#unlock-3 guideline

[jrueships]

i love the wide receiver corner back dynamic

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Roads Untraveled 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, pregnancy, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Single and pregnant, you discover a super soldier in the dumpster but he might not be hero you think he is. 

[This is a rewrite of a series of the same name which I removed a couple years ago]

Characters: Silverfox!Steve Rogers

Note: I finally did this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

‘When he went away  The blues walked in and met me  Oh, yeah if he stays away  Old rocking chair’s gonna get me  All I do is pray...’ 

You sway to the melody as you wipe dry the last plate. You set it in the rack as Etta James’ soulful crooning wafts around the kitchen. Just the simple task of washing the dishes has you out of breath. You can no longer hum along as you’re suddenly light headed with sweat speckled across your brow. Even the breeze drifting in through the open window can’t cool the constant heat brewing within you. 

You brace your lower back as you reach for the dish towel and pop open the cupboard. The music drones to silence as the next some in queue loads. Your rounded stomach presses to the counter as you take a mug and dry it inside and out. Strange, you don’t remember the song starting like that; the strange warbling noise much unlike Marvin Gaye’s rich tones. 

You set the mug on the shelf and back up. Another noise peaks your attention, too tinny to be a snare. You rub your stomach mindlessly as you sling the cloth over your shoulder. You waddle across the tile to the folding table beneath the window. You tap pause on your phone and the bluetooth speaker goes silent. 

Your fingers pick the damp fabric away from your bump. These days you can’t avoid getting soaked. Even as you can’t forget about the burden of your condition, you’re still oblivious to how it gets in the way until it does. You sigh as you listen for another clue. 

A pained deep grunt floats up from below. Distant but decisive, another rustle beneath the unexpected noise. You lean over the table, a hand on the ledge as you push the pane higher. You bend, stomach pressed to the speaker, and peer down. You expect another dumpster diver searching for empties to trade in; rather you meet a most unexpected sight. 

There is a man in the dumpster, alright, but he isn’t moving. From there, you can’t see very clearly. You squint at the figure strewn among the trash but the zigzag of the fire escape obscures your eye line. 

You shouldn’t go and see. Not only is it a lot of effort, but it’s dangerous. You shouldn’t be wandering into alleys to check on strangers in dumpsters. You don’t know any good reason someone might be swimming in garbage. Nor do you think they would want to be bothered.  

Still, the prickling in your neck urges you to do something. There’s just something so peculiar about the angle of the arm you can see clearer than the rest of the body. At least they’re moving, even if they sound agonized. 

You take your phone and untether it from the bluetooth speaker. You unlock it and keep your thumb ready to dial out. You move as quickly as you can, not very, and waddles along the back of the couch into the entry way. You take your keys from the hook near your door and step into your cushy slides. 

You turn back the latch and leave the door unlocked behind you. The slides shift on your swollen feet as you rush down to the elevator. God, your back hurts. You try not to lean too far back as it only adds to the pain. You need a belly belt but they’re so darn expensive. 

You’re out of breath as you step on and turn to watch the numbers count down. You’re still panting as you reach the lobby and push through the front doors, leaning into the heavy grated iron until it creaks loudly. You clamour down the steps to even ground and your hips pang. 

You put your hand under your stomach, trying to lift it and ease the pressure in your hips. You blow out between your lips as you have to slow down. You shuffle across the grass and into the paved lobby. The stink of the trash brings you back to those early days of morning sickness. And afternoon sickness. And night sickness. 

You try not to inhale too deeply as you step between the brick buildings. You bring your phone up, ready to hit those three digits in a heartbeat. You should’ve done so already. Even if you do, it’ll take hours for anyone to come out here. 

You stop and listen a few steps from the dumpster. You don’t hear anything now. You look up at the sky, dimming towards evening in a mixture of pink and blue, the moon peeking palely through the hue. You grip your phone tight, keys jangling with your movement as you continue forward. 

“Hello?” You call out, “is someone in there?” You linger near the corner of the dumpster, the trash reeking in your nostrils, “do you need help?” 

No answer. You stare up, wondering how you might see inside. If you weren’t built like a keg, you might be able to see from the lower level of the fire escape but you can’t even make it one rung. You blink and call out again. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

You wait for a response. Silence again. Maybe they found their way out on their own. You huff. So much for all that. All you’ve done is added to the pain in your arches. You turn on your heel and a groan gurgles and plastic crinkles noisily. 

You stop again, wavering, and peer back over your shoulder. A hand appears over the tops of the dumpsters edge and grips it. You face the large metal bin as the knuckles strain within the stained brown leather, fingertips poking out nakedly, blood and dirty tinged across the flesh. A long grunt follows as the figure drags himself to look over the top. 

“Sir, are you--” you begin, voice catching at the sight of the cowl and the man’s square jaw. The white star on his chest stuns you. It’s him. Everyone knows that uniform, that face, even under his helmet. New York’s own Captain America. 

You gape as the super soldier strains and swings himself out of the dumpster with one arm. His other is hanging limply as his feet hit the pavement. His knees crack and buckle. He drops down onto them and hisses. 

“Captain America?” You utter dumbly. 

He puts his fist to the ground and leans on his arm. He hangs his head and heaves. He drags a leg forward, planting his foot, and makes himself stand. He pushes his shoulders back and winces, reaching to cradle his dangling arm. 

“Steve,” he rasps, “goddamn.” 

You don’t expect the obscenity. Not from him. He leans against the dumpster and turns his chin up. He gnashes his teeth as he grips his arm and jerks, moving the heavy bin with his effort. The pop of his shoulder is sickening as he growls tightly. He stomps his foot and as he shakes out the arm he just put back into place. 

He reaches up and peels off his cowl as he puts his head straight. He looks at you as he wipes the streak of blood from lip to chin. His blond locks are streaked silver and his face is lined. He looks much older than the magazine covers and the TV screens. The magic of editing, right? 

He swipes the sweaty hair from his forehead and huffs. 

“Steve,” you rest your phone on your stomach, “are you okay?” 

He pushes himself away from the dumpster and puffs, “I’m fine. Just... a hiccup.” 

You stare at him. He looks tired and worn. You believe him when he says he’s okay. He's a super soldier and the world has seen his many feats. Yet he looks completely hollow. 

“Are you sure? I could call someone or...” you step forward and point to the slash that borders chest and shoulder, “you should clean that out, shouldn’t you?” 

He looks down and grimaces, “had worse. I got comms. HQ doesn’t care about a few scratches.” 

He goes to step forward and stumbles slightly. He snarls and kicks his foot into the gravel. He wiggles his knee and bends to rub the joint. 

“I...” your mouth opens and closes. This isn’t the man you’ve seen in the media. He's not smiling and golden and shining. Still, he’s the Captain. “I live above,” you gesture upward, “I could help... or maybe you can just... sit for a little bit. Get yourself straight?” 

He looks at you. As if for the first time. His forehead smooths as the tension eases from his jaw. His gaze slowly crawls down to his stomach and you see the dimple in his cheek. 

“Your husband okay with that? I’m a bit of a mess,” his tone is lighter as he fixes his grip on his cowl. 

“Oh no, I don’t have--” you chew your lip and look at the brick wall, “it’s just me. But I have first aid kit and learned to stitch in summer camp. I think I can still remember how.” 

He glances around and nods, “got a back door?” 

“Yeah, it’s... past you,” you nod in his direction. 

He pivots stiffly and cranes to see around the dumpster. You near him and your keys jingle again. You follow him to the metal door with the glass window and you shove the key in and twist. You pull it open a few inches. It’s heavier than the front door. He grabs it and wrenches it all the way back. 

“Thanks,” you murmur. “There’s an elevator.” 

“Hm, fewer people see me, the better,” he sniffs as the door clanks behind him. 

“It might take me a while,” you warn, “I’m slow.” 

“What floor. I’ll meet you,” he offers. 

“Sure, it’s three.” 

“Number?” 

“310.” 

“I’ll find it,” he states and marches towards the stair sign. 

You go to catch the elevator, stewing in disbelief on your ascent. You step off and continue on to your apartment. He’s already there. He stands with his hand on the frame, looking over his shoulder as you waddle down the hall towards him. 

“It’s unlocked,” you say. 

He opens it and waits for you. You thank him as you enter and he follows. He locks it and lingers behind you. You put your hand to the wall as you slip off your slides. He gently lays his cowl on the corner table and bends to unlace his boots. You hang the keys on the hook and place your phone on the small table. 

He leaves his dirtied boots on the mat and limps forward. You stand in the open doorway of the living room and peek back at him. He looks around reluctantly. 

“Please, sit down,” you insist and wave through the doorway before you pass through. 

“I...” he begins and you hear his uneven gait down the hallway. “I don’t want to dirty your couch.” 

“I have a steam cleaner,” you assure. “Sit, I’ll get the kit.” 

He stares, his eyes once more scanning the space. Does he think this is a trip? That you’re some covert agent who all too conveniently found him? That’s absurd. Look at you. 

You shrug off that ridiculous idea and cross to the kitchen. You open several drawers before you remember it’s in the bathroom. Of course. Your brain likes to play games these days. You grab the metal tin from under the sink and return to Steve.  

He pulls off his gloves and balls them on the side table next to the couch. You come around the other side of the couch and sit, leaving lots of space between you. You squeeze the kits as you’re once more out of breath. 

“You okay?” He turns the question on you. 

“I’m not the one bleeding. Just pregnant,” you smile. 

You balance the kit on your stomach as you lean back. You sanitize a needle and weave it with surgical thread. You put that aside and fish out an alcoholic swap. You shift the kit aside and push on the back of the couch as you try to sit forward. You shake and he helps you, a humbling assistance. 

“First,” you turn to him, “we’ll see how deep it is,” you tear open the swap, “can I...” 

“One sec,” he dips his fingers into the fabric and tears the sleeve, renting the fabric like tissue. His arm is thick and well-toned despite the years. A centurion like him can’t complain for the shape he’s in, even battered. “I can do it myself.” 

“Yes, but it wouldn’t be easy.” 

You reach as he angles towards you. You gingerly dab around the gash and he tenses. He takes a sharp breath, “you don’t have to be so gentle. I can handle pain.” 

“Right,” you work more diligently. 

He’s quiet as you tend to him, picking out gravel and some metal slivers. You worry that you might miss some. You lean in closer and he steels himself at your proximity. 

“So,” he clears his throat, “just you and...” the kid?” 

“We all make mistakes,” you chuckle. You can only laugh about it, as scared as you are. 

“Mmm,” he flinches as you sweep down the length of the cut. It’s not that deep, mostly superficial. 

“Let me put some steri-strips on, shouldn’t need the stitches, ” you say as you sift through the kit with one hand, “if you’re hungry, I have leftovers. You like chicken?” 

You don’t know why you’re offering. Maybe it’s because you owe him. Like everyone in the city. It’s your chance to give back to the hero who gave so much. Or maybe it’s because you’re so damn lonely talking to your own stomach. 

“I should go,” he insists as you place a strip across the cut. 

“Up to you,” you say, “I don’t mind either way, but I’m not going to chase Captain America out of ym apartment.” 

He doesn’t say anything. You finish dressing his wound and gather up the wrappers and all. You crumple it in one hand and rock yourself to stand. You’re overly aware of him watching you. You touch your stomach and rub it, soothing your nerves. You find him watching the movement of your hand. 

“You must be pretty far along,” he says. 

“Six months. Chicken tortellini, if you want. I was gonna reheat some. I haven’t eaten since work.” 

“Work?” He frowns and stands, moving better than before. “Should you be?” 

“I’m at a desk. It’s nothing. HR got me some ergonomic stuff. Nothing compared to what you do.” 

You put away the kit and toss the garbage. You wash your hands before you search out the container of pasta in the fridges. You sense him behind you, just in the wide archway that peers into the kitchen. You reach into the cupboard you left open and take the single plate that isn’t in the rack. 

“So, you want some?” You ask. 

He’s silent with contemplation, the shift of his weight creaks in the floor, “I appreciate it, yes, please.” 

“I might have something you can change into,” you say. You wonder why you’re doing all this. Maybe it’s that maternal instinct kicking in. “The father, before he took off, left a few things.” You peek over your shoulder, “he was a bit smaller than you.” 

He shrugs then winces at the careless gesture. “Do you mind if I wash up before I eat? I smell like garbage. I don’t wanna overstep--” 

“Go ahead, it’ll take a while to warm this up,” you say. 

Another long lull. He taps his fingers on the wall and inhales deep enough for you to hear, “promise, I’ll get out of your hair after dinner.” 

“Please, take your time,” you say as you put the tortellini in a glass pan to rebake. He backs away and you sense his hesitation, “oh, down the hall, to the left of the bedroom at the end.” 

“Thanks,” he intones, “oh, uh, just realised, you know who I am...” 

Your brows pop up and you stop before you can put the pan in the stove. You look back at him and give your name. He nods. 

“Pretty,” he comments, “also, it’s just Steve, not Captain.” 

[arpicityandneed]

Asking for a friend re: dark content Bucky, are we talking Bucky-Bucky, or like, are you also down with some Winter Soldier? Because WOW what a great look. Scared my ovaries so good.

Like, imagine the Soldier gets a bodyguard assignment to the daughter or wife of some SHIELD official. You're annoyed about having this mostly silent, kind of unsettling hottie shadow you constantly. So you get bratty, act out to try and crack that ice wall. "Kay fine, you need to keep an eye on me, I'll leave the door open to shower!" or "hey they said to pretend you're not even here, guess that means I can masturbate!" And you're not really sure what you expected to come of it, but it definitely wasn't getting railed because you managed to wake up half a century of repressed lust.

author's note: I mean all the dark content, Winter Soldier, Bucky-Bucky, dubcon, incest, all the good stuff. please ref my rules and guidelines <3

18+ Dark Content. Winter Soldier!Bucky. brat!reader. dirty talk. creampie. dubcon (mainly 'cause hydra). rough sex.

"Новая миссия Солдат." New mission, Soldat. The HYDRA handler handed the assassin the file, your seductive smirk in your profile photo making his stomach tighten. The sensation was new to him. But his response was the same it always was, a low husky rasp with no intonation.

"готов подчиниться." Ready to comply.

~

You didn't like your new bodyguard.

No matter how hot he was, he never spoke two words to you. All you got was da or net. He followed you everywhere and carried your bags and never seemed to sleep. You knew your dad was important to some big guys, but to think it would mean you'd be stuck with this ghost of a man with no way to sneak off wasn't what you had in mind.

He was just a big, hunking, idiot. With a metal arm. (You may have had a thing for the metal arm.)

He wouldn't let you drink since you were technically only 20, and killed any party just by standing there- not dancing, not moving, just watching you with his icy blue eyes.

It made you want to crack that perfect control he had.

"So you're really not going to leave that spot while I shower." You looked up at him as he stood at the threshold of the large ensuite bathroom in the hotel you were staying at while your father was having a business meeting.

"Da." He didn't smile, didn't frown. His handsome face was just always deadpan.

"Then I guess its not a problem if I leave the door open right?" You grinned, impish and bold as you started stripping. You new you looked good. It was the utter shamelessness of it all that had the Soldat's eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Bending over to drag your panties down your legs, letting him see your bare pussy before unhooking your bra. You sighed with relief as your breasts bounced free.

"Be a good boy and do what daddy paid you for. Watch me." You grinned when you saw him take a step towards you, your pussy gushing as you imagined him grabbing you and fucking you senseless. But he seemed to remember himself and stepped back. Firmly planting both feet and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Coward~." You sang as you stepped into the shower leaving the door open, its glass side walls fogging up as you lathered up your body. Touching every inch of yourself as slowly as possible making damn sure he could follow your hands with his eyes. His pupils were blown wide but it was the only sign he as affected.

You'd have to try harder.

~

"Ah!"

The Soldat was in your room in an instant the next morning even though you never heard the door unlock or open. He was ready for a threat, door locked so there was one less escape route for any intruders.

But all he found was you, on the bed with your legs spread- naked as the day you were born. A pathetic excuse for a plastic cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls as you fucked yourself over and over. One tiny hand was twisting your nipple and you were crying out loudly with every intention of making sure he could hear.

"Fuck!" You moaned as you met his eyes, pure mischief in your gaze. "Shouldn't be a problem, right Soldat? Just, nngh, watch me."

You never even saw him move, but suddenly he was on you. Snatching the dildo and dragging it out of your pussy before throwing it across the room.

"Этого будет недостаточно для такой шлюхи как ты." That won't be enough for a slut like you. He growled as he quickly undid his zipper, you barely had a glimpse of his girthy length before he was lining himself up. He didn't even bother to take off his tactical suit before fucking into your slick hole in one overwhelming thrust. It knocked the air out of your lungs.

"M-more!" You whined as you clawed at his back uselessly, your tiny pussy stretched almost painfully wide as you strangled his cock.

"Заткнись и возьми это." Shut up and take it. He was hissing in your ear with ever balls deep thrust, groaning as he felt pleasure for the first time in over 30 years. Your pussy was heaven he was sure. And he was never letting you go.

Every squelch and slap of his hips on your ass filled the room until it was a symphony of decauhery. You were being used, and somehow the knowledge made your blood burn with desire.

"Use me, fuck, cum in me please-" you begged as you felt your orgasm growing. The blunt head of his cock was dragging against the spot inside you that you'd barely been able to reach with the dildo. Your eyes were crossing every time his fat cock bottomed out inside you, and you knew you were going to cum harder than you ever had before.

"Просто теплое место которое я могу использовать по своему усмотрению." Just a warm place for me to use. He purred the words in your ear, and you cried out when you felt his skilled fingers making quick tight circles over your sensitive clit.

You bit down on his throat, the only skin you could reach to stop yourself from screaming as you gushed around his cock. (It was only later, much later when you were being interrogated about where the Asset had gone, that you realized the bastard had made you squirt.)

His grip on your hip became bruisingly tight but you didn't care, not when his thrusts were getting sloppy.

"Do it, cum in me, get me pregnant I don't care just-" His other hand, still slick with your juices slapped over your mouth as he growled at you.

"Я сделаю тебя матерью. Я сделаю тебя своей." I'll make you a mother. I'll make you mine.

You shivered, not understanding anything but the possessiveness in his tone. Your hole clenching around him and he was done for.

His load was endless. He fucked you through it, stuffing his seed as deep inside as his cock could reach. In your lustful haze you realized you truly wouldn't mind having the child of a man like him. You knew he'd protect you both if it ever came to that.

You must have fallen asleep after that because when you came to the window was open, and there was a pillow under your hips.

He was gone.

(pt 2?)

[dancinglikebutterflywings]

Family No Matter What | Bang Chan

-> Pairing: Bang Chan x Single!Mom Reader

-> Request: from anon

-> Synopsis: Chan didn't expect to find his family on a flight back to Korea.

-> Warnings: Mentions of an absent father.

-> Word Count: 1,023

-> Requests: Open until 31st June 11:59pm

Bang Chan Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead

Chan is on the plane heading back to Korea after spending time with his family. He starts to unwind after the plane takes off, when he suddenly hears a soft whimper nearby. As he opens his eyes, he notices a mother and her baby sitting next to him. The mother appears exhausted and overwhelmed and is desperately trying to calm the baby before he starts crying. Instead of being annoyed, Chan's heart immediately softens at the sight and he does what he can to capture the baby's attention.  

Once he has the baby's attention, the baby's cries start to subside. Chan starts playing peek-a-boo and making silly faces with the little one. The little boy starts to giggle and clap his little chubby hands, causing Chan's heart to completely melt into a puddle of goo.  

The mother looks at him with gratitude in her eyes, silently thanking him for his help and kindness. As the flight continues, Chan continues to entertain the baby, until he falls asleep. 

The mother relaxes as she sees her baby fast asleep, his little fist clutching her shirt.  

"Thank you so much," she says turning to look at Chan. "This is his first flight. I had prepared for him to be grizzley and unsettled." 

"I'm glad I got to help," he smiles. "I'm Chan or you can call me Chris." 

"I'm Y/N and this little guy is Haneul," she introduces. 

Chan and Y/N engage in casual conversation while baby Haneul peacefully sleeps. Y/N reveals that she is a single mother, as Haneul's father left before his birth. It has been just the two of them since Haneul came into the world 9 months ago. Y/N also shares that she was in Australia visiting family whom Haneul hadn't met until this trip. Half way through the flight, to give Y/N's arms a break, Chan even offers to hold Haneul for a while. Haneul remains asleep until the plane touches down on the tarmac.  

After the plane lands, Chan stays behind to help Y/N with her luggage, offering his assistance. Although he offers her a ride, Y/N assures him that her sister will be picking her up. Y/N once again expresses her gratitude for his kindness and company, to which Chan waves it off, happy to have been able to help. 

Spotting her sister as they leave the luggage claim, she waves to her older sibling before turning to Chan one last time. "If it's okay, I'd like to buy you a coffee sometime, when you're free of course." 

 "I would love that," he smiles. 

"Great!" she exclaims, her face lighting up as she looks relieved.  

Chan takes out his phone and unlocks it. They exchange phone numbers and part ways with Chan promising to text her as soon as he finds out when he’s got some free time. 

 3 YEARS LATER:  

"Chris? Haneul?" Y/N questions as she enters their home finding the lights off and no one seemingly home. She’s just gotten home from spending the day with her sister, getting the full spa treatment and getting her nails and hair done. After hanging her handbag on the hook and removing her shoes, she walks further into the house. 

Upon entering the living room, she switches on the light and is completely taken aback by what she sees in front of her. Her boyfriend and their son are dressed in their finest attire, surrounded by a beautiful arrangement of rose petals in the shape of a heart. To her astonishment, Haneul, who is now almost 4 years old, is holding a sign that reads, 'please say yes'. 

"What's happening?" she stammers, taken aback.  

That's when Chan takes out a ring box and kneels down. Haneul stands beside him, brimming with excitement. 

"We wanted to make this moment special for you," Chan says looking at Haneul before looking back at her, his voice filled with emotion. "I love you more than anything in this world, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" 

Tears well up in her eyes as she looks at the two most important people in her life, her heart overflowing with love and joy. 

“Say yes, Eomma!” Haneul shouts before she can answer. "Say yes so he can be my Appa!" 

She takes a deep breath and looks into Chan's eyes, her own filled with love. With a trembling voice, she lowers herself to their level, cupping Chan’s face in her hands and whispers, "Yes, Chan. I will marry you." 

Chan's eyes light up with happiness. He pulls her into a tight embrace, tears of joy running down his face. Haneul jumps up and down with excitement, knowing that they are now becoming an actual family.  

Letting go of each other, Chan kisses her, slipping the ring on to her finger before pulling apart again to bring Haneul in for a family group hug. Y/N kisses the top of her sons head.  

After a moment, they young family pull apart. Y/N takes her sons hands into her own and looks him in the eyes. "You know we've always been a real family right?"  

He nods, but his eyes betray him. Y/N and Chan have always been honest with him about everything including Chan not being his biological father, especially after all the rumours that started after Y/N and Chan started dating. Even though he would only be four in a few months' time and couldn’t really understand what was being said, they thought it would be best, if he knew the truth from the start instead of questioning all the rumours as he grows older. 

Chan also notices the uncertainty in Haneul's eyes and gently squeezes his hand, reassuring him. "No matter what anyone says, you and your eomma have always been my family, and nothing will ever change that. You're my son and I'm your Appa." 

Haneul's doubt slowly fades away, replaced by a radiant smile. He wraps his small arms around both Y/N and Chan. 

"I love you both so much," Chan continues, his voice filled with pure happiness as he embraces his family once more. 

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[la2yn0va]

Self Aware-HSR ‘Rules’ and Guidelines in the AU. Part 2.

~~~

Had to drop a second part because my boi @deathcvltcivilofficial thinks they can do better then me. I even didn’t go to school today— I’m so confident this’ll be better!

My part one — HEEEEEEERE

Deathcvltcivilofficial’s part — HEEEERE

~~~

Under no circumstances are characters allowed to directly tell the Voidborne arbiter that they know they’re in a game, until they descend.

The only way they’re allowed ‘directly’ communicate with the Omni aeon, is by sending credits, stellar jades, and messages to whoever the Omni aeon is controlling.

Everything the Voidborne arbiter must be taken seriously. Whatever they command, you MUST obey, or be punished by 5,000 Amber eras of torture. —

Newly added—The Voidborne sovereign has stated they say things jokingly. Ask for clarification before committing acts they may have meant in a joking manner.

No touching. You may only gaze upon their grace. Touch without permission is punishable by imprisonment.

You must stand 4 feet away from their grace. You are not permitted to taking their air, nor smelling their divine scent.

If their grace is tired, you WILL DO everything and anything to ensure they gain a perfect relaxing sleep. This is the only way your allowed to place your filthy hands upon their divine body.

If you make their grace uncomfortable in anyway, you will be subjected to eternal suffering and labor. Genius Member Society #83 — HERTA. Will inject you with her de-aging serum to keep you young and continue your divine punishment.

Impersonation of any kind of the Voidborne Arbiter is strictly prohibited! Any Impersonation of any level, that is not signed off by the IPC, is punishable by public torture or eternal suffering.

—If someone wants to make a Self aware hsr story, he’s some things I believe should be included or be considered the base line—

1. Reader shouldn’t gain any powers from the start.

2. The aeons cannot help the reader directly, only being able to lend them power/regift the reader with the perfect mortal organic body at the start.

3. Reader should be apart of the nameless crew (for obvious reasons)

4. Every planet the reader should unlock 2 powers. In penacony, reader should be lead to the throne room that the family made for them and gain some of their past memories, along with Sunday trying to convince/manipulate them into helping his cause.

5. Nanook should be the only aeon that hates the reader, along with enemies like the antimatter legion, the borisin, and the family except for Sunday and Robin.

6. Reader shouldn’t be too serious, or too kindhearted. As they are GOD mad should be balanced. This includes enemies and people who’re blasphemous/against them.

7. Characters should have Yandere tendencies towards reader.

[miloformula123fan]

PART 2 OF THE LOGAN SISTER FIC PLEASE

okay, I know this is short, and yes part 3 is coming and yes it is angsty but I need to get it done

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist, anyone tagged is just people who asked for a second part :)

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

part 1 is here

part 3 is here

george russell x sargeant!reader

---

“SO YOU’RE TELLING ME OUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP WAS A LIE GEORGE.”

“No, no, it wasn’t. Y/N, you have to understand…-”

“UNDERSTAND WHAT? THAT YOU TREATED MY BROTHER LIKE A HUMAN BEING JUST SO I WOULD FUCK YOU? OUR ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP WAS BASED ON YOUR KINDNESS WHICH WAS A LIE! WHY, WHY WOULD YOU FUCK MY BROTHER OVER LIKE THAT JUST TO WIN A GIRL?” she took a deep breath ‘I’m done.’

“What? What do you mean, you’re done.”

She looked won, took another deep breath and looked George in the eyes. ‘I meant, I’m done george. I’m done with this relationship. I’m finished. I can’t forgive you after learning that our relationship was based on you treating my brother like a decent human being, and you planning on winning me over ike that. Well congratulations it worked. And now you’re back to treating my brother like absolute shit, because you finally got the girl. Congratulations. If you want to ‘win me back’, then maybe start with treating my brother like a human being again. But you’ll have to do more than that, Russell.’

And she walked out. George put his head in his hands. He’d signed so many NDAs, you would’ve thought he wouldn’t have left his laptop open and unlocked, particularly with Logan coming over. He really should remember to close his old files. Particularly when your girlfriend, no ex-girlfriend, had looked through your old powerpoints and found an old presentation he’d made to alex about how he was planning on wooing y/n. With the first slide being ‘treat logan nicely.’ and yeah maybe after he’d started dating y/n, his priority to include everyone had fallen behind.

And yeah, Logan was nice. He had learnt that after many morning jogs and coffees and dinners and hanging out after races. He still remembers how scared he had been a year ago, when he had first officially met Y/N.

“Well, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesn’t understand why you don’t like him. He’s lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.”

And he had. Or at least he had tried. And Logan had really warmed up to him and started participating in the driver evenings, but George always visited his house, partly for the runs, partly because his trainer was less strict and he could make a better breakfast at Logan’s, and maybe partially for the hope that Logan’s sister would rock up.

And then she had. And logan had still been asleep. And she obviously still was a professional athlete so she had been more than willing to do a run with him. And then have breakfast when Logan had finally stumbled out of his bedroom. And then get her phone number

And then yeah maybe he had deserted Logan, assuming he now had enough interaction with the rest of the grid to be okay.

Until Logan had called Y/N last night, asking her to come over because it turned out the grid had gone to dinner without him, and he was feeling a little hurt. And she had promised to once George got home, and then she had absolutely laid into him. And now she was gone, presumably to Logan’s and George didn’t know what to do.

---

taglist: @folklorsweet @the-untamed-soul @thatgirlmj @cstads-blog

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Maybe could be considered a part 2 to Vigilante Shit but it would be Blackhill mom's officially meeting and talking to Kate. If you want more funny antics it could start with Kate seeking into R's room or something like that.

P.S. love your mom fics!

Vigilante shit | 2

Summary: Sneaking out to make out and beat bad people up.

Pairing: BlackHill x daughter!reader, Kate Bishop x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1424

a/n: blackhill <3 would recommend reading part 1

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

masterlists | guidelines

All parts: part 1, part 2

It’s been two weeks since Natasha and Maria caught Y/N sneaking back to her room after a vigilante mission she had with her girlfriend Kate. Which means it’s also been two weeks since Y/N has seen Kate, as her mothers thought grounding her was needed. It probably was, but she can still be annoyed about it.

Y/N is sitting on her bed, reading Jane Eyre with music playing from her phone. Her moms are downstairs cooking dinner for the three of them. A sudden clattering sound makes Y/N moves her attention away from the book. She looks around her room, but notices nothing moving or changing, so she turns back to her book.

The clatter can be heard again.

This time Y/N slams her book down to her bed, though not before putting a bookmark to the page she was in. She stands up and walks around her room, looking around for anything out of order. Just as her gaze goes over to the window, a small rock hits it, making a clattering sound.

With a frown, she looks out from the closed window. “Kate?” She mumbles, unlocking the window quickly. “What are you doing here?” Y/N whisper shouts, her head leaning out the window.

“I’m here to save my princess! Have you seen her? Her mothers locked her into a tower.” Kate giggles, her hands over her mouth in a cup like way to make sure Y/N can hear her.

Y/N scoffs with a grin, “come inside, idiot.” She glances between Kate climbing up the fore ladder and her closed door, desperately hoping her mothers haven’t heard the commotion. “You know I’m grounded, right?” She mumbles when Kate is finally inside.

“Yeah,” she kisses her before closing the window, “but I really missed you.” Kate goes to sit down on Y/N’s bed while looking at her room. She hasn’t actually been there before, as they tried to keep their relationship secret from Y/N’s moms.

She tries to act annoyed that Kate is endangering both of their wellbeing by sneaking into her room while her moms are home, but she can’t help but be happy her girlfriend is here. “I missed you too.”

Kate smiles, waving her fingers in a come here motion. As Y/N steps closer to her, she pulls her to her lap, wrapping her arms around the lower part of her waist. “How long are you still grounded for?” She speaks quietly, knowing her parents have an extra good hearing.

“Like another week, I think.” Y/N rolls her eyes, thinking her moms went overboard with the amount of grounding. “I’m also apparently never ever allowed to leave the house with you alone. So, you’re going to have to get used to hanging out here.”

Kate giggles, “I’ll live with that.” She tilts her head, suddenly dropping her smile. “Except I have to meet your parents before that, don’t I?” She frowns, her body tensing up at the thought of officially Maria and Natasha.

“You do.” Y/N hums, her hand going up to play with Kate’s hair.

“What if they won’t like me?”

Biting the inside of her cheek, she twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “They’ll like you..eventually.”

“What does that mean?”

“They’re just a but apprehensive of you after the whole vigilante thing.”

Kate groans, her forehead thudding against Y/N’s shoulder. “They hate me. I haven’t met them yet and they already hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” Y/N cradles Kate’s head, “they just don’t like that we’ve been sneaking out to fight people.”

“Well,” she sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“You think?”

Kate gives Y/N’s shoulders a couple of light bites when she laughs. They start giggling together and fall down to the bed, Y/N on top of Kate.

During their giggling, that has gotten a bit too loud, they fail to notice the footsteps coming towards the room. “Y/N, the dinner i-“ Natasha stops talking as she notices her daughter isn’t alone.

“Mom!” Y/N jumps up, falling off of the bed in the process. Kate scrambles up from the bed, her eyes comically wide as she stares at Natasha staring at the two with a scarily calm expression. Y/N stands up, the three of them stand there in silence. “This is Kate.” She mumbles

“Maria!” Natasha shouts. “Come up here.” Her hands are crossed over her chest as she leans against the doorway.

Maria comes up, “what’s up?” She frowns, looking at Natasha with a questioning look, until she walks into the room. “Oh.”

“This is Kate, Y/N’s girlfriend and vigilante partner.” Natasha state.

“Is it now?” Maria takes a stance similar to Natasha, scaring both of the girls.

Clearing her throat, Kate offers her hand, but she doesn’t take any steps closer, so she is too far away to actually shake their hands. “I’m Kate. Bishop. Kate Bishop. Girlfriend. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Romanoff and Mrs. Hill.” She has a toothy smile, way too large to be genuine, though it falls when she realizes she’s still holding her hand up.

Natasha raises her brows at her rambling. “We know who you are, what we don’t know, is why you’re here while Y/N is grounded.”

“We-“

“Downstairs,” Maria interrupts Y/N from saying anything, “both of you.”

The four of them sit around the kitchen table, Kate and Y/N on one side, Natasha and Maria on the other. Kate is sitting unnaturally straight, hoping to show the two women that she is good enough for their daughter.

“So,” Natasha starts, “you two have been dating for a while.”

“And fighting crime.” Maria adds, making the couple shrink in their seats.

“Yeah.” Y/N mumbles. She’s holding onto Kate’s hand tightly, both of them clammy.

“That was totally my fault!” Kate suddenly shouts out, raising her hands, which ends up her banging her knuckles to the edge of the table, “shit, no, no, I don’t normally curse.” Her eyes are wide as she once again goes on a tangent. “I just mean, that, it was my plan to start fighting.”

Frowning, Y/N stops her girlfriend from talking, “no, it was both of our plan. You aren’t taking the blame for this.” She looks at her, her brows scrunched together.

“I don’t want your moms to be mad at you.” Kate whispers, though it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Well, I don’t want them to be mad at you either.” Y/N whisper shouts back.

Natasha and Maria glance at each other, deciding for put an end to this before it goes on for too long, “we aren’t mad at anyone, so please, calm down you two. We just want to talk, set up some ground rules.”

“Like no fighting crime.” They calm down, Y/N more than Kate, as the latter is still incredibly nervous to be in front of the two women. “And no more sneaking in either.” Maria raises her brows as she turns to look at Kate.

“Sorry.” She mumbles, blushing under her gaze.

Natasha leans her elbows against the table. “We’ve been talking with Clint,” Kate perks up at the name of her mentor, “and if you two promise to follow the rules, we’ll start properly training you.”

“Really?” Y/N gasps.

“Yes, but,” Maria continues before the two can get too excited about it, “that means you two will not go out without one of us, the bedroom door stays open, and you’re still grounded.” She looks at Y/N.

“Uhuh, understood, we’ll follow every rule!”

“Every rule!” Kate echoes, quickly nodding, trying to hide her grin.

Maria chuckles while Natasha rolls her eyes with a grin on her face. “Alright.” Natasha stands up. “Go on then, go to Y/N’s room, keep the door open.”

With a giggle, Y/N stands up, takes hold of Kate’s hand, and starts pulling her towards her bedroom. They hug each other tightly once they’re inside, with the door open, and celebrate the potential of becoming real Avengers.

They jump onto the bed. “That didn’t go as badly as I thought.” Y/N smiles, leaning her head on Kate’s shoulder.

“It went well!” Kate wraps her arms around Y/N, pulling her on top with a laugh. “I love your moms.”

Y/N slaps her arm, “don’t love them more than me.” She grins.

“Never.” She kisses her, though it’s messy from all of their giggling.

[mellosdrawings]

i loved seeing your character sheets for yuu and hayeli, especially hayeli’s!! it’s clear that a lot of thought went into them and i think his on/off mode is such an interesting concept (also a pomefiore student with blemishes?? yes please!!)

i’d be super curious what your creation process looked like, i.e if where there concepts you scrapped or how you went about choosing a name for them (it’s just a topic i love talking and hearing about but of course you don’t have to get into it if you don’t want to :])

not me also having ideas for an oc with mirror magic, but based on the mirror from the snow queen instead

First I'm so glad you like my characters! It seems Hayeli's bad skin is very popular and I love it! Give me more teenagers with bad skin and not making a huge deal out of it please!

As for my process... dear, that'll be a long post.

General process

Ok so my general character creation process starts with two ways:

1. I have a role to fill in a story that can't be fulfilled by a pre-existing character

2. I have a vibe and I need to turn it into a character

From those needs and/or wants, I'll go through several steps:

1. Age: surprisingly deciding on a character's age first unlocks at least half of its mental and physical design. Is it an adult who already has its shit together or a teen in the middle of a crisis?

2. Vague personality: is the character going to be introvert or extrovert? Shy or outgoing. Proud or self depreciating. Bubbly or quiet. Easy to anger or chill. It doesn't need to be its full personality yet, just guidelines.

3. Race: for fantasy and realism. A character's skin color and cultural background will shape how they view the world a lot!

4. Gender and sexual orientation: i usually decide on the gender based on how many characters I already have of each gender, or whether I want a character to be traditionally feminine/masculine or the total opposite of what's expected. Obviously the gender will affect the design, but the orientation will also affect how the character reacts to others.

5. Assets & weaknesses: for fantasy, it'd be their powers and their shortcomings, for action it'll be their strengths and the things they haven't mastered yet, for romance it'll be their best personality trait and their worst.

Once I have that base guideline, I can start working on a chara design. Age and race help with the body, personality and strengths/weaknesses help with how they dress and present themselves. (An outgoing person will have an easier time dressing in original ways while a shy person would be more traditional for example.)

Once I have a design, I draw shitty little doodles and meme redraws until I have a better sense of their personality. Slices of life and comedy and angst are great way for me to get to know my character. For writers, it'd be writing random scenes to test the characters' reactions.

Then, I double down on the strengths and weaknesses. Make them stand out. Make sure they are coherent to the characters. Make sure the weaknesses are as important as the strength. (For example, I have a character who has super speed. Arguably one of the most cheated powers in existence. I counterbalanced it by giving him poor stamina. In theory he is all powerful. In practice, not so much.)

Lastly, I chose a name. Sometimes it's just about how the name sounds. Sometimes I'm looking for names to mean something. If your character is POC, think about whether they'd have a common name or a name from their own culture. Both are valid but you need to think about it! (For example, I have two maohi characters in the same story. One is called Fray (common name), the other is called Tanemahuta (maohi name) because they and their families have different relationships with their own culture.)

Yuu

Well, that's a strange one since Yuu already does exist in the game, but it's a blank slate, a place holder. Let's make them something worth remembering, shall we.

First, I went with their gender. Most of my placeholders characters end up nonbinary because that's what I am and also I can't be bothered to role-playing gender when playing a simple game.

Then I went with a vibe and a bullet list of things I wanted to keep from the game and things I wanted to add.

To keep:

1. Not very proactive

2. Not very talkative

To add:

1. Raccoon

2. Clever/cunning

3. Physically rather weak

From there I made a design that gave "raccoon vibes". Semi long disheveled hair, lazy eyes, lazy dress up.

Now, what was important was to make up for their weakness: they don't have magic. The world around them is harsh and they get threatened by characters having breakdowns every two months. What is there strength? For Yuu, I wanted them to be clever and cunning. Have them actually outsmart our dear schemers. That's Yuu's one and only strength, they're a schemer themself. They see others as cards that make up their hands the same way Leona sees others as chess pieces. Once you have those big pieces from earlier plus the survival instinct, you get a character that is easy to handle. They don't talk much, keep everything to themselves, manipulate others from the shadows to defend themself.

But. Let's give them one more weakness, shall we? It's funnier that way. Let's make them yearn for connection. They are a teen who got kidnapped from their family. Let's give them a big family. But they are rather independent too, so let's find a way to remove the parents from the picture to explain why they are already able to fend for themself. Now make them yearn for real friendship. Make it obvious their manipulation comes from defensiveness. Have them slip up when they interact with people they genuinely end up caring about.

And there you have Yuu.

Hayeli

Now, for Hayeli, I started out with a vibe. He's actually pretty old, comes from before the game was even released when there were only countdown arts and some vague informations about the game. As I said in his description, he's based on the Evil Queen's mirror. I didn't know at the time there were already plenty of mirrors in the game haha

Contrary to my usual process, I started with his powers first. His Signature Spell had to be something about mirrors. The easy way out would be to have him shape-shifting. There are plenty of angst and fun opportunities from shape-shifting. But that was too simple, I didn't like it. Instead I went with the capacity to copy others' magic. In game there was already Azul being able to steal others' magic through a high requirement spell, so I went with this kind of power. High requirement high reward. I don't like for my characters to be overpowered and I wanted Hayeli to just be average in magic, so I doubled down on the requirements to make his magic near useless.

Then I went on to his gimmick. He still didn't have a personality or body at the time, I really went full mirror first. Hayeli is a mirror. He copies others' magic. What if I double down and make him copy everything as a by-product of his Signature Spell? Ok, now, since I still don't like overpowered characters, how do I make it ruin his life?

And so we come to the problem of his personality: he doesn't have one. He's a blank slate. A mirror. He reproduces others' behaviors and mannerisms and personalities and he has no control over it. He has no idea who he is himself. The angst creates itself.

Once there, it was easy process for the rest. Make him a body. Average size since he's just a copy of others. Pomefiore attitude and presentation since he's in Pomefiore. I like curly hair and there aren't enough of them in Twisted Wonderland so I went with that, but they couldn't be long since Yuu already has semi long curly hair.

I still needed one way to recognize him. Make him pop amongst the other characters. What makes Hayeli physically Hayeli?

1. Moles. So many moles.

2. Bad skin. He's in Pomefiore? Do the contrary of what's expected there. Give him a malleable standard face and add bad skin to it.

3. Strange eyes. He's a mirror who can reproduce everything he sees. His eyes are important. Make them pale like mirrors, make his pupils white to reflect others, make the shape a bit blurry as if the mirror isn't perfect.

And there you have Hayeli's body!

Oh. A name? Google translate, please tell me how to say mirror in different languages please. Mirror in Armenian is "Hayeli", I like the sound of it. Sold. So Hayeli shall be Armenian irl, that'd probably be on the frontiers of the Scalding Sands (thanks a friend for helping me with that part), so maybe I should make his skin darker. Besides, dark skins in a dorm that values beauty is also not the first idea people get. Sold!

(Somewhere during the process, I actually had an objective with Hayeli. "Make him represent Teenagehood itself". Teenagehood is a particularly difficult period, teenagers try to become their own person independently from their parents. They copy each other and all the people they look up to to find what suits them best, but they also hate not being able to tell who they are as a person. Hayeli represents that struggle, and that's also why I gave him a heavy bout of acne and red cheeks and baby fat but a lean body. Teenagehood isn't pretty, and it shouldn't be. Hayeli is awkward, his body is morphing a lot, he has no idea who he is or who he wants to become, he copies others without realizing. But he also has a lot of fun. He cheats at tests, he bothers his classmates and dormmates, he has fun with makeup, he tries a lot of new things. While Yuu was meant to represent survival, Hayeli is meant to represent teenagehood, for better and for worse.)

There you have all of Hayeli's creation process.

TLDR: Mostly I just... don't go with the very first thought I get. Do you know that Pixar or maybe Disney process where they give up on the first dozen ideas they get because it's too "normal" and easy to guess? It has its flaws but I think it's not that bad. I go with the contrary of what's expected (dark bad skin for a dorm that represents beauty) or I push the concept further if I can (copying magic instead of shapeshifting). And most importantly, I give my characters flaws and weaknesses. That's the most important part of the creation to me. What can I give him that'll make him struggle? The scenario writes itself as soon as you give your characters challenges to overcome within themselves.

[idrellegames]

good morning/afternoon/evening dear Developer of Wayfarer. Is it just me or is Wayfarer still in episode three in Mahanin Palace? Do I need to restart and replay it?

Do you have guidelines(?) of to do and what not to do for RO especially Aeran. I love him😔🙏🏻

Episode 3 is not set in Mahanin Palace. You will ideally not have to restart the whole game in order to proceed to Episode 3 when it comes out, but it may depend on how old your save file is. I do my best to make transitions as soon as possible, but sometimes changes to background code will result in continuity errors. Always read the patch notes when a new episode is released or when a patch is added, it will tell you what you need to do to ensure a smooth transition.

Episode 3 is currently in alpha; it is only available to play via my Patreon. The public build ends with Episode 2.

There is no official guide for romancing Mr. Kellis. Wayfarer is designed to be reactive to your actions and choices, and is intended to be played without pre-planned results. However, if you want to unlock certain content available in Episodes 1 and 2:

you must flag Aeran's romance when he's introduced in Episode 1, otherwise you will be locked out of all romance content with him. You do this by selecting option #4. You are friends and you are partners. You can’t imagine this life without him at your side.

to access his romance reconciliation scene in Episode 2 (where your MC can sleep with him if you select the allosexual options), you must have +60 romance and approval. The only way to get romance that high is to get knocked out in Episode 1 and almost die. This requires you to fail your stat checks during the fight with the Crimson Count, or end up in the town square fire.

you also cannot go to Melchior's party or visit Veyer at the end of Episode 2, you must go immediately back to your apartment as soon as it becomes an option

if you do not want to be severely injured in Episode 1, there is content specifically for those who have under 60 romance in Episode 3 that will only trigger if you retain a generally good relationship with him and if forgive him for his behaviour in Episode 2.

[soulstaleask]

WELCOME TO ASK!SOULSTALE!

This introduction post will sort of be to elaborate further on what the AU is and some ground rules for question asking

What IS soulstale?

Soulstale is an undertale AU where there is an expanded list of human soul traits such as apathy, vengeance, punishment, and heroism. The current story is based around the 7 original human souls (and a revived chara) that have fallen into the underground and now have to navigate their way out and grapple with hate soul infected versions of their own soul traits it also includes aspects from deltarune such as the vessel.

Question Guidelines and Other Personal Boundaries

1. Nothing sexual

2. If its directed to the runners of the account don’t ask anything too personal (where we go to school, where we live etc etc, everything else is alright)

3. No slurs or racial comments included in questions obviously (if you want to know characters ethnicities thats fine but still watch yourself)

Who runs the account?/Draws the art?

The people who run this account are Spencer and Lexi respectively usually when writing things out of character we will sign off with either a $ or a 🔫Spencer draws the art and I do the writing but if I’m unable to do something Spencer will step in if able to

Who are we able to ask questions to?

So far the characters you can ask are: Gianni (Patience), Chara and Frisk (Determination), Naomi (Integrity), Molly (Perseverance), AJ (Bravery), Saqui (Kindness), Clover (Justice). More characters will be unlocked as time goes on and questions are asked

[mscribblz]

100 Followers Unlocked! Woo Hoo!

As a thank you, I’m doing a small art raffle to celebrate. 1 winner will receive a half body/full color commission of a character of their choice.

PLEASE SEE RULES UNDER CUT:

1) Reblog this post for entry (1 entry per person)

2) Must be following this blog to be eligible (New followers welcome)

3) The commission prize will follow the same guidelines as my standard commissions (except no payment). Please see my commission info page for what I will and wont draw.

4) Entry will remain open until AUGUST 31st 11:59PM CDT. I will announce the winner next day and reach out to them privately.

5) To the winner: You will be responsible for providing reference image(s)/descriptions of the character you want drawn (Especially OCs!)

6) If the winner does not respond within 48 hours, someone else will be selected.

Thank you again everyone and good luck~

[xoxoamyas]

`` Unspoken Words ,,

rating : more hurt than comfort, but the comfort is still slightly there. a few death implications and ritual mentions

dark wolf!wilbur x gn!reader [ use of you/yours, no use of y/n ]

☆ . dark wolf just wants to help and chat with you after the day you've had. at least now you know he's there for you, even if you can't go to him with everything. <3

note : considering turning this into a bit of a mini series of sorts. might put more lore to it and maybe give it a better plot to go with. i really love this concept, though

masterlist [ ☆ ]

⋆˙⟡

It had been a long day, and you were just trying to settle down.

You were just laying down on the bed in the room the club had provided, staring up at the ceiling. Remembering the prior events of the earlier hours in the day, nausea coursing through you as you tried to figure out your next moves.

You were just an undercover detective trying to figure out the missing persons reports paired with the sightings of blood. You had gotten the lead that it had all sourced down to a “book club” of sorts, likely to be a cult.

After a week of getting to know them, convincing them you were worthy of joining. You couldn't believe yourself. You got in, but at the price of another's life, a final testimony of sorts is what the leader had called it.

Guilt gnawed away at your chest, a feeling of unease and queasiness hitting you hard. You had taken a life that didn't deserve it, and it hurt more than it initially did.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know you had participated in a ritual, something that bound you to the cult. The leader had promptly given you a name, said to have been chosen by the “Dark Lord” himself.

A timid knock at your door stalls your thoughts. Breaking your staring contest with the ceiling in favour of looking at the door. Silently contemplating, since you were meant to be asleep.

Screw it, is essentially your next thought process. Standing up and moving towards the door, clicking it unlocked and cracking it open. Met by a familiar brunette with pretty hazel eyes. A flash of surprise crossed his face before he gave a grin, happy that you were up and assuming he hadn't disrupted you. You decide to open the door up a little more, leaning against the threshold and offering a smile. An awful attempt at willing the bad feelings away.

“You did really well tonight,” Dark Wolf, who you had come to learn as Will, smiles widely. His palms pressed together before his fingers moved to tangle and fidget within one another.

“You told me earlier, Wolf, I know.” Your tone is as light as you can make it, trying not to seem so tight and upset. Based on the slight furrow of his brow, you didn't do a good job at hiding that.

“Can I come in?” He asks, but doesn't give any time to answer. Pressing a hand to the door and walking into your room anyway. He's quick to start looking around as you huff out a laugh, closing the door but leaving it unlocked.

“Yeah, sure you can, Wolf.” You cross your arms over your chest, a frown tugging on your lips as you watch him. At some point, he moves to sit on the edge of your bed, looking at you again.

“You can call me Will.” Dark Wolf- Will nervously speaks as his gaze softens a bit before becoming almost unreadable. It always unsettled you when a member would show an emotion that you could put a name to something so unfamiliar right after.

You nod a bit in understanding. “I know, it'll just take a while to get used to it.” Stepping closer to Will, you sit beside him with a bit of space between you two.

This was the first time one of the members had shown up after curfew hours to talk with you. It was odd, especially since Will was so obedient and quick to follow the guidelines. It just goes to show you have to get to know the members of the club a bit more.

“Thank you,” He suddenly says, pressing his hands together as a nervous habit in the process. Unable to look at you anymore as his gaze becomes trained on the closed door.

“For what? I didn't- I don't think I did anything?” You’re more confused than anything, unsure of whatever he was thanking you for.

“For finishing the initiation and ritual.” He speaks just a bit clearer, finally turning to look at you. Something between vulnerability and admiration in his expression. “I like that you're a part of the club now.” He gives a small, soft smile, almost shy looking in the process.

For a moment, you don't know what to say. On one hand, you're ready to cry and have the biggest mental breakdown in the world. On the other hand, he actually looks kind of sweet at the moment.

“I just- I know how hard it was after I did my own.. trials.” He swallows a bit, moving a hand up to tug at the collar of his shirt. “I'm just here to let you know I want to help if you need anything.” He gives a slightly bigger smile now, visibly nervous. He came in knowing there was a chance you'd turn his offer down.

“I appreciate it, Will.” You hum out, unsure of what else you can say. Taking a breath before nodding. “I'd love your help. Getting sorted within the club, y'know?” You give a semi-false smile, one leaning towards awkward over the situation.

Guilt started to gnaw at you once more, this time for a different reason than before.

Will visibly grows excited upon being given an answer, one that he liked no less. He nods almost ecstatically. “Well, I'll show you everything tomorrow, if you want! We'll get your own copy of the book, too.” He stands up, already coming together with a plan.

“I think we're going to be really good friends!” He chimes out, momentarily turning on his heel to face you again. This time, moving towards you with quick ease, taking a hold of one of your hands. “You're going to love this place even more than you did before, I'll make sure of it!”

And it's like your lungs are suddenly being restricted. You're doing this for your job. You mentally remind yourself. An unease edging its way into each of your systems as you watched every move Will made and half-heartedly listened to most of his words spoken.

“Will,” You start, bringing your free hand up to lightly grasp his wrist. Ignoring your heart that felt like it was going to palpitate right out of your chest. “I'm sorry to cut this short,” you start and almost instantly regret it as his brows furrow and his lips tugged into a worried frown. “But can we do this tomorrow? I'm tired after the ritual.” You wanted to spiral by yourself, be left to your own thoughts on what to do from here because now you were in too deep.

“Oh- uhm.. yeah, yeah! Of course!” Will gives a more nervous laugh, retracting his hands from yours and wiping them off on his shirt. He's got a more shaky smile now as he presses his hands into his pants pockets. “You want me to go?” The undertone of the question he asks essentially alluding to if you wanted to be alone.

You nod.

“Yeah, if you don't mind? I just need to gather my thoughts.” You hum a bit, watching as he takes his turn to nod and move around slightly.

Will glances around your bedroom one last time before at you, something on his mind. He decides to save it for when he thinks it will be right for you. The man turns around and heads for the door, hand finding the knob and lightly opening it.

“Have a goodnight,” He says, turning back once more to look at you again. Slight worry crossing his features for just a moment. “I'm just down the hall if you need anything.” The indirect offer of him letting you go to him was nice, but just made a chilly feeling settle in your bones.

“I'll keep that in mind, thank you, Will.” You offer a small smile, watching as he gives a curt nod before finally leaving your bedroom. Closing the door behind him and taking a moment to stand there before slowly trailing away to his own bedroom.

You sigh, left alone once more.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: back again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting 'part 2?' is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You sit at the dining table with your laptop, hiding behind the screen as you try to figure out what to do. How do you get this man to leave? Better, how do you do that without making him angry?

You stare at the unfinished project in front of you. You're not going to get paid for blurry pixels. Work is the least of your worries.

You peek over the top of the laptop and blanch as the subtle movement catches his eye. He grins and sits up, “need something, sweetie?”

“Uh, nope,” you put your eyes down and the screen goes fuzzy.

“Hm,” he hums into a grunt and heaves himself up, “you haven’t made any videos yet. What about your shopping trip huh? You gonna edit some of that.”

“Erm, maybe later, I have work stuff–”

“You know,” he nears and stands across the round table, looming menacingly with his hands on his hips, “you could probably quit all that if you committed to your streams. Lotsa people wanna watch a sweet girl like you.”

“That’s nice but I don’t even have ten followers,” you chuckle.

“Mm, maybe, but… I could help you,” he offers.

“Really, it’s fine,” your voice trembles, “it’s… it’s just a way to get my thoughts out, that's all.”

He clucks and clears his throat, looking around, “well, I guess I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Um, sure,” you look at him again then peek at the keys hung by the door.

He whistles, “Aika, come, you probably needa go.”

The dog rises from beside the couch and follows him to the door. You get up, heart flipping. You need to just lock the door. As long as he doesn’t–

He grabs the keys and shoves them deep in his pocket. He hooks the leash onto Aika’s collar as she stands obediently before him. He grins over at you, “don’t worry, sweetie, won’t be long at all.”

He turns and unlocks the door, swinging it inward as he lets the German shepherd lead the way. You deflate and fall back onto the chair. Holy shoot! What are you going to do? Nothing you can think of makes sense. He doesn’t make sense. It’s as if he really believes you know each other. That this is his home.

You bend over your lap and hold your head, rocking as you let out a drone. The panic is so bad you can’t hold it in. The noise escaping you is inhuman. You know you’re too weak, too afraid to do anything. So what? You’ll just let him take over your home?

You quiet and stay as you are, hunched over your legs. Are you going to let him do whatever he wants? To you?

Your blood runs cold and you sit up slowly. You’re dizzy as the silence rings in your ears. You stare across the room, only able to see a glimpse of the door frame.

You don’t know what you’re going to do.

You’re paralysed. You hardly believe it yourself, you don’t think anyone else will either. The thought of explaining it is embarrassing on its own.

You’re being stupid. You need to tell someone. Anyone.

You hear him before he enters. He opens the door, pausing as he lets Aika off the leash. She sniffs around as the door shuts heavily.

Sy appears, a large bag of kibble balanced on one shoulder as he carries a military duffle in his other hand. He drops the latter and brings the former into the kitchen. You stand, hollow as you make yourself move. You go to the doorway to the kitchen and watch him search your cupboards.

“Ladybird needs a bowl,” he says, “she’s hungry.”

“Oh,” you utter dumbly and blink. You’re stuck where you are.

His cheek dimples and he returns his attention to his search. He takes out the pink plastic bowl you use for salad and he uses a measuring cup to scoop out the kibble. You just watch as he puts it on the floor for Aika as she sits patiently.

He stands and she does too, eagerly scarfing down the food, flicking slobber all over your salad bowl. Sy faces you and you flinch as he comes near, reaching for you. You back away.

“Sweetie?” He says, “what’re you doing?”

“I… I…” you rub your arm, “how long are you planning on… staying?”

He scoffs, “what? Ah, come on, sweetie, you’re funny. “

“I’m… I’m serious,” you quaver, “I didn’t… we just met.”

His face falls and so does your heart. His expression turns dire and he crosses his arms. Aika seems to notice his shift and quits her loud chomping. She raises her nose, letting out a low growl. You gulp. He has that same glint in his eye as in the truck when he nearly rear-ended that other driver.

“Sweetie, I told you, I've been watching you all this time. You know, I was your first follower,” he takes a step closer and you take one back. “I know you.”

“Right, uh,” you push your hands together and bend your fingers back, “I understand, it’s just…” you can hardly breathe, “I guess I misunderstood. Of course you can stay, but… you know, I only bought enough groceries for me and… and it’s a small place.”

He considers you. He runs his hand over his beard and exhales loudly. He drops his other arm and tilts his head side to side, cracking the bones, “so we can get nice and snuggly, sweetheart.”

He nears you again, quickly, before you can elude him. He catches you around the back of the head and urges you close. He leans in and kisses your hairline. You freeze and let him. He purrs before he draws away.

“Right, I’ll get cleaned up,” he lets you go, “you can finish your work or… get cozy.”

You nod and stare past him. Aika once more chews loudly as your eyes settle on her straight back. You’re trapped. Your home is now a prison.

You stay like that until you hear the pipes whine and the shower buzzes to life. You glance over, the bathroom door slightly ajar. Mortified, you retreat to the table and sit behind the computer. You know the excuse won’t hold up much longer but you can at least pretend to be busy.

Aika’s claws tap on the tile as you hear her lay near the door. You can’t even run. His loyal guard dog isn’t just keeping people out, she’s keeping you in.

You put your hands on the laptop as you hear the faucet crank off. The scented steam seeps out and dampens the air with the scent of your strawberries and cream soap. You shudder and minimize and maximize the window.

You listen to him. He opens and closes the cabinet several times as he lingers in the bathroom. The door opens and your ears tinge as you focus on the laptop. He steps out as you swirl your fingers on the touch pad.

“I feel better,” he sighs, “how about you, sweetie? Maybe you should have a nice long bath?”

“I’m good,” you utter dully.

“Hope you don’t mind, I used your hairbrush,” he crosses the room.

“No, it’s f–” your eyes flick up on instinct. You swallow as your eyes round. He has only a towel around his waist, the rest of him brazenly bare. “Fine.”

You rip your gaze away and accidentally exit out of the editing software. You try to wipe the image of him from your mind. His thick muscles, the dark hair across his chest and stomach, and over his thick thighs. There’s little left to the imagination or doubt. The sight of him confirms his unbeatable strength.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“N-nothing,” you insist.

“You’re being all shy. What’s going on, huh?” You shake your head as he comes around the table. He presses the laptop shut until you retract your hands. You sit back and look at your hands. “You’ve been working long enough. Come on, sweetie.”

“I… I have a project to finish–”

“And that’s more important? How long have I waited to be with you? Over there in the sh– in the chaos?” He says, offering his large hand, “I got you something. I wanna show it to you.”

“I…” you rasp and peer up at his face, too afraid to look anywhere else. “Okay.”

You give in. Your surrender. He’s a soldier and he’s won the battle. You take his hand and stand up.

He takes you into the front room and leads you to the couch. He stops you in front of it and gestures you to wait. You do and he disappears around the other side of you.

He returns with his duffle bag and puts it in the chair. He keeps his back to you as he unzips it. You peek up and your eyes cling to the scars along his burly back. Just beneath his shoulder and another along his side. Through the fear, you feel a pang of sympathy for him. He must have been through a lot.

“I bought you something,” he says, “when I was driving up.”

He turns and shows you a dainty piece of fabric hanging from his index fingers. You gape at the pale pink bodysuit; flowers in a darker shade trim the corset and the tops of the cups are subtly scalloped. You love the colours but you would never dare to wear anything like that.

“Uh, wow,” is all you can get out.

“Just you know for a special occasion,” he smiles, “it’ll look real nice on you. It’s your colour.” He steps closer as he holds it out to you, “I showed the lady your picture and she said it would be nice on your skin tone.”

You feel like you’re going to faint. Is he really giving you a piece of lingerie? You take it and examine the thin material.

“Obviously, not tonight since we’re settling in and all that,” he chuckles, “but you know… if you wanted to…”

“I’m… I’m going to put this away,” you croak.

You move past him, slowly as if wading through water. You go to the bedroom and cross to the dresser. You stand before it as you stare at the fabric. Your chest aches as you hold a breath inside.

“Ah, still pretty tidy in here,” Sy comments from behind you.

You pull open the top drawer and hide the bodysuit. A shiver rolls through you as you shut it and turn to the intruder. You watch helplessly as he invades every inch of your life.

“You did such a good job, sweetie,” he praises as he nears the bed and plops his bag on it, “watching you clean… it’s admirable how determined you are.”

He reaches in his bag and takes out a stack of folded clothing. You blink as he strides over to the dresser and pulls open a drawer. You sway as you resist the urge to ask what the heck he’s doing. He makes room beside your clothes and shoves his inside.

As he stands, he adjusts the towel hanging lower on his waist than before. You turn away. As much as you don’t like him touching all your things, his nakedness is even more off putting. Most disturbing is his lack of self-awareness. Frankly, it’s frightening.

He unpacks, bit by bit, and rolls open the closet to put his empty bag inside. He goes back to the dresser to shut the top drawer he left open but his hand curls around the top. He dips inside and lifts out a pair of your panties; the ones speckled with printed on bows.

“I like these,” he says, “they’re cute, like you.”

“Thanks, I…” you murmur. “I…” Your mouth is dry and chalky, “I need some water.”

“Aw, sweetie, you look faint,” he drops the panties and approaches you. “Why don’t you sit down?”

He urges you onto the edge of the bed, his hands on your shoulders. He looks down on you as you tilt your head to peer back at him. He looks so big. He keeps his hands on you, gripping tighter, and for a moment, you’re not sure what he’s going to do and you think he is even less certain.

He pulls his hands away and shakes them out, “I’ll get you some water,” he says, “you had a long day, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum and lower your chin, your hands shaking in your lap.

You did this. You welcomed this man in. More than letting him drive you home or cross the threshold of your apartment, you put yourself online, exposed yourself to the public. You heard the horror stories before, the true ones, but you just never thought it would happen to you.

[gkyoyukinona]

How to Write an Essay (Without Losing Your Sanity lol)

The essay. That dreaded form of writing that often brings out feelings of fear, dread, and confusion. But fear not! Writing an essay doesn't have to be as terrifying as it seems. Whether you're a student or someone who just got stuck with a writing assignment, i am here to guide you through the process. Get ready to unlock the mystery of essay writing in a very simple way.

Step 1: Understand the Prompt

First things first: Read the assignment. I know, I know—this sounds too easy, but you'd be surprised how many people skip this crucial step. Understanding the question you're being asked is the foundation of your entire essay. You wouldn’t build a house without a blueprint, would you? (Unless you’re a DIY enthusiast)

Ask yourself:

What is the essay asking me to do? Analyze? Argue? Explain?)

Are there specific guidelines or requirements? (Word count? Format? Citation style?)

What’s the purpose of the essay? (Are you informing? Persuading? Telling a story?)

Step 2: Research Like You’re the Next Sherlock Holmes

You may be tempted to skip this part and just write whatever comes to mind. Big mistake! Essays are all about backing up your ideas with solid evidence. So, channel your inner Sherlock Holmes and start researching.

Use reliable sources (we’re not citing Wikipedia here, folks).

Take notes and organize your thoughts. This will save you from diving into a writing frenzy and realizing halfway through that you’ve completely lost track of your argument.

Look for a variety of sources—books, articles, interviews, or anything that feels appropriate for your topic.

Once you’ve done your research, take a deep breath and let the facts fill your brain. You’ll need them in the next step.

Step 3: Make an Outline

Okay, you’ve got your research, and now it’s time to plan out your essay. The outline is like a map that keeps you from wandering into the unknown wilderness of “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

There are different ways but this is how I make the most simple outline for my essay

Introduction: This is where you grab your reader's attention. Start with a hook—something that piques curiosity or makes them think. A quote, a question, or even a joke (that’s relevant, of course).

Body Paragraphs: These are the meat of your essay. Each paragraph should cover one main idea. Start with a topic sentence, support it with evidence, and wrap it up with an analysis. Rinse and repeat.

Conclusion: Time to bring it all home! Restate your main points, tie everything together, and leave your reader with something to think about. And please, for the love of all things good, don’t just copy-paste your introduction.

Step 4: Write the First Draft (Embrace Imperfection)

Now, it's time to write! Don’t worry about making it perfect just yet. The goal is to get your thoughts down on paper. You can always clean it up later.

Here are a few tips:

Write freely. Don’t censor yourself—let your ideas flow.

Use transition words like "however," "for example," and "in conclusion" to connect your ideas smoothly.

Don’t obsess over grammar and spelling in the first draft. You’ll have time for that later.

Now once you're done writing drafts think of some title ideas related to the topic of your essay. Remember a catchy title is necessary as it serves the first impression of your write up. ( Some of you may do this before starting your essay and i really admire you for that becoz for me thinking title take hours )

Step 5: Edit Like You’re a Grammar Ninja

Once you’ve got your first draft, it’s time to put on your editing hat. You know, the one with the sharp sword of logic and the shield of perfect grammar.

Check for clarity. Does everything make sense? Is your argument easy to follow?

Grammar and punctuation: This is where you get to play the detective. Look for missing commas, awkward sentences, and spelling errors. Use apps or Google to check your grammar

Step 6: Polish and Submit (The Final Touches)

Now that you've edited your masterpiece, it's time for the final touches. Ensure your essay follows the required format and citation style (MLA, APA, Chicago—pick your poison).

Take one last look at your essay:

Are your paragraphs well-organized?

Is your argument clear?

Is your spelling flawless?

Congratulations! You've now survived the essay-writing process and emerged victorious.Keep practicing, and soon, you'll be an essay-writing pro—no sweat, no tears, just a few cups of coffee and maybe a well-timed joke.

Good luck, and happy writing!

Visit this link to see my essay and other writeups on Instagram

https://www.instagram.com/gkyoyuki.nona?igsh=Mzhxa2c5ZjNpY2kx

[silentkasama]

R1999: Just Reports (1.9 Lead-up In-game Activity)

in-game activity where a report is unlocked each day for five days; each day you are made to enter a password. you are given a code, enter the corresponding letters and that's the password. you get 400 clear drops, 5 picrasma candy, and other goodies. happy first anniversary, r1999

Day.1 (pw: boring)

/Survival Report

Congratulations on successfully completing the test. Those that independently cracked the code are deemed to have a highly developed left brain and are considered to be able to read the report on their own.

The following is the information contained in the report: None. In accordance with Laplace guidelines and the assigned task of deciphering the incantation, regular progress updates will be provided over the next twenty-two hours to document and verify advancements.

Summary: Currently, vital signs remain confirmed

Day.2 (pw: mrfishjar)

/Observation of the Teamlead

Based on internal data at Laplace, writing reports is considered as the second most effective way to prolong the perception of time; reading reports is the first.

In this report, I have noted that the teamlead showed signs of anxiety and became unusually irritable during our decoding operation. As part of my duties and out of personal interest, I will continue to monitor any fluctuations in the teamlead's emotional well-being.

Conclusion: It is generally accepted that straight lines represent relaxed eyebrows, while curved lines indicate a smiling mouth. The complete deciphering of facial expressions is fast approaching.

Day.3 (pw: msuncanny)

/Observation of the Director

I understand that the reader may not have enough free time to continue reading this report unless it is necessary for their job; my apologies.

The following is the content of the report: The director appeared emotionally stable when presented with the interim results of the decryption operation. Correction: I cannot confirm any noticeable emotional fluctuations in the director; they seem to be stable for the time being. Further observation will be temporarily suspended.

Summary: The expression system is the same as the masks, and after a right-brain assessment, I can no longer trust the verifiability of the emotions conveyed by this system.

Day.4 (pw: ihatearts)

/Day of Art Appreciation

Aside from upholding confidentiality obligations, the main purpose of the code is to weed out people with highly developed right brains, such as certain artists and arcanists.

The following is the content of this report: Efforts to decipher the pictorial messages sent by the investigators were unsuccessful. A proposal to go outside and turn into oil paintings to better connect with the artwork was rejected.

Summary: I strongly believe that combining cryptography with the works of Leonardo da Vinci has the potential to create a unique form of literature that would captivate and engage a wider audience.

Day.5 (pw: goodbye)

/Application for Leave

This report assumes that the reader has most likely skipped the first four reports. As a precaution, it is highly recommended that the reports be read in chronological order to fully grasp the information presented here.

The following is the content of the report: In praise of the director's efficiency oriented approach, and given the limited manpower in the technical support team, I have decided to temporarily stop writing reports and transition to another role.

Just a side note: I am quite intrigued by the Kingdom of Numbers on that island, as shown in the external intelligence. I'm thinking of applying to visit the island and talk to the natives about cryptography after today's events.

if you know where to look at previous similar activities, could you please point me to them? thank you

[recurring-polynya]

Hello! Long time lurker. I've really enjoyed reading your work and especially love Heart is a Muscle and the way you characterise all the different relationships in it! My ask is how do you think Byakuya finds out about RenRuki. I feel like it would be one of those moments where subconsciously he'd see it coming but at the same time still be caught of guard and manage to be very Byakuya about it.

This was one of those where I wasn't quite sure if it was an ask or a fic request, but the fact is I have an old chunk of story sitting around that addresses this very question. I guess I intended to someday throw this into some post-Heart is a Muscle story, and maybe I still will, but who knows if I'm ever going to get there, so you can have it now. Takes place after everyone gets home from the Blood War (where Rukia and Renji had to confess to each other in the middle of bankai training because I thought it would be cool it was weighing on their hearts)

(I wrote this in 2019 and gave it only light edits)

| read on ao3 | request guidelines |

⚔️ 🕶️ 💕

The sun was starting to go down when Kuchiki Byakuya arrived at Practice Field #3. On a normal day, work hours would be long over, although one might find an industrious officer out in this part of the division grounds, training on their own, or a few of the younger ones playing a game of pick-up football. Tonight, it was quiet.

It had been nine days since Kurosaki Ichigo had defeated Yhwach.

A young human girl was perched on the fence surrounding the field, chatting animatedly with Byakuya's ridiculous adjutant, who snapped to attention when he sensed the approach of his commanding officer.

"Good evening, sir!" Abarai Renji barked. "Thank you for agreeing to this! I hope you don't mind, but I asked Inoue Orihime to come."

The girl hopped off the fence and bowed deeply. "Hello, again, Captain Kuchiki, sir!"

"Worried that I won't hold back?" Byakuya asked with a coolly raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I know you won't," Renji replied. "She's here so that I don't hold back."

Byakuya guffawed, and one side of his mouth quirked up. "Congratulations, Lieutenant. You've finally managed to say something humorous."

"You feeling good today, sir?" Renji asked, just a tinge of concern in his voice. "You feeling up for this?"

"I am fully recovered, thank you," Byakuya sniffed. "Yourself?"

"Feelin' good, sir."

"Then let us begin."

"Oh, one last thing, Captain. Would you mind leaving your scarf with Orihime, here? I wouldn't wanna get my blood all over another one."

"Truly, Lieutenant, you are on a roll today," Byakuya noted, unwinding the scarf from his neck and draping it around Orihime's.

"Oooh, it's so light!" Orihime cooed. "It's like nothing!"

"I'll tell Kurosaki to get you one for your birthday," Renji teased.

"Are you ready now?" Byakuya demanded.

"Yep, enough stallin'. Let's do this."

Orihime hopped back up on the fence and called up a shield in front of herself. "Good luck, Renji!" she called.

Abarai shot her a wink and took up his position on the field.

Byakuya placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, but did not draw it.

Abarai drew his and silently released into shikai. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet. "Might wanna release, sir."

"I shall be the judge of that."

Renji gave a little nod. "As y'like. BANKAI!"

It was common knowledge that Abarai had unlocked a second level to his bankai in the Royal Realm. Byakuya was looking forward to seeing it actually, but he wasn't particularly concerned about it.

Byakuya knew quite a bit about zanpakutou and their releases. It did happen occasionally that a sword would reveal itself in stages, but it tended to retain its essential character.

Hihiou Zabimaru was an excellent bankai, powerful and versatile. It required immense spiritual pressure, iron concentration and significant amount of mental bookkeeping, Byakuya was given to understand. It had served Abarai well in his ill-advised hijinks up until now, but the fact was, it would not be truly formidable until Abarai himself had another half-century or so under his belt. It was too bulky, too finicky, too fragile. There was no other way to master bankai like that, only experience. Byakuya knew a quite bit about bankai like that, himself.

Abarai launched himself at his captain, blade swinging.

Byakuya went to shikai as he drew his zanpakutou, petals pouring forth from his sheath and forming a shield in front of him.

Abarai's blade sliced right through it.

Byakuya flash-stepped away, sweeping Senbonzakura's blades into a more solid foundation, only to find them knocked out of the way by a giant skeletal hand. Another flash step, another regrouping, and Abarai was there again.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. Hihio Zabimaru had been a joke. A prank. A giant, heavy, impossible-to-use freight train that Abarai had taken in stride, as he did every other misfortune that fate heaped upon him. It was a shadow, an echo of Abarai's real bankai.

So-oh Zabimaru also took immense spiritual pressure to summon, that much was still true. But the bulk, the unwieldy mass was gone. It was as if though Abarai's new spiritual armor was plugged directly into his spinal column. It moved with him weightlessly, astonishingly fast.

Something else had changed, too. Something about Abarai's spiritual pressure. It was more unified, more focused, more together. For the first time out of the many, many times Byakuya had fought his lieutenant, he did not feel like he was being attacked by an angry, flailing youth, but that he was facing a worthy adversary.

Byakuya was being pressed harder and harder to defend against Abarai's assault.

And the fact was, he was not fine.

The injuries inflicted on him by As Nodt were grievous. He was lucky to be alive, and if it weren't for Kirinji's healing springs, he probably wouldn't even be able to summon his zanpakutou. His soul was damaged, and although he had made a miraculous recovery, he was not completely made whole. His speed was close to what it once was, and his bond with Senbonzakura was as strong as ever, but his power and endurance were greatly compromised. He could go to bankai if needed, but it was extremely taxing, and Shuukei Hakuteiken was, at the moment, out of his reach.

He thought it wouldn't matter.

Abarai had never even come close to beating him.

Abarai wouldn't notice such a weakness and furthermore, was too sentimental to exploit such a--

He had brought Inoue.

Abarai knew exactly what he was doing.

“BANKAI!” Byakuya called out.

Abarai smirked. “You shouldna let me get that head start, Captain.”

---

"Renji, he's waking up!"

The world swam into view, tinted orange.

"Hey, Captain!" Abarai's grating bark rang out. "How you feel?"

"I feel fine," Byakuya snapped, starting to sit up.

"Lie down please, I'm almost done, but not quite," Orihime said firmly.

Byakuya put his head back down on the ground, and replayed the last few moments of the fight in his head.

Abarai had come out aggressively, going to bankai immediately. He had never allowed Byakuya to gain a solid footing, and pulled out his strongest attack, which Byakuya had never seen, as soon as he possibly could. Byakuya hadn’t even been able to get a good look at it, he only had the impression of fangs before becoming completely overwhelmed. Abarai, who knew his attack patterns, who knew that it took him a minute or two to work up a full head of steam, had bet everything he had on defeating Byakuya immediately and it had worked.

It had been a rout, an utter humiliation.

Byakuya could still beat his adjutant, surely, but he could no longer plow him over with superior strength, and certainly not in his degraded condition. He was going to need to think up counterstrategies. And some of them were not going to work.

He looked down at his chest and realized that his shihakushou had been sliced from shoulder to hip, and was soaked, absolutely drenched with blood.

"You didn't cut me in half, did you?" he sneered.

"No, you were definitely all still, um, attached," Renji clarified.

"Not by much, though," Orihime mumbled.

Renji nudged her firmly in the shoulder.

Orihime waved her hands, and the healing bubble collapsed into nothingness. "All done!"

Abarai held out a hand. With a twinge of reluctance, Byakuya took it, and let the younger man haul him to his feet.

Orihime scrambled up, pulling the scarf over her head, and offered it back. "Thanks for letting me watch! That was a really fun fight! You're both so, so strong and it's so much nicer when no one actually wants to kill each other."

"Hey, we don't wanna keep everyone waiting, right, 'Hime?" Renji said, glancing sideways at his captain. "We got dinner plans, everyone's leavin' tomorrow."

"Yes, Rukia mentioned it," Byakuya replied dryly.

"You okay to--"

"Stop checking on me, you fool. I have said I am well and I dislike repeating myself."

Renji nodded quickly. "Thanks for the fight, sir. I'll see you in the morning."

Three hours later, Byakuya sat in his office.

He was thinking.

He was thinking about the current state of the Gotei 13, the captain-less squads, the loss of highly seated officers. He was thinking about his Third Seat, who had never exactly been lieutenant material and was currently on medical leave after having his sword-arm completely reconstructed.

Byakuya looked up at the sound of the door opening.

"Uh, hi, Captain," Abarai said, clearly surprised to see him. "What are you doing here so late?"

"This is my office, is it not?" Byakuya snapped.

"Well, sure," Abarai replied, walking over to his own desk. "I left my sunglasses here," he explained, sticking them on top of his head.

"It's dark out," Byakuya pointed out.

"I'll need 'em in the morning," Renji shrugged. He frowned thoughtfully, then pulled open his filing cabinet and withdrew a folder. "Speaking of which, I was gonna give you this tomorrow, but as long as we're both here..."

He crossed the room and extended it.

Gingerly, Byakuya took it, then squinted at the notation on the tab. "Strongly Worded Letters to the Management of Squad 11?"

Abarai's eyes widened. "Oh, no, that was just to keep people from poking around. It's actually...well, it's pretty obvious what it is," he finished lamely.

"You aren't ready,"' Byakuya snarled.

"I'm...what?"

"Yes, your new bankai is very powerful, it is true. But just because you have run roughshod over a few enemies with it hardly means you're ready to strike out on your own. You need more training, more control. A bankai like that can land you in hot water as well as it can save you. Furthermore, there's a shortage of competent lieutenants, it would be foolhardy indeed for you to set forth without experienced backup, and don't tell me you're even thinking of the Seventh. I have heard how you and Lieutenant Iba are when you two are unsupervised."

Abarai's face was twisted in utter befuddlement. "Sir, what are you talking about?"

Byakuya flipped the folder open and stared at the neat stack of papers within. "This isn't an Intent to Test for the Captains' Exam," he said, taken aback.

Renji made a choking noise. "No, sir! Cripes, sir, I just got a new bankai, why would I leave? I need you to help me learn to use it. An' I wouldn't leave you, anyway, not while you're still, you know. From the As Nodt thing. Also, who the hell wants to be captain of anywhere but the Sixth?" His voice rose steadily in both volume and pitch as he babbled.

"There is no need to shout, Lieutenant," Byakuya frowned, looking down again at the stack of papers.

It was a copy of form RHCA-48-006-C, an application to become a Family-Approved Suitor.

Stupidly, Byakuya's eyes drifted over the names written into the form's blank spaces. "With the submission of this form, Abarai Renji, Assistant Captain of the Sixth Division of the Gotei 13," (did he really need to write all that out? It barely fit in the space) "requests the approval of the Kuchiki family to court Lady Kuchiki Rukia, Assistant Captain of the Thirteenth and First Daughter of the Kuchiki."

Oh.

Oh.

---

Byakuya sat in the garden, on the bench near the koi pond. His brain was chasing about in aimless circles, much like the fish in the pond.

"Brother?"

He looked up from the water. His sister was still dressed, despite the late hour. Byakuya recalled that she had been out earlier with Abarai and their human friends. Her hair and makeup was different from the way she wore it for formal events, sharper, wilder. It seemed surreal that parts of the city had been reduced to dust, while others had come through virtually untouched. That despite it all, life continued on.

"Are you alright?" Rukia asked, her brow creased with worry.

Byakuya smiled at her gently, affectionately. He thought about the great lengths he had once gone to protect her from the world, and now she, a woman with one of the most beautiful and deadly bankai he had ever seen, was fussing over him.

"I am fine, Rukia," he reassured her. "Will you sit with me?"

He had expected her to perch at the other end of the bench, a nervous bird, always ready to take flight. Instead, she sat close to him, and with an egregious disregard for propriety, took one of his hands between her own, holding it in her lap. "Renji's sorry, you know. He thought he should have waited another week or two, but I said--"

"He should not be,” Byakuya said stiffly. “Another week or two would have made no difference. I do not wish to speak of it further."

"Did you have something to eat--"

"Did you know that my lieutenant is in love with you?"

It was dark, so he couldn't see if Rukia's cheeks turned pink, but he did catch the shy smile that crossed her lips before she turned her face away self-consciously. Long ago, he had caused her normally unflappable sister to make that face once, maybe twice. It was possibly his greatest achievement.

"He, ah, mentioned something to that effect the other day,"

Byakuya was fairly certain that Abarai wouldn't have proceeded without Rukia's buy-in, but he felt it prudent to double-check. "I take it you... reciprocate?"

She made a pleased little hum. "He only happened to mention it at all because I had just told him that I was in love with him."

Byakuya often enjoyed whimsically deriding his ridiculously hardworking and absurdly devoted adjutant, even more so in the presence of his sister, whose affection for the man had long been obvious, if not the degree of it. But he couldn't bring himself to make jokes, not right now.

"You do not need my permission to take up with him romantically," he pointed out. "You and I have had a long-standing agreement, that as long as you were discreet about it--"

"Renji and I don't want that," Rukia interrupted. "I mean, we do. We do want to take up romantically." She made an odd face at having to say the phrase out loud. "But you're very important to both of us. We wanted you to know. We… wanted you to approve."

Byakuya glanced over at the young woman who he had adopted so many years ago, and yet, had only recently become his sister. She was, in so many ways, much like himself in his youth. Brash. Stubborn. Willful. Too brilliant by half. Byakuya adjusted his hand in hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"You know I am a sentimental fool," he began, and Rukia turned to look at him again with an expression he couldn't quite parse. "I think it is embarrassingly obvious how fond I am of both of you."

Emotion broke over Rukia's face. "It is not, Brother," she tried to scold him, though her voice cracked at the end.

"He hardly deserves you," Byakuya went on.

Rukia rolled her eyes. "The two of you are so--"

"But at least he acknowledges that, and seeks to remedy it," Byakuya ignored her. "I shall be watching closely to make sure he does not become complacent, but if he continues on his current trajectory, he may eventually become worth your affection."

"So, are you going to approve his stupid form?" Rukia asked.

"That," replied Byakuya, "is a different matter."

"Oh," Rukia said softly.

"Becoming a Family-Approved Suitor has nothing to do with whether or not I like him. It is an opening of negotiations, a proof of suitability for marriage. Surely, you two don't…" He trailed off when he saw Rukia looking away again.

"We've only just started figuring this out," she admitted. "But it's not...out of the question."

"Oh," Byakuya replied. He'd always had the distinct impression that his sister had little interest in matrimony, although he knew as well as anyone the difference the "who" of the equation could make.

"That presents...a difficulty," he admitted. "The Family would not take it well. They already think I have been too selfish in these matters.”

“That’s so short-sighted,” Rukia muttered. “So he doesn’t have much money or a name that goes six generations back. He’s got bankai. He’s incredibly strong. The family hasn’t even produced anyone who can pass the vice-captain’s exam in the last hundred years.”

"You misunderstand me, Sister," he clarified. "Bringing Abarai into the family would be a tremendous benefit to me, personally. I lack for neither money nor familial pedigree. The only thing I lack is a family line. A young man of immense spiritual pressure, with no family ties of his own, and an inexplicably fierce loyalty to myself would be of great benefit to our line and perhaps to our family as a whole. It would not be very advantageous to those who are jostling to prove themselves the best among a number of poor choices. The family has not been to war in a long time, and many forget how important it is to maintain our strength. I have not forgotten.”

Rukia’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t name him…”

Byakuya made a horrified face. “Of course not.” He frowned. “Not for the family. But the Captain of the Sixth need not also be the head of the family. I told the Head Captain a year ago he was the only one I trusted to replace me in that regard, although I doubted my posthumous opinion would be respected. I suppose I should tell Kyouraku the same. This would make things a bit smoother, I suppose.” He was quiet for a moment. “I will need to think on this. I might.... I might need to talk to Grandfather. I… will do what I can.”

Rukia eased her hand from his, and slid her arms around his waist and leaned into his side. “Thank you, Brother. I love you.”

Byakuya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He hardly deserved her, either. He pulled one arm out of her hug and rested it gently around her shoulder. “Thank you, Rukia,” he said softly. Another deep breath. “I love you, too.”

Her only response was to hug him just the teeniest bit harder.