Kagome are an undeniable example of being in a Karmic relationship with each other, given the many times they have been yelling, bickering, squabbling, and getting themselves in a heap of messily addictive habits that will only dig them deeper into more quagmires than find any sensibility or profound meaning. It says something that someone as compassionate, genuine, kind, and natural as Rin makes a far better companion to Inuyasha than The Dunderhead Family and...ugh....Kagome combined. Do not even get me started on the first episode of Yashahime because Inuyasha still has those accursed Beads of Subjugation on and she still does not trust him where Kikyou was concerned. Kagome was never attentive to him, never understood him in a profound level, and always believed she had dominance over him. This, my friends, is why I absolutely loathe InuKag with all of my being and it stands perched atop the medal platform of shame as my most disdained NOTP of all time. InuKag makes SessKagu more tolerable in comparison and the only other NOTP to ever come close to InuKag's brand of disgust is KogAya. Regardless, InuKag is the NOTP I will never want to touch with a twelve-foot pole. You might even noticed a recurring theme in terms of my discussion of my Inuyasha NOTPs and that is the importance of Rin. Well, she does play an integral part in not only Sesshoumaru's life but also the lives of Inuyasha and Ayame. Considering that Kouga and his wolves killed her in cold blood and got away with murder, Kagura kidnapped her as ransom for Sesshoumaru to annihilate Naraku, and that Kagome and The Dunderhead Family do not even come close to Rin's brand of compassion, I say that it was high time for Sesshoumaru to ditch Kagura, Inuyasha to give a big, fat, ugly screw-you to Kagome, and Ayame to drop kick Kouga in his family jewels to be the worthy parents to give Rin the great home she truly deserves complete with siblings in the forms of Dai, Roku, Kai, Shiori, and Shinta. To make things better, Rin will be definitely grateful to have two strong, powerful, brave dads like Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha, one courageous, honorable, compassionate mom like Ayame, three tough, independent, loving older brothers like Dai, Roku, and Kai, a lovable, caring, compassionate "twin" sister like Shiori because they are also the same age though Shiori is a month younger than her, and a lovable, sweet, attentive younger brother like Shinta. Just squeeze in Shuran, Hakkaku, and Ginta to be her loving uncles and Shunran to be her equally loving auntie and it will be a glorious family Rin will be more than happy to be a part of. With that said, having a three-way relationship with Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha being the chivalrous, caring, noble husbands to Ayame is so much better than having these three suffer a series of terrible relationships. This also extends to how proud Toga the Dog General and The Wolf Elder shall be of their progeny for giving Rin a great home and for finding true friends in Shuran, Hakkaku, Ginta, and Shunran who are just as supportive of Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame being in a three-way relationship. In conclusion, I am so ecstatic to make SessKagu, KogAya, and especially InuKag my biggest NOTPs for life. I will never touch these failures with a twelve-foot pole ever again, but the putrid effect of these NOTPs will forever remain ingrained in my memory as a stern reminder what bad relationships can look like. From the co-dependency found in Kagura's failed relationship with Sesshoumaru to the utter deception and lies Ayame would have found herself falling hook, line, and sinker all for Kouga's pathetic hide to Inuyasha's and Kagome's fart of a relationship only spelling death and destruction for years to come, there is nothing that will salvage these losers together. I am just going to keep Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame in a loving three-way relationship complete with a great family they can call their own and Shuran, Hakkaku, Ginta, and Shunran are going to be part of that family as their siblings for life. I hope you all enjoyed my evisceration of SessKagu, KogAya, and InuKag as my biggest NOTPs for life and I would love to hear from you if you agree with me on this. Until then, I will see you in the next submission. Take care and Happy Holidays, everybody. Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha, and Ayame as well as the lame-os known as Kouga, Kagura, and Kagome from Inuyasha belong to Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise.

[a-demons-guide-to-games]

Rune-Draw, MicroGames, and Runescape

Having a game in constant development for around 20 years, is bound to leave the equivalent of a hanging chad of mechanics strewn across your game, and no better description could fit a game like Runescape. Now Runescape being a point and click adventure game (I will die on this definition. Fight me!) has a bunch of mini games and quirky systems that only an old MMO could have, and are only used for certain quests and then never touched again. Games like matching up layers of a blueprint to make a whole schematic, or playing Tetris to make a catapult. But the most interesting little mini game I came across was Rune-Draw from the quest ghost ahoy. It was essentially just black jack, with cards replaced with runes. There's only 10 runes, one of each type, and the death rune instantly fails you. You pull runes until you both decide you wish to hold, or someone draws a death rune. Whoever has the most points wins. It’s simple, takes less than a minute to play, in-universe friendly, and it's just plain cute. The idea of non mages carrying bags of runes to gamble or how runes replaced cards seemed like such an in universe thing that I was shocked more NPCs didn't mention the game or play. And that's when I got thinking, why not expand this idea? And so without further adieu, here's my ideas of expanding the rune-draw game for no reason.

Like I said, I was super surprised that other NPCs had not referenced such an in-universe friendly conversion of blackjack. I imagine implementing more interactions would function sort of like how caravan did in Fallout:New Vegas. Having random NPCs scattered around the world to challenge for random games. First of all, this would populate the numerous bars with something to do and make them more lively, and give them purpose. I'd love to see people throwing runes on that table to make the various taverns scattered across Runescape feel purposeful, as if the natives of the world meet up to drink and to play. You can also tie each NPC into the already existing achievement  system and encourage players to explore and find every rune-draw compatible NPC to fight for achievement points. I think going back to challenge my favorite NPCS to a few rounds of a game would be a good incentive to revisit them. Having certain NPCs give exclusively painted runes, or bags ( bags would determine the background GUI of the rune-draw game) would also be a fun reason to compete. This is the same principle that makes finding new cards in New Vegas so addicting. Even if I sucked at caravan. Certain NPC’s could have exclusive dialogue depending on how you beat them, and some may gamble various amounts of money to que players more in their personality. Imagine baking these ideas into amazing hidden mechanic if when payers first stumble their way into Ardougne, and into a small bar tucked away in the north west they find a drunk and boisterous NPC with a pack of runes on a table, The players can go challenge him to a duel and after a few wins the NPC could bet 1000 coins. If the player wins the NPC would grumble about not having enough money and instead give you a unique set of runes to play with., and you can keep them lore friendly by saying its just painted essence. Or have the NPC be an ex hunter teach you a new hunting technique which grants hunter xp. Mayber have a sailor allow you to catch a unique fish or get access to special bait. The limits are endless! 

Sadly, the Runescape player base just isn't as big as it used to be. Finding other players in popular grinding spots can sometimes prove difficult at certain hours, and the minigame spots like stealing creation are never being played since there's never enough players to fill the player queue. And while it may be my rose tinted, nostalgia minted glasses talking here, the community back in the day felt so much more lively compared to where it is now. So why not introduce Rune-Draw! When you right click someone, let “Rune-Draw” show up in the drop down menu. And of course don't forget to let players to toggle off Rune-Draw duels, Let players gamble amongst themselves. It allows players to kill time waiting for friends when meeting in large groups and encourage player interactivity. Imagine players betting millions of black jack or even super rare armor pieces just as a joke or for some high stakes fun. The devs could also put a cap on how much you could gamble in one day so players don't lose millions and then go on the forums and rage. Aslo it might be cruel to allow literal virtual gambling and have the Rune-Draw be taught to you from an NPC with a gambling addiction. It would also be a fun little distraction for when they cut burned out after gathering the 500th log or burn out half way through monkey madness because that quest was straight GARBAGE. Also for the love of god Jagex do not make minigames like cards or Rune-Draw a skill. I don’t want to play 345981 games in a row just to get to level 56 skill level so I can do a single quest.

I just wanted to write out a more detailed way to expand something thought was fun and gush about Runescape for a bit. But a lot of what I wrote could easily apply to any small mini-games that could be added to Runescape. I always welcome more immersions and more roguish taverns. As well as offer an extra way to add fun microgames to facilitate a better player driven community.

[umbralogia]

Hello friend!! I saw you ask for fic requests and if you want to I'd love to see you write something fluffy! For example one of them comes to the loft absolutely drenched and shivering (why? idk) and the other person makes it their mission to warm them up. How do they do that? (totally not inspired by the fact that i'm freezing.) I hope you're having a good day!!

I want to thank you again for this request. I’m sorry it took me so long to get to it ^^’ I figured I should get back at you for all of the angst I felt reading your fic One Missed Call (which I very strongly recommend to everyone who sees this), so I’m sorry if this is too angsty. 

(read on ao3)

He watches the waves as they walk down the path through the park. They brush against the rocky shoreline, the water sinks into holes in between stones. The sound should be soothing, it should be relaxing like the sounds that Clary plays when she meditates in the sun.

Instead, it brings a touch of anxiety and a small awful feeling that Magnus can’t place.

He feels as though he’s missing something, like a pain that was once so fundamental to his being that’s now numbed. It’s under the surface, something he wants to feel again, like pressing on a bruise, though he can’t find the bruise.

Cat continues ahead of him, her fingers trace over the handrailing which transitions from metal poles into wooden stakes tied with loose ropes. It’s meant to make the park look oceanic, like the view of Manhattan from Roosevelt Island is beautiful, but Magnus only sees the tall steel towers on the other side of the East River, the millions of glass windows that look out to them. He supposes they would be gorgeous in the sunlight, but the sun is hidden behind thick clouds of overcast.

“You doing okay?” Cat asks, she turns back from the path to look at him. She looks concerned, as concerned as she has been for the past two weeks.

She’s been continually pressing him to talk. Life has been a whirlwind and Cat knows him too well. She knows more than he’s told her-- that he reunited with Clary, had magic, lost magic, lost Alec, found his magic again, reunited with his father, sentenced his father to imprisonment in eternal limbo, ruled Edom, faced Lilith, nearly killed himself and Alexander, escaped a crumbling realm in the nick of time, gotten married, lost Clary again…

It’s dizzying.

The feeling takes over the pang of absence he feels.

Magnus focuses his thoughts on the river. He’s always hated the East River, the rampant pollution and stink. It’s only beautiful from afar.

“I’m fine,” he says, and he rolls the doomed feeling from his shoulders and ignores it when it remains.

They’re there to talk to a siren.

A lock of her hair is all they need, Magnus reminds himself as Cat ducks underneath one of the ropes. Magnus follows behind her and casts a cursory glamor to protect them from wayward eyes. He carefully steps down the unstable rocks, shifting his balance a few times to catch himself until they’re only a few steps from the water’s edge.

Just a lock of her hair and they can return to the loft.

Cat reaches into her purse and pulls out a small green velvet bag. She opens it and dumps out a single silver coin that fits perfectly in her palm.

“Would you like to do the honors?” She asks, looking up at him, offering the coin.

It’s dirtied with time, the words and designs on the sides of it worn away. Magnus takes the coin and feels the weight of it in his hand for a moment or two. He knows what he has to do with it to summon the siren, but he still feels guilty for chucking the coin into the river. It’s an antique, one that Maryse had given him. He wonders if she was aware of its use.

The coin flies so far that they don’t see it when it reaches the water. It doesn’t make a sound.

The river bubbles. The swarming of bubbles moves closer towards them, anchored to the signature of Magnus’s touch. Sirens are overly sensitive to magic, addicted to it like a child to sugar. The bubbles lighten the dark water and before Magnus can pull Cat to take a step backward, a girl bursts through the water.

She flips her light blue hair back, spraying them with filthy water.

“Magnus Bane,” her coal dark eyes lock with him instantly. “Enchanted seaweed? Or something more valuable this time?”

“I need a lock of your hair,” he steadies himself on the rocks and tries not to think about just how deep the water is near his feet.

“Are you conjuring someone’s wish?” Her black eyes widen, she doesn’t blink. Sirens never do.

“Yes.”

The siren turns to Cat and looks at her with the same piercing gaze. They both know that sirens have the ability to see desires, that this visit will make both of them targets to her game.

“You can’t wish a baby to conception,” the siren tells Cat.

Cat doesn’t flinch, her words are a little more tender than she means to be. “It’s not my wish.”

The siren turns to Magnus. She squints at him, looking him up and down as though she’s trying to find a weakness in his armor. He knows he has many, that she’s looking for what will hurt him at the core. She skips past his fear of loneliness, his fears of not being good enough for himself or for those around him.

“I can grant yours,” she says with a smile, her sharp teeth glisten against her sea-tinted lips.

Magnus frowns a little and opens his mouth to ask just what desire she has decided to prey upon. Before he can speak, her slimy hand grabs him by the ankle and yanks.

He hits the rocks hard before he can grab for Cat.

Water. Dark, salty, awful water. His eyes burn. His lungs freeze in his chest, his heart is in his ears.

“Abomination!”

“There is no fixing this.”

Black. Everything is black.

“Mama!”  

He feels the pull to the surface and let’s Cat drag him onto the rocks. He coughs the water from his lungs, panting for air, the spots in his vision slowly disappear as she pulls him further out of the water.

Steel skyscrapers blend into the gray sky above them. An awful nauseating smell twists at his insides before he realizes its the East River, that they’re on Roosevelt Island. He takes a deep breath, shaking and exhales.

He climbs up a few feet before he stretches out on his back, exhausted and weighed heavy with wet fabric.

“Did you get it?” He asks.

Cat dangles a large clump of light blue hair, damp with filthy river water. “I yanked it out of her head.”

He nods in silent approval, still waiting for his lungs and heart to catch up with one another. Magnus rubs his sandy hands over his face, not caring about the grains that stick to his skin and find their way into his hair.

He snaps his fingers to dry himself off, but the magic doesn’t rise to the surface. He feels like a snuffed candle as he reclines on the awful, shifting rocks, still breathing heavily. Magnus realizes that the siren must’ve dragged his magic from his body when she pulled him down, his hands shaking, still ready to snap.

Cat dries him off the best she can, a quick brush of her hand leaves him feeling only slightly damp instead of waterlogged. “Should I call Alec?”

Magnus shakes his head. “He’s on patrol with Jace.”

She looks at him like that doesn’t mean anything, but they both know that Alec has become Jace’s rock with Clary’s latest disappearance. Neither one of them can find it in them to separate the parabatai without any guilt.

He accepts Cat’s hand up and slips through the glamor he had placed as they walk back onto the path. The park is empty aside from a few dog walkers and tourists. It doesn’t stop Cat from summoning a portal, spinning and swirling through the air, pulling him with the sweet sandalwood promise of home.

They step through. Magnus’s feet touch the hardwood floor of the hall just inside the door, his boots squeak, he can feel the water of the East River puddled near his toes. It’s a disgusting feeling he never wants to feel again.

“What did the siren mean when she said she was going to grant your wish?” Cat asks, already on the move. Magnus doesn’t move from where he stands.

“I don’t know,” he says, pulling at the laces of his boots.

Cat’s tone changes, but her words are too fast and complicated. She’s in the other room and Magnus lets her words slip past his tired mind. The laces are slick against his fingers as he pulls at them again and frees his foot. The water trapped inside puddles on the floor. Magnus can’t find it in him to magic the water away.

“Why are you soaking wet?”

Magnus looks up, the words cut through the numbness of his head.

Cat must’ve woken Alec up from a nap, his hair is a fluffy mess and he’s squinting a little, though it might be because he’s confused. Magnus opens his mouth to say something, but Alec is already kneeling in front of him, untying his other boot.

“I was pulled into the East River,” he says, and Alec doesn’t even question it. “You don’t have to--” he starts, but Alec’s fingers take the boot off of his foot and start to pull off his waterlogged socks.

Cat comes around the corner with some towels and Alec turns to take them from her. Magnus is sure Alec thanks her, but time blurs as his husband dries off his feet and his best friend slips out the door, a small pat on his back tells him that she’ll call later.

Alec stands and drapes a towel over his shoulders. “You okay?”

Magnus nods, he can’t help but smile when Alec looks at him, worried. “I’m fine, Alexander.”

It’s obvious that Alec doesn’t believe him, that Magnus doesn’t believe himself. Alec takes his hands and leads him into their bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom. He helps peel off his damp clothes, the jacket, his vest and shirt, Alec gets his pants off before he can think of a stray comment or joke.

Alec pulls off his own clothes. He’s graceless and Magnus wants to tease him, but Alec leads him into the shower and turns on the water.

“You don’t have to do this,” Magnus murmurs before Alec turns the shower spray on.

“I want to,” Alec says softly. His fingers sweep Magnus’s dark hair back and off of his forehead before he lathers it with shampoo. It’s too easy to get lost in Alec’s touch, to feel his gentle, nimble archer fingers playing in his hair. He’s almost surprised that Alec doesn’t play with his hair, doesn’t brush it straight up or curl the longer locks around his finger.

Alec moves his head back to rub his fingers against his temples and Magnus has to stop himself from falling into a near blissful sleep.

“Cat said the siren tried to grant you a wish,” Alec says as he rinses the shampoo out of his hair.

“She tried to drown me,” Magnus mumbles.

“Would you tell me if you wanted to drown?”

The question brings him out of the stupor that Alec has caressed him into.

If he thinks hard enough, he can still feel where his stepfather’s fingers were when they held him down in the water, trying to drown him. Magnus blinks the sensation away, his heart still pounds in his chest on the verge of panic.

“Do you remember why I said no bathtubs when we were looking at apartments?” Magnus doesn’t mean for his words to be so terse, but it feels like Alec has found the ache he had longed to feel again. He doesn’t understand why he feels so attacked like Alec has done something more than asking a necessary question.

Alec’s hands trace down from the back of his head to the center of his back and rest there. “Yes, but--”

“Why would I want to drown, Alec?” Magnus took a step out of the spray of the water and turned around.

Alec’s hair dripped in his face, his hazel eyes looking for answers.

His fingers find Alec’s. He brings their hands up to look at their rings, the simple twin silver bands that rest on their fingers.

The feeling of fingers on his skin, holding him down disappears. He’s standing in the shower, Alec is in front of him, watching him like he’s waiting for Magnus to break or move on.

He moves on.

“I have you,” Magnus thinks, and it’s not until Alec’s fingers tighten against his that he realizes he’s said it. “I don’t know why she tried to drown me. I don’t know what my deepest desire is.”

Alec puts too much soap onto the washcloth and starts to rub away at the river mud stubbornly caked somewhere on his face. Magnus tries not to pull away when Alec starts to wipe away at the makeup running down his face.

“What do you want more than anything?” Alec asks.

“Cheesecake,” Magnus mumbles.

“Yeah?” There’s a smile in Alec’s voice. “From the place down the street?”

“Don’t leave me to go get cheesecake,” Magnus says with a soft laugh. “I want to go to bed,” he says softly and realizes part of what’s missing, “with you.”

“It’s like six,” Alec is still smiling.

Magnus opens his eyes and stares at his husband. “You were asleep when I got home, don’t tell me what time it is.”

“I wasn’t asleep,”

“Is bedhead a new hairstyle?”

Alec is quiet. “Naps don’t count.”

“Naps count,” Magnus says with a small smile. “I thought you were going to be on patrol tonight with Jace.”

Alec’s shoulders drop a little, “Izzy wanted to take over, she wants to know how he’s doing.”

Magnus knows not to press. He knows that Jace is a disaster, that he’s been ruined by everything that’s happened in the past few weeks. He’s made an effort to avoid Jace as much as possible since he was possessed by the Owl. Jace still feels guilty, it wafts off of him like smoke and suffocates their every attempt to talk about something other than Alec.

The water turns off and Magnus hasn’t blinked before Alec is drying him off.

“I can do it,” Magnus takes the towel and Alec lets him. He dries himself off and watches Alec as he dries himself as well.

He thinks about trying to push him, how he could place his fingers along his husband’s jaw and direct his gaze, kiss him until their hands start to grasp at one another, touch over touch, clumsily finding their way to the bed. It feels dishonest. Considering it feels startling.

Magnus walks past Alec and enters the bedroom. He grabs whatever old shirt Alec has in the first drawer and pulls it on, fingers snagging in the holes. Then the silky leopard print boxers that Simon had given him as a joke.

“I love you,” Alec whispers against the back of his neck, once he’s found his place on the other side of the bed. His fingers gently press against Magnus’s back, raking up and down his spine. “I know you’ll talk to me when you feel ready, but just know that I love you no matter what. You can’t scare me away.”

He leans against the touch and Alec lets Magnus collapse against him. They lay down beside one another, curled up in soft touches. Magnus turns at some point to rest against Alec’s chest, draped over him carefully.

Alec’s fingers are in his hair, brushing it straight back, then trailing down his neck to his shoulders. He relaxes into each stroke, each touch. All he wants to feel is Alec, the way he breathes like he’s afraid that if he breathes normally, it’ll wake Magnus up from his near sleep. His touch is featherlight, delicate because he’s afraid of breaking whatever he touches.

It reminds him of what it felt like to sleep beside Alec when he didn’t have his magic.

He had felt more naked than he ever could physically. Magnus had never realized that magic burned underneath his skin, that it was the prickling against his body when the atmosphere shifted. He hadn’t been aware of the sensation until it had left him. He had longed for that feeling, for an ounce of the control it granted him, for the feeling of burning from the inside out.

Now that it had returned, he almost wanted it to disappear.

“I miss being mortal with you.”

Alec’s fingers slow, but continue to move across his skin. “what?”

Magnus frowns, he opens his eyes to look at the dark runes on Alec’s skin. They’re so stark against his skin that they seem to burn through the thin white fabric of his t-shirt. It’s easier than looking into his husband’s eyes. “I miss being moral with you.”

“Why?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

Alec’s fingers stay on his shoulders. Magnus can feel that Alec’s thinking, or maybe he’s waiting for Magnus to stop thinking and start explaining. He curls his own fingers into the fabric of Alec’s shirt, his fingernails brush against Alec’s skin and it makes him almost shiver.

“It felt simple, just… life and death, and now it’s just life and more life.”

“Magnus,”

“I’m not suicidal,” he says quickly.

Alec exhales underneath him. Magnus doesn’t know if it’s out of relief.

“It’s just… I have you and I want to have you forever, and not for your forever, but my forever.” He feels lighter but sinks more against Alec. “I felt like, with Clary, there was always the possibility of some rune to solve everything. An Alliance rune bleed over, or the Resurrection rune, something, and now that she’s gone,” Magnus’s thought disappears into a feeling before he can find the words for it. It feels like something inside of him has fizzled into nothing like an ember in a dying fire.

Alec’s fingers are a little heavier against his back. Magnus feels Alec breathe in and out deeply before he speaks. “We’ll find a way.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just know,” Alec whispers before resting his head against Magnus’s. He curls in a little more and Magnus has to move to get comfortable again.

Magnus tries to let Alec’s intuition settle his thoughts. “I’m glad one of us knows.” He can’t help but smile, turning to rest his head against Alec’s. He isn’t even aware of his own magic until the bedside light goes off.

“Tomorrow we’ll get cheesecake and everything’ll be better,” Alec murmurs, and before Magnus can settle into him, Alec tenses. “Wait,” Alec squirms a little and Magnus detaches himself to allow for it. “Why is it whenever I try to comfort you, you always make me the little spoon?”

“Because you’re an octopus and if you aren’t the little spoon, I can’t move.” Magnus rests his lips against the top of Alec’s head, his damp hair already beginning to curl. “We figured this out months ago, please keep up.”

[bi-bi-richie]

Bubblegum Love

Richie just needs a few suckers for the week, but life is a little unpredictable, isn’t it? 

Ao3

Richie sucked a red sucker in his mouth. The mellow taste of artificial cherry flavoring coated his tongue. It reminded him of old days when he’d be sick with a cold and his mom was have to bribe him to take the disgusting cough syrup. But, after all, cherry was better than grape. Truth be told, Richie didn’t care for suckers at all. The way they made his lips chapped and mouth run dry wasn’t anything favorable for him, not to mention water didn’t taste too great afterward. It’s just that Richie had quit cigarettes and they sort of left him with this confusing oral fixation. So now he sucks in the sickly sweet cherry suckers, hoping one day he’ll leave this addiction behind.

Saturday was a rough day for Richie. He ran out of suckers, which was something he was scolded for by his friend Bev, who made it clear that he needed to have them on hand at all times. No, running out of the disgusting sugar-on-sticks wasn’t too bad, it was the feeling of needing something all day and the scolding from Bev that made it miserable. He couldn’t break away from his shift at the diner, he knew he’d have to wait all day to get down to the gas station to pick up a bag for the next week.

When his shift ended, he shot out of the diner so fast he almost forgot his backpack and tips. Unfortunately, he walked that day, and, even worse, the nearest gas station was two miles away. But, there was one thing that wasn’t two miles away.

“Welcome to Ben’s Candy Shoppe,” an unenthusiastic man called from behind a cash register, “tell me if you need anything.”

Richie nodded his head, though he was certain this man didn’t see it, nor did he care that Richie acknowledged him at all.

Richie directed himself to the nearest aisle out of sight from the man and started looking up and down the small rows for any sort of fruit flavored candy. Chocolate seemed to be this candy shop’s specialty, which didn’t exactly make sense since chocolate wasn’t candy. He walked down another aisle and found things like Jolly Ranchers, Warheads, Sour Patch Kids, but no suckers. He was beginning to wonder why a candy shop wouldn’t have any fucking suckers! What kind of shit place is this?

He was almost ready to dip and suffer a two-mile walk down to the gas station, but then soft footsteps came up from behind him and in two seconds made him change his mind entirely.

“Hi, can I help you?” A young man, Richie’s age, no doubt, asked. Richie turned around and felt his entire soul leave his body from pure shock about how incredibly attractive the man was in front of him.

“Oh wow…” Richie whispered, looking into the man’s soft, chocolate eyes. The man was… beyond words for Richie. He had soft brown hair, beautiful doe eyes, freckles painting his sun-kissed skin, shiny plump lips and to top it off he wore a yellow, red, and white striped shirt. In short, he was Richie’s fucking dream man.

“Uh,” the boy coughed, “do you need help?”

Richie snapped and shook his head as if to show it, “sorry! Uh, yes actually I do need help.”

The boy smiled and nodded his head, “well, I’m Eddie, what’re you looking for?”

“Well, I kinda really need some suckers, but I can’t find any.” He pointed to the shelves of chocolate and tart treats.

Eddie nodded his head and pointed to the end of the aisle, “actually we have suckers on the aisle next to us, guess you were in too much of a hurry to see?”

Richie blushed, “well, sweets are my addiction. And, who’s to say me missing the suckers was a bad thing? I got a pretty cute knight in shining armor to save me.”

Fuck fuck fuck! What was that!? Why would I-

Eddie giggled, “guess I’m lucky that Stan didn’t come over instead.”

Then Richie giggled, feeling his stomach do flips and his heart flutter. Richie hadn’t really been in the dating game for a while, after he quit cigarettes he decided he would focus on himself. He was going to build a better Richie. Now, he may be addicted to sugar on a stick, but he thinks he’s done an amazing job that was definitely good enough for him to work his Tozier charm once again.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” Richie said quietly, but not so Eddie couldn’t hear. “Walk me to the suckers?” He felt overjoyed when Eddie gave him a shy nod.

It wasn’t a long walk, obviously, but Richie felt himself glow with excitement. He couldn’t help but feel like hot shit, I mean, the guy had the most beautiful man he’s ever met walking right beside him. At the same time though, he was intrigued by Eddie, even if they’ve had a pretty basic conversation.

When they reached the suckers, Richie felt his mouth water and the need to have something in his mouth overwhelm him. What threw him off was the number of flavors presented to him, definitely far off from his basic cough syrup cherry.

“Wider selection than you thought?” Eddie asked with a smile.

“Mhm,” Richie nodded, “I usually just take a cherry one and call it a day.”

Eddie made a fake gagging noise and shook his head in disgust, “cherry is probably the worst! Taste like kid’s medicine, grape isn’t that far off either.”

Richie couldn’t help but let out a bark of a laugh, “you raise a good point, Spaghetti.”

“They taste as bad as that nickname, what the hell was that?”

Richie let out a loud cackle that echoed throughout the mostly empty store, “just a cute nickname for a cute guy! Don’t like it?”

Eddie made another  fake gagging sound and shook his head, “it’s horrendous,”  he complained, but the beaming smile on his face said otherwise.

“Whatever you say, Eds. I guess I’ll take a handful of these babies here!” He went to grab at the cherry flavored suckers to the right, but Eddie’s hand shot out and directed Richie to the pink ones right next to them.

“Buy bubblegum, it’s easily the best flavor.” Eddie’s face was tinted pink as he started to realize what he just did and how his hand was still on Richie’s, but he definitely wasn’t gonna let it show.

Richie blushed and took a handful of about sixteen, after all, he needs a lot to keep him going throughout the week. “Thanks for the advice, Eds.”

“Anytime,” Eddie squeaked.

They stood in silence for a few seconds before Richie nodded his head over to the cash registers. “Any chance you’ll check me out of this place?”

“Unfortunately, no, but I’ll see you around…” he trailed off and furrowed his eyebrows in the most adorable way possible, “uh, I didn’t get your name.”

“Oh! It’s Richie! Well, it’s Richard but that’s so grossly formal, so, y’know, call me Richie.” He was rambling, he knew that but Eddie’s smile and bright eyes made him nervous.

“Well, Richie, I’ll see you around.”

Richie never felt to pained to watch someone walk away. So, as he walked away after paying $0.50 for sixteen suckers, he swore he’d show back up and ask the boy out. Nobody was going to stop him either.

That was six weeks ago. Every day since then, Richie walked in, talked and poorly flirted with Eddie, then he bought a single bubblegum sucker and then walked out telling himself that he would ask Eddie out the next day. Now, to Richie’s credit, he was actually learning a lot about the smaller man every single day. He found out that he grew up in a small town not too far from Richie’s own, he had no mom but he lived with a wonderful dad that he adored, he was the same age as Richie, and he was gay. That last one made things at least ten times easier for Richie. In return, Richie liked to think that Eddie knew quite a bit about him too. He talked about his parents who worried about him, but he loved them dearly, his struggle to quit cigarettes, his not so glamorous job at a small diner, and that he was bisexual. Meanless to say, Richie felt like he opened up more to Eddie than he had anyone in his whole life and it was only in six short weeks.

Today, Richie once again swore he would ask Eddie out. He would! He just needed the right moment that’s all. He walked into the store and looked over to Stan and smiled. Stan had yet to say more than a few words to him, but he constantly gives Richie this dude are you serious look after Richie sees Eddie. After saying hi to Stan, he turns to the sucker aisle. Sometimes Eddie is down that aisle, other times Richie picks up his sucker and goes on a little hunt for the boy he likes so much. Eddie isn’t down the aisle today, so Richie figures he’d grab his bubblegum sucker and leave, but there wasn’t any. The only suckers left were cherry and grape, the flavors Richie grew to find disgusting thanks to various conversations with Eddie.

Richie was just about to turn around and find Eddie but he didn’t need to look far. Eddie was standing right behind him in casual clothes, ones that Richie almost full on swooned over, and he held two handfuls of bubblegum suckers. He had a warm blush spread across his cheeks and a nervous smile that Richie believed to be the cutest thing.

“Um,” Eddie squeaked out, “you’re gonna think this is stupid…”

“No no!” Richie cried out, “please continue.”

Eddie snorted and walked closer to him, “well, I have no script planned out but I was really hoping you’d go out with me tonight…”

Now it was Richie’s turn to blush from head to toe.

“It’s just that… We talk every day and I liked you since the day I met you, I’ve been kind of beating myself up over not asking you out sooner, ha. So… What do you say?”

Richie looked at him completely dumbfounded, yeah, he really liked Eddie but he definitely didn’t expect Eddie to like him back! That stuff only exists in the movies, yet here it is happening to little ol’ Richie Tozier.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been silent for too long though, “unless you don’t like me back! Oh god did I misread everything-”

“Oh fuck no!” Richie cried out, “I’ve been trying to ask you out for… literally a month, I really fucking like you!”

Eddie smiled at him and let out a loud sigh of relief, “so, are you free tonight?”

Richie smiled and plucked a sucker from Eddie’s hands, “for you, Eds, I’m always free.

[akaspiderman]

cliché

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none, maybe angst if you squint hard enough, but it’s fluff.

plot: Their relationship was filled with cliches except for one.

A/N: This is hopefully super fluffy because it’s Valentine’s day!! This is for my valentine @poetrypeter, I hope it dosen’t suck :)

You’re my better half. I’m complete with you. You’re my world. Head over heels in love. My life is better with you. You’re so beautiful. I want to spend my life with you.

These sentences have fallen out of both of your lips, cheesy sayings that somehow felt special to both of you. Words that have been repeated over and over, but it sounds like the first time you’ve ever heard them. It sends your heart tumbling down and your mind racing whenever they spill out of Peter lips and he can say the same. Butterflies would take flight and you were the embodiment of heart eyes whenever you look at him, hell, even when you think about him. Peter would practically fall to his knees at the mention of your name. You were both so whipped. Yet, there were three little words that have been echoed throughout the entirety of the world, but haven’t left yours or Peters lips.

There were moments where it feels like what you have with Peter was love at the start. It was a terrifying thing to admit that he stole your heart, but as time went on, there was no doubt in your mind that you didn’t love him. It was his stupid jokes and horrible puns. It was the way his eyes sparked up when he was filled with happiness that it outshone New York at night. It was the way he was always there for you when you needed him or when you didn’t. He was this angel of a boyfriend that it would be impossible to not fall in love with him. You were barely holding it together, he somehow made everything better that you had to tell him. He just had to know that he was epitome of sunshine and how hard you fell for him.

Then it would hit you out of nowhere. The fear that it wouldn’t be reciprocated and that it would scare him off to be with someone else. The sole idea of pushing Peter away was terrifying, there was no way you could let him go easily. He was everything to you. So, your love was silenced but god, your heart could burst at the thought of him. Love songs on the radio made sense and you could understand why people would do crazy things for love. It was this rush, an addicting rush, that made you want to dance around like there’s no tomorrow. Love was a drug, as cheesy as it is. You were addicted to him, you needed him to be with you like you need oxygen. Though you were sure about your feelings, you just wanted to wait for Peter to say the words first. It just made sense.

Peter bit his lips, his eyebrows scrunched as he stared down the TV. He glanced over at you, just long enough for him to not notice the green shell headed his way. By the time his concentration is back on the screen, he was knocked down into sixth place and he was forced to watch some characters whizz by. He groaned in frustration, as Yoshi started to roll back up. “What the heck? This isn’t even fair.”

You violently jerked your remote to the left, avoiding the corner of the castle. You let out a small laugh as Peter struggled to battle his way back up during the last lap. “I’m sorry that you suck.”

“Excuse me? What place are you in?” Peter says, a slight offended tone weaved through his question.

“First place,” You said with a smirk playing on your lips. Luigi never failed you once.

Peter sticked his elbow out, hitting you hand to the side. Your eyes widen as you go astray, heading straight into the grass that no one ever wanted to be. A gasp that could be heard throughout the city left your lips. “Peter!”

“What?” He asked innocently, pretending as if he hadn’t done the ultimate act of war.

“You didn’t just do that,” you exclaimed. Your heart drop with your place. Anger was brewing deep within you, this wasn’t just a game. Your pride was on the line and there was no way you would let it go. You quickly attempted to recover your throne, passing Peach but Walugi is putting up a good fight.

“This game is brutal.”

“I see why Ned dosen’t play Mario Kart with you now.”

“No, he just acts like a sore loser when he loses. This isn’t about me, plus you’re doing fine,” Peter said rolling his eyes.

You brushed off the comment and get hypnotized by the game unfolding. You push past Walugi, putting you back on your rightful throne. The finish line was so close, behind the bend was the checkered painted ground that would make you victorious. Victory would taste so sweet. But you didn’t see it coming. You didn’t see Peter gaining the yellow star that would transform him into a holographic mess. How the flashing, color-changing Yoshi had crept up on you. Victory flashed before your eyes, but then all of sudden, Luigi rolls around and Yoshi passed by with a Peter screaming with pride. Cars rushed past, making you fifth place in the scheme of things.

“I won! I won!” Peter shouted. He launched off the couch, throwing his hands up in the air. He spun around to face you, with the biggest smile plastered on his face. However your face was flat, no emotions shown and your mouth agape that your crown was stolen from right below you. Peter sucked in a breath, judging from the hostile look behind your eyes, you were not here for this. “Are you, um, alright?”

“No.”

Peter lowered his arms, fear ran up his spine. The next thing he knows, he’s crouching in front of you, his eye level matching yours. “I’m sorry,” he spitted out, the panic so clear.

A smile spread from the corner of your mouth before growing into this uncontrollable laughter at Peters reaction. There was no way you could get your blood boiling at him, especially for this. Yes, you were pissed, but Peter was Peter. Laughter carried through the air, infecting Peter. He’s gasping for air, shaking his head with you. He reached out for your arm, using you for support as he tried to fight it off. God, he was adorable.

“So you’re not mad?” Peter said between his gasps for air.

Your eyes crinkled at the corner, as you watched Peter settle back down. Your mouth was moving before you knew what you were saying. “No, you’re lucky that I love you.”

“I love you too,” Peter said without missing a beat.

“Another round?”

“Mhm, maybe we could order pizza?”

“Yeah of course, but can we order fr-“ Your voice trailed off, the reality of the conversation setting in. That was it. Three little words let out in the open to run wild and free now. Three littles words that made your heart stop mid-beat and blossomed a whole entire garden within you.

Peters cheeks tint with the lightest pink, his eyes trained on the ground. His heart pounds against his chest, but it mustn’t be mistaken for fear. It was the type that could only come from pure bliss. The type that makes butterflies come alive and makes life feel too good to be real.

The air disappears from the room, both of you holding a breath. Hearts were soaring and shy glances were shared. It was a reminiscent of the first date in a way. There was nervous laughter and shy brushes of your hand during the date, but the same exact feeling was replicated. The same beautiful, thrilling feeling. The unsurety of what happens next, but the mutual knowledge that this was going to grow into something bigger.

This wasn’t your ideal plan. You were certainly not planning to say it first, let alone say it after a round of Mario Kart, but somehow it was a relief. To know that you were on the same page as Peter lifted a weight of your shoulder. Of course, there was the shadow of doubt that this was all a figment of imagination. That you pretended he said that because that’s what you expected to hear or that it was just an automatic response that he didn’t mean. You broke the sweet silence with a gentle whisper, that said “You do?”.

Peter bit his lip, he does. He knows he does. He loves the way you play with his hair and the light kisses you leave on his cheek. He could get lost in your laughter and he just wanted to make you laugh forever, just to hear it. He adores the way you naturally lean on him and how you feel so right in his arms. He likes how he can talk to you for hours with no end and you never get bored, even if it’s him discussing Star Wars for the hundredth time. What he loves the most is the way you make him feel. All of his armor falls and he’s just him. He was enough with you, he didn’t have to think twice about anything, everything was just so right. At the same time, he was always at the edge of his seat. Being with you made him feel like he was truly living, it was a rush of adrenaline everyday. Somehow, you were a safe haven and a spontaneous adventure at the same time.

Of course, people would pass this off as stupid teenager love. It was just the honeymoon phase before everything crumbled down. The thing was, Peter wants it all. He wants the bad days when you’re crying a river. He wants the sick days where you haven’t seen sunlight in days. He wants the rough days where you’re going insane from exams and can’t deal with anything. He wants the days where everyone and everything annoys you. He wants it all.

Maybe he didn’t recognize it directly, the feeling of love, but he certainly felt it. There was no other explanation it. He wants you when you’re all put together but he also wants you at three a.m., sleep deprived and unconherient. He wants to see your thrive but catch you when you stumble. He wants the good and bad. He didn’t understand it, but at the same time he did. He said it so easily, that he had to know somewhere, and now he knows what this feeling was. It was love.

So when you ask that question, your focus down and heat rising to you cheeks, he knows the answer. “Yeah, I do.”

When you looked up to make eye contact with Peter who was still crouching down, your heart fluttered as his response. “Yeah?” you asked with a small smile growing.

“Yeah,” Peter said, still breathless at the discovery.

You’re full out beaming at Peter, his heart could burst at the sight. You were out of this world, you must be in heaven because this is too good to be true. Your cheeks hurt from the straining smile, but it didn’t matter. He loves you. Your hands flew out to his face, as you pull him closer til your lips connected. Your hands moved from his face to wrapping around his neck. He kissed so soft, that it makes you feel like it was the first time. When you pull away, you closed your eyes as you rested your forehead against his. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking. It was still a new sentence that you weren’t used to saying, but that would change. You know it.

“I love you,” he said, his hands on your waist. He closed his eyes with yours, his heartbeat syncing with yours.

The familiar smile that hadn’t left your face gets stronger if that’s possible. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

A small giggle left your lips. It was like you were seven when you would exchange crushes and burst into giggly laughter. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You threw your head back, the giggle transforming into laughter. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Peter joined into the bubbling joy that was bursting from your lips, god, he loved this. He loves you. “I love you, I love you.”

“Oh my god, we’re going to become that couple,” You said through broken laughter.

“I don’t think I care.”

“They’re gonna be disgusted with us.” You shook your head, but that stupid smile was still there.

Peter finally stood, arching his back in a stretch. He held his hands out for you to place your own in his, as he pulled you up. “I’m so happy I could dance.”

“To the background noise of Mario Kart?”

“Yeah, of course. The most romantic sound ever,” Peter said, wiggling his eyebrows in a mockingly seductive way.

Peter begins to swing your conjoined hands between you. “Oh my god, you’re such a nerd.”

“A nerd that you love.” He said with a knowing look.

“You got me there.”

“I always got you,” he joked. He lets go of one of your hands to spin you right into his arms. His arms snaked around you, holding you close.

Whatever he did always made that smile never leave. “We’re so cliche.”

“Wouldn’t change a thing.”

Tagging some mutuals who may like my shitty writing: @theamazingspiderlingg @tomshufflepuff @princeofsassgard @dudewherearethepeaches @hollandsosterfield @vnderoos

[thatsadorbsyo]

(Makoto and) Brienne - III

(cw: drug addiction, sexual language, pregnancy)

Brienne was a feral little thing, scared and sneaky.

She’d holed up in an abandoned greenhouse near a construction site in the Black Shroud, which had proven really fucking difficult to find after she quit both of her jobs and stopped traveling to and from the cities. Luckily for Makoto, K’tara was good at her job. Maybe one of the best. A couple of weeks of sniffing around was all it took for K’tara to track her down, passing Makoto a map to exactly where he’d find the blonde shrew, curled up on a mattress next to a wall of endless glass panels. Each one twinkled with yellow-tinted winter sunlight, specifically focused to make the interior of the building unseasonably warm.

Feral, maybe, but smart.

Her makeshift apartment was stocked in equal measure with jars of honey and jars of paint, with half-painted canvasses stacked in disarray and in various states of completion. Portraits, almost all of them. Makoto spent a long time studying the vaguely elezen faces while Brienne went through the resigned motions of making tea for her unannounced guest. Most of them bore a passing resemblance to the artist, with delicate features and dull jade eyes framed by golden-spun hair, but none of them were explicitly her. Not exactly. Siblings, maybe. Or children. She looked too young to have children already, but you never knew.

They were almost like drafts. Like with each attempt she was getting closer and closer to some truth.

Brienne wrapped her well-worn blankets and shawls around her like they were regal vestments or ceremonial armor, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her feet curled inward to support her growing belly. She stared coldly at him over the hot tea in her lap, wisps of steam floating up around her face while Makoto laid out what he wanted from her.

Framed on all sides by growing vines, she seemed curiously nonplussed by his requests, almost serene under her annoyance at being found. A picture of motherly indulgence. “You wouldn’t have any trouble breaking in. The shrine is usually guarded only by an elderly woman and one of those Xaela who don’t speak.” The teacup paused on the way to her mouth, and Brienne added, “She might put up a fight, but it isn’t like she’ll be talking to the Brass Blades about anything she sees. You... you aren’t going to hurt anyone, are you?”

“Not if I don’t have to.” Makoto lied, turning a honeycomb over and over, watching the edges grow fat with honey and ooze slowly into the small bone porcelain cup. This was a different ritual than he was used to, but he was in Brienne’s home. Her home, her tea rules. “There shouldn’t be any surprises, if what you say is true. No surprises is good, it means nobody has to get hurt. You’re not lying about anything, are you? Even by omission?”

Brienne shook her head, her mouth pulled into a short, thin line of distaste. Perhaps her compliance didn’t go down as smoothly as the tea. “I don’t understand why you care, though. About the shrine. It’s just a teahouse. They’re nice people.”

He didn’t care about the shrine, but Brienne didn’t need to know the details. “You’re smart, you know I can’t tell you that.” The drink tasted more like liquid honey than tea, hot and sugary, thick like nectar on the way down his throat.

Her eyes traveled over the tattoos on his arms, following the flow of the waves. “...Is Miss Ietada in trouble with... uh, with you? I thought she was Yanxian...?”

“Nah, this has nothing to do with her.” That part was true. His cup settled back into the saucer with a loud little clink, and Makoto put his hands on his thighs and leaned forward, studying her closely. “Look, I’m not here to just shake you down and offer nothing in return. What can I do to help you? You’ve gotta need something out here.” He waved a hand, gesturing at their remote location, the disarray of her surroundings.

Brienne’s eyes went glassy and distant for a moment, staring through him. “Love Potion,” she said, automatic, the words dropping like shards of a mirror.

His eyebrows twisted up. What the fuck is she talking about? “You want a love potion?” Flat, unbelieving.

“No, that’s just what it’s called.” Her tone bit back on spite, as if she could sense his incredulity, but her teacup chittered tellingly against its saucer when her hands began to shake. “It’s--it’s a drug. A man named Maxime makes it, or knows someone who makes it. He isn’t very smart, and neither is his girlfriend. Her name’s Ivy. I can write down their address.”

The trembling in her voice hit Makoto like a familiar old friend, and he greeted it with a gentle, placating tone of his own. “Whatever it is, I can get it for you. Or something just like it. How much do you want?”

“How much can you get?” Something changed on her face, like a flipped switch. The vulnerability, the distress, all of that stayed, but the chill deepened, sinking briefly into a diamond-hard resolution. As soon as Makoto registered it, it was gone again, leaving only the scared, pregnant young girl in its wake. “I just, I--” She was pleading, but didn’t seem to know what she was asking for.

“Okay. I get it, I understand. Anything else?”

Brienne stared at him for a long moment, the ice in her demeanor melting, bubbling up as inexplicable tears on the fat part of her cheek. It took time for her to summon what she wanted to say, long enough for Makoto to finish about half of his tea. He glanced off to the side, back to the portraits, letting her cry in relative privacy while he perused her menagerie.

“Can you touch me?” Barely audible, a timorous whisper wavered on the way out. 

At first, Makoto wasn’t sure he heard her right. “What? Like, uh.” His eyes snapped back to her, hesitantly appraising. In another context, she might have been objectively pretty, but it was hard to find her sexy all the way out here in the godsdamned boonies, surrounded by her nest of clutter and not much else. She was so fucking helpless, not to mention visibly pregnant.

She followed his eyes down to her lightly swollen stomach, letting out a low breath, like this was exactly what she expected. “Nevermind,” she spat without much force, manufactured to cover her disappointment.

“No, no. Hey, wait.” He picked himself up and crossed over to her, sitting down on the floor and resting an arm on the blanket draped around her shoulders. “It’s not like that, okay. I’ve got... people. People I have to consider.”

“I don’t want a pity fuck.” As though that wasn’t exactly what she was about to ask for.

Makoto’s guts twisted with indecision, and he bought time by reaching up to wipe her tears away from the apples of her cheeks with his thumbs. Whoever Brienne was, she needed something, that much was clear. Maybe sex was only part of the picture. Maybe it would be a kindness. Makoto was already in the business of finding loopholes for the sake of kindness, but something still nagged at him.

Everything was too... just-so. Brienne was the perfect, pitiful picture of a sad, lonely woman in need. Something was off, specifically because everything fit just right. Paranoia filtered through his mind like cream blending into tea. “Let me get the job done first, then I’ll come back with your Love Potion, yeah? Maybe if it all goes well, we can take it together. How about that?”

Brienne nodded, looking away with a flicker of embarrassment. It would have to do for now, at least until Makoto had Ichika Tanaka on a boat back to Kugane, all trussed up with a big red bow on top, a gift for his father. 

Then he could figure out what the fuck to do with Brienne Fallow.

[illlicitaffair]

❛ i never stopped loving you. ❜ :) :) shaleb

x. some angst meme i shouldn’t have asked for

     Something   about   DEPENDENCY   is   that   it   doesn’t   always   appear   in   the   most   obvious   way.   It   takes   it’s   form   in   a   petite   blonde   with   a   knife   in   the   SHAPE   of   her   mouth,   in   the   way   toxins   from   a   POPPY   SEED   flow   through   his   veins   convincing   him   to   leave   his   life   behind   for   JUST   a   blissful   moment,   in   the   way   the   smoke   billows   from   the   end   of   his   cigarette,   filling   his   lungs   with   ASH   while   concurrently   giving   him   a   sense   of   PEACE.   There’s   a   long   list   of   things   that   he’s   CRAVED,   unfortunately   it   generally   included   things   that   were   HAZARDOUS   to   his   well   being   —   SHELBY   WYATT   being   at   the   top   of   said   list.   There’s   a   reason   he’s   never   opened   up   again   after   his   time   spent   in   that   CULT   –   it’s   the   same   reason   he   didn’t   feel   a   substantial   amount   of   PEACE   until   he   had   gone   undercover   to   dissemble   the   very   thing   that   nearly   DESTROYED   him.   He   had   just   been   a   KID   –   looking   in   all   the   wrong   places   for   acceptance   that   his   father   never   gave,   he   had   been   so   DESPERATE   to   feel   normal,   he   opened   himself   up   to   a   manipulation   that   tore   him   into   pieces,   Caleb   no   longer   TRUSTED   the   simplicity   of   being   LOVED.   It’s   why   his   first   instinct   was   to   SABOTAGE   anything   that   had   the   potential   of   ruining   him.   Except   with   her   –   it   wasn’t   intentional,   &&   in   the   end,   as   much   blame   as   she   had   put   on   him,   he   wasn’t   the   one   that   CLOSED   that   door.      

     &&   he   wasn’t   the   one   who   kept   TRYING   to   open   it,   allowing   the   skeletons   of   their   story   to   crumble   to   the   floor   in   front   of   them.   He   came   here   because   she   NEEDED   his   help,   this   charade,   it   wasn’t   SUBSTANTIAL,   it   wasn’t   meant   to   function   properly.   How   could   it   ?   You   ever   hear   the   one   about   the   ADDICT   who   was   able   to   take   one   hit   &&   walk   away   ?   Neither   had   he,   &&   he   knew   it   wasn’t   going   to   curb   the   HUNGER.      See,   he   wasn’t   the   only   one   familiar   with   USING   –   she   had   her   own   method   of   it,   she   was   an   addict   of   her   own   kind,   addicted   to   the   SORROW   that   swallowed   her,   addicted   to   the   JOB   that   she   had   so   desperately   needed   to   feel   whole,   she   may   not   share   the   SCARS   that   tarnish   his   veins,   but   her’s   were   there,   buried   underneath   the   ARMOR   she   cast   in   the   kiln   of   her   PAST.   He’s   AWARE   of   her   presence   before   she   speaks,   as   if   there’s   an   alarm   that   goes   off   in   his   mind   any   time   she’s   near,   WARNING   him   to   prepare   himself,   to   throw   those   WALLS   up   against   her   BATTERING   ram   she   claims   to   know   nothing   about.   It’s   a   COMFORTABLE   silence   at   first,   the   air   carrying   the   smoke   he   exhaled   while   he   WAITED   for   her   to   form   her   words,   he   knew   that   look   on   her   face,   the   way   a   weight   was   pressing   down   on   her   squared   shoulders,   she   wanted   to   ADMIT   something,   &&   he   was   going   to   let   it   hit   him   like   a   TIDE   threatening   to   pull   him   out   to   the   bleak   oblivion.   Normally   he’d   throw   out   a   quip   into   the   space,   a   LIFE   LINE   for   her   to   grasp   onto,   but   when   had   she   ever   really   NEEDED   saving   anyway   ?  

       FOR   SO   LONG,   I’VE   BEEN   TRYING   TO   REALIZED   WHY   I   NEVER   TOLD   YOU   THAT   I   LOVE   YOU.   BECAUSE   I   DO.   CALEB,   I   LOVE   YOU   SO   MUCH.   BUT   I   KNOW   THAT   YOU’LL   HURT   ME.   AGAIN   &&   AGAIN.      It’s   a   memory   that   had   haunted   him   from   the   moment   he   watched   the   words   fall   from   her   lips,   each   syllable   sending   a   SHARP   ache   through   his   system,   so   he   WAITS,   he   waits   for   the   BUT,   this   time   –   he   waits   for   the   inevitable   CRASH   of   the   wave   against   the   rocky   shore,   splitting   into   nothingness   BEFORE   returning   to   Poseidon.   The   FORMER   analyst   loses   track   of   the   seconds   that   span   into   quietness   of   her   confession,   his   lips   parted   as   the   SHOCK   begins   flooding   his   bloodstream.   He   couldn’t   HEAR   over   the   static   in   his   ears,   the   REVELATION   pulling   him   from   a   place   of   SAFETY   right   into   oncoming   traffic.   ❝   SHELBY   —––   ❞   The   soft   mutter   of   her   name   carried   off   with   the   wind,   he   should   LEAVE,   he   should   SLAM   this   door   shut   &&   bolt   it   before   she   realizes   what   she’s   DONE,   what   monster   she’s   allowed   to   creep   from   its   hiding   place,   but   he   finds   that   for   once   in   his   life,   he   doesn’t   have   any   WORDS   to   say   &&   he   can’t   FORCE   his   feet   to   move   him   in   the   right   direction.   INSTEAD   he   finds   himself   moving   toward   her,   plugging   himself   back   into   her   CIRCUIT,   not   giving   a   damn   about   every   THREAT   of   being   shorted   out.  

        THIN   digits   frame   her   face   before   he   pulls   her   into   him,   while   his   free   hand   expands   the   small   of   her   back,   chapped   lips   DUSTING   against   hers   rose   tinted   ones,   he   had   almost   forgotten   what   HOME   tasted   like.   He   had   NEARLY   forgotten   how   easy   it   was   to   get   lost   in   her,   how   truly   COMPELLING   her   mere   presence   was.   So   here   it   is,   here’s   where   he   REALIZES   where   his   true   addiction   started,   here’s   where   REALITY   makes   its   mark   –   that   anger   that   sat   in   his   gut,   bubbling   over   the   surface   at   the   sight   of   her   was   nothing   more   than   BURIED   disappointment   –   for   letting   her   WALK   away,   for   HIDING   from   the   one   thing   that   could   have   SAVED   this,   for   words   he   hid   within   letters   at   no   time   meant   to   come   from   HIS   heart.   The   cool   skin   of   his   nose   barely   brushes   against   hers,   a   smile   curling   his   lips   in   a   free   way   that   it   hadn’t   in   YEARS   –   this   is   what   true   NIRVANA   felt   like,   this   is   the   notion   he   had   tricked   himself   into   believing   HEROIN   could   fill,   an   ecstasy   that   wasn’t   SHORT   LIVED,   a   breath   of   air   pushes   through   his   nostrils   as   he   MARVELS   at   the   moment,   of   hearing   the   confirmation   of   her   love   without   worrying   when   the   other   shoe   would   DROP.      ❝   I   never   really   KNEW   what   love   was   until   I   met   YOU   –      ❞   She   had   saved   him   from   parts   of   himself   he   hadn’t   even   known   he   was   running   from,   she   made   him   WANT   to   be   better,   to   be   something   his   father   thought   he   wasn’t   capable   of.   ❝   Shelby   –   I   LOVE   YOU,      I   always   have.   ❞

[youngster-monster]

Wow rare pair week day 3 - Betrayal/Defeat

Arthas has been gone for three days, Falric for two—it’s as if the frozen wasteland of Northrend has swallowed them whole, leaving behind no trace of either of them. The last time Marwyn saw the prince, he was shivering like an addict already craving for the next high, his damned whispering blade in hand and Mal'Ganis’ blood all over his armor. Muradin’s death left him unbalanced. Light knows what could have happened to him, lost in the wild in that state. And Falric—

He has to believe they’re fine. The prince is going insane, Falric has disappeared, Luc is still recovering from his wounds and Muradin is dead, everything is falling apart but he has to believe. If he doesn’t hold it together, who will?

"Thassarian—" He sighs and his shoulder drops. He’s tired, exhausted down to the bones, worn thin by stress and the slow decent into madness of his best friend. But he shakes the fog out of his head and continues, stubborn as ever, "Bring them back, alright?"

The knight nods, face grim but resolute. "Yes sir!"

He salutes then departs, striding through the snow with a courage Marwyn remembers feeling, once. Not anymore, though. Not in a long time.

He hates this: feeling like he’s useless, powerless, delegating a duty that is rightfully his. It should be him, going out there to find two closest friends, but he can’t leave their army without a leader. Sending Thassarian in his stead is a desperate attempt to resolve a desperate situation: he’s a final attempt at a rescue mission before Marwyn gives the order to turn back. It’s time they start looking for a way to go home…

He walks back to his tent with heavy footsteps and a heavier heart. Three days—he’ll give it three days before he gives the order.

______

On the evening of the third day, there is still no news from either of the knights sent after Arthas, or even Arthas himself for that matter. Marwyn leans over their desk and stares blindly at the organized chaos Falric left behind. Of the three of them, he’s the youngest. Why is he the one left behind to take the hard decisions, the one who has to stand up for their weary soldiers and drag them home?

There’s a scuffle outside the tent, armored feet scrapping against the rocks. The command tents are a little off the side of the camp, so it’s unlikely to be the usual comings and goings of the troops. Marwyn hesitates—he can’t face any of his subordinates right now, not when he’s planning to abandon his closest friends for their sake. But the tent flap falls back down with a rustle, and there is no other sound save for the howling of the wind outside and the sound of armor settling as the soldier stands still.

He pushes himself away from the table and turns on his heels, and what he sees freezes him on the spot.

It’s not any of their men who stands there. It’s Falric, unreadable in the low light but easy to recognize by his familiar silhouette and Marwyn foolish, hopeful heart calling to his, beating hard in his chest. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any move toward Marwyn, and that alone should have worried him. But Marwyn is a lovesick fool at heart and he takes a single, stumbling step forward, raises his hand as if to touch him, before he notices something is amiss.

The flickering light of the lantern casts deep shadows on his face, throwing the edges of his sunken cheeks in sharp contrast. It almost looks like his skin is paler, the red of the biting wind replaced by the blueish tint of frostbite, reflected in the unnatural hue of his eyes. They glow dimly, sickly, as he stares unblinkingly at Marwyn. This is not the Falric he remembers running off after Arthas. This is a dead man walking, black magic woven around crumbling bones, a creature like any horror they’ve fought before, this is not the man he loves and the world is falling apart again—

A cold, cold hand settles on his cheek. Falric looks at him with his dead blue eyes and his thumb brushes lightly against his eyelid, coming away wet with the tears gathering here.

"Oh, darling, don’t cry." Even his voice sounds different, hoarse and distorted by an echo from beyond the grave. He doesn’t even sound like himself anymore as he leans forward, breath like a winter wind against Marwyn’s skin as he shushes him.

Marwyn covers his mouth with his hand to stop a sob from escaping. Tears spill from his eyes and he can’t look away from the dead eyes that look both like a stranger’s and a lover’s, staring down at him. Falric sighs, his all-too-familiar ‘why must you be so difficult’ sigh, and wraps icy fingers around his wrist. Marwyn lets him push his hand down, doesn’t bother resisting or reacting, not even when Falric presses his lips against his own in a parody of a kiss. It’s light and soft, and he’d almost let himself fall for it if it didn’t feel like the northern wind had taken the opportunity to replace all the air in his lungs.

"Don’t fight it, love," he whispers against his mouth, apparent affection at odd with his calculating look. He looks fond but irritated like a parent scolding a difficult child, whatever love he does still feel tainted by the necromantic magic stirring in his veins. "It’s all going to be over soon."

A sob rips itself from Marwyn’s throat. His knees give out from under him and he collapses against Falric, weeping uncontrollably against his chest. Why fight it? Falric is dead, Arthas sure to have suffered the same fate, and soon he will be, too. What’s the point in fighting a losing battle?

What’s the point?

"We will be together," the discordant voice promises against his ear. "We will bring the world to its knees for our Lord—side by side." Falric shifts against him, free hand reaching behind them—for the sheath of Marwyn’s sword, propped against his desk. "I love you. I will always love you. Forever."

Never have those words sounded like a worse fate than now. It’s not a promise anymore, it’s a threat. What escape is there from their fate, after all, when death has already failed them?

"I love you," Marwyn repeats dutifully, voice dull and smothered in Falric’s chestplate. The blade screeches as it is drawn. Falric pushes against his shoulder to break them apart and presses the tip of the sword above his heart. "Forever.”

Falric smiles—a sharp, dark thing, a cracked-mirror reflection of his usual affection—and plunges the sword into his heart to the hilt, and Marwyn knows no more.

When he wakes up, the world will burn.

[gamehayapkmod]

Bubble Chef Blast - Bubble Shooter Game 2020

Bubble Chef Blast - Bubble Shooter Game 2020

Game Bubble Chef Blast - Bubble Shooter Game 2020 là dòng game Casual

Giới thiệu Bubble Chef Blast - Bubble Shooter Game 2020

Get Ready for the most addictive Bubble Shooter game and help master chef to prepare some delicious recipes in bubble shooter chef! Be A MasterChef! Complete level in first go to earn GOLDEN PIN. The Chef needs your help in collecting recipes in this exciting puzzle blasting adventure! Be an amazing bubble shooter and pop bubbles with experiencing varied graphics and boosters. Bubble shooter is not only an addictive bubble matching game but also a brain exercising game. Pop and blast the colorful balls in this fun puzzle game by matching colors. Hit the target & win levels. In this bubble shooter game, you will have to aim, match, swap and combine line colors. Connect bubbles as you move from one level to the next in this bubble blast challenge, with varying levels of difficulty! Crush the bubbles and Blast colors and Burst puzzle to rescue the trapped birds! Improve your skills with one of the most popular games of all time! Combine boosters for even greater effect in this skill driven bubble popping game and Enjoy this classic bubble shooting challenge! How to play Bubble Shooter Chef Blast:- 1. Hold to Aim and Release to shoot! 2. Make the path to for Bird to reach the top 3. Fill Charged shot by consuming hand bubbles. 4. Make matches to fill charged orb: Use charged shot for large blast 5. Tap on the ring to swap in-hand bubbles. ⌘ THE ARMOR OF THE GAME⌘ Power-Ups Choose from a variety of boosters to score maximum in the game level. Charged shot booster, Extra bubble booster, Super Swap booster, Beam Booster, Color Bomb booster, Hook booster, Horizontal Blast, Rainbow booster, Tap and Blast ⌘ THE SECRET INGREDIENT ⌘ Special Bubble Use different bubbles to Ease-up the puzzle. Bombs, color bombs, Directional-line blast, FireCracker, Horizontal blast, Tint bomb ⌘ THE BUBBLY CHALLENGES ⌘ Blockers Avoid these blockers and reach to the top. SpiderWeb bubble, Iron bubble, Flying Bubble, Chameleon Bubble Find yourselves playing this hours of fun by matching lines of the same color and solving our amazing, free bubble shooter puzzles! Challenge yourself to beat your score and stay sharp with this free Bubble Shooter Chef Blast. Win-Win o Challenge yourself with hundreds of puzzle levels and brain teasers. Enjoy the fantastic graphics, fluent shooting experience and Smooth animations, cool gameplay. o Relax your mind by color matching skills. Practice your strategy to Match and pop bubbles and clear the board. o Unlock and use Boosters and power-ups to collect recipes. Easy to learn, challenge of becoming MasterChef. o Practice your strategy to smash the balls and win coins. o Explore hundreds of addictive levels filled with cool effects and designs. o Play anytime and anywhere you want. Download and play the super awesome and addictive Bubble Shooter Chef blast game, and discover serious bubble shooting fun. Manage your time, plan your moves, and clear all the bubbles to overcome the obstacles. Don’t miss out on this crazy bubble popping fun, compete against friends and see who can reach the highest score and get 3 stars on every level. Let's bubble shooting and bursting never stop!

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