#with only mild levels of sass

[shortnspidey]

SILENT RIFT

jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader || WC: 4.5K

SUMMARY: The Pogues finally find the gold they've been searching for after countless obstacles. However, when it comes to actually succeeding, the universe has other plans. Held at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere, a spontaneous decision changes everything. In the heat of the moment, words are said that reveal hidden feelings. Emotions run high, leading them to confront not only their enemies, but also their own emotions.

WARNINGS: established relationship, cursing, mild angst, talks of drugs, typical OBX level violence, suggestive towards the end but no smut!

A/N: Happy OBX 4 release day! This one shot is one of my old Wattpad drafts from when I was writing a JJ story. Enjoy this drabble as I try to publish another chapter of broken record or collateral hearts soon! This ended up being a long one, enjoy! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

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"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Kiara as he stepped out of the Twinkie. He clutched the melted piece of gold tightly in his hand, its weight a tangible reminder of what everyone was expecting him to do. As the group arrived outside a shabby pawn shop on the outskirts of the Outer Banks, the rundown aspect and the graffiti on the walls made your skin crawl. The shops window's were smeared with grime, making it impossible to see inside, and the peeling paint revealed patches of weathered wood.

Kiara shot JJ a glare, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the clenching of her fists. "Like you could have done any better." She retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. JJ stepped closer, standing toe to toe with her, not backing down from her challenging gaze. "I could have done much better. I took a welding class," He sassed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Woah, woah, hey!" John B chastised, stepping in between his two friends.

His presence seemed to diffuse some of the tension, his calm demeanor acting as a buffer between the two. You followed his lead, grabbing JJ by his arm and rubbing comforting circles with your thumb on his forearm knowing that he was anxious. You could feel the taut muscles in JJ's arm slowly beginning to relax under your touch, the rhythmic motion of your thumb providing a small measure of comfort.

"Chill out, okay?" John B coaxed, his voice gentle but firm. You watched as Kiara's eyes softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to a mix of concern and frustration. She took a step back, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled deeply. "It's easy for you to say that," JJ scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're not the one that has to pawn off this piece of shit." He emphasized his point by holding up the gold bars that were now melted in a unrecognizable shape, the once gleaming metal was now a twisted, misshapen lump.

"How did I get this job anyway?" JJ muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Cause you're the best liar." Pope replied nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact. Letting out a sigh JJ turned to you, his cerulean blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes were a stormy sea, filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He turned his head, tapping his cheek. "Kiss, for you know, good luck." He grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning momentarily. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends antics yet leaned in to kiss him nonetheless.

Just as your lips were about to collide with his cheek, he turned his head at the last second, smashing his lips with your in a kiss that was way too passionate for it to be in front of your friends. The warmth of his lips, the sudden intensity, made your heart race. You could have sworn you heard your sister mutter an "aww" while everyone else fake gagged, their exaggerated sounds filling the air. Pulling yourself away from the kiss, much to JJ's dismay, you smiled, leaning up and pressing one more chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

The brief contact left a lingering warmth, a promise of more to come. "You got this," You reassured him, squeezing his bicep in emphasis, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Showtime," He mumbled to himself, mentally preparing. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and gave you one last look before stepping forward. Behind you, Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip offering a silent message of solidarity and support. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Everyone followed JJ into the empty shop, the jingle of the bell on the door announcing your arrival. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet space, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. "Afternoon, ma'am." JJ greeted, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. The shop was dimly lit, with dust particles dancing in the beams of barely there sunlight that filtered through the windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with various trinkets and curiosities, each one telling its own story. “Afternoon.” The pawnbroker, an elderly woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze swept over your group as you spaced yourselves around the room, lingering on JJ for a moment longer. JJ stepped forward, trying to maintain his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. "I see you buy gold," He emphasized, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "That's what the sign says, don't it?" She retorted, her lips curling into a sneer. She glanced at the sign hanging in the window, its letters faded and worn. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I am about to blow your mind." JJ carefully opened his bag, revealing the items inside. The pawnbroker's eyes never left his hands, watching his every move with a hawk-like intensity.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it," She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How about them gold apples," JJ replied, his voice steady as he placed the melted gold onto the counter with a thump that echoed throughout the shop. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, adding a weighty finality to his action. The pawnbroker chuckled cynically, shaking her head. "That ain't real," She declared, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of mockery. Her eyes flicked to the gold, then back to JJ, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

"That ain't real?" JJ scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "It can't be," The pawnbroker pressed, her voice faltering slightly as doubt began to creep in. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering just above the gold, as if afraid to touch it. "Feel how heavy it is," He countered, his voice firm and confident. He nudged the gold closer to her, the metal glinting under the dim light. The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on JJ's, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, she picked up the gold, her fingers curling around it.

Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise as she felt the weight of the metal in her hand. The shop fell silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the floorboards as she adjusted her stance, the gold weighing heavily in her grasp. "Mhm, here let's get some light on that." The group watched intently as she narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless picked up a nearby magnifying glass with a light, inspecting the chunk of gold closely. "Spray-painted tungsten." She concluded, her voice laced with doubt but still firm.

"Really, okay?" JJ rolled his eyes. "Why don't you see how soft it is." He suggested. "You mind?" The pawnbroker asked, holding up a small mallet, her eyes seeking permission. "No, go for it." JJ urged, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She brought the mallet down gently, making a small dent in the gold, then pushed down on it for further inspection. "Wow. Would you look at that." JJ remarked sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hold your horses, we ain't got the acid test yet." She shot back, her confidence wavering slightly. "Ooh, the acid test," He turned, his eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous glint in them.

"My favorite, baby." He added with a wink, grinning as he noticed how the simple action made you flush. You pretended to be distracted by a limited edition book on the shelf, your heart racing as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. This was certainly not the place or time. Everyone held their breath as the woman dribbled a few drops of acid on top of the gold. The liquid sizzled slightly, emitting a faint, acrid smell that filled the small shop. "Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted," she assessed, her tone now more serious. "Ma'am, I'm telling ya, this is as real as the day is long," He insisted, growing tired of the back and forth, his patience wearing thin.

"It looks like someone tried to melt it down," she raised a brow, her eyes meeting JJ's in a challenging gaze. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken accusations. "My mom," You stepped in, linking your arm through JJ's as the pawnbroker eyed you both suspiciously. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to melt it down to "consolidate" it." You tried to sound as convincing as possible, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed through, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah bite her lip to stop the laugh that she almost let out at your evident lie. The pawnbrokers gaze flickered between you and JJ, her skepticism evident. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Turning around with a sigh, she placed the gold into a small scale behind the counter, the scale creaked under the weight. "Seven pounds," Her eyes widened. "That's a lot of earrings." Her voice had a hint of disbelief, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together your story.

"Okay, to be honest, ma'am," JJ spoke, clearing his throat and adopting a more somber tone. "It's really hard to see my fiancé's mom fall apart with Alzheimer's. Breaks my heart, truly." His voice wavered slightly, adding an authentic touch to the fabricated story. "Give me a minute." She tsked, walking towards a secluded office. JJ nodded solemnly, playing into the act of the heartbroken fiancé. "Take your time, ma'am." As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to give JJ a look of disbelief. "Alzheimer's really?" You whispered, trying to keep your voice low. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and you could feel a nervous giggle bubbling up inside you.

"So I talked to my boss, and this is what I can do." The pawnbroker returned, holding a piece of paper with a price written on it. Inspecting it, JJ raised his brows. "Fifty thousand?" He repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. The offer was far lower than what you had hoped for, and you could see the frustration building in JJ's eyes. "You think I walked in here not knowin' the spot price?" JJ retorted, his voice firm. "I know for a fact this is worth 140 at least." His confidence was unwavering, and you could see the pawnbroker's resolve starting to crack. "Well sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain't Zurich." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of concession in her tone.

"Ninety, or I walk," He bargained, his voice steady. "Seventy, half price, and I don't ask questions about where you got this.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking over at John B, who nodded his head, giving him the green light. "I'm gonna need that in large denominations, please," JJ agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "Well, here's the snag, I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway, but I can write you a cashier's check." JJ immediately shook his head. “No ma’am, I want the cold hard, that’s what that sign says. Cash for gold, and that’s what I expect.” He pointed to the sign on the wall as emphasis.

“Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as JJ mentally weighed his options over in his head. “Where’s this warehouse?” He finally asked, his voice steady but with a hint of skepticism. That is how the group found themselves further into the middle of nowhere following the pawnbroker's instructions to the supposed "warehouse". The road was rough and winding, lined with tall, ominous trees that seemed to close in on them as they drove deeper into the unknown.

To say you were on edge would have been a complete understatement. Every creak of the van and small jolt from where you were seated on JJ's lap made your heart race faster. "So, they keep money out here?" Pope voiced aloud the question everyone was probably thinking. His voice broke the silence, but instead of easing the tension, it only seemed to heighten it. The unease in his tone mirrored the anxiety that had settled in your chest. JJ shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "That's what she said," He chuckled at his own joke. "That's what she said." His snicker was met with silence, the gravity of their situation overshadowing any chance of humor.

"Stop," Pope warned, his expression hardening. The seriousness in his eyes was a stark contrast to JJ's attempt at levity. "That was cute, but definitely not the time, J," You exasperated, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear and uncertainty in your tone were unmistakable. The blonde boy nodded, his playful demeanor fading. He held onto the melted gold in one hand, the other resting reassuringly on your thigh. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming tension. "I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive." Sarah inquired. "That's cause your rich." JJ mumbled under his breath.

"You've never heard of it either." Both you and Kiara retorted in unison. "Thank you." Sarah replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing but weeds back here." Kiara informed the group, looking out the van's window and seeing nothing but shrubbery. JJ was about to retort with another sarcastic comment, yet he was interrupted by the sudden, piercing sound of a siren. The noise sliced through the tense silence like a knife. Sure enough, John B looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he saw the flashing lights of a car behind them, signaling for them to pull over.

"Cops? Out here?" Kiara questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me!" JJ fumed, his grip tightening on the gold and your thigh, the panic in his eyes was evident. "What did we do?" Sarah questioned, her voice small and wavering, the fear clear in her tone. "Stash that," John B whispered urgently to JJ, who was still holding onto the gold in his hand. You quickly got off his lap and sat next to Kiara, your heart pounding in your chest. The van's interior felt even more confined as Pope and John B coaxed JJ to hurry up. The oppressive weight of the situation pressed down on you, making every second feel like an eternity as you waited for what would happen next.

Your heart sank in your chest upon hearing the cock of a gun and seeing a rifle a few inches away from John B's face. The metallic click echoed ominously in the confined space of the van. "Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" A gruff voice declared, belonging to a mystery assailant who wore a bandana on the lower half of his face. The fear that gripped your heart quickly morphed into a seething anger. You knew that voice. "All of y'alls hands up in the air right now." Oh hell no, you thought to yourself. This was going to end here and now. "No," You seethed, making direct eye contact with your assailant. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew you recognized him, and his cover slipped slightly.

The tension in the van was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring into action. The familiarity of the voice only fueled your anger, making it harder to think clearly. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, their fear and confusion mirroring your own. "Just do as he says, Y/N," John B urged, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. He slowly raised his hands, setting an example for the rest of you. "No," You shook your head, challenging him. The defiance in your voice was clear. The assailant's eyes narrowed behind the bandana.

"Alright, tough girl, come on out here then," He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Sarah whimpered, her voice trembling as she watched you step out of the van, the barrel of the gun trained on you. "It's gonna be okay, Sarah," You reassured her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "Y/N!" This time it was JJ. His voice cracked with desperation. As your eyes met his, you could see he was barely holding it together, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "JJ, trust me, stay here," You coaxed, trying to project as much confidence as you could muster. The last thing you needed was for him to do something reckless.

"I'd listen to the lady, unless you want your brain scattered here on the side of the road," The assailant threatened, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding to the already suffocating tension. "I'll be okay, I'll be right back," You promised, hoping your words would be enough to keep your friends from doing anything rash. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come, and stepped further away from the van, feeling the eyes of your friends burning into your back. Once you were a safe distance away from the van, Barry lowered his rifle, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Mighty brave of you, Cameron, especially 'cause I'm the one holdin' the gun." He mocked.

"Oh please," You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with disdain. "Drop the act, Barry," Addressing him by his name with a tone of authority, you crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "We both know Rafe will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me." You smirked confidently. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase, shall we?" You proposed, your eyes never leaving his as you reached for the shiny gold diamond ring that adorned your knuckle. Barry watched in disbelief as you slipped it off and held it out to him. "Here," You coaxed, handing him the ring. "This will get you a couple thousand dollars if you pawn it off right." Barry took the ring, studying it in the sunlight. "This covers what you and your friends got, but not what country club owes me, you feel me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest once more, the frustration evident in your posture. "How much does he owe you?" You asked, your voice tinged with exasperation. "At least two hundred," Barry replied, a smirk playing on his lips. Sighing, you reached into your back pocket for your wallet, picking out two hundred dollar bills. "Are we free to go?" You huffed, knowing that if this deal took any longer, your boyfriend would most likely come and take matters into his own hands, whether Barry had a gun or not. "Tell your boy toy that his attitude's gonna get him in trouble," Barry sneered. "Don't," You spat, your eyes narrowing. "If you even think of touching him, we're going to have a problem. You feel me?" You threw back his previous words with a defiant glare.

Raising his hands in mock surrender "Damn, looks like I hit a nerve." Barry chuckled. "I mean it, Barry," You insisted, your voice steady and unwavering. With one final smirk in your direction, Barry pockets the cash and the ring and climbs into his car without a single look back in your direction. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn back towards the van. As you approached, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air. "What the hell was that?" Sarah was the first to question you, her eyes wide with concern as you climbed into the backseat as if nothing had happened.

"I handled it, it's over." You shrugged nonchalantly, but the tightness in your chest betrayed your calm facade. Sarah scoffed, clearly unconvinced by your bravado. "That was pretty stupid, Y/N," Kiara scolded, her voice filled with frustration. Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of worry and disapproval. You shrugged them off, trying to meet JJ's eyes, who had yet to say anything. You could see the worry and anger battling for dominance in his eyes, the tension in his jaw making it clear just how much he was holding back. "Let's get out of here," John B broke the silence, his voice a calm command that cut through the tension. Everyone was unharmed, yet you somehow knew this was far from over.

Arriving back at the Château, you watched JJ throw open the door before John B even parked his van. The sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed through the air. You watched as JJ stormed inside, his movements quick and agitated. One hand was gripping his chest, his knuckles white from the pressure, while the other was balled into a tight fist, veins visible under his skin. He didn't look back, his anger propelling him forward. John B, Kiara, Sarah, and Pope turned to you, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. It was as if they were silently asking if they should get involved, their eyes darting between you and the direction JJ had gone.

"I'll handle it," You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. You stepped down from the van, the gravel crunching under your feet. "Good luck," John B sing-songed, a teasing lilt in his voice. You flipped him off with a smirk, hearing Sarah and Kiara scold him in unison. Their voices faded as you walked through the door, the familiar scent of the Château enveloping you. You found JJ in the spare bedroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, each step reverberating through the wooden floor. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a storm of emotions - anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"JJ, talk to me," You urged softly, stepping closer. Your voice was calm, trying to soothe the tempest within him. He stopped pacing and turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of anger and hurt, his jaw clenched tightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's the scumbag who sells coke to my brother. I know him and what he's capable of. As much of a psychotic asshole as he is, he wouldn't hurt me. Not without facing Rafe's wrath." That only made JJ angrier. "How are you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. "Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, or I won't be there to protect you." His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could see the worry etched into his features, mingling with the anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breathing was ragged. "I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's over now." "Over?!" JJ's voice rose, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Dammit Y/N, you don't get it!" He screamed, pulling his hair in frustration. "I was fucking terrified. Did you know how scared I felt, watching the woman I love being held at gunpoint?" His voice broke, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried to blink them away.

You opened your mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and significant. "What did you just say?" You finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. JJ stayed quiet, almost as if processing the words himself. His breathing slowed, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. The vulnerability in his stance was palpable, and it hit you just how deeply he cared. This was more than just anger; it was fear of losing someone he couldn't bear to lose. "JJ," You coaxed to stop him from overthinking, knowing that his flight or fight mode was kicking in.

JJ's confession hung in the air, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. You could see the fear and love in his eyes, and it made everything else fade away. The room seemed to shrink, and all that mattered was the two of you, standing there, vulnerable and exposed. "I love you, Y/N," He repeated, his voice softer this time, filled with a desperate need for you to understand. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, JJ," You whispered, your voice trembling.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing either." His eyes softened, the anger melting away as he leaned into your touch. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," He murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I can't lose you, Y/N." He whimpered leaning his forehead against yours. "You won’t lose me, ever, I promise," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you both closed the distance between one another, your lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was a kiss that spoke of all the fear, the love, and the relief you both felt. Bodies pressed together, seeking comfort and connection, hearts beating as one.

“And I love you too,” You grinned the second he pulled away giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. “In case that kiss didn’t make it clear enough.” JJ shook his head, only pulling you closer. "What do you say we seal the deal?" JJ grinned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky I love you." He didn't even give you a chance to finish his sentence before he kissed you again, wanting to show you just how much he meant it. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing more intense. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that promised so much more to come.

[roanofarcc]

STARGAZING

pairing. sasappis x ghost!reader

summary. requested. stargazing with sasappis. pure fluff!

word count. 1k || masterlist

warnings. dead!reader, g/n reader, no use of y/n.

No matter how much time passed you by in death, there were still things about the world that fascinated you. One of those things was the stars. Whenever the sky was clear, you’d be found in the backyard of Woodstone, lying in the grass and gazing at the stars as if you were witnessing them for the very first time. Sometimes one or two of the ghosts who haunted the mansion would join you, but more often than not, the only person who seemed to enjoy the stars almost as much as you was Sasappis. You both enjoyed one another's company and relished in the calmness of a twinkling night. 

You and Sasappis had been alive during vastly different time periods, but the stars reminded you both of home and family; they connected you across decades and lifetimes. 

“Did you know people can get stars named after them now?” you said, breaking the long stretch of comfortable silence.

You felt his eyes on the side of your face, causing you to turn your head to gaze back at him. The soft light of the moon cast a pretty glow across his face, with brows furrowed in question. “No way,” he replied. 

“Really! You get a certificate and everything.” It was Jay who you learned that from; he had a whole conversation about space and the universe with one of the people they hired to fix up the mansion for their B&B. “Imagine,” you continued, a dreaminess floating in your voice. “Looking up every night and knowing somewhere in the sky is a little star with your name.”

“First there’s other galaxies beyond ours and now this?” Sass said in mild disbelief. “What’s next? Are they going to colonize the moon?” 

A laugh bubbled up your throat and he smiled. “Mars is next on the list, I believe.” 

He blew some air from his cheeks. “And here I thought the idea of a man on the moon was outrageous.” 

You turned your body so that you were lying on your side, propping your head up on your hand as your elbow dug into the grass. You could see him better, lying with his hands down at his sides as he plucked at the grass absentmindedly. “If you had a star, which one would you want?” you asked. 

He returned his gaze to the sky, studying the nearby stars with a level of seriousness that made your lips quirk up in a soft smile. Sass didn’t take too many things seriously; how could he after being a ghost for as long as he had? But around you, especially when you were alone in the backyard, Sass hung onto every word you said as if his death depended on it. 

After a long moment, he pointed upwards at the sky and said, “That one, right there.” You strained your eyes, following his finger in the general direction he was pointing. “Not the super bright one, but the one right next to it.” You saw it, two stars situation beside each other. One glowered brighter than the other, but both were dazzling against the black sky. 

“Why not the brighter one?” you asked. 

Sass looked at you again, soft smile and eyes wide with a certain glimmer of adoration that made your stomach flutter. He reminded you of a star. He was something you planned to admire for as long as your ghostly form remained at Woodstone. 

“Because the bright one’s yours,” he said. You felt your face warm at his words and you forced your gaze away from him and back up at the stars. The two stars sat prettily beside one another, just as the two of you sat side by side on the grass. The light that emitted from your star stretched outwards just slightly, looking like it was reaching out for the star beside it. 

You became brave and copied your star’s action, slowly sliding your head that rested at your side toward Sasappis’s hand. Your pinky brushed against his as a hesitant invitation, and without either one of you taking your eyes off of the sky, you interlocked your fingers. With his hand in yours, you felt as if you were holding onto a star. Bright and beautiful and just yours. 

It didn’t matter how old the stars in the sky were, they still ended up right beside each other just as you and Sass ended up ghosts at Woodstone together. Maybe it was fate, written in the stars as some people would suggest, that the two of you had died on the same property decades apart and found yourselves stuck in purgatory together. Death had brought you together despite the impossibility of you two ever meeting while you were alive. 

When you were alive, death had been seen as a curse, but it wasn’t all that bad. An eternity spent with Sasappis, watching the stars and basking in the glow of one another sounded like the opposite of some kind of punishment. And maybe after you completed your purgatory, if it ever ended, you two would end up burning as stars in the sky side by side. That’d be nice, you thought.

“Look,” you said, pointing to the cluster of stars just below yours. “There’s one for everyone too. Sam and Jay. Trevor, Isaac, Flower, and that one’s obviously Thor.” You pointed to the largest star in the cluster. “And then Hetty, Alberta, and Pete.” That sounded nice too, spending forever in the sky with everyone still close. 

“Cute,” Sass replied as a light laugh punctuated his word. “The whole family.” He paused, shaking his head. “Do not tell any of them I called us a family.” 

“Never.” You smiled. “Can’t have them know you’re a big softie.” 

Sass scoffed, playfully. “Am not.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You just told me I was a bright star in the sky.” 

He lifted your interlocked hands, letting them bathe in the direct moonlight. “Okay, maybe I’ve gone a little soft, but it’s your fault.” You let your hand fall onto his chest above where his heart used to beat and scooted impossibly close to him, hovering just slightly above his lying figure. 

“Sorry,” you said, insincerely. He mirrored your smile before he lifted his head and met you halfway, capturing your lips in a short but sweet kiss, spotlighted by your stars that burned as brightly. 

[blakeswritingimagines]

Having a sassy s/o

Aegon: He loves sassy partners, you're never predictable, always pushing you to be your best but with your own twist. He likes that he can tell you anything and you'll find a way to tell him your opinions on something. You make him feel like every conversation is something unique and special.

Aemond: He is not a fan of sass. While he can be quite a bit of a bully at times if you were to sass him, he would probably have to make an example of you. But just for the record, he doesn't enjoy being put in that position, but a man's got to do what a man's got to do.

Jacaerys: In addition to remaining calm, it is important to also be respectful towards a sassy partner. He knows it is not necessary to agree with you or to give in to you, but he does feel it is important to hear you out and to be open to your point of view. He would also try to stay away from any type of condescending or dismissive attitude, as this can only further the argument and make things worse.

Lucerys: It depends on the sort of sass being dished out. He can enjoy a good bit of banter, but a snarky or rude person is not something he would want to tolerate. In a relationship, both partners must respect each other and treat each other with care and kindness. If you were to lash out at him or insult him, it would be a deal-breaker. But if you're just joking around, that's a different matter entirely.

Rhaenyra: She has no problem with a sassy partner. In fact, sometimes she enjoys the banter. A good sense of humor is always a plus in her book. However, if your sassy attitude crosses a line and becomes outright disrespectful, then she will react firmly and let you know that it's not acceptable behavior.

Daemon: In the beginning it is frustrating, but it can lead to heated moments. Eventually, he begins to find joy in the sass. There is a certain excitement to knowing he’ll never quite know how you will respond to anything. It adds spice to the conversation, and I must admit, he enjoys a good spice.

Alicent: If you're simply sassy and enjoy teasing then that's fine. But if you are rude or inconsiderate then that isn't going to fly. A certain level of respect is necessary in any relationship. If you don't respect her, you don't deserve her respect.

Helena: She is a very patient person, so when she is faced with someone such as a sassy partner she is able to remain calm. She finds that it is better to discuss things openly and honestly, rather than to engage in petty arguments or to react in a passive-aggressive manner. She would aim to try and understand where you are coming from and to help you to see things from her perspective. Ultimately, communication is key and it is important to respect each other's opinions and feelings.

Harwin: That depends entirely on how 'sassy' we're talking. Some mild sass, perhaps in the form of playful teasing or flirtation, can be quite pleasant. But if the sass is mean-spirited, spiteful, and condescending, he doesn't have much patience for it. In the case of the latter, he would likely respond with stern words and/or silence, depending on the situation.

Cregan: He admires and respects a partner who can stand up for themselves. It shows you are confident, witty, and capable. He finds that sassy personality attractive, as someone who can handle his occasional teasing and banter will be a perfect match for him.

[thirstnotes]

| Rivals to Lovers with Clark Kent |

Summary: Just mindless jabbering about mild “Enemies to Lovers” with Clark Kent for @ramp-it-up . It’s not a story, per se, but this one’s for you, homie. Merry New Year lol

Warnings: Ramblings, opinions, jokes, attempts at humor, morally gray Clark, smut, NSFW eventually (not this part tho) so per usual, minors DNI, typos probably, poor writing (but if you don’t like it, don’t read it)

Pairings: Clark Kent x BlackAFABReader

You’ve been at the Daily Planet a little bit longer than Clark, so you knew the ropes before Golden Boy graced you all with his presence

You were a bad bitch, able to cover some of the toughest exclusives. From Bruce Wayne to Static Shock himself

But he started scooping you left and right and it was tap-dancing on your last nerve. But you respected how he was able to somehow get the story

You secretly thought he had to be Superman

Bc frfr the man was swole

“Scooped again,” you huffed quietly, packing your bag for the day, eyes flickering to the team congratulating Clark Probably-Superman-Because-What-Reporter-Has-A-Body-Like-That-Kent. You spotted him approaching from the corner of your eye and looked up with an enthusiastic smile.

“Well well. Congrats again, Clark.”

His dashing smirk grew a bit and he dipped his head with a laugh. “Thanks. You almost sounded like you meant it this time. The smile? Nice touch.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” you sassily agreed, a little proud of your own performance and he laughed. You looked out at the office. “Well anyway. Your adoring public awaits.”

“C’mon, YN, we’re going out to celebrate. Have a drink on me.”

He was always really sweet. That was one of the things that kinda bothered you. He was perfect. Funny, gorgeous, smart and a hell of a journalist. You couldn’t even have a serious rivalry with him because he was just genuinely a nice dude.

It was a rivalry you both enjoyed, because you could sass each other on a professional level and still have lunch and debate topics civilly (most of the time) with a mutual respect

Loathe as you were to admit it, you had a lot in common

“Can’t. I have things to do.”

“I promise not to brag much,” he joked, his arms folding expectantly. You rolled your eyes and mimicked his pose, shifting the weight in your hips.

“Clark, as much as I’d love to pour-have a drink on you, I actually have a life outside of The Daily Planet Crew-Heeeey, Luke!”

Clark’s eyes followed yours to the man perched in the doorway. You lit up so much at seeing him, Clark looked back at you with a judgy smirk but you ignored him.

“Hey, you need a ride to class?” Luke asked, looking between you and Clark, who perked up.

“Class?”

“Yeah, no, we do a cooking class together. International Cuisines over on West and Central. You should check it out,” Luke explained and Clark looked moderately impressed.

“Oh! I didn’t know you two were. Are you datin-“

“Oh, um,” you started.

“No, no, no,” he gargled out at the same time and Clark looked between you slowly.

“I mean, it is a couple’s only class, but, like, between us, we kinda fudged the details a little bit when we signed up,” you admitted, your embarrassment growing. It was enough that your secret alone time with the hot photographer was being revealed to Mr. Perfect, but to hear Luke so vehemently refute the implication that you were his girlfriend. In front of him. Of all people. It was too much. You swallowed your feelings and kept it together. “Anyway, yeah, I’ll ride over with you.”

With that Luke continued down the hall to the darkroom. You exhaled and and pulled your bag onto your shoulder.

“Not a word.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Clark smirked, rolling his lips, to keep from laughing at the juicy interaction he just witnessed. He watched you lock up and leave, that annoyingly smug smirk on his ridiculously handsome face ever present. You knew he was judging you. Like Damn woman, I knew you were thirsty, but this is next level.

Not like he had room to judge. Lois Lane could wear his balls as a necklace and he’d thank her for her time and energy. You had to respect the hustle, however, because he was just as shameless as you were to get next to his boo. You weren’t mad at that. The struggle was real. Today, however, was a major blow to your pride and progress and honestly you didn’t even know why you even bothered getting into the car, let alone slog through another class next to a man who clearly didn’t see you as anything but a fwb. The benefit being that you were a woman he could finesse a cooking class with.

You were way too fine to be used like that

You knew that

But in a way you were using him to be in the class too. It had limited seats and if word got out that you two weren’t a couple, you’d be put out for sure, so, annoyed and lukewarm (I said what I said) as you were on him now, you were trapped in this one-sided arrangement for now

But damn. Pretending was hard. When that man smiled at you over a perfectly cooked plate of crullers that you both worked hard to make…Hoooo. You were goo. It was pitiful. You hated it, but there you were. Laughing at his corny ass jokes. Joking back. Completely ignoring how he threw your potential relationship under the bus earlier that day. The laughter died down and eventually it was just you two in the car. Him driving you home.

“Hey, you remember when Clark thought we were dating?” you asked, hoping to work around to a genuine conversation about the two of you.

“Woah right? That was close. I mean, not that you aren’t attractive. You’re gorgeous, of course.”

“Of course,” you smirked saucily, chest fluttering at the blatant compliment he was giving. But the other half of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But.”

There it was.

He hesitated, as if trying to find the words. He hazarded a glance your way. “Between us, Lois and I have been dating for a little bit.”

You then throat chopped him, causing him to swerve sharply, sending the car into a spin-out off the nearest bridge, thus killing you both and sparing you the humiliating dread of realizing you wasted your time simping over some dude that Lois Fuckin Lane had already secured between her legs ages ago

Just kidding. That didn’t happen, but you were damn sure thinking about it right then

You were truly at a loss. You were a top flight journalist, you should’ve picked up on it. Something. Anything. Sure, they hung out a bit between meetings, but you all did. Then again, they did spend more than a little time at each other’s desks, smiling and talking. Grabbing lunch or coffee for each other. But you thought it was business. You and Clark did that for each other all the time. Maybe you just ignored the signs.

“Oh. Shit. That’s-That’s great! Is it getting serious?” you asked, kicking yourself for the filler question. He took a deep breath.

“I think so. I mean, it’s going pretty well. I wish I knew what was going on in her mind.”

“Well I’m not gonna spy for you, if that’s what you’re working around to,” you joked hollowly, the sinking pain in your chest making you feel sick and stupid. He laughed and you forced yourself to as well.

“Man, that’s cold,” he chortled and it gave you a petty bit of satisfaction.

“That’s life.*”

‘Biotch’.*

“That’s what people say,” he joked back, quoting the song. Though while he was riding high in April, it was you that was shot down in May. You were relieved when you saw home, nearly opening the door while the car was still in motion. You couldn’t wait to get inside and have a nice hot bath and a stiff drink.

Usually that was your time to unwind and read in the warm candlelight, or even touch yourself, if you felt so inclined to do so, but tonight, you weren’t feeling anything. Much less yourself.

You couldn’t help but think about how Clark was coping with all this. Provided he even knew. You could see him, the absolute Labrador of a man, reduced to nothing me than a kicked puppy at the news of his beloved Lois dating anybody that wasn’t him

Part of you was hoping he was Superman, so he could freak out and smack the shit out of Luke for doing this to you. Well. The petty part of you was kinda hoping

It wasn’t anybody’s fault, you knew that, but you just wanted to feel less like a fool and more like the confident woman you woke up as that morning

The next time you saw Clark, you debated not telling him anything, but you weren’t willing to let anybody go out the way you did. So eventually, over coffee, you broke it to him casually

“I know.”

“S’cuse me?”

“That they’re dating? I already know that,” he said, adding more coffee to his mug to make it less sweet. He was either taking this remarkably well, or he was playing it off like he was totally fine. Which would add amazing acting to his already impressive list of things he could do well.

“Then why are you still fawning all over Lois like it’s Single’s Weekend?”

He laughed with a shrug. “They’re dating, not married. She could change her mind.”

Part of you felt a small spark jolt through you. You always imagined Clark the traditional type. But there he was literally—openly—declaring war on your crush. Threatening to steal his bae.

“Oh. Okay. My bad.”

Part of you was cheering for him to.

(Part 2)

[tavyliasin]

ATG 4 - Dream? Nightmare.

In which a devil dances through Tav's sleep.

----- Summary -----

Pairing: Raphael/Tav SPICE Rating: 1.5/5 (teasing, tension) Content Warnings: No sex, implied power play, some intimidation, implied manipulation (implied only, free will and consent are my priority), alcohol (mild)

Spoilers Set in the middle of Act 2, there is a hint of a character who doesn't appear until Act 3, however no name or details of them. Canon Compliance Canon Whomst? - There is a very slight mention of canon material, with Raphael and Mol in Last Light, as well as a little of the Dream Guardian, but this is largely filling a hole (not literally) that I feel we deserve. I tried to keep close to character attitudes, though, and how they might be reacting. Other Notes Self indulgent and slow burn - one does not simply lay with a demon. But it's laying some groundwork, and I love the back and forth sass. It was also fun to play with Tav in a "dream" where consequences don't matter to her. And of course: Free will, darlings, it is important, and in this House of Hoes we lean hard into that sexy consent.  Song/Mood Paralyzed by Aviators and Lectro Dub "Wicked traps are set around you, Not a lantern lit in sight to guide you home you've been looking for the danger and you sense my presence chilling in your bones Take your stance, I will give you one fair chance, So let's make this dance a bloody masquerade. Understand how this ends, and what I am, You're against the night itself so be afraid. That adrenaline rush when weapons fly, It's the fear that brings out that body high So you know that I'm stuck here paralyzed with you." ----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

Tavylia was exhausted, or perhaps something several levels past simply exhausted. The sheer effort of staying conscious was an insurmountable task after all the last few weeks had brought. At least they'd found the Inn, one small piece of safety in the cursed Shadowlands, a haven of light and well supplied with alcohol. Thank the gods for small blessings , she had thought as she casually swiped multiple dusty bottles from unattended shelves. 

Of course not everything in the Inn was peaceful. That smug bastard Raphael had made himself known once more, another tempting offer and another battle of wits between sharp tongues had followed. Tav hoped that young Mol was as smart as she claimed, she would need to be if she truly wanted to outsmart a literal devil and make a contract with him. Tav ruefully took another swig of wine. It had soured a little, but it was better than nothing. Raphael , she practically spat the word in her mind, what the fuck do you want with ME? 

It was truly baffling. Here was a cambion who could easily step in and out of Avernus just to…what? Annoy her somewhat? Get under her skin with false promises? He had already tried to strike a deal to remove the mindflayer tadpoles from her brain, and her companions' too of course, but she had held out hope that perhaps the druid Halsin might heal them or that Lae'zel's fellow Githyanki could solve it. Instead, they'd found the Githyanki solution was to sacrifice themselves to the Lich queen hoping to become a god to the gith, a fate which only the strange dream guardian had saved them from. Halsin also had no answer for them, but at least he stayed around to help regardless. His huge form was hardly an unwelcome site to several wandering eyes in camp, her own included…

So. The tadpole deal wasn't going to cut it, there felt like a catch… Besides, as long as they had the Guardian and the strange object that held them, they were safe from that. Some of the tadpole's powers were also proving useful, and Rule 1, of course, is to survive. Another riddle, there. Why was Raphael interested in their survival anyway? This new deal hardly seemed to be that beneficial to him, unless there was a loophole she hadn't spotted yet. A shiver ran down her spine. They had already accepted the terms: defeat the devil's old enemy sealed beneath a temple, and he would tell them the meaning of the scars on Astarion's back. The supposed "poem" carved by his vampire master Cazador. But surely if he wanted to, Raphael could defeat some old enemy, and Tav doubted that the campion bastard would send them to their deaths either. There had to be something else, some other reason…

Another swig of bitter wine and she let the empty bottle fall to the floor with a gentle thud. Her eyes weren't going to stay open any longer like this, and she was far too tired to simply meditate through her rest as elves often chose to do. No, tonight the wine would suffice as a potion of sleep, given that she was immune to the real thing. Darkness closed in as the last candle in the dim Inn room winked out. 

---

Tav knew she was dreaming. Probably. These were no longer the cursed Shadowlands around her, nor the battered coastline they had traipsed across, or the dank Underdark that stood as their path between the two. This was…home? As close to one as she could recall. The Lower City of Baldur's Gate, close to the docks where the sound of the sea echoed through the numerous cracks in the walls.

"Hardly a mansion, is it? Is this really how you lived?" The snide voice could only have come from one mouth, the corners already curling in a derisive smile beneath deceptively disarming raised brows. Raphael laughed. "No wonder you weren't complaining about that pitiful hovel you're actually sleeping in, Little Mouse."

Tav began to feel that his dream likeness was a little too unnerving for her taste, but this was her dream, so she had control. "If you don't like my house, the door is right there. I wouldn't expect a spoiled devil brat to understand, anyway. Home is what I make of it, it is wherever I decide it to be. And yes, for a time, this was my mansion. " 

"Well pardon my dreadful manners, though this is hardly the same hospitality I offered you when you visited my home." His voice kept treading the fine line between derision and allure, something which felt entirely too natural.

"Then you'll just have to excuse me for not enchanting a loaf of stale bread and some stagnant water to appear as a feast to trick you into some infernal deal - if you wanted luxury, you chose the wrong elf."

"Luxury, Little Mouse, I have plenty of at home. And as for the feast, well one can have an appetite for more than just food - I'm sure you've learned this well from your little fanged fling." His eyes travelled up and down her form, making Tav feel even more under-dressed in her own home…dream…whatever this was meant to be. Raphael's human form was, as always, immaculately well dressed and groomed, chestnut hair swept neatly back just barely grazing the edge of his ruffled collar. "So, perhaps you might reconsider what you might put on the table, hmm?"

Tav gave the thought more consideration than she otherwise might have, had she not partaken of quite so much overly-vintage red so close to bed. Curiosity, they said, killed the cat. But according to Raphael, he was the cat, and she was simply a Little Mouse . Which meant, perhaps, that curiosity was not the trap being set for her, but instead might ensnare the demon himself. Turning the tables could be an interesting dream, after all.

Raphael simply sat back in his chair, watching, waiting, while Tav cleared away the few chipped bits of crockery that were strewn across the table, wiping away the dust with the edge of her ragged sleeve. 

"Well, perhaps we could do a little better with your outfit, at least." With a snap of his fingers, Tav felt the fabrics change from the rough and ill-fitted cotton taken from some hapless fool's washing line and into something far more…fitted. Silk draped over her curves, enhancing her form and showing every line of her body in what she assumed by the low whistle from the uninvited guest was at least a little attractive. For a moment, she applauded her self confidence for imagining this, before cursing it for spiking her curiosity more.

First a vampire, now…a devil? Hah, in my dreams, I suppose. 

"A soul coin for your thoughts, Little Mouse?" Raphael had his boots on the table now, making himself quite at home. 

"If you must know, you bizarre figment of my imagination, I am wondering exactly why you have such an interest in some pitiful peasant elf who just happened to get stuck with a bloody tadpole in her brain." She sat on the table itself, pushing his all too fancy shoes back off her furniture and earning another derisive laugh.

"You're fascinating . Full of surprises and contradictions. I thought perhaps you were desperate to survive, ready to take my first deal. But that would have been too easy, now, wouldn't it... So now you get a taste, agreeing to a simple task to help your toy, and that's exactly what I'm doing. It is such fun to watch you scurry about, Little Mouse, stealing some cheese here, yet baring your little teeth at evil over there just to do the smallest amount of good, even if it won't last. In the one moment, you're selfish to the core, serving your needs first, but the next you're putting your very life on the line for some hapless fools once more! How could I not be intrigued by the possibilities? Like right now, there you sit speaking to me as if I am beneath you, and yet in the same breath vastly underestimating yourself." 

"I'm glad I'm proving to be so amusing to you, demon, but I was hoping for more pleasant dreams. So if you wouldn't mind-"

"Ah, were you expecting another chat with your so called Guardian, hmm?" He laughed, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. "A tiefling, aren't they? Is that more to your liking, then, the horns and the tail?"

"They're a useful tool, nothing more." She paused. "Though even a tool can be attractive, I suppose."

"So you do understand how I see you, then." He sat forwards now, face and body growing slightly and warping to his demonic red form, wings unfolding behind him. "I cannot wait to put you to use. "

His true form's eyes looked like lit fires burned within them, gaze piercing her soul, almost as if it were a real fire heating her body from within. Had the drafty old house by the sea always been this warm?...

Raphael's hands enveloped Tav's, pinning them to the table as he rose above her, glowing eyes looking down with an unexpected curiosity, as if he wasn't sure what he was planning himself. "For a dream, you seem…vivid. Normally by now this scene would've shifted to some nightmare dredged up by my memories, or perhaps of late to my Guardian's domain for one of their midnight chats…" 

"Little Mouse, I can be either a dream or a nightmare, that choice is yours to make. But rest assured, I shall let neither memories nor Guardian intrude on our little Soiree tonight." The pressure released from her hands as he stood fully and instead extended his fingers towards her, a gesture born of high society etiquette. A song she had never heard began to echo in Tav's ears, the haunting melody that prickled that sense of danger deep within her. A sense that had begun to feel more enticing than perilous, thanks in no small part to her time with Astarion. "Well, would you care to join me for a dance, Little Mouse?"

The room grew and shifted as she stood from the table, a shiver of anticipation running through her entire being as she took his hand, accepting the invitation. The surroundings became like nothing she had ever seen before, a vast ballroom with shadows waltzing around them, yet none getting close enough to make her feel crowded. The decorations felt as unreal and shifting as any dream, becoming more like feelings than clear details. An atmosphere just suited to dance with a devil. “You surprise me,” Tav said, as they began to move around the ballroom to the hauntingly beautiful music, “you’re surely more than powerful enough to take whatever you want, and yet you always ask. ” “Free will, Little Mouse, is far more interesting than a simple spell to compel you to follow my orders like a mindless beast.” His arm curled around her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt as if their feet barely touched the floor at all as they continued their dance. Both literally and metaphorically, she might’ve thought, if she wasn’t listening between every word and line seeking for his real meaning. “Free will?” she echoed, still unwilling to break eye contact.

“Free. Will. Where is the game, where is the challenge without it? How little you understand of the thrill of catching someone in your web and drawing them ever closer, knowing that every step they take has been on of their own choosing.” As if to emphasise his point, Raphael allowed her to spin lightly away, one hand still entwined with hers, but did not pull to draw her back in.

Tav felt herself dancing back into his embrace once more, his arm on her waist ensnaring her even tighter this time, a slight sound leaving her lips unbidden at the feel of their bodies pressed more closely together. The vibrations of his low chuckle resonated through her ribs.

“See, Little Mouse, here you are, entirely of your own accord. And why? Hoping to learn a few of my secrets, are you?” The smug look on his face was becoming almost unbearable now, but Tav drew on the deepest parts of her courage to respond.

“Everything is of my choosing, isn’t it.” She mused quietly, an idea forming quickly in her mind, not breaking eye contact for a second. “I could simply choose to leave, or ignore you, or let my dream take another shape. Or instead I could follow whatever whim I like.”

She unlaced their fingers and took her other hand from his waist, reaching up on the tips of her toes and taking a firm grip of his horns to pull his face down towards her. If she had been paying attention, she would’ve seen the smug look melt away to be replaced with something between utter confusion and unexpected anticipation, but she wasn’t wasting a single beat of the melody that still swirled around them. She caught his lips in a kiss, pressing her body against his, taking a tentative taste of his lips.

If fire had a flavour, that would’ve been how she described the taste, with a hint of the same cherry that lingered in the air around him wherever he went. Blissfully the sulphur was masked by this, though she assumed that her dream would give her everything she imagined in the way she wanted it most. And, Gods, was she now painfully aware of what she wanted.

Intoxicating. That was the only way to describe the feeling when Raphael began to return her kiss. Different to the heated passion and whispering words of love that Astarion pressed to her lips… No, this was greed. A far simpler riddle to solve than any of the devil’s other motivations. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her body perhaps a little too firmly against his own, wings encircling the pair now as their latest dance began.

The music shifted, swayed, the unseen orchestra swelling with new chords that should’ve alarmed Tav…but her own choir was already singing to the tune. A casual observer might begin to wonder if what they saw in that formless ballroom was a kiss or a battle, but both answers would be correct.

Rogue and Demon were stubborn to a fault, each seeking to out-do the other, each probing the other for answers even though their questions were vastly different. For Tav, it was “how far can this dream go before I wake?” , yet for Raphael he wondered instead “why can I not get this infuriating Little Mouse out of my head…what is it that’s keeping me here?”

Unfortunately, perhaps for both, only one would get their answer, as the music swiftly subsided just as they might have gone further.

“Pity.” Raphael hissed, as he broke away from Tav and allowed them both to drift back to the floor. “It seems we will have to put this little thought on hold, it seems you have another caller on the line.”

“What?” Tav couldn’t keep the confusion from her breathless reply, the taste of burning cherry still dancing across her tastebuds.

“Your supposed Guardian is requesting an audience, I don’t think they’re willing to indulge you in another moment’s peace.” He frowned, reverting back to the more human cambion form in which he had first appeared that night. “Perhaps some other time, Little Mouse, you might care to sample a finer meal.”

With one final snap of his fingers, the scenery melted away into smoke, as Tav felt her dream lurch unsettlingly into the Guardian’s domain.

---

The rocks Tav stood upon floated through space, the sounds of distant battle echoing across the stars around her. She silently cursed the timing of her secretive “saviour”, and wondered for a fleeting moment how much they might’ve seen. They appeared beside her, stepping from a shadow, their golden armour now sparkling in the light. Their voice was soft, warm, a strange kind of comfort in all kinds of times. It was now that Tav realised, much to her relief, that her appearance had reverted to her simple camp clothes that she slept in. A silk gown didn’t feel fitting for the serious look on the face before her.

“Sit, please. I do not know how long we will have, but I would like to talk.” Two-toned eyes peered at her face, filled with concern. “Your heart was racing, but your mind…was closed to me.” “Oh, that - I was just sleeping. Nothing but a dream, I’m fine. Really.” Sitting now beside them, Tav laid a hand on their shoulder. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.” “Are you certain that was all there was to it? A dream?” They shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through the long hair that flowed down to their shoulders, parted slightly around the horns that curved around from their forehead to their ears like those of a ram. “I…do not like to pry, we all deserve our secrets, after all, but usually if I so wished I could see your dreams.” “You do seem to have more secrets than most. But that’s strange… Why might that be closed to you? You’ve been able to see through my eyes plenty of times in the waking world without issue, and if dreams are the same…” A thought was beginning to occur to Tav, one that she was extremely willing to shut down before it could take root and expand into startling and terrifying realisations. “Only powerful magic could prevent the connection we share, our bond is one that cannot be easily overcome.” The Guardian tilted their head quizzically, seeming to assess Tav as her thoughts began to sprint down the forbidden path to the uncomfortable truth. “What is it? Are you sure there isn’t something wrong?” “Oh. Oh fuck.” Tav’s conscious mind had run directly into a large stone wall, and the writing upon it was crystal clear. She continued, mumbling more to herself than as any kind of response to the tiefling warrior by her side. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. How did I not realise that it was possible? What was in that wine? Is that what he did?...”

The Guardian remained silent, simply laying a quiet hand upon Tav’s as she processed the horrifying culmination of each of her actions, one after the other. 

“Spoiled devil brat, I called him, right before falling into his seductive little game as easily as if we were playing Lanceboard. Shit…SHIT!   Bizarre figment of my imagination, I called him that too, right before suggesting he was an attractive tool and-”

Her mind was reeling, turning over every word in detail, knowing they were not in fact spoken to an apparition but likely all too directly to the one devil she could not afford to cross. The Guardian stayed with her still, a strange comforting presence, even as she sank even deeper into her thoughts, speaking them in barely a whisper now. “Gods, I actually danced with a devil…I kissed him - what the fuck was I thinking?! The signs were there, how did I not notice? My mind can’t conjure images I’ve never seen, music I’ve never heard…” A look between amusement and confusion coloured the Guardian’s features, but they remained with Tav. They didn’t leave until the dawn woke her, staying right beside her, a few tentative gestures attempting to soothe her worries. Not that she noticed, of course. In fact, the one key thing in all her panic that Tav had completely failed to notice, was how Raphael had reacted. It wasn’t some dream of her own that had conjured his actions, and neither of them had a single clue yet of what that might lead to.

---

Meanwhile, in Avernus, a shimmering door made of pure magic managed to slam shut, despite having no corporeal form. Raphael didn’t enter with his usual confident swagger, but instead damn near stormed into his lavish bedchamber with a fury hotter than all the Nine Hells.

A familiar voice called out to him from where its owner reclined upon silken sheets, awaiting his return. “Did you enjoy your little trip?”

“Shut up, Harlot. ” Raphael spat back at his companion, earning a dark laugh from the latter.

“My my, name calling, is it now? She must have really got under your skin this time.” Another laugh echoed from the walls, an edge more of cruelty slipping into the tone now. “How about you stop your whining now, I’m sure we would both rather have you moaning instead. And with my proper name, if you please, Archduke. ”

----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- ----------- The end section there will be back, I left it as a nice little setup and introduction. It was also my first time writing any lines for Haarlep and that dynamic...I have since become addicted to it, obviously... Ever since I met Raphael in game, like so many others it was one eyebrow raise and his speech patterns and I was done for, down for the count, a bad case of Devil Fever and no wish for a cure~ We also get more insight into Tav's past here. I don't have a huge amount of detail into the specifics, but surviving alone from the age she did was never an easy thing. Desperation could've brought him to her door sooner, but she held her own better than even she expected. In terms of those details, honestly I am happy for you all to insert whatever headcanons feel right to you for Tav as a character. She's headstrong, wilful, and hedonistic, but all of that came at a cost. She had to learn to make and enforce her own choices, and to seize what pleasures in life she could before they slip away again. Everything is only ever temporary in Tav's world, she's truly going one day to the next, because the whims of Fate never give her a chance to do anything else.

[gingersnap1620]

Make a Memory (Ch. 2)

Dean x F!Oc

Summary: Lillian and Dean have a conversation on the drive to the bunker.

Warnings: Mild spoiler for seasons 8-15

Word count: 812

Song:

bad idea!

A/N: Chapter 2! Hope you enjoy it! @gingernut1314 beta read this for me.

Lillian 

“How much further?” 

Sam had fallen asleep a while ago so it's just Dean and I. Which isn't terrible, he hasn’t been talking that much. He did have a whole jam fest though, he tried to get me to sing with him but I didn't know the song. He was very offended by that. 

“Hello? Earth to Dean Winchester” I swear we’ve been in this car for years. I look at Dean, who’s clearly speeding, making sure that he could hear me. 

“What do you want back there?” 

“Hey watch your tone mister, I was only asking how much longer?” I saw him glance back at me through the mirror and I swear he had a smile on his face, but I was probably just imagining it.

“This is your twentieth time asking.”

“Can you just tell me?”

“What's the magic word?”

“I'm gonna kill you?”

“No, try again.”

Great, now he's making me smile. 

No. 

No, he's not. 

“Ugh, can you please tell me how much further” I said with as much sass as I could possibly put into it. I heard him chuckle as we turned down a street lined with shops and places to eat. On each side of the street, there was a sidewalk with people walking and talking to their loved ones. 

“We’re almost there.” As he answered me I rolled down the window to hear the people walking around us. I pulled my knees to my chest and leaned my head on the side of the car. I could feel the crisp fall air on my face as we drove through the little town. “What are you doing?” Dean asked, whipping his head around. 

“...What?“ 

“You’re feet! Who knows how dirty they are! What were you raised in a barn?” My jaw dropped and a huff of air left my lips--what was that? I guess I found his weakness. I dropped my feet on the floor with a thump.

“Oh my god,” I ask with a chuckling laugh. Dean’s narrowed eyes snapped back at me through the rearview mirror. 

“No one messes up baby.”

“Baby?” I said in a teasing tone. 

“Shut up.” Dean drawled, “Who needs to watch their tone now?” I let out a little laugh as I turned my head back to the open window. We were now in the middle of nowhere on a road that was falling apart.  

“Where are we?” I asked turning back to look at Dean whose eyes were glued to the road.

That's surprising.

He didn't answer me but instead, he pulled the car to a harsh stop, which jolted Sam awake. 

“Are we here?” He asked Dean, yawning. 

“Yup. C’mon witch, out of the car,” It was so dark that I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face. 

I'm not going to lie, the dark and I don't get along very well. I have multiple night lights in my apartment. So, naturally, I ran out of the car so fast that I ran straight into Dean, who was walking around the back of the car to follow his brother. 

“Jesus girl, why are you in such a rush.” He said gripping my shoulders to hold me still. He was looking down at me. I don't know why I liked the feeling of his hands on me as much as I did. 

I wiggled out of his grasp and walked to where I could see Sam's flashlight. He was walking down these steps that led to a big metal door. It looked like a bomb shelter. Dean shuffled past me reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a black key. 

Dean unlocked the door and walked in, I followed after him with Sam behind me. As we walked in, I could see how big this place was. It looked pretty cool. 

They led me to a room, which was clearly their dungeon. I wasn’t offended by that. I mean I did just try to kill them. 

Dean sat me down in a wooden chair and tied my legs down so I couldn't get up. They both started to walk towards the door to leave the room. As Sam walked away, Dean stopped in the doorway and turned to look at me.

“I'll keep the lights on, don't worry.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” I said as I sat up straighter in the chair. I tried to keep my voice level.

“Sam used to be scared of the dark.” 

How dare he assume that! 

…I mean it's true but that's not the point.

He looked at me for a couple more seconds, his eyes lingering on mine, before he walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. A few seconds went by and the distinct clicking sound of the door locking rang through the air.

  Great.

I'm alone again.

[idyllic-affections]

what are some of your furina headcanons? they can be about anything really, you're just the only person who gets her :3

im super fond of bigender furina, personally, since i see myself alot in her (i think im slowly becoming a furina kinnie /half joking), and ive already mentioned liking neuvillette being her adopted father (so much so i keep forgetting her real name isn't furina de neuvillette lol)

🐌.

OUGHGHG YAYYYY SOMEONE IS ASKING ME TO TALK ABOUT FURI MY LOVE YEAHHHH omg. okay. furi headcanons. these might change (i haven't finished her story quest yet!) but for now...

starting off angstful strong, i believe she has severe identity issues. she does not know anything about herself because she has long since lost everything to the role she had to play. being suddenly thrust into freedom, while she has waited for it for so long, was jarring and nervewracking for her. she "barely leaves the house" because she prefers to stay in while she tries to calm down and become more comfortable in her freedom.

furina sometimes accidentially dips back into her old dramatic flair (she's still dramatic, but in a more... traditional way; i.e., huffing and pouting when she gets exposed for not being able to cook yet, things like that). the fact that she does it doesn't upset her or anything, it's just instinct HAHA it can be kind of funny and lighthearted sometimes!

she instinctively wants to help solve people's problems to try and make up for her perceived inadequacy as the hydro archon.

she adopts many (okay maybe not many. maybe like. one) cats to keep her company c:

she's generally very softspoken now. in a way, i suppose this is canon? but what i mean when i mention this as a hc is that she's very gentle and mild in terms of her mannerisms now. she's still got quite the amount of sass to her, do NOT misunderstand /lh, but overall she's very reserved and polite. largely bc she's still recovering mentally, but also because i believe her to be a very kind and empathetic and sensitive soul (i mean... she was sobbing at poisson following the disaster. she still carries that guilt. she IS kind and empathetic and sensitive).

i think she would get along with children really well!

she's some unspecified kind of nonbinary, but in the "i honestly forgot wtf gender is after 500 years. gender was NOT my biggest concern" way. or genderfluid (haha get it. B. Because um. h. hydro archon. Fluid)

furina still greatly loves and adores the arts. she just doesn't want to be too deeply involved in them anymore (as one of the cast). she WILL be moved to tears if she sees a particularly sad opera

she would get along with lyney tbh.

also venti. i want them to meet in person. i want him to help her grow into her freedom. he IS the god of freedom, after all. who better to help her?

OH SPEAKING OF VENTI they would also get along just because he's a bard!!!! so many stories flow from his lips all the time!!!!!!!! for furi, it would be a fun change of pace from the operas and plays!!!!!

i feel like she and nahida would also get along on a super personal level. both of them were technically trapped for 500 years. furina's people believed in her, while nahida's did not... but really, what difference does that make when they were both trapped in one way or another?

[lwdegarbagedump]

Silver Ice/Snow shoes

Weiss doesn't really find him attractive physically but he's pretty, he has a big dick and she adores his scumbag attitude. He's her opposite in everything and they have so much fun.

She's not really his type either but the idea of a rich bitch "slumming it" and stooping to his level excites him. Especially when she makes it clear she wants it in her ass!

Weiss finds it thrilling to fuck him raw, his filthy seed could knock her up. They mainly do anal but she lets him fuck her properly on safe days after her period, she doesn't use birth control as it made her sick and the tiny implant in her forearm gave her a nasty reaction.

Weiss likes the texture of sheepskin condoms, Mercury doesn't but he won't say anything about it, it's a mild annoyance at best.

Mercury leaving red hand prints on her ass and hickeys all over her chest. Pulling her hair, smacking her ass, fingering her roughly as he hits it from the back.

Weiss can't get enough of being treated as if she is a common slut, completely unremarkable, sure as fuck beats having someone tell her how special and wonderful she is or how she's the prettiest princess in Remnant... that makes her want to be sick.

Mercury isn't completely heartless, he likes their encounters safe sober and consensual. He won't touch her if she's not into it, she's sick, she's drunk or she's tried Neon's disco biscuits.

He's just bright enough to understand when she's only coming to him because she's upset, he usually declines and suggests they can just chill next to each other for a while or if she wants to be cuddled he's fine with it.

Weiss called him out on his attention-seeking slutty behaviour, correctly guessed that he's trying to make up for the appalling childhood neglect and abuse as an adult by seeking older partners.

he's stopped wasting his time on sex with strangers, why bother when he has her? she's cute, she has an amazing ass, she soaks the sheets when he fucks her and he finds it more enjoyable to get bossed around or sassed by the Ice Queen than sucking dicks or fucking other girls.

Weiss is a screamer and cums hard, eyes rolling back in her head.

The flirty banter was incredible, they certainly hit it off.

Mercury has the time of his fucking life going down on her plump, perfect pussy. The way she almost drowns him when she sits on his face is sexy!

[wolfsbanemanor]

What's their relationship like with their cousin?

Lily Zhu is the only living relative they have left. They were very close with her as children; they are first cousins through their mothers, who were very close. They are close in age, too. (Apparently, they should be old enough for senior discounts, but because they're vampires, they're forever 20-somethings, or the equivalent thereof.)

When they were teens, Lilith went through a bit of a wild-child phase. Lily was a good girl, who never drank (and still does not), never smoked weed (she does do that now, but only to help with age-related aches and pains), didn't "mess around" with boys (or, for that matter, other girls), didn't play with tarot cards or Ouija boards, didn't shoplift tubes of lipstick for the rush, didn't sneak out and go to parties, didn't flirt with men old enough to be her father, didn't go skinny-dipping, didn't sass her parents, etc. Lilith did. This behavior led Lily to (somewhat) lose a bit of trust in Lilith. Not enough to stop talking to her or anything, but enough to be a bit worried for her, or intimidated by her.

When Caleb and Lilith became vampires, and Lily became a werewolf, they had a visit. But Lily was in full fury mode, and she didn't know how to manage that appropriately. She was annoyed by everything, even things that she wouldn't normally be bothered by, or things that are only mild annoyances. The last straw was when Caleb cleared the table and took the dishes up to the upstairs bathroom sink to wash. She transformed with a terrifying howl, and scared the two of them away. Vlad convinced them that she didn't want anything to do with them anymore, that they didn't need her anyway. She tried to send an apology note, but it got a "return to sender," and she found out they no longer lived in Willow Creek, but in Forgotten Hollow. She tried to visit them, but something about FH made her uneasy, and she couldn't bring herself to set foot inside. When she finally leveled up, she took the "Immortal Wolf" ability in hopes of seeing them again, and she knows a little bit of Vampire Lore.

[feralssinbin]

Sometimes It's Worth The Risk

AO3 YN likes robots. Like. Really likes robots. A robotfucker if you will. Or at least they say they are. Honestly, all they know about robots, androids, and animatronics is what they've picked up from television and movies, anime and sci-fi, and their real world experience with them is... Lacking. That isn't enough to stop them from following the dream and applying for a job at Freddy Fazbears Mega Pizzaplex, though! And oh man do they have plans on woo-ing the fuck out of their new co-worker... That... Has about the same sentience, sass, and social anxiety inducing mannerisms as your average human. Oh no. This isn't what they signed up for. This isn't what they signed up for at all. Worst of all, he's an absolute sweet heart about everything too??? Wait. Did he just flirt back??? OH god. Someone send help. Did I mention he's basically shirtless all the time? How is YN supposed to work in these conditions? Casual info: Aaa Ok right off this is a fun as hell idea I keep trying to work on but it keeps getting backburnered for HOE, lol. YN in this is kind of a dumbass. They are not smooth or charming, unless a bumbling mess is charming to anyone (surprise, it kind of is to Sun at least). They've always been fascinated with robotic characters and have had many crushes over the years on different characters, idealizing the logical, pre-programed ease with which you can sort of anticipate how interactions. Makes it easy. Especially after dealing with so much flack and 'playful' ridicule from loose tangled friend groups forced through social closeness of school or college or work. They're more than a little nervous at such an on-the-fly change in jobs, but once they meet and really see Sun and Moon in action, well, they're back on board. Though with even less confidence than they started with, there's no time like the present to make an idiot of themself. Lucky enough, their friendly attitude is well received. Though the overhanging anxiety of being made fun of still lingers behind it all, they try not to let it get to them. Well, until they do. Sun and Moon are both pretty loose in this so far, cause I've only planned 'general ideas' of scenes and I'm writing details on the fly. I want to say there's no virus in this and moon is just 'like that'. He is STILL active as the naptime attendant, though his time out during the day is typically reserved just for that. The on-off of lights are more free. Sun is sassy and playful, but when he's not interacting directly with kids, he's happy to meet YN on an adult level. Moon rarely dulls down his interactions with kids, giving them benefit of the doubt to be smart enough to know what he's talking about and doesn't sugar coat things like Sun might. Moon is... a little chaotic? Dangerous in a mild way, but still dangerous. He play a little rough/mean with adults, and isn't afraid to haul naughty kids around, but MOSTLY never means to really hurt anyone. He handles the security of the daycare though, and if an incident does happen, it would either fall to him, or an Eclipsed Sun, the standard dual mish mash of both bots active at once, though I haven't decided on if they'd just be dual wielding, or if Eclipse for this would be his own AI, if/when he comes up at all. FOR THE MOST PART this is the unabashed flirting AU with soft cheeky flirting early, a bit of 'they're making fun of me' angst in the middle, and some more nervous, genuine, heavier flirting late game when an actual relationship is on the table instead of just casual infatuation. Will jealousy be a part of it between Sun and Moon? Maybe just enough for flavor. I don't wanna go angsty with this one beyond YNs own anxieties to overcome.

Heck i need to design the YN for this one still. shoot. UH, problem for tomorrows me.

[darckcarnival]

@suntdracull

The Dark Lord was stunned, fixed to his place upon seeing the woman before him. His crimson gaze burned bright and examined each outline of her features as if he were discerning a tapestry painting, taking in all the details. She was precisely in the likeness of a friend long lost, one who served with him during the purging of the Turks from his homeland. The Decapitator, reborn, most loyal of his council, who was as quick with words as he was with a blade, ever by his side and never faltered to protect his king, and he neither failed to protect the one he had deemed his comrade, his brother in arms. He approached her, fingers raised slightly as his mouth was slightly agape, brows furrowed with awe. 

Time itself seemed to skip backward, knocking himself further into a state of befuddlement and utter amazement. He was an arm's length away from her, leaning down to her level. His hellish gaze met her own, brows narrowed, and lips pursed tightly in heavy scrutiny. 

“The likeness is so uncanny!” He said, his head tilting to the side. “It’s like I’m seeing a phantom, a spirit of my past given flesh once more.”

His nose wrinkled as he sniffed once, twice, and then again. Her blood was…intriguing. She was undead, not completely, and she wasn’t a dhampir. A half-blood, more human than a vampire, yet the nosferatu's blood still ran through her. 

“You are a rare sight amongst my kind. Were you born this way or embraced? If so, who is your master?” 

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

Several long moments passed, Darck observing the dark lord himself with a cautious air. Not sure just how he might react, say, or do. A wisdom learned through many years of her existence, never to drop the guard, and be ready in case of a worst case scenario. It certainly did not help that she was also in the middle of a hunt to find the damned creature that had ended up causing so much trouble for some of her supernatural friends.

Although the closer the other got, the more the brunette got mildly concerned. Head leaning back slightly with an eyebrow slowly perking above purple sunglasses. Merely waiting for everything to sink in- and thankful it did. when his towering form was left looming over her own, looking up. God, she was so short, compared to some of her family, and even those of her own kind. Here it was so very clearly obvious.

Darck blinked when finally, The Dark Lord spoke. And let her release a breath of mild ease, thankful at least this was a calmer situation of conversation. "I imagine it is. Imagine my utter confusion seeing a painting at one point, certainly caught me off guard the same way it did you just now." At least may as well be honest.

But ah, his next question, got her to sigh heavily. Eyebrow twitching slight at just the idea of it. A subject she did not like to bring up even in the company of close friends unless it had to be done. "Rare for good reason, I've learned." As such a creature like her was incredibly dangerous and did not often last long, but she had broken beyond every law. And was now her own fully fledged being. "Embraced when young. Born human. As for the one who sired me, that no longer matters." It was spoken with a bitter edge, but not direction at the ancient vampire before her.

"Isn't it rude to ask a stranger so quickly who made them? Especially a young woman." There was her sass showing it's self, no ounce of fear. "I'm only here briefly, so you needn't worry about halfling scent or presence lingering about, if that's your worry."

[emotionallychargedtowel]

I’m so glad you enjoyed it, @waitmyturtles. I wanted to reply in a bit more detail than a comment would allow so I’m re-reposting.

1) I only started learning about Ishinomori’s life recently and he’s fascinating. He also created the Super Sentai tokusatsu franchise (a.k.a. Power Rangers) and was mentored by Tezuka Osamu when he started out as a manga artist. That reminds me, my husband has a compilation of Kamen Rider manga I keep meaning to check out. 2) I totally agree about BL seeming like a particularly useful kind of learning experience for younger actors, and also about the leads of Old Fashion Cupcake seeming like they started out at a level of skill and experience you don’t always see in the genre. I haven’t seen any of Kimura’s other work yet, but I hope to correct that before long. And a big yes to Takeda doing a much more subtle version of the sass level he brought to his Kamen Rider roles in Cupcake! I think I know the moment you’re talking about in your example. Something like…this?

I love this screenshot. Nozue’s “playing pretend as a girl” face is great but Togawa’s smirky face is even better.

Takeda definitely uses his “kawaii voice” on Build as well. Sawatari’s voice actually changes pitch a lot, depending on whether he’s acting tough, squeeing over Mii-tan, complaining, or something else entirely.

3) This definitely seems to be true from what I can see--tokusatsu is definitely an early main character role for a lot of the actors involved. It makes me curious about the overall media landscape in Japan and how these two types of roles compare to more or less desirable ones. Like, if BL and tokusatsu are steps on a ladder, exactly what is their position on that ladder and what’s above and below? Sometimes I look at post-toku and/or post-BL filmographies with that in mind but I haven’t noticed any patterns so far.

4) Yeah, the braids did not date well! If you do give Build a try, now that I’ve seen a bit more of the series, the main things to be aware of if you might watch with kids are mild cursing, ableist insults, and (non-graphic) character deaths. My six-year-olds are pretty sensitive and usually do fine with these shows (although my daughter will run out of the room during sad parts). It’s possible you could get around the cursing etc. if you found the right set of fansubs, too.

If you do try out any tokusatsu stuff as a result of this conversation, I hope it goes well!

Takeda Kouhei on Kamen Rider, a Primer

I’m not the only person on tumblr who’s a fan of both tokusatsu and BL shows, but there aren’t a ton of us. Which isn’t too surprising. They don’t have a lot in common aside from being genres that originated in and are still produced (in the case of tokusatsu, almost exclusively) in Japan. But, for reasons that are hard to pinpoint for those of us in the U.S., there’s quite a bit of actor overlap between these genres. From what I’ve seen the biggest contributor to the BL casting pool is Kamen Rider.My impetus for writing this post was a post by @waitmyturtles​ that mentioned being interested in seeing other work by Takeda Kouhei after seeing him in Old Fashion Cupcake. And really, who wouldn’t be? His performance was really lovely. Subtle, moving, funny, endearing, everything you would want in that role.

So I thought I’d post about Takeda’s Kamen Rider work in case other fans are curious. I don’t know how likely BL folks are to get into Kamen Rider but at the very least, I thought Takeda appreciators might enjoy a glimpse of him doing something really different from Cupcake.

Takeda has been in two Kamen Rider series, mostly playing two characters. The first, Kamen Rider Kiva, I’ve seen in its entirety and the other, Kamen Rider Build, I’m currently watching with my family.

Kiva is pretty unique series within the Kamen Rider franchise. The aesthetic is bonkers. The opening credits give you a decent idea of what that’s like–basically, we’re talking about violins, rose petals, and chains everywhere with a nu-metal soundtrack. It came out in 2008 and definitely feels of that time. Opening credits for these shows are usually pretty easy to find but for some reason this one is only on Tiktok. You might have to squint to make it out but it’s still worth a look.

The basic plot of the series is that there are creatures called Fangires that are kinda-sorta similar to vampires except that they suck out your life force instead of your blood, and there are humans who hunt them and protect humanity. The Fangires can look like humans and then transform into their Fangire forms, and the Fangire hunters have the technology to turn into armored superhero-type people as well. Except there’s also this kid who is half Fangire, half human, the protagonist, Kurenai Wataru. He also transforms, in a way that is like a combination of a Fangire transforming and a human using the hunter technology. The show follows his story in 2008 and at the same time, the story of his dad’s experiences 22 years earlier in 1986. His dad, Kurenai Otoya, is Takeda’s character and at a lot of points in the series is almost a co-protagonist.

They did a pretty good job casting a realistic father-and-son pairing, I’d say.

I’m not usually a big fan of this particular type of shag hairdo that was big in Japan in the 2000s but I’d say they’re both pulling it off quite well here. 

According to an interview I read, Takeda was pretty inexperienced when he played Otoya and as a result he started out overacting a bit, but the showrunners really liked how it worked–basically, Otoya is an over-the-top dude anyway. Otoya is an interesting character. He’s this overconfident, sometimes irritating wannabe womanizer who wears some seriously loud blazers (it’s the 80s, after all), but he’s also a highly skilled violinist and violin-maker who also ends up making some huge sacrifices for the people he loves. In a lot of ways he’s the polar opposite of Takeda’s character Nozue in Old Fashion Cupcake.

(In case you’re wondering about the gif above, father and son are in the same timeline briefly because of some magical shenanigans here.)

Toward the end of Kiva, Takeda also (briefly) plays Wataru’s son/Otoya’s grandson, Kurenai Masao, who has traveled back in time to help his dad. Apparently in the future we’ll all be wearing a whole lot of bobby pins.

I didn’t realize until after I had started watching Old Fashion Cupcake that Takeda was also in Kamen Rider Build. I’m about a fifth of the way into that series but Takeda’s character has only been around for a short time. I’m really enjoying him, though, and I think the difference Takeda’s skill level between the two shows is really palpable.

The basic premise of Build is that after an expedition to Mars, a mysterious cube (the “Pandora Box”) is brought back to Earth, a weird light comes out of the cube that changes people, and a wall springs out of the ground that divides Japan into three subregions that end up at war. The mechanism for the characters to transform into Kamen Rider forms involves human beings that are subjected to experiments using stuff from Mars that alters them and allows them to use these objects to transform. Sawatari Kazumi, Takeda’s character, owns a large farm before the Mars cube disaster, but environmental effects of the disaster make his land tainted and infertile. He spends all of his remaining money trying to support the workers from his farm that are now out of work, then basically goes into the villain business to try to pay the bills. It’s pretty clear he’s not going to be a villain forever. I’m on episode 20 (of 49–these shows are long) and it seems like he could join the good guys any time now. (Recognize the other two dudes below? I’ll talk more about that in a bit.)

Sawatari is super different from both Otoya and Nozue, so viewing the three together really can’t help but make you appreciate Takeda’s versatility. Sawatari puts up a very tough front most of the time, except when it comes to Misora, who is part of the main character’s core group but also has another identity as an online “idol” (kind of like an influencer, I guess) called Mii-tan. Sawatari is a Mii-tan fan with a huge crush on her. He seems oddly naive for someone who is basically a mercenary, and she brings that side of him out in a big (and extremely goofy) way.

Sawatari is also the butchest character I’ve seen Takeda play, which is fun in some ways but not in others. On the latter end, his wardrobe on Build is his most boring I’ve seen as he wears slight variations on the same parka-and-mottled-pants combo nonstop. But on the plus side, he gets to do a lot of fighting, trash talking, and sneering and since it’s Takeda it’s all pretty cute. 

My favorite thing about Sawatari so far is his “henshin” sequence so I’ll talk about that for a moment. Transforming characters are a big theme in tokusatsu, and often when we talk about that genre folks are referring more to the suit transformation type shows as opposed to straight kaiju movies like Godzilla, Mothra, King Ghidorah, etc. that are also considered tokusatsu. Having an actor disappear and then someone in a masked suit appear in their place requires some kind of neat transition in order to make it work, and these transition sequences usually have a lot of visual interest and meaning built into them.

Characters usually have something they say when they transform, like a word or catchphrase. In Ultraman shows, they usually yell out their Ultraman name. In the Kamen Rider franchise, the tradition (usually upheld) is for characters to simply say “henshin,” meaning “transform.” They usually have some kind of transformation item (in Kamen Rider it’s usually in the form of a belt) and they have a set of actions or gestures they do just before they change. Then different kinds of effects, often CGI, are used to show the normal human being turning into their masked fighter form.Below is a nice example of a henshin move by someone BL fans might recognize, Naito Shuichiro from Kamen Rider Saber and Senpai, This Can’t Be Love.

Apparently, from some things I’ve watched and read, the actors on these shows seem to come up with their own pre-henshin moves. Takeda apparently put quite a bit of thought into his, according to one interview snippet I read. It makes sense because when he transformed in Kiva (only rarely), his henshin routine was kind of dull (sorry!).

I can just imagine him thinking in the intervening years about how he’d do it a second time if he had the chance.

Well, it paid off because Sawatari’s henshin sequence is right up there with the best I’ve seen in my Kamen Rider viewing. The whole thing has an insolent quality and he tops it off with a beckoning finger that looks like he’s flipping his opponent off (which I take it he sort of is, because supposedly beckoning to someone in the American style is considered extremely rude and demeaning in Japan). Basically, it’s like the “fuck you” version of henshin and it makes him look like a badass. It’s also, frankly, pretty hot.

The gif above is just a snippet so I recommend the longer clip below if you want to see the whole thing.

While I’m at it, here’s his first scene, when all the audience knows is that he’s a mysterious surly cutie.

If anyone reading this decides to try watching one of Takeda’s Kamen Rider series without being familiar with the franchise, I have one thing I’d suggest keeping in mind. This is just my take so others may not agree. I’ll refrain from theorizing about why this is in this post but I’ll just say I have some thoughts.  The first 10-15 episodes of most tokusatsu shows tend to get bogged down in worldbuilding, introductions, team formations, and other things that can get tiresome quickly. But this is only a relatively small portion of an entire series since they tend to go for 50ish episodes, like I mentioned above. My advice is that if you check out one of these shows and aren’t feeling it at first, you should give it a chance to get to that 15 episode mark and then see how it seems to you. You can always skip around if you have to in order to get to the point where things get juicier.

One last note–in addition to Takeda being on Kamen Rider Build, it also features two other actors that BL fans might know. The first is Inukai Atsuhiro from The Man Who Defies the World of BL and Kei x Yaku: Dangerous Buddy (which I’m not really familiar with but I think I remember hearing it was sort of an almost-BL where the Bs never end up in L?). He plays the protagonist Kiryu Sento, whose Rider form is Kamen Rider Build. Kiryu definitely has a certain level of sassiness in common with Mob from TMWDtWoBL, but he has a lot more agency in his life and the stakes are higher than whether or not he’s going to fall in L with a B.

Also, Akaso Eiji from Cherry Magic plays Ryuga Banjo, another main character who eventually becomes a Rider. He is extremely different in Build–his character is a boxer and an impulsive meathead type, albeit one with a heart of gold and all that. A far cry from his cutie persona in Cherry Magic. His character also usually has some sort of tiny French braid situation going on with his hair but I’ve spared y’all from having to look at that for the moment.

If you’re curious about any other actors who are in the middle of the BL/tokusatsu Venn diagram, or just found this interesting, let me know. I might do a few more posts of this type.

[stormkobra-5]

Hold Me Close (Moon Boys)

Pairing: Moon Boys (Mostly Steven) x fem!Reader

Fic Type: Drabble

Summary: Having been against touch all your life, now that you have three loving boyfriends, you’re overwhelmingly clingy. Cuddles, hand-holding, standing so close you’re up against them; but sometimes that’s just not close enough.

A/N: Soooo, I’m probably gonna do a Santi version of this? And Poe of course my space husband. Also this was supposed to involve Marc and Jake, but I couldn’t come up with a good story for them yet… :///

Rating/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI, light smut, mention of virginity loss, cockwarming, fluff, a little angsty, hurt/comfort, cuddles, touch-starved reader, touch-starved Moon Bois

~🌙 Steven🌙 ~

You heaved a sigh.

It wasn’t enough.

Your life had been one of light touches, 30 second embraces, cuddles only when a small child or when crying– and that you certainly didn’t do often. As you grew older, you became averse to touch. The thought of hugs made you so uncomfortable you visibly cringed, personal space became a large issue for you, and even a mild handshake was enough to have you inwardly squirming with discomfort as if a centipede was crawling on you. Physical touch, you came to feel, was a very, very bad thing.

Until you met them.

Your boys.

Steven Grant, the sweet gift shop worker with a bit of sass, secretly a tough-ass in a tux when night rolls around. Marc Spector, his alter, the soft but rough mercenary who had pushed you away for weeks when you’d first met. And then Jake, the brutal cabbie driver who fronted only rarely, long enough to serve Khonshu or to protect his alters– until he met you. Marc could get past physical touch if necessary, but he didn’t like it. Jake despised it, he still wouldn’t let you within a foot of him at any given time. Steven was the most like you.

Yearning for touch but detesting it, you’d both, slowly, learned to overcome it. It was barely-there brushes of fingers when grabbing something from the other at first, which made you both yank back as if you’d been burned. There was a lot of talking. Unplanned touches sent Steven into a spiral of mild panic and you retreating into your shell. And so, one day, on the couch, you and Steven spent the day literally warming up to each other. 

The first touch of his fingertips against yours made you both gasp, and then you remained like that. Hour by hour, you slowly began to increase the contact, until finally, you were holding hands. Many hours later, past midnight, you closed the distance between you in an embrace that left you both breathless with sobs at the contact. It felt unnatural to both of you, to be held like this. 

And then, the unthinkable happened.

You started craving it.

He kissed you for the first time that night, and from that night onward you were always stealing kisses from each other. You slept entangled like koalas, facing each other. All those years of wanting someone to love you enough to hold you, and finally, you found him. Them. Because soon, Marc started to hold your hand, too.

It was Steven, though, that took your virginity, and you’re a little embarrassed to say that when you were cuddling afterward, you were quietly sobbing into his shoulder. “Hey… Love, did I hurt you?”

“No,” You’d answered, comforted by him rubbing your back. “Not at all. I just… I never knew…”

“How intimate this would be?” Steven finished softly. 

“We’re so close,” You breathed in disbelief, about the fact that he of all people wanted this intimacy with you– this closeness. As close as two people could possibly become. “Please don’t go away. Ever.”

“Never,” Steven promised, sealing it with a kiss. 

And while the cuddles, you clinging to him like a human backpack as he went about the house, and the constant entanglement of your bodies on some level comforted you, sometimes, when you were feeling especially in need of physical contact– like now– it just wasn’t enough.

Steven sat on the couch beside you, reading. You were pressed flush against his side, legs thrown over his lap, one between his knees. He had one arm around you, the other on his book, and his head laying on yours. And yet, despite this closeness… 

It wasn’t enough. 

You weren’t sure how to say this. Not at all. But there were some nights when you slept with Steven that he remained buried inside you, keeping you as close as humanly possible. It’s something you both clearly enjoy, but have never openly stated– so you wonder, what would he think of you saying it out loud? Asking for it without sex?

Of course he notices something is wrong. Maybe it’s the tenseness of your shoulders, or the way you keep shifting as if to get even closer. Steven lifts his head, taking his glasses off as he looks down at you. “What’s wrong, love?” 

“Nothing,” You lied, a lie you’d told your entire life. It came easily now, a habit you’d never be able to break. 

Steven made a face, carding his fingers through your hair. “Aw, dove. That’s not true. What is it, hm?” You could only shrug. Unsure of how to bring it up. Steven knows that you’re hiding something, but he doesn’t push you. He keeps massaging your scalp, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Alright, then; you can tell me when you’re ready.”

It isn’t until you’re getting ready for dinner that you are. 

Steven is reading on the couch; his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates when you step out of the bathroom in the pretty short nightgown he likes so much, instead of going straight to making dinner with him like you’d planned. “L-love?!”

“Steven…” You say nervously, wringing your hands together. “Can… Can we try a different way of cuddling?” 

“Yeah,” Steven answers, eyes raking over your body and drinking in the sight of you. “What’d you have in mind?”

“U-um…” You nervously crawl onto the couch beside him, on your knees as you struggle for the words. “You know how… uh… sometimes after we have sex, you uh… kinda…”

Steven’s quick. He gets it immediately. “You want to be connected, love?”

You let out a whooshing breath of relief. “Yeah.” Immediately after, you added, “I just want to be close to you, and today, it just… Cuddling just doesn’t feel like enough right now.”

“Well,” He leaned over to give you a warm kiss. “Sounds like a bloody good idea to me, dove.” His hand rested on your thigh, massaging the flesh gently. “You alright with me getting you ready? I don’t want to hurt you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You mean can I handle it without jumping you?”

Steven laughed quietly, his smile dazzlingly bright. “Yeah.” You nodded, and Steven didn’t waste any time. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped his hand up your nightgown. You bit your lip as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, slowly working you open and chuckling into your mouth as he kissed you messily. “Aw, love; you’re already soaked. Why didn’t you ask me for this earlier?”

He pulled his hand away and sucked his fingers clean with a soft moan, trying to ignore the fact that your face must have mimicked the sudden arousal you felt. “D-didn’t know how to ask–” You cut off as he guided you closer to him by your wrists. You planted a knee on either side of his hips, hovering there as he untied the drawstring of his sweatpants to remove his half-hard length. 

“You can ask me anything,” Steven breathed, letting out a sharp intake of breath as his tip brushed your soaked folds. “Anytime,” He added, although it was more of a growl he started to enter you. Your jaw fell in a silent scream as he guided you down onto him. “That’s it, dove, that’s it– agh–” He bottomed out, stretching your walls to a slight burn; you gasped at the feeling as you involuntarily clenched around him. Your relieved sigh was music to his ears, and it took everything he had in him not to buck up into you– at least, not more than the two times he couldn’t help himself. He forced himself to sit still, and you saw him visibly struggling. Immediately, you felt guilty. Is this too much for him, too little?

“W-we don’t–”

“Just… just gimme a second, yeah?” He whispered, breathing deep to control himself. Eventually, his hands found your hips as he calmed, a sparkle in his eyes as he kissed you. “O-okay; I can hold out now. Feels good for you, dove?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, collapsing forward onto him and relaxing into his embrace, overwhelmed by the intensity of the waves of your emotions, of the feelings of warmth and safety. Steven wrapped one arm around you tightly, the other coming to rest on your stomach. He massaged your abdomen, making you both moan into your kisses when he nudged that place where his length rubbed against your insides. “There,” He breathed, keeping his hand still. He rubbed his nose against yours, trying to keep his breathing even. “Feel that?” He met your gaze, dark eyes conveying a sense of assurance. “I’m as close to you as I can ever be physically, love.” He eased up on the pressure, which was good, else you never would have lasted with him inside you. He gripped the back of your head as he kissed you, licking into your mouth and tracing your tongue with his. “But it doesn’t matter how close I physically am, does it?” He breathed into you, so softly you could barely hear him. “Because even if we’re apart, I will always be right,” He kissed you again, hand dropping to sit over where your heart was. “Here.”

“Don’t ever leave me, Steven,” You whispered, leaning into his touch.

“Never ever, not in a thousand years. Nothing’s ever going to take me away from you, dove. You hear me? Never. I promise.” Steven pressed his lips to yours passionately, lovingly, as if trying to convey how much he loved you without words. “If you ever need this, darling, just ask. I’d be more than willing.”

“I love you, Steven,” You sighed softly.

“Love you too, darling.” He shifted so that you were lying down. He faced you, keeping your back against the couch, wrapping his arms and legs around you protectively. He pecked your forehead. “With all my heart.” Dinner was forgotten, both of you falling fast asleep.

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! I’m gonna be doing Marc, Jake, Poe, and Santi probably, eventually. ://

Taglist: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @poeticsorcery @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @laters-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner

[writercole]

Bait

Summary: Someone has to be the bait to get the Powerbroker in the open.

Pairing: Clint Barton x GN!Reader

Squares: Used as Bait @badthingshappenbingo // Spy v Spy @anyfandomangstbingo // Held at Gunpoint @anyfandomgoesbingo custom card // Bait @huffle-pissed challenge // One Bed @supernatural-jackles Tell Me A Story // Hostage Situation @mfbingo // Assassin/Spy AU @taylorswiftbingo

Words: 943

Warnings: canon level violence, blood, pain killer use, stitches

A/N: Unbeta'd.

“I’m going to go on record as saying I don’t like this plan,” you said bitterly as you looked around the briefing room.

“Look, someone has to be bait. Someone has to draw their attention,” Tony sighed. “I don’t like it much either but that’s how it is.” 

“Fine. Whatever. When do we leave?”

The meeting with the Power Broker was set. You paced around the tiny area of your vantage point as you waited for Clint to be in position. What you didn’t expect was to see Sharon Carter shove a bound Clint into the room and put a gun to his head. 

“Shit,” you whispered as you sprinted into action, plan be damned.

“I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you down here,” Clint sassed from his knees. 

“Well, after the breach and everything, I had to lay low. Hide out. Madripoor is great for being anonymous,” she replied, the arm pointing the gun at his head steady.

“Still. You as the Power Broker? I expected someone a little more…” Clint trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“Masculine?” Sharon supplied.

“I was going to go with competent but sure, masculine too. Some of the things attributed to the title…phew, they’re harsh,” he continued, silently praying that you were in position and were going to take your chance soon.

“You don’t know very much about me if you think I’m a delicate little flower,” she sneered as she stepped forward, the barrel of the gun pressed to Clint’s head. “Now, tell me why you were sent to take me out.”

“Oh, I wasn’t,” Clint denied.

“Don’t lie to me,” she scoffed. “The only reason the great Hawkeye would be here would be to take me out.”

“Absolutely not. I love the nightlife,” he sassed, earning him a slap across his face. He spit blood from his split lip at her feet and looked up at her, smirking. “Do it again. I liked that.”

Sharon growled and landed the butt of the pistol on his eyebrow, cutting it open. She refocused her aim and hardened her face. “Tell me why you were sent to kill me.”

“I wasn’t sent to kill you. I’m the bait,” he told her smugly, watching her eyes widen. “They’re here to kill you.”

Before Sharon had a chance to process what he’d said, you pulled the trigger, a bullet flying through the side of her head and splattering brain matter across the walls behind her.

You dropped the gun and knelt beside Clint, your eyes taking in his injuries as your hands brushed the blood off of his face. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve had much worse,” he assured you with a soft smile. “But uh, could you untie me? This angle is killing my shoulder.”

You made quick work of the restraints and helped Clint up, ignoring his protests of being okay. You set him in the passenger seat of the car you were using and drove straight to the hotel, helping him into your room and making him sit on the single king sized bed while you grabbed the first aid kit.

Neither of you spoke as you tended his wounds. Clint’s eyes were focused on your face, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you concentrated or how you would bite your bottom lip if you thought you were going to hurt him. He thought it was adorable.

You were worried about infection at least, since none of the injuries were life threatening. The mild pain killers you had given him helped with his muscle aches. By the time you were done butterflying his eyebrow, his eyes were starting to droop.

“Can’t sleep yet, Barton,” you told him as you helped him to his feet. “We gotta get you to shower first.”

“Fine,” he grumbled as he shuffled towards the bathroom. 

You got him cleaned up and in bed quickly, handing him pain killers and an antibiotic that had been included in the med kit. "Here, these will get us through the night until extraction gets here in the morning."

"You're gonna sleep, too, right?" he asked as he downed the pills.

"Yeah I'm gonna crash on the floor," you informed him, wanting to avoid hitting him during the night and either popping his stitched or bruising him further.

"It's a king sized bed. You're going to sleep in the bed or I'm also sleeping on the floor," demanded Clint, leaving no room for argument. 

"Fine," you sighed, "but if you're injured further in the morning, it's your own fault."

"I'll take that responsibility. Now get your ass in this bed "

"I need to shower first. I still have Sharon's blood on my arms," you told him, tucking him into the covers.

After your quick shower, you found Clint sound asleep, his breathing even and shallow. You slipped into bed, careful not to disturb him. As you settled onto your side, you felt Clint’s arm drape over your waist and his nose nuzzling the back of your neck. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you tried not to let yourself get used to the comfort level you were experiencing. As soon as the transport arrived, it would end. Clint hummed contentedly as he stilled, his cheek against the side of your neck.

“Can I keep you?” he muttered sleepily. 

You smiled and mumbled an assent, your heart fluttering when he squeezed you tighter. 

“Good. I’m done pretending I don’t want to,” he said as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

There would be more to talk about in the morning but for now, you were happy.

Everything: @thelastpyle @deangirl93 @evergreencowboy @katelyn--renee @fictional-affairs @lassie-bird @paintlavillered @buckys-zomdoll @polireader @b3autyfuldisast3r @welcometothefandommultiverse @mlovesstories @supraveng @xoxabs88xox

Marvel: @saiyanprincessswanie @princessmisery666 @creatively-analytical ​ @harpers-ramblings​​ @that-one-gay-girl-reads​ @stephv213

[mari-lair]

Norray halloween week Day 1: Ghosts!

If curious, below are some random info about this Teacher/ghost AU

Ray got a gun and he can use it. The ghost gun isn’t able to touch, much less physically hurt anyone, but it replicate the sound of a real gun, which contributed a lot to how low priced his haunted house rent has become. It nearly gave Norman a heart attack the first time he heard it.

After being dead for a while, Ray learned how to turn visible and invisible at will and play around small objects such as paper, shoes and butcher knives. He can control up to 4 small objects at a time or something relativaly heavy like a chair if he really concentrate. The more he got the hang of controling and moving small objects the lower his house rent become, rarely getting aggressive but still able to physically hurt people. On All Hallows Eve he can posses people’s bodies and get out of the house he haunts, but he always ends up back to his empty ‘home’ when the night is over.

Ray is an incredibly fast learner. Just by observing the people that visits his house, he learned a decent amount of modern english and understand the basics of how tecnology is a  thing now -he wished this advanced tecnology was invented when he was alive. It would make the of lack of food and nutrients less of a deadly nightmare in open sea.

As a pirate, Ray used to be the one in charge of doing most of the bloody work and take the night watch, protecting his captain’s back from both outside and inside forces. He was constantly alert, borderline paranoic. But as the years in death passed, he grew more calm, very patient. He usually don’t mind new people in his house, happy to learn more modern english and befriend the guests willing to tolerate him. If a new guest cross a line however,  Ray will do his best to scare them away. Hurt them or kill them by manipulating knives if he sees fit.

It’s very rare for adults to see Ray as anything other than a nonsense they have no energy to deal with or a warning sign for their crumbling lives, so he usually hang around kids. The childish company mellows him with time.

Ray is from a time where death was common and getting hurt was inevitable so what people consider pretty serious is something Ray considers mild “Why are you being so dramatic about seeing some bone? Be grateful your hand is still attached to your wrist after you slaped your daughter. If it wasn’t for her wishes you wouldn’t have legs to run away.”

Norman is considered a genius and have countless prizes under his belt. He wanted to go to the moon when he was a kid but because of his weak health, he knew he would not be acepted in the space program. He decided teaching was the next best thing later on, accepted as a teacher in a prestigious school while still young. He enjoys and understand all subjects but love history the most, unable to deny it was hard and frustrating to teach a whole class of teens at times but still liking his job. Having one student that was genuinaly interested in his class was more than enough to make his day.

When Norman first started teaching, he felt more responsable than he had his whole life. It wasn’t a bad feeling per see, but it made him anxious so he called his little sister Cherry once a week to ask her questions about her teachers and make sure he was doing a good job.

Norman may not be the funniest of teacher but he’s still a favorite for his palpable cares for his students. He does not make the subject easier than is requested but he put a lot of effort into making people enjoy their world history, teaching with passion and seriously answering any questions, no matter how silly or joking it sounds. He’s understanding and try his best to help those with dificulty with the subject, always giving people second chances, having lost countless nights of sleep correcting re-writen essays after deadlines and turning his test questions into podcasts for students with adhd, aware the big historical excerpts are fundamental for answering the test but too hard to focus, specially with limited time.

The lambda crew are problem children. Norman went the extra mile to save Barbara and Zazie from failing classes even outside history and left Vincent startruck with his wide knowladge about not only world history but a ton of subjects he could be teaching too if he wasn’t overworking himself. Norman is both happy to inspire the squad to study hard and also very awkward by their blind admiration.

The teacher had a firm “ghost don’t exist”  mentality, which is one of the reasons he brought the haunted house in the first place. He had chalked Ray up as an halucination from his sleep deprived brain, having the rotten luck of buying the house right after a bad guest owned. The ghost got more annoyed than usual from things as insignificant as Norman keeping the lights on for too long, putting music Ray doesn’t vibe with, or just acting unfairly cute, to more personal matters such as Norman studying about Ray and his family lives. They used to have a distant and bad relationship but once Ray noticed Norman had only admiration for history, being genuinaly kind when trying to talk instead of mocking his existence, Ray apologised. Norman was still wary at first but they quickly hit off, enjoying to learn what the other had to offer and matching in wits.

When Norman catch a fever or a bad cold Ray gets wary. He know, on some level, that medicine have evolved a lot, but he remenbers way too clearly how serious even the weakest of diseases could get if not imediatly treated.  He always stick by Norman’s side when the teacher sneezes, not taking his eyes off him. Usually Norman keep working when he catch a cold, so Ray learned to float Norman’s grading papers out of his reach when coughing joined his sneezes. Floating a paper is enough to get Norman to take a break most of the time, but if the get stubborn Ray will stop playing nice. Just lower his voice to comander mode and order “Rest. Now. Or I’ll make your life a living hell.” and Norman does what he’s told, it’s very unconfortable to have a gun in the face and he does feel very tired.

When Norman is seriously sick, not just coughing but stuck to his bed. Ray freak out and fear for his life. When it reached this level, most of his crewmates died or had to be thrown in the sea to not infect other. Yes Ray know it’s not as bad anymore, but even when he observed guests, they rarely got sick, and when it got bad they where taken to a doctor. Norman lives alone so he got no one to feed him and bring him blankets or take him to the doctor if he lies for hours in bed. Ray was all the help he would get and he is fucking dead, he can’t measure his temperature or take care of him properly. Ray does tries his best though. He concentrated a lot to float heavy blankets and pillows towards Norman. Imediatly fetching any pills asked of him and doing his best to make him tea. It isn’t tasty, but Norman still appreciates his care.

Ray is the first to fall in love, he think “If only I could  kiss this fool and hug him, I would do it on the daily. I wish he was alive back then... He would love meeting Emma...” at least once a week but a big part of him is just “Forget scurvy! Norman would die of cold or malnutricion before he reached 10. Thank god the helpless bastard took his sweet time to be born.”

Ray cannot touch any eletronics, he can’t even come close without phones, computers, and tvs turning to statics, so Norman buys an illustrated book about the Red Mane Pirates for Ray to see his crew again. He know is not perfect but is the best he can offer whenever Ray expresses missing his family.

They read together. Norman occasionally teaching a new word to his ghost and Ray correcting any historical inacuracy. It’s fun.

Norman finds an illustration of an alive Ray sleeping in the mast waaay too beautiful. Ray snort at the romantized draw, disolving into laughter by how Norman failed to hide his blush.

It became a habit to read history books together and tease each other. More often then not, it lead to a history class and way to much sass on both ends.

“Wait, so there really was a world war? I heard about it from old guests but I thought they were exagerating when they called world war! And what do you mean 2? There was a second one??”

“How did miss the second one? It was HUGE, quite horribl-”

“You were not even alive when it happened.”                                        

“Tecnically, you weren’t either Ray-” 

Ray is a bit scared of how attached he got to Norman, knowing eventually the man would die. He hopes it will take a long time, and that once he had a painless death, he will become a ghost too, but he doesn’t really believe Norman will ever turn into a ghost. Ray knows not everyone that dies became a ghost. Since someone as compassionable as Emma -even if she was forced to have blood and dirty choises on her hand to survive the merciless seas- was not cursed to became a ghost, he was confident someone as kind as Norman would dissapear from Ray’s afterlife once he died too.

More of this AU here

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And since you reached the end of this text wall. You can have this bonus Norman being awkward/excited about their growing friendship.

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 01: All trussed up & still nowhere to go

Bound + Barbed Wire

2338 Words; Sanctuary Island

TW for blood, mentions of slavery, and mild violence

This was not an ideal situation.

Not that Cole had really been in any ideal situations since being brought to this island, but this was more of a relative case. At least having allies nearby was better than being tied to a chair.

But, ideal or not, Cole was here, heavy metal collar held close to the back of the chair by a chain, and escape was not going to come as easily as the last time. The overseers were doing their best to make sure of that.

Really, all Cole had to do was stay alive and hope Artura didn’t attempt anything too reckless in his absence. All of the others had managed to disappear into the woods safely, and it’d be a while yet before their little makeshift fortress could be taken. He’d probably faced much worse odds on the mainland.

His restraints weren’t exactly uncomfortable, per se—he could do without having his arms pulled behind the chair over the back of it, elbows lashed tightly together with what had to be rope chosen deliberately for how rough and scratchy it was, his wrists similarly bound—his legs were tightly tied to the front legs of the chair, but the fabric of his pants prevented most of the friction currently chafing his arms.

He could definitely do without the ropes over his chest, and it would be very nice to get the metal collar off. But Cole refused to focus on the negatives here. He had to stay positive, and keep his eyes open for the opportunity to escape and rejoin the revolution.

So Cole waited, doing his level best to ignore the discomfort, flexing his arms to test the strength of the ropes.

He could snap them with his earth punch easily. That wouldn’t handle any of the other ropes, and he’d have to disconnect the metal collar from the chair if he wanted to lean down to pull the ropes on his legs apart, but it shouldn’t take too long to undo the lock fastening the chain to his collar.

The problem, however, was the collar. Cole wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but there were traces of vengestone in the metal—just enough to cut his strength in half, preventing him from actually snapping the rope.

Cole was stuck waiting until an actual opportunity presented itself, and the longer he waited, the more uncomfortable his position became.

First Master, his arms were aching. The back of the chair was digging into his back, and he couldn’t pull his arms up to alleviate the situation. His elbows being lashed so tightly together was starting to become a problem for his shoulders, too.

But Cole was tougher than that. He had to be. He was the rock of the ninja, so he could be the rock here, too. It was just like Jay said: the power of positive thinking.

Time passed. It probably felt longer than it was—Cole couldn't exactly tell; there wasn’t any way to tell the time. Just a small, windowless room dimly lit by an oil lamp on a table in the corner.

Honestly, the room felt more like a shed than anything. Maybe Cole was locked up in some kind of fortress, and maybe he wasn’t. It was hard to tell, but Cole was leaning towards torture room based on the tools hanging on the wall to his right.

Fuck, now his back was starting to ache, and he was losing feeling in his fingers. Grunting a little, Cole shifted as much as his restraints would allow—not much, but it’d have to do—in an effort to alleviate some of the pain.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, it depended on how one looked at it—the door opened at that moment, heralding the arrival of one of the overseers.

Cole recognized this man. The shiny badge on his top hat gave him away as one of the people enforcing the messed-up system on the island, but Cole recognized the man’s face from the few weeks Cole had been put to work in the fields.

The man opened his mouth to say something, but Cole cut him off.

“Oh good,” he snarked, “I was starting to think I’d been forgotten here.”

The man’s expression changed immediately, shifting from merely dismissive contempt to fury. He crossed the room in two steps and slapped Cole, hard. His head jolted to the side from the force of it.

“Hold your tongue, boy.” Venom dripped from the overseer’s voice, enough to kill a man. “Do not speak unless spoken to.”

Cole grinned. “So I can speak now that you’ve said something to me?” He got another smack in return, his head jolting to the other side this time. Cole tasted copper—he’d bit his tongue twice now.

"You have caused more than enough trouble here, on our fair island.” The overseer stated, adjusting his gloves.

Cole shrugged as much as his restraints would allow, swallowing the blood in his mouth. “Yeah, I kinda specialize in that.” He only got a sharp look at that remark, thankfully enough.

“And what, pray tell," the overseer snarled, reaching back to grip Cole’s hair harshly, "Makes you so special, dirt boy?"

"I'm a ninja." Cole said tersely. He flexed against the restraints. "Protecting people is what I do." Just grin and bear it. That should be easy enough.

He grinned again, past the taste of copper in his mouth, making sure to bare his teeth. "Of course, you wouldn't understand that, would you, slave-driver?"

He got a third smack for his sass. The overseer’s grip on his hair kept Cole’s head from jolting to the side again, but the tradeoff was a harsh yank on his hair.

The overseer huffed, letting go of Cole’s hair. “Well then.” He hissed, walking over to open one of the drawers to Cole’s left. “We’ll see about correcting this little… discipline issue. This little ‘revolution’ of yours ends here, boy.” The overseer held up a spool of barbed wire, face oddly impassive for such a pompous man.

Cole stilled. This was not something he’d seen before.

The overseer opened another drawer, digging through it before pulling out some cloth.

Cole wasn’t sure where this was going, but he was pretty sure it was going to hurt.

“I was going to ask if you’d learned your lesson,” the overseer began, closing the drawers. “But clearly you haven’t.”

“You say that like there’s a lesson to be learned, here.” Cole shot back as the overseer approached. Any further retort was cut off as—rather predictably, Cole would later reflect—the overseer shoved the cloth in his mouth.

It wasn’t a lot, certainly not enough to make his jaw ache any time soon, but it did muffle and garble his words.

Before Cole could spit the cloth out, the overseer was there, securing it in place with a length of barbed wire. Cole glared as the overseer looped the wire twice more around his head before calmly fastening it behind Cole’s head with a metal clip.

None of the spikes were directly digging into Cole’s flesh, but he could feel the edges of the points threateningly close to his skin, close enough to cut into it if he moved too much.

Cole growled through the cloth. He couldn’t actually reduce the man to ash with just a look, but damn if he wasn’t trying.

“Since you fail to understand simple instructions,” The overseer hissed, beginning to wrap more barbed wire around Cole’s chest and arms, “You will have to be educated in proper behavior.” The wire was dangerously tight around Cole, to the point where he could feel some of the spikes through his shirt. His bare arms were spared slightly by the width of the chair, but that didn’t mean much when what was touching his arms was forcing them tighter against the back of the chair.

“You refuse to hold your tongue,” the overseer continued, “so you will not be allowed to speak for the time being. He pulled the wires tighter, cinching the two ends together behind Cole… somehow. It wasn’t like Cole could really see behind himself. “And since you continue to be bullheaded,” the overseer spat the word bullheaded like a curse, “some long-term negative reinforcement is in order.”

Cole huffed, the sound muffled by the gag. Unlike the wire used to gag him, the wire looping around him was digging into his flesh at several points. He couldn’t feel any blood, though, so he supposed there were still small mercies.

Not that those small mercies really made the situation ideal.

The overseer, satisfied with his work—and with the way Cole was glaring at him, curses muffled by the gag—nodded, and then left, the click of a lock finalizing his departure.

Cole groaned. If it had just been some light torture or the whip again, Cole could have handled that. But barbed wire? Being left alone with the barbed wire to suffer for a while? In what basically amounted to solitary confinement?

You can bear this, Cole. Cole reminded himself, staring at the small crack where the door met the floor. You’re too tough to be broken by something so small as this. It didn’t make the situation less painful, but it did give Cole some confidence.

He was going to be aching for weeks after this, he just knew it.

There was something weird about the barbed wire, though. It felt like the spikes all had sharp edges along their lengths, instead of just a sharp point at the end. It was like being held in place by a bunch of tiny little knives—

Cole’s eyes widened. Of course! He’d have grinned were it not for the barbed wire against his cheek. The overseer had left him with exactly what he needed to get free.

Carefully, trying not to cut into himself further, Cole shifted so the ropes around his elbows and wrists were as close to the spikes as he could manage. He couldn’t see what he was doing, having to feel it out, and he could definitely feel one or two of the barbs digging in deeper, but he could also, if he strained his ears enough, hear the faint sound of metal cutting through fiber.

It took some more experimenting before Cole could build up a proper rhythm, but eventually he’d managed to free his elbows, with a lot of little cuts up and down his arms for his efforts. The wire was still pinning his arms against the chair, but it wasn’t holding his arms together.

A little more wriggling—there was definitely blood starting to bead up on his arms now—and Cole’s wrists were free of the rope, allowing Cole to separate his arms. It took some shimmying, and the barbs sliced through his flesh as he did so, but he managed to get his arms to the sides of his chest. This gave the wire enough slack for it to start to fall a bit, and a little more shaking and wiggling got it all the way down, the wire lying in several loops at his waist.

Carefully, avoiding the barbs, Cole twisted the coils around until he could get at whatever was fastening the ends. A little jiggling, and the metal clip came loose, allowing Cole to move the wire where he pleased.

Carefully, trying not to cut up his wrists, Cole lifted his arms out of the wire, freeing them up. Immediately, he used that newfound freedom to fiddle with the clip fastening the wire behind his head.

Cole spat out the cloth, tossing the wire that had held it in place to the side.

Of course, that still left the ropes around his chest and legs, and the collar—

The next step was the collar. Cole wasn’t strong enough to break it without his powers, but he couldn’t access his powers with it on. So he reached back, feeling around the collar for where the chain fastened to it for a weak point.

Blood had dripped down onto his hands while he’d been working his arms free, though, and it was making fiddling with the lock difficult. But dammit, Cole was not sticking around long enough to find out what else the overseer had in store for him, so he grabbed one of the ends of the wire in his lap and jammed it into the lock.

A click signaled the chain was detached from the collar, even if it was still on. Whatever. Cole would deal with that later. Preferably far away from this place.

Of course, he wasn’t home free just yet. There was still the matter of the ropes around his legs.

But Cole also had several coils of barbed wire.

After that, it was a simple matter to cut through the rest of the ropes. Cole was still bleeding, but he’d handle that once he could stand.

Finally free, Cole stood up. His joints creaked in protest after spending so long so tightly bound, but Cole pushed on anyway. He went to the drawers first—he’d need to grab a few things before he could make his daring escape.

First step: the cuts on his arms. They were starting to scab over, not that they’d been that big in the first place, but there was still blood dripping languidly down his arms. So he dug through the drawers for some bandages, and, failing that, some cloth that would serve the same purpose. There wasn’t really anything in the room Cole could use to clean the wounds, so he’d worry about that once he got back to Artura and Laina and the others.

Arms now wrapped with something resembling bandages, Cole moved on to the tool board on the wall, searching for a weapon. His hand-to-hand was usually good, but “usually” didn’t apply to arms covered in cuts and still aching from his bonds. So really, it was a question of which “tool” would serve him best here.

Cole grabbed a knife, examining the blade.

Yeah, this would do.