#yes there's a few skins that dabble in the things i mentioned but most of them aren't

[gelbekritzelei]

been saying this for years but orianna skins NEED to get weirder. she's a wind-up ballet robot or whatever but most of her skins are just pretty human lady like we don't already have a million of those. if they want to give her human skin they need to COMMIT and go the m3gan route. creepy doll (sewn chaos the only one that got that right)

she's got a ball where is the Dunkmaster Orianna?? the ball shouldn't be an afterthought! it's a unique element of her character design! build off of that!!

also more robot/non-human stuff!!!

like idk she's got such a weird premise but most of the time she ends up a generic outfit human woman. what's the point

[kerakitty]

Adam’s Creation and Appearance

So there’s a lot of nitpicking surrounding how Victor made Adam and how Adam should be portrayed as a result of that (e.g. should he have stitches, varying skin color, etc). I find this kinda weird because we don’t actually know how Adam was made. Victor intentionally omits this information when telling his story to Robert Walton for fear of someone managing to reproduce his work.(1)

We do have a few, scant details, but they’re hardly enough to draw any solid conclusions from. Here’s a list of all the facts given about his creation (relevant quotes with page numbers at bottom of post):

Making Adam big allowed Victor to work faster.(2)

It took Victor months to gather the materials he needed.(3)

Some materials were gathered from dissecting rooms, charnal houses, and slaughter-houses.(4)

Victor was able to choose Adam’s features (e.g. hair color and texture, tooth alignment).(5)

The whole process, both gathering materials and actual construction, took a little under two years.(6)

That’s it. That’s all we know. We don’t know how these “materials” were used, we don’t know what caused them to go from inanimate to living, or even what exactly they were. Yes, Victor mentions collecting his materials from the places listed above, but aside from mentioning bones(4), he doesn’t say what exactly he was taking. Were they intact organs? Pieces of tissue? Entire limbs? We don’t know. Confusing things further, Victor mentions that he “dabbled” with graves and “tortured living animals”(7), but doesn’t clarify whether these were additional sources of materials or simply research into the mechanisms of life and death.

General consensus seems to be that Victor used organs and whole body parts from cadavers to create Adam, but there's plenty of evidence that that’s not the case. Aside from the fact that it would’ve been difficult to create an 8ft tall body with proportional limbs out of pieces of humans averaging under 6ft, there are a few lines in the novel that indicate that this wasn’t Victor’s method. Victor consistently refers to the materials he used as “lifeless” and “inanimate”, but never dead. He also consistently speaks of imbuing new life into the materials rather than renewing or restoring life. In fact he outright states that reanimating the dead was, as best as he could figure, impossible.(8) Whether this only refers to raising a dead individual as they’d been in life or to any organic tissue is, like so much of Victor’s research, extremely vague.

So where does that leave us in terms of Adam’s appearance? Well, with not a whole lot to go on. Does he have stitches? Maybe. Does his skin color vary? Also maybe, though probably not given that Victor describes his skin and makes no mention of any variation in tone.(9)

The closest thing we have to a canon appearance for him is probably the illustration included in the 1831 edition of the novel.

There’s no stitches or other scars visible here, but since we have no idea how much (if any) input Shelley herself had on this design, that’s not necessarily confirmation one way or the other.

Ultimately, aside from a handful of details, we don’t really know what Adam should look like. We know he has thick black hair, watery yellowish eyes, yellower skin, straight white teeth, thin black lips, and is 8ft tall with all features proportional to that size.(9) Outside of that, and the fact that he looked ugly but not horrifying right up until he started moving(10), it’s up to the reader’s imagination. And given that the novel was intended to be a horror story, I suspect that’s intentional. In horror it’s often our imaginations that supply the most frightening imagery and any good creator of horror is aware of this fact.

So portray Adam however you want, and maybe don’t nitpick other people’s portrayals of him. So long as neither of you are going against the few explicitly described details the novel provides, they’re probably not any more off the mark than you are.

Source quotes and page numbers below the cut.

All quotes and page numbers are taken from this upload of the 1818 text.

”I see by your eagerness, and the wonder and hope which your eyes express, my friend, that you expect to be informed of the secret with which I am acquainted; that cannot be. ...I will not lead you on... to your destruction and infallible misery” pg 23

”As the minuteness of the parts formed a great hindrance to my speed, I resolved... to make the being of a gigantic stature;” pg 24

“...having spent some months in successfully collecting and arranging my materials...” pg 24

“I collected bones from charnel houses... The dissecting room and the slaughter-house furnished many of my materials;” pg 24

“I had selected his features as beautiful.” pg 26

“I had worked hard for nearly two years...” pg 26

“...I dabbled among the unhallowed damps of the grave, or tortured the living animal to animate the lifeless clay[.]” pg 24

“...if I could bestow animation upon lifeless matter, I might in process of time (although I now found it impossible) renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to corruption.” pg 24

“His limbs were in proportion, and... [h]is yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips.” pg 26

“I had gazed on him while unfinished; he was ugly then; but when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived.” pg 27

Side note on that last line: I always felt Victor was rather underselling the creativity of Dante here. Dante came up with some trippy shit. I doubt the Uncanny Valley was something of which he “could not have conceived”.

[lockedtowers]

brina once again didnt save a banner, sue her. but dont shes broke; Cassie’s healing abilities

bc i mentioned it in two meme replies today, and Cassie’s fae healing powers are… confusing to some at best but disturbing at normal.

her general ‘title’ outside of the c.heshire cat is, by the fae at least, the necromancer. necromancy isnt practiced by faeries, its considered disgraceful, it’s not normal for their magic to hold those kind of properties anyways. healing, yes, healing from the point or beyond of death? absolutely not. she had the added bonus of being a halfling to a witch. witches dabble in necrotic magic, but not to the same degree she’s capable of. it certainly enhances it, however.

so obviously bitch can bring shit back from the dead, but its easier if they were just on the brink. she spreads part of herself inside of someone when she brings them back, and forms a bond that only she has the capability to break. she does not know about that bond, so if she’s killed by another force, they die again, and she’d have to try and resurrect them again once she rises. its a process but she doesnt recognize that trying again is even an option and wouldn’t, so.

now with her healing others, a lot of it also depends on severity. most wounds she’s absorbing the damage, meaning as the wounds disappear on their body, the wounds form on hers. she’s actively taking their pain and their misery and making it her own when she does this. she has to be touching them in order to absorb their pain. and while it does heal faster on her than it likely would on others, it still takes awhile, and around 20 minutes after she takes their pain away for it to start healing on her.

but again, severity. if someones fucking arm is chopped off and shes trying to heal them, her own status needs to be taken into consideration, because she cant heal a whole limb if shes half dead in the moment, and she only has a short timeframe to do it in when it comes to massive wounds.

bruises, minor cuts, even bullet wounds can heal on their own quickly enough, so she has a much larger timeframe to heal those than she does burns or otherwise. your entire arm got lobbed off, she has an hour tops to get to you before she cant do anything. if you even made it that long.

with larger scale wounds, like missing limbs, she has to get there in time. and the healing process is a lot more dramatic. like her limb isnt gonna fall off when shes absorbing the wound, but the severity appears in other forms: gashes forming on her body, her skin breaking open, really horrendous painful injuries forming on her until she absorbs the wound away. and of course healing time for her, it takes awhile before she can start healing herself. the worst it is and the harsher it is, the more likely she is to faint, and that’s if she doesn’t (temporarily) die from the wounds.

which is another thing about the necromancy itself: she faints after every time. shes splitting herself into someone as she brings them back, and that includes from the bring. its worse if they were dead dead, but if they were on the brink she usually just faints unless she was healing them too, in which case, she may straight up die for a few days. self induced by raising another fallen, so her past resurrections don’t die from that, but she’s not conscious for awhile afterwards and her body has to be kept safe somewhere until she comes to. it sucks.

her own healing is also debatable at times. minor things usually start healing right away. iron-induced injuries dont fade for days if not weeks. there are other items that can cause permanant damage, and if she keeps getting hurt repeatedly before she can heal, the damage may become permanent. a lot of her scars are due to the amount of times they happened to her. The one over her right eye, especially. that was a mix of how many times it happened, and the weapon used. the one on her neck was due to that being a killing gash with a vorpal imbued switchblade. deadly for jabberwocks and their spawns. especially in the neck. she just didnt stay that way.

[couchpotatoaniki]

Idol!ATEEZ: Their s/o secretly writes fanfics pt.2

A/N: This was a request from someone who wanted to read their reactions to dirty fanfics *wiggles brows* but cba coming up with more backstories, so this’ll be a continuation of the first reaction

Tag list: @lovelyrose014-blog​ sorry this took so long :((

WARNINGS: swearing, mature content, heavily suggestive

Part One

Kim Hongjoong:

Hongjoong made no effort to hide that he read your stories. It was as he promised; the first time he read them was not the last.

He’d been filling up his rare breaks with your works, powerful words contrasting your timid nature and no matter how many times he indulged himself in your crazy mind, Hongjoong never ceased to be amazed.

You had more sides to you than he ever could imagined.

Although, there was one thing he put off for quite some time now, and that would be reading your more popular fanfics. The fan favourites. After all, being the leader, he should know what his fans like, and as your boyfriend he should know what you crave.

Hongjoong was a smart guy despite the goofy act he put on--very similar to your intelligence and geeky-yet-quiet nature. He knew that you wanted to keep him away from the dark side of your account, not wanting to scare him away (which he would never let happen). Hence why he hadn’t gone on it since he wanted to respect your wishes to some extent.

Until now.

Hongjoong swears it was curiosity, nothing more, but deep down he knew. He still needed to see that side of you, the side you deem acceptable for a whole world of strangers to see but not him.

Drove him mad.

But he was still in denial as he chanted in his head that this was only for research purposes. Bullshit.

Late at night, when pretty much everyone had gone home and he still had some work left to do, Hongjoong decided to take a well-deserved break, lying on his sofa as he scrolled through his phone.

He was doing what he had planned--he was finally doing it and nothing made the adrenaline rush faster through his veins. He clicked on the one which had the most reads, the one that was the most popular among anything you wrote, and from the title, it appeared innocent enough.

Maybe this wasn’t the one...

Then again, you were adamant that he never read it.

“Never hurt to try...” Hongjoong mumbled, despite being the only one in the sound-proof room. He clicked on it, anticipation making him restless.

Long chapter, as usual, and everything started out fine enough. No sign of anything, nothing suggestive at all.

What was the big deal about?

The next few chapters were of a similar feel. Sweet, gentle, fluffy. But he couldn’t put his phone down, something about this story had him...unsettled. It was nothing like your usually ones--with sadistic characters and an intricate plotline.

No. This had him slightly confused. It felt too kind.

Then he carried on. And then he realised.

That was exactly your intention.

The filter you had put over the first few chapters was slowly startling to peel away, into something more twisted.

Hongjoong buzzed off this, knowing exactly that the earlier chapters were a trap, a false sense of security. How you managed to poison every reader slowly, like your words were mercury.

By the time he got to the first smut chapter in the series, he was already consumed, work forgotten . Every word felt like it sucked out a part of his soul, and the heavy themes in the scenes had him in an uncomfortable situation of rather tight jeans.

Right now, all Hongjoong wanted was you. He needed you. To do all those things you wrote, to be there with him and feel the things he was feeling.

Luckily, you were always awake at this time of night.

Just a phone call away.

Park Seonghwa:

Although he loved your shower time, there was one habit that Seonghwa didn’t like and that was you leaving your notebooks everywhere. It made his daily cleaning harder than it should’ve been.

Never did he look through them, caring too much about not invading your privacy (save for a few months ago where he accidently found out about your fanfic account on AO3). But today was a stressful day already.

All he wanted right now was to lie down with you and watch some cheesy romcoms, accompanied by some snacks. Hongjoong, ever the perfectionist, was under more stress than usual and that meant all the other members were too.

Seonghwa was the nurturing mother, and even he felt like he lacked the energy to be as such with the way things were going right now--a comeback just around the corner.

So, yes, the tall boy was quite peeved today. He needed his charger. He needed you. But you were taking your damn time in the shower and he had to pick up all your damn notebooks from the most random places.

What even was it about these notebooks that you had to buy--or try to buy--a new one every time you entered a shop? Seonghwa never understood your love for them as he had only linked the devilish little thing to his work, where Hongjoong would be composing or writing lyrics.

The last thing he needed right now was something to remind him of his job.

The stress continued to build as this argumentative thoughts accumulated in his head, causing him to drop the hardback in his hands. “Fuck’s sake,” he growled, too pissed off at the moment to notice that your book had oh-so-conveniently opened up.

When he did, however, his fiery anger cooled down at the page, which had a few words on it. Luckily for him, your handwriting was fairly neat (unlike your normal habits) so he could read your little notes.

Phrases, sentences, ideas, the plot line in general, that’s what he got from a first glance. Maybe he could have a peek, seeing as though he was exerting a lot of energy recently.

The words, the plot, everything on that page was something he did not expect. It was smut.

Surely his innocent sweetheart wouldn’t be writing those, right? He gave you the benefit of the doubt when he found out about your fanfics. But you were a sweet girl, and he had always thought you mind was as pure as your heart was.

Then again, no one’s heart is truly pure, and it wasn’t the first time you had been tainted by him.

His eyes scanned your words, finding that it was somewhat vanilla and gentle.

A sigh escaped past his lips when he found that you were still his soft-hearted princess.

Then he noticed it was an old entry. Flicked through the pages and saw that the smut scenes progressively got more frequent and dabbled a little more in the dark side of things. 

His heart plummeted. Not just because your innocence was slowly peeling away, but because he too found himself getting a little interested by it. Especially one of the last entries of that notebook, where he found himself blushing hard enough to turn his normal skin to resemble that of rubies.

Yet, he couldn’t stop.

That was until he heard your voice yelling, "Seonghwa!"

Eyes like those caught in headlights, his large hands shut the book with lightning speed. But you had already caught him snooping.

"What are you doing with my notebooks?" You cheeks a dusty rouge from both the hot water and embarrassment, you snatched away the book from his hands.

"N-Nothing! It fell and opened up and I just..." He sighed, afraid that he'd already broken your trust. "I'm really sorry..."

Exhaling softly when you saw Seonghwa looking like some sort of scolded puppy, you reached on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. Calms him down a little.

“What,” you cleared your throat to rid your voice of fear, “what did you read?”

Now how was he going to play this? Was he going to lie and say it was only one page, or would he say that he had a peruse through the whole thing? As you had caught him already, it would not be a bad idea to tell the truth. “Um...bits and bobs. Just skipped through, really. I’m sorry.”

Smiling softly, albeit a little awkwardly, you patted his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s fine, I just... didn’t... expect you to... find out this way.”

He chuckled nervously. “Well, I’ve know for about two weeks now, about your... writing.”

“What?!”

Jeong Yunho:

One problem that you have, is that now Yunho knew you wrote fanfics, you became sloppy with hiding it. Not like there was a real need to because--as mentioned--he knew about it. How you loved to write thrillers and suspense and all there strange wacky things you’d find on a documentary about dangerous people.

Though that didn’t mean you never wrote other things as well.

Your works were obviously for a certain age and above (not like the warnings you put matter because the underage ones read it anyway), so writing the occasional smut was normal for you.

In fact, you were comfortable with it. Your personal experience with Yunho, combined with the ones you read online, all fuelled your creativity. Unfortunately, now that you became more open, Yunho had more opportunities to read what you wrote.

Not like it mattered much, you thought, because the words in your google docs were pretty much ineligible from the phrases only you could decode.

Sadly, when it came to smuts (what you wanted in them and what you didn’t), there wasn’t really a way to hide what you were talking about.

So when your tall and rather innocent boyfriend took a sneak peak at your latest entry, he was smacked in the face with the bullet points on there:

Fake dating AU

Cunnilingus

Blindfolds

Size kink

Hand kink

Sir kink

Power play

Complacent sub

(Because for some goddamn reason, every Yunho smut I’ve seen had either a hand kink or size kink...not that I’m complaining tho--)

Was this the stuff you were into? Because he certainly never never knew it. Your sex life with him had been somewhat vanilla due to the fact it only recently started and both of you were still a little too shy to branch out and dabble in other things yet.

His only thoughts until he next saw you were about this. If you were channelling your frustrations into your writing, then he could help you, right? After all, he wasn’t against trying this stuff out. It was a learning experience he was willing to go through. For you.

So when you came back from work, he sat you down on the bed, very nervous with his large hands engulfing your own. Concern would be a drastic understatement.

“Y/N?” You hummed in reply, now thoroughly scared. “I just wanted to let you know... that I’m not afraid of...expanding our experiences and neither should you be.”

Your heart dropped into the abyss of your stomach. “Y-Yunho, are you breaking up with me?”

“Wait, what?” The confusion of this situation seemed rather familiar. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just...” he bit his lip, still quite shy. He really didn’t know how to say this outright.

So he showed you instead.

As your eyes fell on the document of your plan for the next smut scene you had to write, your face dropped. Horror was evident in every part of your expression and he could see that.

“Yunho, I--”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with you wanting to try some of this,” he said, before bashfully looking out the same window you had when you had been discovered. “Besides... I wouldn’t object.”

Now that the both of your faces were redder than roses, the air had become slightly more...still and heavy.

“Listen, Yunho, just so you know, I don’t often write my own preferences. But I suppose trying new things is a bad idea...”

Kang Yeosang:

Almost a year had passed since your boyfriend had found out about your writing (through your clumsy cousin, no less) and you were careful as to what you showed him.

He often helped you through tough times like writer’s block, and understood your strange little habits. Even threw you an idea once in while whenever you were struggling to think of something or even took you out--restaurants, landmarks, whatever would help.

Yeosang was looking after you.

But now? Now, he pampered you.

That had you lowering your guard. He was being so kind, so why not let him read more?

Here’s ‘why not’:

Because he kept pushing his limits. Yeosang and you never had done anything, despite the fact that both of you were living together--by your request, since you had been in quite a few bad relationships where sex was a major factor. So, for the past two years, Yeosang had been alone in his endeavours.

All his intention was to find out what you were into. That was it, he swears. Thought it might at least curb the growing need to have you begging under him--or above him--just have a small glimpse as to what was in store. Maybe even have them as company when he really needed you.

Mission Impossible, is what this felt like, buttering you up, making you feel safe and comfortable (this came naturally since he always wanted you to feel this way with him, horny or not). You were like a fortress, always giving him more but not the stuff that he needed.

So he tried the same tactic he used to get you confess.

Truth or Dare (alone, obviously).

“Seriously? Last time we did it like this, you found out my rather embarrassing secret.”

“Just answer,” he pushed, watching you carefully as you climbed into bed next to him.

“Okay... truth,” you mumbled as you buried your body between his arm and chest.

“How about ‘dare’ this time?”

Your lips released a tired chuckled. “That’s not how this works, Yeosang...” But after a long few minutes of silence, you caved into his request. “Okay, fine. Dare,” you grumbled after saying something along the lines of, “if you wanted me to do something, then just ask.”

His lips brushed against the lobe of your ear, sending electric shocks down your spine. “I dare you to send me one of your smut fics.”

‘Surprised’ wasn’t really the word you would use to describe the immense shock that hit you like a train. “No.”

“Can’t go back on a dare.”

“But that’s even more embarrassing than having you read my normal fanfics...”

“No, it isn’t. Not to me, at least.”

“Yeosang,” you whined but as it became more and more clear that he would not give up as time passed on, you caved once more. Hesitant, you pulled out your phone to scroll through your works. What was the best one to send to him, you had no idea. “Can I at least ask why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more. All of you...” That one sentence had you more excited than you’d be willing to admit.

After all, it wasn’t just Yeosang who felt alone at nights (and sometimes days) for the past two years. Arguably, it was harder for you since you used to be very...active. Hence why you had such a selection to choose from right now--it was your outlet.

Perhaps it would be best to let him see the one that had you more bothered than anything after writing it--since he wanted to get to know that side of you as well.

Finally making a decision, you handed over your phone with bated breath. What would he think? Would he be weirded out? Would he not be into any of it?

For the boy, however, it was a completely different story; he was too into it. The more he read on, the worse his boner got until he looked physically uncomfortable.

Immediately seeing the discomfort on his face, it was as if your worries became reality. Hand reached out to snatch the phone from his hand but his reflexes were much quicker than yours, pulling the slab away as he kept on reading.

By the time he finished, his breathing was heavy and ragged.

This, sadly, had only made his situation worse. Only purpose this served was to make him crave you even more. Certainly didn’t help to have you leaning over him, soft, bra-less chest beneath thin, stretchy cotton of your shirt against his bare arm, trying to see if he was alright. Definitely had you concerned seeing his pained self.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he humourlessly chuckled, “didn’t know it would affect me as much as it had...”

For some reason, you leaned further down and kissed him. Whether it was because of seeing his hooded eyes or feeling the tension in his muscles as he restrained himself against your body, you didn’t care. Relief was the first thing you felt, knowing that he was just as frustrated as you when you wrote it.

No, he was worse. You could tell by the feverish movement of his mouth against yours. You could tell by the harsh grip he had on your waist. You could tell by the stiffness poking your thigh.

Yeosang pulled away with as much willpower as he could muster, while your lips chased after his. “N-No, we can’t, remember?”

Huffing, you were thoroughly pissed off at the promise you made two years ago with him when you first started out dating. “Yeosang, look at me.”

His gaze was even more reluctant, knowing very well that it would be much more difficult to have the eyes he loved so much staring back at him with as much lust as he had clouding them. But he listened.

“That promise was there so I could get to know you and see if I want to commit to this relationship, long-term, and we’ve had two years to think it--which is long enough for me.” Each hand cupped his cheeks, pulling him closer for a peck since you couldn’t handle being that touch starved anymore. “So, screw me.”

Yeosang didn’t need to be told twice.

Choi San:

It had been a little over a month and San had still not dropped his admiration. Didn’t look as if that was going to change anytime soon either, especially with one of your recent updates.

Your current story had a lot of pent up sexual tension and all your readers (your boyfriend being no exception) were at the point of begging in the notes of each update.

Finally, you decided to take mercy on all the poor folks and finally write that one scene which had them crying with gratefulness at the end.

As it was a long-awaited scene, it had to live up to high expectations. While you could do the most tooth-rotting fluff ever, that wasn’t your style. This scene needed to fit the vibe of your series so the whole bit flowed nicely.

The problem was, everything you wrote was ‘too much’. Too much fluff. Too much kink. Too much basicness. Too much weirdness. Too much awkwardness. Too much cringiness.

Unfortunately, this put you in a bit of a pickle and you were close to losing your damn mind. On the other hand, San--the caring lover he was--had noticed. Wanted to do something nice for you, not just because he could clearly tell it was a bad case of writer’s block and he wanted to you to write more things he could read, but because it hurt him a little inside to see you this frustrated.

Requested a day of, which he got considering how hard he had been working, an spent that day as your personal servant. First up was breakfast in bed--fried egg (sunny side up), beans, buttered toast, hash browns and a tall glass of cold, hand-squeezed orange juice. Not to mention a shirtless San in plaid cotton pants, the only coverage his torso receiving was the pink apron he had on.

Kissed you on the forehead and told you to take your time, then get ready or a day out while he made lunch.

The next two meals went by in a similar fashion, where he had put so much love and care for everything to be perfect for you. Your favourite sandwich and a fruit salad, water and a chocolate chip cookie before a walk in the park where you both fed the ducks in one of the nearby lakes.

Later was dinner--arguably the best one out of them all. Steak with roast potatoes, and steamed vegetables (much to San’s dislike, but he withstood it for you). The day’s activity had you more than tired, cheeks aching slightly from smiling too much. Then again, you didn’t even notice because all you could think about was how lucky you were to land yourself such an amazing boyfriend.

Even after dinner, he continued to treat you like the royalty you were in his eyes. Offered a nice massage to relieve the past week’s tension all pent up in your poor muscles. It was innocent enough...

Until it wasn’t any more.

Despite the cloths thrown about everywhere on the bed, neither of you had motioned to clean up and San had instead opted to run you a bubble bath. Scented candles and all. It was more relaxing than you had imagined it to be, and by the time your face rested on San’s now-clothed torso--both of you wrapped snuggly up--you fell asleep.

The man loved the sight, and for once, he actually enjoyed running after you, making sure your every need was fulfilled whether you expressed it or not.

Because throughout the day, you were the happiest he had seen in a while, and all his efforts let up to this sight: you cuddled up close with that beautiful, enchanting smile faintly on your plush lips that he had so gently attacked not two hours ago.

He found himself loving you even more; a pleasant surprise as he had thought his cup was close to overflowing.

Two days later, he found himself falling even deeper when you had finally posted your latest chapter. San found himself grinning by the end of it--a little turned on, but more happy than anything.

Because San’s magic had worked. Cured your painful writer’s block since the words simply flowed as you typed the scene that had been causing you hell.

And whole chapter was awfully similar to that special day when San decided to take care of you.

Just tweaked a little so it would be more smut than it was fluff, adding just the right amount of sweetness that allowed your story to continue to flow perfectly.

Which was why San had been more joyous than usual the past week.

You were a perceptive person so you caught the change in his usual demeanour rather quickly. The source of it, however, was beyond you (he was good at hiding his knowledge of your secret). Any reason you tried to pin down on him was a little off.

Stress? No, he was too happy for that. Upcoming event? None that you knew of, and he shared everything of importance with you. Feeling happy just because? San was the more emotional out of the two of you and none of his moods lasted this long.

So what was it?

It was frustrating to say the least, but your boyfriend wasn’t letting it out. And you don’t think he ever will.

“Oh well,” you mumble, “can’t be that bad if he’s so happy...”

Song Mingi:

The boys had made a pact when they began to read your stories: no reading smuts with the group. This was fairly easy since they would normally be oneshots and you generally weren’t one to write them often into your series. On the odd occasion you did, you often put up a warning and explained straight after if there were any important bits.

All in all, very easy to avoid.

Mingi was a gigantic baby, and with babies, comes curiosity. A sense of need to know what’s happening. An insatiable thirst for knowledge and experience. Suppose what is trying to be said here is, is that Mingi wanted to read the explicit stuff you wrote.

What went on inside that wonderous brain of yours, he wanted to find out. But he couldn’t do that with the boys, nor did he want to. No chance in hell he was gonna be caught with an awkward boner.

Never would he live that one down.

So his plan commenced at night, when everyone in the dorms were fast asleep, he opened up his phone.

Now would normally come the dilemma of what to read, but Mingi is not that patient; as mentioned before, he is a giant baby. The first post he found that fit his criteria was the one that he read. Coincidently, that was result of your ‘experimental’ ones.

Using metallic things wasn’t something you had tried yet with Mingi, but you though you’d take it for a test run through your work to at least see it clearly how it would run if something like that was to happen. Sometimes, you found, it’s makes more sense to write it out rather to keep in your head.

On the other hand, Mingi didn’t really know that your writings stemmed from mild curiosity rather than what your really into (not that you would particularly mind trying some of it out). In his head, this was what you wanted to do.

He’d be lying if he said that the idea wasn’t much of a turn on, and the time he  spent trying not to make a sound loud enough to wake up the other members would prove that. To him, this is was your wish and he would gladly comply to it.

The next day, he decided to run along with the theme, but to also add in a few twists of his own. You often liked that, both in and out of the bedroom.

Went out to buy some new rings for you, larger ones decorated with pretty gems for his pretty baby (even though he was one himself). Handcuffs, too, were ordered online, and a silver-chain choker--he made sure to double check it was safe to use. Next up was a little metal ball--he got this idea from the pokey challenge and something called the ‘passion fruit kiss’ on snapchat. Either way, he was excited to try it.

Babies like Mingi, as mentioned, have little patience and so he wanted to try it out as soon as possible, so the moment everything came, he quickly sterilised everything and waited for you to come home.

Made sure each metal piece was cold to the touch by keeping it in the fridge, and had a rolled up black silk tie stuffed in his pocket to act as a makeshift blindfold.

Sensory deprivation was the ‘twist’ he wanted to put on, since you both had tried something similar before with ice cubes and that went quite well...until it became too cold for Mingi’s mouth and that plan had to be scrapped sooner--hence fridge, for a little bit of coldness.

When you finally arrived, he looked like an excited puppy, and you had no idea why. Until he spun you around and tied a soft cloth over your eyes. “Mingi, I’m really tired and I just--”

“Shhhhh,” Mingi lulled right next to your ear, warm breath fanning over the nape of your neck which felt more sensitive than usual, “trust me?”

Sigh escaping past your lips, because yes, of course you trusted him. And now that you felt slightly more awake from his action, maybe you were willing to hear him out. ”Baby, what are you doing?”

Chuckling that followed your question was deeper than normal. Had it always been like that or was it your mind playing tricks on you? Either way, he didn’t answer and all you had heard was the fridge opening.

“Seriously, baby, what are you doing?” Now you were just nervous, all intentions of a lazy evening down the drain as your heart sped up.

It closed, and shortly after your lips were met with his, a faint taste of strawberry attached to them. Then something smooth and cold slipped past from him to you.

The metal ball was passed between the two of you in a playful game of which only your boyfriend knew the rules of.

When he could tell your guard was down and now you became a little more comfortable, Mingi slowly took your hands behind your back.

You had not paid attention, but you should have. Cold, tight restraints pressed against your skin, shockwaves making you gasp from the low temperature. But Mingi kept on going, kissing you to ease your tension.

Two metal things, so there must be a third, right? You knew about people’s strange obsession with threes so you completely expected another cold metal object to come into play. But the question was, what?

You soon found out when a thick chain choker brushed against your neck, clasping around it snuggly. This was it. This was the third and final one. And your suspicions seemed correct when you had not felt another chilly accessory grace your skin.

You wouldn’t have, not when the coldest of all the items--the rings--were being slipped onto your boyfriend’s fingers. You were in for a surprise in just a few moment.

Needless to say, there was only one thought swirling around in your head.

Maybe he isn’t that much of a baby.

Jung Wooyoung:

Ever since Wooyoung found out your fanfics were not about him, but his favourite K-Pop band, BTS, he had been...difficult. Moping around, trying to play for your attention a lot more than normal, not letting you have some peace of quiet with your computer.

It was almost as if he was jealous. You knew how needy the boy could be, wanting skinship with you more than he did with San. Knowing that you were fawning over men that weren’t him had certainly done something to him.

But Wooyoung knew you were no-nonsense. The complete opposite of him. It was exactly why he fell for you, and it was exactly why he wasn’t being as petty as he wanted at the moment.

He knew deep down you were his and he was yours.

Then again, that still didn’t stop him from feeling jealous, and had even gone so far as to decrease the amount he listened to BTS’ songs--especially around you.

At first, you didn’t notice the change since Wooyoung was often spontaneous so his behavioural pattern was difficult to decipher. Eventually there came a point where the clinginess increased so much, you couldn’t feign ignorance anymore.

Looking back, maybe you should not have burst his bubble and let him think that your fanfics were about him... Actually, no; either way, the moment he found out about your hobby, it was going to be hell. But now you just feel bad.

Yet, you don’t feel bad enough to stop. You never actually fantasised about being with them--it was just fun to write about. Clearly, he didn’t understand.

Your boyfriend seemed to be at his tipping point when he came back to you after a long day of dance practices that went sideways, typing away intently on your computer.

This was his time. You usually spend time with Wooyoung when he came back, but you were too busy to comfort him in his desperate time of need. Too busy with fantasising about Taehyung’s large hands or Namjoon’s dimpled smile.

Wooyoung was as cute as Hoseok and Jungkook. He had a unique laugh like Seokjin and was as flirty as Jimin.

He had all your favourite qualities in a partner so why spend time thinking about other men? He was literally right there, begging for your attention and yet, now it seemed as if you gave him none (which wasn’t true since the only thing you’ve done is become less secretive about writing).

When his attempts at distracting you from writing had fail, he tried to see what exactly it was you were writing about. Unfortunately, you had tried to hid it from his sight; the only thing that helped in doing was pissing him off even further.

Only after a tough struggle did he finally see what you had been so focused on that you had neglected him.

It was more BTS fanfic, but this one was worse. This one had him fuming--skin hot red and ears pooling out steam. This one was smut.

It was about no other than Yoongi, and by God, was it a rough.

That was how you liked it, and so did Wooyoung. Probably why he was so angry while reading about mirror sex with one of his fellow idols; you were just twiddling your thumbs in the corner, not sure about how badly your boyfriend was going to burst.

Wooyoung, no matter how mad he was, he had to admit... it did turn him on. Although, he was a prideful boy--not liking how you thought about others and more importantly, how threatened he felt while reading it.

Suddenly realising that it wasn’t enough just being all the perfect parts you liked (even if it came naturally to him).

He had a point to prove; Wooyoung could go beyond your wildest fantasies--and boy was it a wild fantasy.

Throwing your phone haphazardly somewhere (making you wince in prayer that it was not broken), your boyfriend gripped you by the wrist and dragged you across the room. You had barely enough time to realise what he was doing, only feeling a cold surface against your back as his lips ravished yours.

At some point, he broke away--lips swollen and slightly more red than normal. To say the sight had not affected you more than you already were would be a lie.

Still not giving you enough time to speak, Wooyoung turned you around so you could finally see what he had you pressed against.

A mirror.

If an idea of what he was planning hadn’t dawned on you, having his fingers tug at your clothes certainly gave you one now. His free hand had clasped around your jaw, making you look right into your reflection, seeing how your boyfriend’s lips were dangerously close to your ears as he looked at you dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Let me show you that I can be better than your imagination. Let me show you that you need to think about no one but me. Let me show you how good you’ll feel and who is the sole reason behind it.”

Yes, Wooyoung has all your favourite qualities in a partner while exceeding all expectations. That’s why you’re dating him.

Choi Jongho:

Ever since the release of your first movie and publication of the book it was based on, your career had blossomed. Finally, you quit the job that had been draining the life out of you to work full time at the publishing company.

Everyone around you could tell you were much happier, and the one who noticed it the most was Jongho.

Sure, your eyes were less sunken in, your cheeks more red, your step more bouncy. But he could feel that you changed on the inside too.

Your smile didn’t feel so forced after you came back from work and he had asked you how the day was. Now, your boyfriend found himself talking less and listening more to what you had to say.

If there was an expression more powerful to describe how he loved this happier version of you, he would use it in a heartbeat.

Sure, there were still times when the both of you couldn’t hang out as much as you would like to, but that was always in the job description, and the both of you were more than happy with it as long as the bed had both of you in it at the end of the day, both metaphorically and literally.

Then came along your second movie deal of a completely different story. In fact, it was based upon a movie you had watched at the time, and you hated it so much that you simply redid the entire thing.

In fact, it had irked you to the point no one could even tell it was based off of something since you had changed so much of it. However, there were still concepts you kept in the story--intimate scenes, for example (even if they too were completely changed).

You wrote such concepts before, and you would continue to do so since it was just interesting to write. Jongho, however, did not know about it.

At all.

So once your second movie was released, he was in for a surprise.

It was miraculous how terrible your memory was, since you had forgotten that you had not told him about the scene that would come up as you both watched it at home just before it’s release in the cinemas.

‘Surprise’ wasn’t really the word Jongho would use when it did come up, nor would it be ‘shock’. He was... mildly curious? Not that either... Well, all he knew that whatever he was feeling was not overwhelming.

“Did you know they changed this scene?” you spoke up.

“Really?”

Humming, you nodded your head. “They said the original scene was... Let’s just say they thought it was ‘too much’.” Then you scoffed under your breath. “Don’t know why they thought that though. It was fairly vanilla. Just some wall sex is all,” you confessed.

Now he felt a little overwhelmed. But he was mainly amused. “I don’t remember doing that with you.”

“Hmm? Oh... that’s because we didn’t.”

Chuckling under his breath, he cocked his head to the side, the paused scene in the background long forgotten. “Have you ever wanted to try it?”

“Once upon a time. Suggested it to my ex once before but he couldn’t lift me up since I was ‘way too heavy’,” you recalled with air quotations. “Didn’t bother trying after that.” You laughed at the memory, finding it to be hilarious back then and even now.

But your boyfriend on the other hand had not. In fact, he was no longer amused.

He was pissed.

It wasn’t about the fact that you had mentioned your ex--he never felt even remotely threatened by him. It was because he had called you heavy. He called his precious darling ‘heavy’. And you just laughed.

That was who you were--no matter how mean another person was being to you, you took it as a joke and moved on. You saw no point in dwelling over the bad, and that was one of the many genuine things he had fallen for. This time was different; it annoyed him.

Sure it might have been a dumb little memory for you, yet simply hearing about it had his blood boiling.

“Get up.”

“Wha--why?” The dark look in his eye had your lips sealing within the second. As if on autopilot, your body stood from the sofa you two were so comfortably perched on.

He followed you up, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, which only meant one thing. “Jongho--no. You won’t be able to.”

“Am I or am I not the strongest man you’ve ever met?”

“You are, but--”

“‘But’ I don’t care.” Forcefully, he lifted you up as you yelped, legs wrapping around his waist. “See? I can pick you up completely fine.”

Scanning his face, you saw that what he said was true. He picked you up as if you were as light as a feather, no tension in his neck, face, or arms to suggest he was having a hard time either.

It had you leaning against him, forehead touching forehead, laughing even more than you did before. Smile once again etched on his face, Jongho pecked your lips, walking slowly with you in his arms.

“Now shush and let me fuck you against the wall.”

[bts-hyperfixation]

Done deal - kinktober day 2

Demon Jimin

Smut 18+

This was meant to be a drabble.... Guess I'm doing some one shots too 🤷🏼‍♀️

Warning: teeniest mention of abusers in form of a spell to get revenge, nothing graphic

It had taken you a long time to find this ritual. Your college thesis was about cult followings and the use of romantic spells amongst young women. You had spoken to over 100 women about their relationship with the occult. Most that replied to your advertisement had dabbled in small spells, little love chants, and apple peal initials. A few however had mentioned the large tome that you had come in search of.

These women claimed that the magics this book contained were real, and dangerous. Because of this each one refused to tell you where they had found the unique grimoire, only telling you they no-longer had it in their possession. All their warnings did was intrigue you more. It took you weeks to track down a copy, which is why you are now sat in a tiny bookstore 3 towns over. You were the only customer in the building, and the elderly checkout clerk had barely looked up from the knitting she was working on when the bell on the door announced your entrance.

The occult section had its own room at the back of the store, volumes of texts stretched far above your head covering the walls. Luckily, the book you had come for stuck out against the rest. It was bound in black leather with a purple trim, a heart dripping blood was emblazoned on the side. In fact, it looked hauntingly real. You pull it off the shelf and place it on the table. Running your finger along the spine gives you a fierce electric shock.

First you open to a random page. ‘How To Skin A Man Alive’ the title reads, in graphic detail it explains what is needed in order to perform the ritual

1.      The wrath of a woman abused

2.      A weapon taken from him

3.      Velvet ropes

4.      A blindfold

5.      An athame

You turn back to the index before reading the terrifying gore you are sure is about to follow.

The incantation you were looking for was to fix unrequited love. In your studies you had found this was the most common use of romantic magics in your target demographic. You find the spell quickly almost as if your finger was drawn to it.

‘How To Bring Them To You’ even for an ancient text this page was beaten up. The corners curled in and some of the diagrams were barely legible. Weirdly, the charm itself seemed to be in mint condition. To cast the spell, you only needed four candles and thoughts of your beloved. It was overwhelmingly simple, so simple you had to try. You found candles easily in a chest in the corner. You set them in the shape suggested on the page and committed the chant to memory. The problem with simple spells however is they can easily go awry from lack of focus. You gave to much attention to saying the words and not enough on the thoughts of your beloved.

You finished the verse and the flames went out, spooky but not cause for concern. Through your research you had found very little evidence of these things being anymore than an empty wish. You are scared out of your thoughts by the clearing of a throat behind you. A young man with an impish grin is stood in front of the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise anyone else was here, I was just playing around” you say sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

“Darling, don’t you know you shouldn’t play with magic?” a blush creeps up your face as he makes eye contact with you. There is a burning intensity behind his eyes that makes you want to go to him. “I’m Jimin, and I believe you called for me.” He laughs as confusion crosses your features. “Oh, silly girl, you didn’t pay attention did you, your thoughts weren’t clear enough and instead of summoning the one you want you summoned them… or well me” he moved forward placing his hands on your arms. The touch burns you in the best possible way, a small whimper escaping your lips. The noise seems to feed him, his eyes flash red for a moment before returning to the inviting chocolate that you had been staring into.

It feels like your body is moving of its own volition as you lean into the stranger. Everything about him is enticing his scent, his clothes, his pink plump lips… your eyes close as you go to kiss him. He obliges you with a lazy kiss. You let out a moan as his tongue snakes into your mouth. You jump in shock when you feel the forked split against your own tongue.

“I didn’t think it’d be this easy baby, some put up a little fight first, confusion is a terrible mood killer” he chuckles more to himself then to you. You are too hypnotised by his presence to fully comprehend his words; all you know is you want him. You go to kiss him again but he stops you “Now, now, dear we have plenty of time for that, first I need you to snap out of my thrall, it’s much more fun for me when the pleasure I inflict is all your own” He pinches your cheek roughly shattering the rose coloured fog it felt like you’d been stuck in. “Tell me, do you still want me?”

“Yes” there was no hesitation in your words. It was clear that this man was not human, but it was also clear that he was the hottest thing you had ever seen. Even without the thrall all you wanted was to taste more of his skin. He made no attempt to wait once the consent was out of your mouth. You were his now.

He pulled your clothes from you with no resistance and kissed down your stomach to your thighs. He pushed you back onto the chair you’d been sitting in when he materialised and spread your legs for access. His fingers slip straight up your slit gathering your arousal and using it to rub at your clit.  The sudden roughness of his ministrations make you gasp, and you watch his eyes flit red again. He doesn’t take long to run his long tongue along your heat. The sensation makes you shiver as you melt into his touch. His long tongue finds its way inside you causing a new level of pleasure you had never experience. He fed off every moan that tumbled from your lips as he worked you closer and closer to your first orgasm. Your high is ripped from you unexpectedly as he pulls away and you whine at the loss.

“I’m sorry darling it’s so much better for me if we cum together” he reasons and pulls you from the chair. He backs you into a corner against the books and traps you there. Kissing you roughly this time, making you taste yourself in his mouth. His clothes had disappeared whilst you weren’t paying attention and he rubs himself against your entrance. He is big, you aren’t sure how big because he won’t let you pull away from his kiss, but the thought of him inside you scares you.

You don’t have time to fully realise your fear as he lifts you and lines himself up. The stretch burns and tears form in the corners of your eyes. He shushes you and strokes your hair soothingly with the hand he isn’t using to support you. The burn starts to ebb, and like he can sense the change he begins to move. Starting slow, the anticipation is almost unbareable but he can’t keep himself slow for long. He losses control and becomes feral. Your head bounces violently against the shelves as he chases his high. Still you can feel your orgasm approaching as your vision fades in the corners. He releases rope upon rope of hot sticky cum deep inside you and holds himself there for awhile as he recovers. His eyes slowly revert to brown as he comes down and he puts you back on your feet, making sure to hold you so you don’t fall.

“Sorry dear, I usually have more composure than that, but you are just so delightful” his tongue darts out and licks his lips “I’m so glad you’re mine now” You’re head shoots up at that

“what do you mean yours?”

“You brought me to you, now I get to keep you, that’s what you consented to” He shrugs acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world “I will see you soon my darling” he winks at you and with that disappears from the room.

Kinktober

Masterlist

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

all my tubes and wires and careful notes

Fandom: Kamen Rider Ghost

Characters: Tsukimura Akari, Alia

Song: "She Blinded Me With Science," Thomas Dolby (playlist here)

Note: Thank you to @si-siw for letting me borrow your headcanon and infecting me with this ship! I hope you enjoy the story!

The skies of the Ganma World may be clear, but the ground remains in a state, and so Akari and Igor have been working non-stop for nearly five hours when they hear a quiet, polite cough and look up to see Alia standing in the laboratory doorway. When she has their attention, she says, softly, “Are you on the verge of any particular scientific breakthroughs?”

Igor seems poised to launch into an extended explanation of what they’ve been working on, but Akari cuts him off with, “Not really. Decent progress, but nothing big yet.”

“I see. Thank you.” Then, directly to Igor, “In that case, I will need to borrow Miss Akari for a short period. You should use this time to have a meal, you’ve been working for some time.”

Blinking, Akari makes sure all of her notes are in order and then follows Alia out of the room and down the hall. “What did you need me for?”

She can see the curl of Alia’s tiny smile just from the way it changes her profile, before her mouth has even really moved. “I wanted company for lunch. And,” slightly more quietly, “I thought you might like some time out of Igor’s company.”

“I—yeah, I really do, thank you. He’s not a bad research partner, he’s just…” Akari gestures vaguely as she hunts for the right words and then settles on the diplomatic, “high energy. Plus at some point I’m going to have to explain the whole ‘I’m a lesbian’ thing and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“Is he very persistent?”

“No, you know, he really isn’t, but it’s still a conversation that we’ll need to have.” They turn a corner, go through a doorway, and are unexpectedly in a small sitting room, mostly plainly decorated, although one wall holds a painting that Akari blinks at. “Wait, did Cubi paint that?”

The tiny curl of a smile comes back. “He did. It makes the room brighter. Please, sit.”

Lunch is already served, the small table set with tea and sandwiches, and when Akari sees them her stomach growls, and she blushes. “Excuse me, I guess I am hungry.”

“Then sit down, please, and eat.”

Something seems odd as they sit down to eat, but Akari’s so hungry that she doesn’t bother working out what it is at first, in favor of wolfing down sandwiches as she gives Alia a progress report on the soil research. It’s nothing to do with the food, at least. Not the tea either, although the blend is unfamiliar. Certainly it isn’t Alia’s manner, she’s listening and asking thoughtful questions as always.

It’s—

“I love your manicure,” she’s saying, “sometimes I wish I could do fun stuff with my nails, but I do so much with my—I’m sorry.” She lowers her cup, blinking. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hands before.”

Alia looks down at her own hands, wrapped primly around her teacup. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“I, if this is rude to ask then stop me, but do you hide them on ohh.” Akari trails off mid-sentence as a pattern of vividly pink circuitry pulses from Alia’s wrists to her manicured fingertips. “Oh, that’s beautiful.”

There’s a moment of silence as Alia stares at her in faint but obvious surprise. “Do you think so?” She lifts one hand from her cup and turns it in the air, as if she’s seeing it for the first time herself. “They’re prosthetic. My real hands were badly injured in one of the early trials of Eyecon technology. These are lifelike, but as you can see, they aren’t a perfect counterfeit.” The circuit pattern pulses down them again as she holds her hand out to Akari, a stylized eye appearing for a moment in the center of her palm. “My father preferred to address the issue as he addressed many others in his later life, by ignoring it, and so I became accustomed to keeping my hands concealed. In my Eyecon form they were whole, of course, but old habits are hard to break.”

Akari stares at Alia’s extended hand in shock and fascination. “I…wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”

“It’s all right. It was more than a hundred years ago at this point.”

“Oh, yeah, I suppose it…wait, if your hands are prosthetic then how did you manage the manicure? Are they acrylic?”

“They’re magnetic.” Suddenly smiling, Alia sets down her teacup and removes one of her pointed, painted thumbnails, revealing dull metal beneath, and then puts it back on. “Alain had several sets made for me as a gift shortly after we all returned to inhabiting our original flesh.”

“That was thoughtful of him.”

“He’s always been a thoughtful boy.”

Akari takes a sip of tea, amused by the reminder that of course Alain’s sister still thinks of him as a boy, and the meal continues in companionable silence for a few minutes until she realizes something else. “You were involved in the original Eyecon trials?”

Another one of those tiny curls of smile. “Of course. I was Edith’s research assistant for many years.”

“You were? Why didn’t he ever—of course he never mentioned, why would he give someone else credit. What parts of the project did you work on?”

“Oh, most of them, I’m primarily an engineer but I’ve dabbled in a number of scientific disciplines. And I do some design as well. Would you like to see my workshop?”

“I would love to.”

---

The first thing Akari sees are the notebooks. The heavy bookcase in Alia’s lab does hold some academic texts, but more than half of it is packed with enormous ledgers bound in dark leather, so many that she’s shocked the shelves don’t groan under their weight. Two more lie open on an enormous rolltop desk, their unlined pages filled with with notes and sketches in a tiny, precise hand. On the walls hang several large, heavy parchment sheets, on which are hand-drawn diagrams of machinery, hibernation capsules, an exploded Eyecon, and—

“Is that…Alain’s suit?”

“Yes.” Alia reaches up and trails a fond hand down the edge of the diagram, which is labeled Necrom—for Adel? Alain. “I designed it.”

“Oh.”

“And here is Makoto’s.” The next diagram, Makoto’s name written at the top in ink much less faded than the rest. “And the next one is an early draft of what eventually became Takeru’s, although Edith did some further work with it that he didn’t inform me about. He designed and built the transformation devices, but the suits are my work.”

“Oh, I…” Akari stares up at the diagrammed suits, the close-up sketches of tiny components, more of Alia’s perfect handwriting in notes that she can only partially read. Some are in Japanese, but others are in Latin, and more are in a language that she doesn’t recognize. There are more diagrams, too, rolled up in a wooden bin, each one neatly labeled. Specter 1.0, Necrom (Alternates), Wraith, Manes and Lemures, Eyecon (Prototype), Hands. And the tables—once she can tear her eyes away from the wall she sees that there’s a blank Eyecon disassembled on one table, and on another is an Ulorder with a panel open lying on top of yet another diagram, this one in different handwriting and weighed down at the corners with books. “This is the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in.”

“I am very glad that you think so.”

“I, I just.” A bit of futile gesturing as Akari struggles for words, and then, “Look, can I. Can I buy you dinner?”

Alia…blinks. “Pardon me?”

“I would, um, love to take you to dinner sometime, so we can. Talk. More. Because I really like talking to you. And, and maybe a concert or a movie or something, or there’s a History of Engineering exhibit at a museum near the temple, I know you haven’t gotten to visit the human world much and I could…show you around.”

There’s a long moment where Alia’s just staring at her and Akari considers the very serious possibility that she just messed up big time.

“I,” she starts again, “that is, if you want—”

“I would enjoy that.” Alia takes one of Akari’s hands in both of hers. Akari can feel how cool they are, the odd smoothness of the skin as pink circuits pulse down them, and normally she’d want to know more about that but right now there’s so much other stuff happening even if really it’s only one other thing. “A concert, if you know of one coming up, I think I get enough of engineering in the normal course of my day that maybe the museum might be better saved for a second visit.”

Akari’s ears are ringing. “There’s, um, a performance from a popular violinist coming up next Thursday night? Takeru gave me two tickets, he knows the performer…somehow…”

The curl of smile, small and warm and directly entirely at her. “I enjoy violin music. And we can discuss our work over dinner.”

If she nods any harder she’s going to get dizzy. “That. That sounds wonderful. I’ll, uh, I’ll pick you up at five!”

[breaddaerb]

do you have a favorite killjoy ship? or a non-romantic dynamic with her that you really like?

[ killjoy headcannons II ]

✎↷: yes, i do! romantic ships wise would be nanobite/sagejoy, but it really depends on the kind of take you get on killjoy. personally, i illustrate killjoy as a very childish and petty character, and she’s still smart to get through things on her own and come up with solutions. in my eyes she seems relatively young, and i try to put that in the best! non-romantic dynamics would be with raze, viper, cypher, brimstone, and reyna.

my top killjoy ship is sage and killjoy. it’s a dabble of shared trauma and simply ‘sage can put down killjoy’s narcissism complex in an instant and shatter her whole career so i’m going to write it’. their dynamic is definitely the softest and most slice-of-life because they’re able to provide for each other and talk it out as baby gays :’D

killjoy’s most angsty moment with sage took place in an icebox mission for the agent yoru, where the german died point blank after providing cover for sage and another agent. at this point, the two of them haven’t met each other personally, but it begins to be after sage resurrects killjoy in pools of blood. super nasty, very trauma, much love.

sage’s pain is something that she knows, when cypher gives her news that the healer has chosen to isolate herself in her room for the time being. the exchange of power in life— sage’s is an eye for an eye, a breath for a death, but killjoy’s is radianite and life. her machines are constantly improving and don’t fully come to a stop at any given point, and while she shouldn’t worry what happens after the rocket rises, killjoy is made to when she discovers the amount of deaths she’s responsible for, all for the sake of kingdom’s radiante supply.

she weighs her values. this harm is not the blood that should be stained on her fingertips, nor the bright teenager who had made the spike without full awareness. but she understands what sage is feeling all for the sake of the matter of life and death, and she chooses to interrupt the healer’s stay in her quarters with a plate of gingerbread cookies and a few teary words. sage needed it; needed someone to listen. killjoy provided.

they dance around each other a lot, and while sage is often rigid and at unease most of the time, killjoy eases it. or not eases it— she brushes over it, brings in her wave of joy and gibberish and guides sage through and allows her a break from her own world and into the engineer’s. it’s why sage knows killjoy best for her unhealthy eating routines and the resistance to going out to exercise, so sage is the one who brings the world down for she and killjoy to share. they’ll both get better, step by step.

their relationship developed way longer into the future, and in between their meeting and then, they’re close friends. sage and killjoy along with cypher make the neat sentinel duo, and i think they’re all good pals! mentioned this once before, but killjoy drags them around as the best friends into virtually everything that she does, and it brings much more chaos into their lives than what they signed up for. this involves one a.m. trips to the local diner and walking around the city after missions, and it brings them together.

sage gave killjoy a spa day. she promised it’d be nothing long, just to get out those knots and everything since the german had been hard at work for days now. she couldn’t say no to the woman (she could be scary, okay?) and it was much rawer than what she thought it’d turn out to be. killjoy showed up to sage’s room, barefaced and hair freshly washed, and sat on the floor between the healer’s legs. a comb gently brushed through her hair, too kind for the taut muscles of killjoy’s body, and sage had breathed one phrase:

“you can relax.” a pause. “you are safe here, always. i promise.”

with intricate braids in her hair, killjoy falls asleep against sage’s knee, and the healer does not move.

viper and killjoy is another story. she is guarded, her against the world, seeking revenge against the ones who have wronged her. viper and killjoy are two different people, and they clash. killjoy comes barging into viper’s lab sometimes, checking in on the serpent, buzzing around and learning all she can about what the woman is researching on. it is a pest in viper’s eyes, but she does not push killjoy out. if she is here for learning, then it does not matter.

and because viper is so estranged from reality, visualized as a cut-throat monster, it takes killjoy’s insistence to get a dent into that barrier. they very much have the possibility of being friends, and killjoy literally takes the death threats as friendly banter. “get out of my lab before i make sure that you don’t wake up tomorrow.” “oh, sabine, that’s so thoughtful of you! you know, i haven’t really been able to sleep well for these past few days, so if you make something, that’d be great! unless that’s a death threat. then, you’re twenty-five years too late on that one, buddy!”

viper calls killjoy maus, or mouse in german. the nickname makes killjoy laugh because one, viper is shorter than her and two, it is a little bit of a pet name for partners. she’s not complaining, though! if viper can talk to her and make some time of day for killjoy, it’s all the reward that she needs. dating would involve viper to include other names, having grown a liking to german ones such as schneke or liebling. it makes her maus’ heart flutter all that more.

reyna and killjoy is a whole other story. this is completely non-romantic, if anything, they hate each other! reyna hates killjoy specifically because she is non-radiant and her machines do harm, and the other is petrified of the mexican. killjoy can snap back easily, but the vampire gets beneath her skin and discomforts her on all levels, so she never usually does. killjoy has fits of rage and pure relapse because of her, and it becomes the thorn in her side.

brimstone and killjoy are father daughter. she mocks him a lot of the time but she’ll never hesitate to compliment him either. “brimstone, that was wonderful!” she’d cheer, and the man would laugh and ruffle her beanie. “hey, kid, not too loud. the others will be jealous.” they fight here and there and always make up for it. killjoy’s dynamic with him is by far the most fun to write, and the chaos that comes from a war criminal and her papa is incredible.

razejoy! i actually don’t need to say much on this one. i have.. tons of writing that involve their shenanigans, mostly from with my reblog writings with @code-name-wraith ! check them out :-)

[willcwthewisp]

false god complex | ben & willow

LOCATION: university of maine, white crest. PARTIES:  @professorbcampbell and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: ben is more than happy to lend willow a helping hand.  CONTAINS: elements of grooming.

Willow’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel of her car in a near death-grip, already dreading what was to come. Why had the telemarketing company thought she was a good person to deliver toner? She’d done her best to avoid getting too close to anyone in the office, constantly afraid that she’d end up throwing someone through the flimsy walls that made up their miniscule cubicles. But somehow they’d settled on her to make a delivery that required a signature. She couldn’t even find peace in the knowledge that she’d be able drop the package and run. No- the telemarketer would have to come face to face with an actual person. This was the exact opposite of what she’d signed up for when taking a job that was about being away from people.

Pulling into the university, she struggled for a moment with the box of printing supplies, finally managing to balance it on her hip as she locked her car. One slow and deep breath later, she was steeling herself as she walked towards the closest building. Just find a person. Have them sign. And get out. That’s all she had to do. At least it was later in the day, getting closer to a time of the evening when less students were on campus. Throwing a college student into the quad fountain was also on her list of scenarios to desperately avoid. And it was a rather long list. Why were there so many people in the world? Turning the corner into a hallway, she scanned for any nearby lifeforms, finally spotting the back of a man’s head down the way as he walked away from her. “Um- excuse me!” she called out, her free hand waving with uncertainty above her head as she made an awkward shuffle towards him. “Excuse me! Sir? Sorry- I just- well I’m dropping off this toner, and it needs a signature. Do you think- well would you mind signing for it?”

Thumbing through his mail, Ben scanned the various letters. Hardly anyone sent him physical mail anymore, but he made a point of checking his mailbox once a week. It was good practice to walk through the halls, make a show of being polite and friendly to all of the cubicle dwelling student workers and pitiful staff members who didn’t have access to offices of their own. His office was on the third floor of the building, and while he didn’t have a corner office just yet, he had it on good authority that the next vacancy would be his. Tossing a few pieces of junk mail into the recycling bin, he headed out of the mailroom back to his office. He would finish up some emails and then take home his remaining essays to grade. Perhaps stop by the coffee shop, see if he could arrange a serendipitous meeting with a student--

As he walked down the hall, Ben was caught off guard by the sudden flash of movement and a woman’s voice calling out to him. Toner? What, did she take him as a secretary? It wasn’t his job to make sure the printer room was stocked. But, he offered an easy smile instead and hurried towards her. “Here, let me take that.” He said, taking the heavy package of toner from her easily. “You’re a ways off from the printing room. I can carry this and sign once we get there?” He said with a nod.

“Oh- oh no, you don’t have to-” Willow began, but he’d already taken the package from her hip in a movement so smooth she almost forgot to be nervous about the proximity of him. Almost. Realizing how close she’d come to potentially grazing against the man, and therefore possibly tossing him into next week, the medium took a healthy step back. “Sorry- it’s been so long since I went here, and I swear they moved everything around,” she breathed with half an attempted chuckle, trying to set herself at ease after the close call. “You really don’t have to, though,” she started once more, hating to be any sort of inconvenience. “I mean- I didn’t mind carrying it! And it’s not your job, you know?” As she said the words she finally did a cursory one over of the man in front of her, blinking a few times in quick succession as she began to fully understand just how handsome he was. Oh god- now she was nervous again. “And I mean- you could just sign here, if you wanted! Then I could just take it to the printing room or wherever and set it and leave it there since you...signed for it. And it’s just toner! I don’t think anyone wants to take toner or anything, right? I mean, have you ever heard of anyone ever stealing toner before?” Willow ended on an semi-awkward chuckle, practically begging herself to stop talking before she said anything else that sounded equally, or god forbid, more idiotic.

Hefting the box in his arms, Ben made his expression one the model of politeness and patience. It was irritating to have to maintain his role as the good-nature professor for someone who so clearly wasn’t worth his time. Well. She was cute, in an out-of-sorts kind of way. Which was typically how most women acted around him. “No, it’s quite alright. It’s a heavy box and it’s easiest for me to just carry it while I have it now.” He said with an easy smile and tilted his head. “The printer room is on my way back to my office, so it’s no skin off my back. Two birds with one stone, hm?” He said as she rambled on and on. Incredible. She just kept speaking without providing anything of substance. “No need to worry. And no, I can’t begin to imagine why someone would steal toner of all things. Unless they’ve got a massive printer at home, I can’t see why they’d do that.” He laughed. “Ah,” Just shut up, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by just taking the box from you. You just looked as though you were struggling and I wanted to offer a hand. Or two.” Ben gestured to the box resting in his hands.

“Oh- well...thank you, then.” Willow wasn’t about to argue with a man who was being so perfectly polite about helping her, especially when he looked as handsome as this one did. After all, who didn’t enjoy it when a good-looking man helped you of his own accord without seeming threatening or overbearing? Feminism be damned. “Sure,” she agreed, feeling like she’d be doing that more often as the conversation went on. His words and actions were so confident that they nearly even set her at ease, which was no small feat. “Thank you, again.” She should make conversation, shouldn’t she? It was only polite after he’d helped her. “So you’re...a professor here?” That much was obvious given his mention of an office. “”What do you teach?” For a moment she laughed with him, still somewhat amazed that she’d been able to do so in the first place despite being at risk of telekinetically throwing someone in a public setting. “I guess so. Unless there’s some toner black market that I’m completely unaware of.” It was her own attempt at a joke. “No, no-” she began, not wanting him to think she was upset. “It was nice of you- really. I just wasn’t entirely expecting it and-” She didn’t like people getting close to her. Not when she was a ticking time bomb. “-and I appreciate the two hands.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Ben said with a kind smile he didn’t mean in the slightest. This woman looked familiar, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on why. She looked to be around the same age as him, perhaps a few years younger. Blonde, brown eyed, classical bone structure, but why did she look familiar to him? Perhaps he’d be able to worm the information out of her. “Please, it’s really not a problem. And yes, I am. I teach the classics. Greek and Roman history, culture, and philosophy for the most part, but I dabble in most ancient Western civilizations.” As he always did for the more nervous types-- and this woman struck him as quite nervous-- Ben offered a self conscious grimace. “But, it’s hardly the most interesting field.” He said as he led them through the halls at a leisurely pace. A toner black market. Knowing some of the creatures who roamed this town, there very well might be. “Well, my apologies for startling you. It wasn’t my intention at all. Do people generally let you,” Flounder “Struggle without offering to help? That’s hardly the sort of behavior I’d expect of people here.”

He seemed like a very nice man. Or a well-meaning one at the very least. The more he spoke, the more Willow settled into the situation she’d been handed, figuring there was little she could do at this point if he was going to be so insistent about helping. She just had to keep her distance, and everything would be alright...right? “Oh- well that’s all very impressive sounding,” she replied with a tentative smile, as if she were testing the waters when it came to the expression on her face. “The closest I ever got to the classics or anything like that when I was here were the art and visual culture classes for the eras.” While Ben carefully practiced humility, Willow was already shaking her head in denial of his words. “Oh no- if it’s interesting to you, that’s what matters, right? And I’m sure there’s plenty of people who find it really stimulating.” As she walked along with him, her eyes scanned the hallways, curious to see how her alma mater had changed in the years since she’d roamed it. “No, really- you don’t need to apologize at all. I mean- you were just being thoughtful. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all! Pretty much the opposite, actually. As for other people...I guess I wouldn’t know- I’m not really a ‘delivery’ sort of person, but the usual person was out today.”

Walking alongside the woman, Ben continued to appraise her. She seemed to have calmed down a bit which had resulted in, thankfully, less rambling. Some people rambled in productive ways, providing little insights into their lives, their minds. This woman? Not exactly. She spoke as though she had to fill the air with sound or else there would be dire consequences. “Ah, thank you, though it’s hardly impressive.” Ben said with a shrug. Oh, he was very impressive. Department co-chair, associate professor, and well established within the college at his age? No, he was impressive and he knew it. “Art and visual culture? Are you an artist?” He asked with interest, though internally he couldn’t care less. “Indeed! That’s how I find it as well.” Ben nodded as they continued down the hall. Rounding the corner into the printer room, he set the heavy box on the counter. “Ah, in that case, I’m quite glad I was there to help. It’s never pleasant when you have to take on the responsibilities of others.” He said with a sympathetic smile. He leaned against the copier, waiting for her next move, curious to see how she’d fill this new gap in conversation.

“Don’t say that,” Willow insisted, apparently gaining confidence where Ben carefully lost it. If there was one thing she was confident about it was boosting the spirit of others. “You know something that plenty of people couldn’t even begin to really grasp. Isn’t that impressive?” A friendly nod had her head bobbing up in down as he asked about her, blonde hair bouncing along with the motion. “I majored in Fine Arts when I was here, and then opened a gallery a few years out of school.” A smile grew more comfortable on her lips while he continued to be perfectly amenable. “Well then I’m glad you agree,” she finished with a small chuckle, finding herself more at ease with every moment. “Oh- well I was definitely lucky that you were there to help. And that you’re obviously more than happy to lend a helping hand.” A shrug tugged at her shoulders. “It’s alright- I don’t mind helping.” At least that was usually true when it didn’t put her in public situations that might result in someone getting broken in half. “But um- if I could get that signature from you now, that would be great?” She offered him the little electronic device they’d given her at the office, a pen attached to it. Holding it by the very ends, she desperately tried to ensure that no contact would be made when he took it. 

“I suppose it is.” Ben said and offered a sheepish, apologetic smile as the woman admonished him. So she was one of those types. An optimist, someone who tried to lift others up. Naive. Interesting, very interesting. He couldn’t help but weigh and measure her, even if he had no real desire to lure her towards the way of his Lord. But who knew. She might be able to be of use to him, one day. It never hurt to cultivate “friendships.” Just as he thought, an artist, one of those creative types. “Now that, that sounds quite impressive.” As she held out the little device, she watched the way she kept him at arms length. As though she was scared of him? No, not quite. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was so frightened. “Of course.” Ben signed off on the machine with a smile before handing it back to her. “Ben Campbell. A pleasure to meet you..?”

Willow’s grin widened as the man agreed, happy to see that he wasn’t planning on minimizing his accomplishments anymore for the time being. Why shouldn’t he be proud? She was fairly certain everyone had something to be proud of in their lives, and if they couldn’t see that then she was more than happy to help show them. “Oh no- I mean- it’s not that big of a deal.” Willow fell naturally into the persona that Ben had cultivated for himself over their conversation, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks at his praise. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Relief flooded her as he didn’t offer a hand to shake along with his introduction, knowing she would have only made the conversation terribly awkward as she refused to take it. “I’m Willow- Willow Finch. And thank you for the signature, Ben,” she said warmly, already taking a step back as she reminded herself that she was testing the limits of her telekinesis simply by talking to him. “I hope you have a good day, Professor Campbell.” Then she was starting to head off, wishing she could have counted the man as a new friend, but knowing it wasn’t possible with her current situation. But it had been nice to pretend for the length of the walk down the hallway.

[artificialqueens]

Sober (Symnali) - Pazinae

Summary: College girl Symone and her house love throwing parties. Denali loves a fun time, and finds herself there every weekend. Just to get drunk and party of course. No other reason. (AKA pretty lesbians in denial)

AN: a drabble inspired by denali coming over to the house of avalon a while ago, getting v drunk and dancing w symone (the outfit symone wears in the fic is from that day www.instagram.com/p/CODlQtnp-KM/ denali is wearing the pink dress from one of her older posts). also the time they streamed and were just drunkenly complimenting each other is the absolute Cutest and symnali is underrated. i have a lot of ideas for this so if yall are interested ill write a whole thing of what happened that night <3. my first fic and concrit is very much welcome!! song is sober by lorde :>

—

//Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight, lose my mind

Night, midnight−//

They called themselves House Of Avalon. They had all pitched in to rent a house near campus over the summer, and a place leased for a year consisting of young 20 year olds can only go as well as you can imagine. Yet getting ready for their parties surrounded by constant noise and the dozens of paintings, framed photos, and tchotchkes lining the wall, was a comfortable kind of chaos. As chaotic as they may be, they undeniably threw the best parties. Not to mention their outfits never missed, especially not Symone.

The madness of creative, raging queers all shoehorned together to form the most disorderly harmony was a type of home Symone wanted to bask in forever, and, quite honestly, the driving reason to stay in the boring hell hole that is college. The obligation of finishing this shit for a flimsy paper and bragging rights was a little more grounded when it’s the only reason her friends are currently living with her. One day this will all be done, and they can find a job with their degrees. Finish college like everyone wants her too, make everyone proud that yes, she did it, and together the House Of Avalon can buy a huge house with 5 guest bedrooms so everyone and their mama can visit. Throw the biggest parties, a pool in their backyard with an outdoor kitchen, a huge patio out front by the house gates, and they could even install a stripper pole in the living room. Until then she’ll be up at 7:30am to ride the train for her morning class. 

The thought of the a certain dimpled blonde helped make the week bearable because at least on the weekends she can fly to somewhere else. With someone else. 

Symone, Gigi and Rosy hung around the sofa together, getting tipsy as they waited for more people to pour in. They chattered mindlessly, the comfort between the three was an indescribable kind, so effortless and familiar. But in between each pause in conversation, when the laughs and talk of annoying professors and ugly hair trends came to a brief end, Symone couldn’t help but scan the room. Peeking out the corner of her eye for a certain pair of hooded eyes hopefully lingering around. A girl with the most distinct, beautifully symmetric face that can charm a room, and a sugary voice so addictive to listen to even without a sweet tooth. She could listen to Denali talk and ramble as much as she wanted about anything in the world, and she’d eagerly nod along. Her hazy tone when she’s slurring and half awake, to the chirps and goofy grins at the height of the night. The adorable glint in her eyes of passion and excitement when she drunkenly goes off about some kpop group Symones never heard of before, but might just happen to start coming across more. Her dancing like a duck that makes Symone squeal, and cheer, and hide her face in her shoulder so no one can see the smile she’s unable to bite back. She dawdles around with her infectious giddiness and smile so comforting it eases the absurdity and rushing high Symone constantly lives with. And it helps that she’s built like some athlete godsend with the prettiest arms and perfect curves and the most stunning thighs and calves and soft warm blonde hair with icy blue tips to frame her angelic face. She’s been drinking and it’s definitely just the alcohol that makes her head waiver and ramble. 

Time rushes by wedged between her sisters, and soon Symone holds an empty cup for the second already. The house has certainly been getting fuller and fuller. Glancing around, she finds the only person she could (and frankly would) look at for all of eternity, staring at her. Denali’s hair is scooped into two high ponytails at either side, and her body’s fit into a little off the shoulder pink mini dress that hugged her body all too well. Symone wanted nothing more than to just hold her, dance the night away until the jumble of noises and bodies fade out. Seeing her just standing there, perfect and still, a toothy grin is plastered on Symone’s face without her consent. She barely even knows Denali but her sheer presence brightens the room, sends butterflies to flutter around like she’s having some cheesy school girl crush. She can’t tell you what Denali’s favorite TV show, movie or season is, or how she likes her coffee. But if the world were to close in on them right now, have the walls disintegrate, ceilings crumble and the heaps of flesh around them melt into the floorboards under them- they’d still be yelling out the wrong lyrics while they twirl against the counter tops. Rush outside and run in the pitch black where nothing exists but each other in their hands- and that’s good enough for her. 

Denali just likes Symone because she wants to have fun, and Symone’s good at that. It’s okay that she won’t ever like Symone when she’s sober; When she’s quiet, and wrapped in a blanket over her hoodie starring at the ceiling. When she’s fidgeting with her nails and playing with her the tips of her hair instead of talking. When she burns mac and cheese and decides to have a bag of ketchup chips for lunch. Whatever it is they have; it’s still good enough for her. 

Damn maybe Symone does think a little too much. She winks at the dumbstruck skater. The night’s just begun, and the only exit signs in the labyrinth in her sinkhole of a mind is alcohol and/or Denali. Symone wants the and version. 

//Oh, God, I’m clean out of air in my lungs

It’s all gone, played it so nonchalant//

When Denali came through the door she not-so-subtly headed straight to the living room. She had barely glanced in their direction- but she saw her. She was laughing, in her little squad of pretty girls. The clique of long legged doe-eyed queens stand in the center of the living room in their mini skirts and low waisted pants- lifelike statues seemingly taking up all the air in the crowded room. She can’t help it if she stares a bit! They have cute outfits and Denali just wants some inspiration. Everyone’s gawked at the trio anyways. She looks at Symone, because of the cute fuzzy blue bucket hat adorned on her head. No other reason.

 But it’s hard to look away when her face- her makeup is so stunning. With a shimmery pink cut crease, and glossy lips, and dabbles of pink brightening her cheeks. Lashes that make her eyes pop, and the highlight on her glistening skin matched with her flimsy silver spaghetti strap crop top that made her shine even more like a radiant disco ball. The backless top is tied together behind, with a thin string leaving the space between her neck to ass as exposed skin. How could a person be so perfect? And addicting to look at? Unzipped jeans hung at the curve of her hip to show her pink thong, which rose to hug her waist. Pink wedge heels lie under her painted toe nails, and fuck was she a living bratz doll. It wasn’t Denali’s fault that she was objectively so head to toe stunning. It wasn’t her fault that she bit the inside of her lip a litte. It wasn’t her fault that her heart skipped when she was bent over in laughter and cupping her manicured hands over her mouth. It wasn’t her fault that she forgot to look away. It wasn’t her fault that when Symone caught her gaze she stood there frozen  (if the options are fight, flight or freeze, which do you think the ice girl is gonna do?). It wasn’t her fault that she forgot how to breathe when the enchantress gave her a wink. She smiles and waves in return. Someone taps Symone’s shoulder for her attention, and she looks busy. 

Denali pushes away, swimming through the sea of humans swarming the halls until she can identify the way to the kitchen. She needs a drink. It’s early and she’s far too sober for this.

//It’s time we danced with the truth

Move along with the truth//

There’s no reason why she’d be into Denali. She could literally get anyone she wanted, with her gleaming smile and cute laugh, and the way she can make you smile and feel important and wanted. The way she stops sipping in her red solo cup to look at you, to nod at every word and stare like you’re beautiful and matter. The way it’s impossible for her to not be the prettiest in the room. Denali takes a shot, the burning taste a welcome pain at the back of her tongue.

Five months ago when Denali took a sharp breath outside the main door, she made Rose come with her because, fuck, she wasn’t going to a party by herself. Not back then, at least. When she was a flustered freshman in October who didn’t know how to have a good time. Back when she first met the party throwers, and a certain captivating spirit with braided honey gold hair in a skimpy black dress took shots with her. Complimented her wispy hair dyed blue at the ends. Told her she looked amazing in slurred giggles. Because she was tipsy. The truth is the only time this will mean anything is when the world starts spinning, the room gets hot, and their minds start to blur. 

//Ooh (Hey)

We’re sleepin’ through all the days

I’m actin’ like I don’t see

Every ribbon you used to tie yourself to me// 

“You good diva?“ 

"Nnnm, gimme uh ‘nother few minutes"  Symone’s head is pounding, and the only thing on her mind is the dazy blanketing warmth of sleep. Her mind is a knotted, jumbled up mess and trying to think about anything other than passing out makes her head throb. Natural light from the outside pours through the windows, and through her squinted eyes, the wooden table across the room is glowing from the suns heat. A vague need to eat, drink water, and vomit creep up on her. She turns to lay on her side, wedges the blanket between her arms, pulls it higher up and tucks her hands under her head.

"You sure?”

“You still have your makeup you want to wash it off?”

“We can take it off”

“Girl its 2pm" 

"Let her sleep!" 

Half asleep, all the different voices mesh as one blob of noise. Indistinct chatter fades as Symone slowly luls back to sleep. Until-

"Where should I put the polaroids of Symone and Denali making out?” Peaceful slumber is very quickly forgotten when realization is drawn. 

“What the fuck happened last night?” Is the only thing Symone can muster out before throwing her head deeper into the pillow, all of a sudden quite awake. Focusing on the vague mist of memories from the night before, she replays it through her head starting from when she went up to Denali, taking shots in the kitchen.

[pa-panda-heroes]

Ahhh I love your blog! May I ask for hc’s of the league figuring out that the female reader is very flexible and into yoga?(●’◡’●)

thank you very much!! I love seeing you in my notifications btw ( ◠‿◠ ) it means a lot to see you there.

LoV figuring out female reader is very flexible and into yoga!

Tomura:

Tomura would honestly find out accidentally. It would take either one of the other members telling him accidentally or his walking in on you while you’re in action.

He’s quite impressed at your balance and flexibility and admires it. He has to wonder if you put in a lot of time and effort to become so flexible.

If you try hard enough, you can convince him to join you and learn yoga himself, but he has to watch you a few times and see what it’s about before he decides to or not.

He’ll just sit and gawk silently, mostly in awe because woah, that looks uncomfortable and you’re so flexible. Throw a downward-facing dog his way and you’ll catch him moving his head to the side as if to track yours.

Tomura may look lanky and scrawny, but he’s pretty flexible himself, and he’s stronger than he looks. So anything really basic won’t be very troubling for him!

But his balance is... not great. You have to do more supervising than instructing when teaching him anything that involves balance. He’s just a tad clumsy!

He will frequently tell you that being so flexible and nimble can be useful in a fight, but at some point he’ll probably admit he loves it because it gives him a good opportunity to acceptably gawk in awe at your talent and focus - and commitment.

Tomura won’t be super quick to master the poses, you notice, and that may or may not be because he gets undivided, one-on-one attention from you!

Mr. Compress:

Mr. will absolutely appreciate yoga as an art. It’s good for physical and (supposedly) mental health, not to mention it requires a lot of practice, effort, and patience. Naturally he admires you for being into it!

You don’t have to offer to teach him - he’ll outright ask. It never hurts, right? It’s possible to teach an old dog new tricks! Especially when that old dog has such a great teacher!

Whenever he sees you in a particularly stretching pose or just how flexible you are, his instincts kick in and he has to look away for a moment because how is that not painful?

You’ll catch him researching and practicing poses that are too advanced for him or are generally difficult because he just has a curious mind and wants to do more.

His favourite thing about yoga is that it’s something you can enjoy in various ways together! Warm-ups, trying new poses, it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as he gets to marvel over your abilities.

He’s the most likely to push himself to improve, not to show off or in a rival-ish way of catching up to you, but just because he enjoys it so much.

Mr.’s balance is more than impressive, but if you compliment him on it, he’ll be a little more modest than you’d think and he’ll find a way to send a compliment your way instead.

If you manage to use that nimbleness and flexibility in combat, he’s going to gush with pride and stop for a moment and point at you like “that’s my y/n, that’s my y/n! Look at her go, the lithe little thing! Isn’t she incredible?”

Twice:

Much like Mr., Twice is going to have that super proud attitude towards your abilities and will want to show you off to essentially everyone he meets. Inside of the League and out. All the time.

“Y/n, do the thing! Please!” he’ll say, holding his hands together with an imploring tone. He’s referring to a move that you can do to show off your flexibility.

Convincing him to join you will take a lot of effort, but considering it’s you, it will work and soon enough he’ll have his own mat (before you can even tell him to get one) and will be rearing to go.

He might not love the whole ordeal at first, but considering it is challenging for one’s physique and it’s more relaxing than slugging a hammer at a tire, he’ll learn to appreciate it.

Twice stays fit, we know this by looking at his costume - so he’s not going to totally shy from it. He can build muscle other ways and obtain flexibility this way.

He’s honestly enamored with how you move while you’re practicing (or in general honestly), so you’ll catch him staring a lot. It’s just relaxing to watch the slow and fluid movements.

Not great at yoga. Sitting still for periods of time and patience don’t really mix well with Twice.

Expect him to ask for your measurements so that he can make a clone of you to practice even when you’re busy!

Himiko:

Why didn’t you tell her sooner??? Omg y/n! Himiko loves yoga and she’s really good at it!

She’s like a kid in a candy shop when she finds out you’re into yoga and super flexibile - so is she! She learned it for combat, but still, that’s means girl bonding time!

Himiko is super flexible herself, so she’s totally going to try to compare your flexibility with hers to gage and see if one or possibly both of you can help each other improve.

And she’s 100% going to suck you in to doing it with her. She gets rather bored and lonely while she practices alone, so now that she has a yoga buddy? She’s so happy she vibrates in place!

She will literally want to buy matching or complimenting mats, yoga outfits, and even drink containers because it makes her so happy to be able to bond with you like this.

It’s probably not how you’re supposed to do it, but she likes to hum while she’s in pose. It helps her relax and sit still.

Sometimes it mindless humming to whatever she thinks sounds pretty, and sometimes it’s actual songs that she enjoys.

Give her the role of teacher and ask her to teach you a pose, and she’s totally up to the task. She’s actually a great teacher (and handsy if you’re comfortable with that). Give her the role of student and she learns really quickly.

Dabi:

He’s probably the only member for whom yoga is a no-go. He can’t help it. Stretching skin too much stretches his staples, and that’s a recipe for a literally bloody disaster.

He’d probably be willing to dabble with something that doesn’t involve stretching or balance, but it takes a whole load of convincing and demonstration on your part. He’s just really uneasy about it.

Dabi’s more than happy to watch, though, whether his dirty mind is kicking in or if he just wants to marvel at your talent and focus.

He can participate in that he can be on standby in the rare case you lose your balance, so that he can catch you and prevent you from falling on the floor if need be.

Prepare for stares and innuendos. Sometimes. Okay, maybe all the time. He’ll tease you constantly for your flexibility and what he “could do with it.” Sometimes he teases you just to tease you about it.

Prepare for every gift you get from him after he finds out to be yoga pants. Tight ones. And low-cut tops - bonus if the tops are baggy.

He will admire your abilities and he’s not afraid to tell you that. Dabi’s impressed with your progress and skill and you’re going to know it. He’ll even brag about to the others when you’re not around.

The more he sees you do yoga, the more he sort of wishes he could join you. You look so focused yet so at peace. He would like to experience that.

Spinner:

Not entirely sure how yoga works. He knows of it and all, but he’s never tried or went out of his way to learn about it.

So is he curious? Yes! Does he think it’s neat? Sure! Is he willing to try? Eeh..

Show him what you can do with your learnings from yoga, though, and he’s interested! He’s rather impressed by what the experience is given you, and he wants to see if he can benefit from it, too.

He’s in a bit of a rush, though, trying poses that are too advanced for him and sometimes hurting himself. You have to make sure he goes at a proper pace.

But he’s a quick learner, so that helps with his rush to catch up to you. You still have to keep him on a tight leash, though!

Spinner is the type to show you off anyway, but he’s really going to show you off for being into yoga. You’re doing what you can to take care of yourself, and he’s proud of that.

Literally won’t practice without you. You’re his second pair of eyes that makes sure he’s in the proper position, because he’s still a beginner. Plus it’s just not as fun without you.

His balance isn’t the best, so he’ll constantly ask you to help him improve because who better to ask? You’ve got it down pat! He knows you’re a great teacher.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Doyenne ~ Part 7 (Final Chapter)

Warnings: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy needs help from one of Birmingham’s most powerful underground gangs, the Hemlock Angels. Little does he know, he’s not the king of Birmingham after all.

Warnings: Murder, Illegal stuff (Is this even a warning for this show? Everything’s illegal) 

Word Count: 5867

A/N: Ahh! The last chapter!!! As I go back and re-read the last few chapters, I’m nervous Tommy has been a little OOC (I hadn’t watched the show in a few weeks). But oh well! Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy the finale! 

A/N 2: Also, all the monetary references have been adjusted for inflation. I think I forgot to mention it before. But, yeah. So 400 pounds was worth much more than 400 pounds now. 

___________________________________

Fuck Thomas Shelby. 

Fuck him and the way he treated everyone around him as if they were beneath him. Fuck him and the way he acted like people were expendable. Fuck him and the way he viewed everyone as pawns in his own overlord game of chess. Fuck him and the way he just blatantly called you out. Fuck him and the way he made you crave him.

Your encounter with him had been fulfilling in ways you hadn’t expected but it had also infuriated you, bringing back memories you’d struggled to suppress for the last two years. Memories brought out emotion and emotion was vulnerability and you had no room for that. But since Tommy had planted the seeds of memory in your mind, all you could do was feel the hidden rage and heartache you’d been concealing since Mason had screwed you over. 

Mason had been your lover years ago as the Hemlock Angels grew. He was a poor boy desperate for money and you were a poor entrepreneur desperate for people willing to do illegal work. A romance very quickly blossomed and he was the first and only man you could say you ever truly loved. You’re whole heart and soul was invested in him. 

He was tall and handsome with auburn hair that was slicked back on top but shook loose when he’d get into something he was doing - whether it was working hard loading crates, beating someone up who tried to cross you guys, or making love to you. He had a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that gave his otherwise chiseled and angular face a soft touch. Toned muscles rippled across his perfect body and- 

Even today, after all this time, after all he’d done, you still felt love for him and you hated yourself for it. Once the Hemlock Angels took off as a whiskey exporter (though still a young and admittedly sloppy version of your current business in retrospect), he’d been caught at the docks with the cargo. He and the crates were seized by police and, with the promise of a very handsome monetary reward and legal immunity, he’d given the police the address of your distillery. Thankfully, you weren’t there when it had been raided but you lost everything you’d worked for because of him. ₤400 was worth your love and life’s work apparently. He took the money and ran off to Switzerland to avoid being drafted and lived off his money, leaving you to rebuild your empire. 

The betrayal had destroyed you, left you a complete shell of a person, incapable of trusting others, especially men. But it had allowed you to grow the Hemlock Angels. To avoid the pain, you threw yourself into rebuilding the distillery and developing more foolproof protocols for business operation. Never again would you make the mistake of allowing someone to double-cross you. It was why you conducted your business quietly, even quieter than, say, Alfie Solomons, who was also fairly underground as these sorts of businesses were concerned. 

Thomas Shelby made you feel things that Mason had made you feel and it terrified you to no end. The impending doom of repeated history loomed over you heavily, suffocating you and ripping your ability to breathe away. But it was a mistake that you kept feeling yourself drawn to making. 

Friday night had come around quickly and you found yourself awaiting Tommy in your main office yet again. The last thing that you wanted was to see him in this room, the ghost of his touch coming to haunt your skin. But no. This needed to happen here because meeting him on his turf gave him the upper hand. And now that Jameson and Brandon, the only thing you’d asked for in return for your work, had been killed, this was feeling more and more like a free favor. You refused to stake anything more than you already had on a free favor. 

“Y/N, Thomas Shelby is here for you.” Rita announced, peeking her head through the crack in the office door. You stiffened up, trying to play it off as just sitting up straighter but your prodege must have seen straight through you because she gave you a knowing glare. 

“See him in. Thank you.” Straight-forward, professional, and impersonal. That was going to be your new tactic. No more of the games you’d attempted to play with him, the same games that you were usually able to play successfully with everyone else. No more hot and cold, nice then firm. Tommy was able to worm his way through the small cracks of your professional wall to see the parts of even yourself that you tried to hide and that vulnerability stopped here. 

“Mr. Shelby,” You nodded in acknowledgement when he entered your office and you gestured to the chair across from you. Tommy’s eyes flashed with a hint of confusion. The entire energy of this interaction felt off already but nonetheless, he followed your gesture and sat down. 

You reached down and grabbed a leather bag from beneath your desk, dropping it on the table. Reaching up, you clicked the little locks on top open and pulled the material appart, revealing thousands of American bills, “Here is the final installment of the money. All the same as the first.” 

Tommy peeked into the bag, just to ensure that the money was in fact there. He lifted out a stack and flipped through them. They all appeared to be identical both to each other and to the last bag and if he hadn't known any better, he would think they were all legitimate notes. 

You leaned back and watched as he inspected the money, sure that he’d be satisfied with the work, before continuing, “There is a shipment going out to America tomorrow night. I need to know what it is that you’re shipping so I can be sure to leave enough room onboard.” 

The man shook his head, “I can’t tell you what it is that we’re shipping.”

“Then I can’t help you anymore.” You stated matter-of-factly, crossing your arms, “I need to know what I’m sticking my neck out for.” 

“Like I stuck my neck out for you?” 

“Yes.” Your eyes locked with his, refusing to back down or allow him to guilt trip you. 

Tommy sighed, “It’s snow.” 

Your eyebrow raised in surprise, “Didn’t have you pegged for a drug lord.” You actually were almost impressed. The man had range. 

“Just dabbling as you would put it,” he responded vaguely. 

So cocaine… It wasn’t the worst of the possibilities that you’d imagined. Ideas of dismembered body disposal or massive amounts of firearms or a million other worse things had occurred to you as possibilities. Of course, it depended on how much as well. “What’re the dimensions of the shipment?” 

“Half a cubic meter.” 

“Half a cubic fucking meter?!” You exclaimed, nearly choking on air, “How the hell did you come into that much blow?” 

Tommy put his hand up, “Now that I can’t tell you.” 

You nodded, “Alright, alright. I can respect that. A half cubic meter is an easy accommodation. Now, for the game plan…” 

Shipment days were anxiety producing enough as it was when you weren’t shipping thousands of pounds worth of cocaine along with it but tonight, your heart felt like it was in your throat. “Billy said the crates are all loaded at the distillery.” Rita announced to you, holding one ear to the receiving end of the phone and covering the mouthpiece with her hand. You finished loading your gun at the kitchen table inside of your shared house, slipping each bullet one by one into their slots with experienced skill.

“Good. Tell him we’ll meet him at the factory in forty-five minutes.” With a final spin of the chamber - a ritual you’d developed after telling yourself (with no real evidence) that it was good luck years ago - you clicked the metal pieces together and slid it into the holster at your side. 

“Forty five minutes? It’s only twenty minutes outside of town.” Rita questioned once she’d hung up the phone after relaying the information. 

You loaded Rita’s gun for her while you spoke and slid it across the table to her, “We are picking up Thomas and his brother Arthur to take them to the factory to load up their cargo.” 

She caught the gun and looked at you with wide cautious eyes, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Taking the Shelbys to the factory?” 

You sighed a knowing breath, “Yeah, I know. But he insisted that he remain in possession of the goods for as long as possible.” 

Rita’s face scrunched, “He knows he’s gonna have to relinquish possession at some point, right? What is he even shipping?” She slipped the gun into the pocket of her skirt. 

“Snow.” You confided with an impressed chuckle. 

She nearly snorted, “Really? Didn’t have him pegged for a drug lord.” 

A shocked laugh left your lips, “That’s what I said!”

Ten minutes later, you pulled up to the shipping yard that Tommy had said he’d be at with the cocaine and sure enough, there he was standing beside Arthur, both with cigarettes between their lips as they waited. In the shine of your headlights, you saw them both look over at you and move to pick up a wooden crate that was on the ground alongside an old military canvas bag. “Good evening, Y/N.” Tommy greeted politely once your tires came to a halt on the crunching gravel. 

“Good evening. This is it?” You confirmed once you got out of the car, pointing at the crate and bag full of money on the ground. 

He nodded, “Yes, this is it.” 

“Alright, we’ll just load those in the back seat for now,” You pointed back over your shoulder towards the black automobile behind you, “You must be Arthur. It’s nice to officially meet you. This is my right hand lady, Rita.” You introduced, first shaking his hand and then moving so Rita could as well. 

“Pleasure.” Arthur nodded to you both. 

“Well, should we get going?” 

Right on time, you arrived at the old factory you were meeting Billy, the man in charge of transport at the distillery, at. The factory was inconveniently located, even in its prime, set twenty minutes out of town, and had been abandoned since at least the 1880’s following a massive fire that had totally destroyed the structure and killed dozens of working men. The ghost stories surrounding it had kept it from ever being rebuilt and it had been abandoned for nearly half a century since, which now made it the perfect place for you to conduct business. 

“What the hell are we doin’ all the way out here?” Arthur asked when the car pulled up to the building. There had been nothing for miles and even now there was just your car and a large truck. 

After turning off the engine, you got out, the other three people in the car following, “I know it doesn’t look like… well… anything really. But trust me, this has worked well for us over the years.” 

“There’s no ports, no railroad stop. We had to take a dirt road to get here. How do you even move goods from this point?” Arthur questioned, skeptically. You could almost feel him reaching for his gun, convinced they were being ambushed or something and maybe, if you hadn’t been so eager to get this deal over with so you could stop whatever the hell was going on with Tommy, you would have dragged this out and messed with them a little bit. 

You pointed to the opposite side of the large factory - or what was left of it at least, “You can’t see it from here at night but there’s an old railroad track just on the other side of that wall. The train only comes through once every two weeks or so but thankfully it’s usually the same conductor. A few pounds buys us an unscheduled stop on his trips down to Gloucester where they load everything up onto a cargo ship and haul it off to America.” 

You were proud of your little system you’d developed. It had allowed you to grow into an international exporter and was the main source of your success. Tommy had seemed impressed last night when you developed the plan and explained everything to him then and now Arthur seemed to match his affections. 

The loud closing of a door drew all of your attention to the large truck. Billy, a stout, acne scarred man in his late forties, walked towards your group from the driver’s side of the truck. “Y/N! Will said the train is runnin’ a little late but should be ‘ere by 10:30.” He informed you in his thick Irish accent once he made it to you guys. A few other of your men jumped out of the passenger side but hung around the truck instead of approaching. 

Rita flipped out her pocket watch and checked the time, “We got about fifteen minutes then.” 

The next fifteen minutes were passed with pleasantries and conversation. Arthur never quite let his guard down and seemed on edge but had relaxed significantly. Honestly, you had as well. Something about tonight felt different than usual. There wasn’t the constant paranoia that the Shelbys were out to double cross you tonight you. Perhaps it was a mistake but, for once, you felt almost comfortable in his presence. 

The train came by right at 10:30, it’s crawling pace coming to a screeching halt with a loud hiss of steam. Billy went up to one of the old metal train cars and undid the locks. The door was slid open to reveal an empty space. “Alrighty, we’ll just move the boxes from the truck to here and then we’ll be on our way.” 

The other men who chose to stay by the truck had already lifted the canvas cover off the top and were carrying huge crates one by one, full with copious bottles of your illegal whiskey, to fill the train car. You stood off to the side with Rita, Thomas, and Arthur while your men worked, waiting patiently as they unloaded the truck. 

“Alright, Mr. Shelby. We have the space for your cargo now.” Billy invited, hands outstretched to take what Tommy had to ship. You noticed a nervous glance from the crate to Billy’s hands from Arthur. 

Tommy at least pretended that he trusted Billy, “Y/N told me that you travel with the shipment all the way to America,” He took out a picture from his pocket, “This is the man that will be awaiting your arrival there. Pass the goods off to him and only him, understand?” 

Billy nodded, inspecting the picture of the man before folding it into his coat, “Yes, sir.” 

Finally, Arthur relinquished possession of the cocaine to your man and he set it carefully on one of your boxes. After packing the duffel bag full of money, Billy hopped inside and the door was slid shut. 

The other men took the truck back to the distillery and you turned to Tommy, “I’ll call you when I get the call that it’s arrived in America. It usually takes between seven to ten days, depending on the weather.” 

 “Thank you. Perhaps, we could get a drink to celebrate.” He suggested as if you hadn’t had sex out of spite the other night. 

“What is there to celebrate?” You avoided the invitation. 

He gestured around, “A successful business transaction?”

You cocked an eyebrow at him, “I feel like you’d use anything as an excuse to drink. I have a hunch whiskey flows through your veins in place of blood.” 

He shrugged, “Nobody needs an excuse to drink.” 

“Fair point.” Internally, you smacked yourself but you ended up nodding a reluctant agreement, “Alright, one drink.” 

Tommy gave you a satisfied look that could have almost resembled a smile, “But this time I want to show you one of my establishments.” 

Thankfully, Tommy had agreed to your suggestion of Arthur and Rita joining the pair of you as well, using them as a buffer to ensure no other mistakes were made with the man who seemed to be your kryptonite. You’d taken everyone to the Garrison, a pub that you’d known to be under the control of the Peaky Blinders for the last several years, right after all the work at the factory had been finished. 

Tommy held the door for you as you passed through, Arthur taking over to hold it for Rita. Wordlessly, Tommy held up four fingers before ushering you away to a small booth in the back, along with his brother and Rita. All four of you slid along the cushion seats, making small talk yet again. Thankfully, now, after having been around each other for the last few hours, it was much less awkward and everyone was open to more conversation than initially. 

Arthur excused himself after a moment and when a poker game opened up between some of the other Blinders, Rita, an secret card shark, disappeared to swindle some poor, unsuspecting men of a few pounds. You and Tommy found yourselves alone, exactly what you’d hoped to avoid. 

“Sure she should be playing?” Tommy pointed over to Rita was his mostly empty glass of whiskey. You followed his gaze to see her with a disappointed look, one of the guys sliding his hand to take what you assumed were her chips. 

You snorted, “Oh, I’m sure. It’s your boys that should be looked after. Give ‘em a few more rounds. She’ll be leaving with most of their money.” 

Tommy almost smiled and nodded, “Aye,” He paused before beginning again, “Y’know, I can’t help but feel a little guilty. You helped us out with a lot and you didn’t exactly get your end of the bargain.” 

You inhaled deeply and looked away from him, bringing back up that professional front that you’d felt slowly slipping away throughout the night, “It happens sometimes I suppose. I thought about asking for more but a deal’s a deal and unlike some others, I don’t like to change my conditions once they’ve been agreed upon.” 

“And what is it that you would have asked for had you been one to change deals?” He leaned forward, listening intently to your next words. 

“Is Thomas Shelby feeling guilty for taking more than he gave?” You asked in shock, “I wouldn’t even do that.” Your tone quickly became jestful. “No, I’m only joking. You did end up coming to the rescue the other day which is more than others would have done.” 

Instead of seeming satisfied with your answer, though, he only raised his eyebrows and repeated the question, “What would you ask for?” 

Something told you that he was offering you new circumstances, an extra favor. Who did that? In this line of work, who knew what kind of horrible request would be made? 

What did you want? It was a good question. But did you have to answer honestly? Because an honest answer might jeopardize your life’s work and maybe even your life itself with some people. Tommy hadn’t double crossed you thus far though… 

After a long pause, you licked your lips, “A deal.” 

“Another deal?” He questioned curiously. 

You nodded, a small smirk on your face, “Yes. A deal between the Peaky Blinders and the Hemlock Angels. Business partners and an agreement to aid each other when needed. Neither of us offer the same services or sell the same goods, with the exception of the Garrison and my little establishment, so there’s no need to worry about losing business.” 

Tommy cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t trust me. A double crosser, I believe you called me when we first met?”

“I said that’s what other people had called you.” You defended, remembering your first interaction well. “But I must be honest, I had a hunch they were correct.” 

“Then why trust me now?” 

“I don’t,” You answered short and honest, “But I want to despite everything telling me not to. I figure this way, I can keep an eye on you.” You threatened in a joking tone, although you really weren’t joking all that much. As the saying goes, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Or, more fittingly for your scenario, keep your friends close and your acquaintance/ occasional hook up/ business partner who might backstab you closer. 

It took only a few moments for Tommy to weigh out the decision before nodding, “Alright, a deal then.” 

You raised your glass to him and he mirrored the action, a slight ting as your glasses tapped against each other in a celebration of a new alliance. The next twenty minutes or so was full of small talk, something that Tommy never found himself doing with anyone, so why was it so easy with you? Every now and then, there’s be grumbles of anger from the table playing poker as new opponents who insisted they could beat Rita lost a larger and larger fortune with each round. 

A quiet ding as the door opened made you twist your neck, curiously checking to see who came in. Then your heart stopped. “Fuck-” Your heart was caught in your throat and you wanted to vomit. 

Mason. 

He looked almost identical to how he did two years ago, just with a few more age lines. Time had been less kind to him than it had to you. He entered the room with a large casual air, surely unknowing of your presence. 

Tommy noticed your sudden panic when you uncharacteristically sunk into the the booth, hiding your face from the red-headed man who had entered the pub, “So that’s the man, eh?” 

You covered your face which had turned a shade somewhere between pink with embarrassment and red from rage. But nevertheless, you nodded, still side eyeing Mason from between your fingers as he ordered a glass of gin. 

“Gin?” Tommy noticed judgmentally, “Drinks like a woman.” 

Normally, under any other circumstances, you would have made some snarky comment about using your gender as an insult but you appreciated the effort to insult this man he’d never met, simply because he’d wronged you. “So what happened?” He inquired. 

You sighed, finally sitting up straight, just keeping your eyes on the table, “My ex. We were practically on the verge of marriage. He helped me start up the Hemlock Angles before he sold us out to the cops for a few hundred pounds. Ruined us for months.” 

Tommy listened to the story intently, watching the man out of the corner of his eye and quickly noticing that he seemed to have noticed your presence. At first, he glanced over nervously towards you before deciding to approach, a decision that Tommy had a hunch was the wrong one. 

“Four o’clock.” Tommy mumbled over the rim of his glass. Your eyes immediately shot to four o’clock to see Mason walking over, all too confident for your liking, a confidence you had every intention of destroying. 

“Y/-” He began, only getting half way through your name before you interrupted. 

“You have a lot of fucking nerve showing your face ‘round here.” You hissed, venom dripping from every word.

Mason put his hands up in defense. Those same hands that used to be calloused from work and you’d seen covered in blood looked as if they hadn’t so much as lifted a piece of wood in months. “I didn’t come looking for a fight. Just wanted to see how you were doing.” 

“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you dead where you stand right now you pathetic sack of shit.” Tommy sat back and watched as you destroyed this man with your words and he could only imagine the other stories about him you had. Your viper tongue had him on edge in the best possible ways. 

“I-” 

“No. You’re nothing.” You interrupted. 

He sighed, “I wanted to say I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what I did! I miss us. I miss you.” He reached down, trying to take your hand, but you snatched it away. He looked down and eyed Tommy for half a second, trying to determine whether your relationship was romantic or platonic. 

You laughed a sadistic laugh, “You’re not sorry and you don’t miss me. You ran out of money didn’t you? Well I hate to tell you but you disappearing was the best fucking thing that ever happened to me. I run Birmingham now and it’s all thanks to you. Now get the fuck out of my city.” 

Then for a second, there was a brief flash of danger in his eyes, that same danger that you’d fallen in love with. But this time, that anger was directed at you. His fist slammed down hard on the table in front of you, just barely missing your face, but you didn’t even flinch, “Listen here,-” 

“She said fuck off, mate.” Tommy interjected finally. Both of you looked over at him and you could’ve sworn you almost forgot he was here. 

Mason snorted, “‘N who the hell are you?” 

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is that you respect her wishes and kindly fuck off.” Tommy’s voice was calm, much calmer than yours, but still holding a very sincere threat. 

Mason looked between the two of you and chuckled as if he’d been the one who was wronged in all of this before turning away, like he was trying to laugh it off nonchalantly. All of a sudden, he drew his arm back and began to swing his down onto Tommy. Before the blow could connect, you had your pistol out in a second and pulled the trigger. 

The loud bang drew several startled yells from around the bar and everything got quiet as they looked at your booth to see Mason’s body crumble face first on top of the table, lifeless. When the realization of what you’d done hit you, your mouth fell open in shock. “Holy shit…” You whispered to yourself. 

Tommy had jumped when the gunshot went off but now looked just as surprised as you did to see Mason lying dead across the table between you, “I really didn’t think you had it in you.” He really didn’t. Sure, he’d seen you shoot Sabini’s men but the way you looked at and talked about Mason, he assumed it was one of those loves you’d never be able to harm no matter the damage they’d caused to you. But, boy, was he blissfully surprised. 

All the Blinders in the building, including two of the Shelby brothers, Finn and Arthur, jumped up, guns pointed and ready to take down the attacker. Tommy held up his hand, “It’s alright, boys! Hold your fire!” 

You stood up to avoid the blood that was now dripping off the table and onto where you sat, “‘m sorry.” You apologized for the mess but Tommy shook his head. 

“Don’t be. He looked like he had it comin’.” With a wave of his hand, a few Blinders that you didn’t know the names of stood up from their seats around the poker table and walked up, lifting the body off the table. You weren’t quite sure what to do or say. You’d actually shot him. You killed Mason. He wasn’t the first person you’d killed but that didn’t mean that you enjoyed doing it. Unless it was in a moment of grave danger, watching the life drain from someone’s eyes as they crumpled into a bloody heap never ceased to make you momentarily sick, thoughts of the family you may have ripped apart destroying you. 

But you knew Mason didn’t have any family. The only person you’d hurt was him. You’d freed yourself. 

You looked up at him as he now stood beside you and saw that he was gazing down at the body and then glanced over to you, nothing but pure impressed admiration on his face.  

Tommy liked that you were able to take care of yourself and that you spoke honestly. It made him feel like perhaps this deal that you two had struck up would prove to be beneficial and trust based and that, just maybe, if things went well, perhaps the two of you could build your own empire together. 

Tommy had always been rather daft (or perhaps was that he just didn’t care) when it came to other people’s emotions and he was well aware of this flaw. But now, it was like he could see every inch of confliction on your face. “You alright?” He asked when he’d noticed your eyes hadn’t left the body, even when the men’s forms had covered it. 

His voice shook you out of your daze and you blinked yourself into clarity, “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” You turned away from the table to face the open room of the bar. Rita stood at the table, her chair tipped over on the ground behind her. She looked from you to Mason’s body that was being carried out back and back to you with a look of shock plastered on her face. The only other person who knew as much as you did about that situation was her. 

You walked up to the bar and threw a few coins on the bar, “I don’t care what it is, just make it strong.” 

“You don’t have to pay.” Tommy insisted but you ignored him, leaving the coins on the bar and taking the mystery drink that had been poured. Walking out the front door, Tommy trailed close behind.  

Finally, you parked yourself against the outer wall of the Garrison and downed the whole glass in one go, the fiery liquid burning a trail down your throat. Whatever the drink was, you had no idea. You set the glass down on the ground and lit a cigarette to replace the glass rim. 

Nobody spoke for a moment, until a small group of cops came running by. You tried your hardest to look innocent as they stopped and eye Tommy knowingly. “Tommy-” One of them started in a thick cockney accent. 

Tommy shook his head and pointed down the road, “Wasn’t us this time. Came from down the street.” 

It was clear from the looks on all three of the cops' faces that none of them believed a word that came out of his mouth but they weren’t about to cross Thomas Shelby. “There was a bit of a commotion from up there earlier before the shot.” You tried to reinforce the lie as smoothly and believably as possible. 

The cop looked a little more convinced when you agreed with Tommy and nodded before the trio ran off down the road looking for another gunman. This exact situation was why you didn’t get involved with the cops because they’re not going to believe you when you need to lie about something like this. 

As time passed, you became more calm, “I really am sorry about this, Tommy.” 

“I’ve never had a woman shoot someone ‘cause I was ‘bout to be punched. It was quite attractive, I can’t lie.” Tommy lit a cigarette as well, standing beside you, almost blocking the activity of the street in what seemed like an attempt to protect you.

A smile cracked on your face when you chuckled a little, the constant matter-of-factness of his tone making almost everything he said sound like business, even when he was complimenting you, “Well, like you said, it had been a long time coming.” 

You felt like you were being dramatic. Wasn’t killing just part of this gig afterall? “Y’know, I swear I can usually shoot someone without breaking down.” You tried to defend yourself with a weak laugh. 

Tommy shook his head, “It’s not always easy, I know. My hands get the shakes at night. Just because it’s part of the deal doesn’t mean you have to enjoy it.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “You know, I haven’t felt the way I feel around you in a long time.” 

His confession was simple and, while a small part of you wanted to smack him for his terrible timing, a larger part of you felt the same way. “Neither have I. I’m used to being airtight but you make me weak… and I hate it.” You looked away from him, avoiding his deep, knowing eyes. 

“Whoever said that this had to be weakness?” He inquired, a hand running along your arm. 

A scoff left your lips as you rolled your eyes, “And you don’t believe that romance is weakness?” It wasn’t until the words left your mouth that you remembered he’d lost Grace and a pang of guilt struck your chest for bringing up the memory. But you also weren’t about to revoke the question. It just further illustrated your fear.

Tommy looked at the ground a for moment, remembering what it was like to hold the love of his life in his arms as she died, knowing it was fault, and thinking about how it felt to relive that pain every time he looked at a portrait of her or his own son. 

Finally, he nodded, “We’ve both lost people we loved but we also still have people we care about, whether they’re family or friends. A lesson that’s been very difficult for me to learn over the last decade or so is that it is impossible to completely rid yourself of all weaknesses.” 

Again, an almost humorous comment coming from Thomas Shelby, who everyone had known to be as secure and weakness-free as you were. You thought about his words, though, and tried to convince yourself that this was a bad idea - that an alliance and romance with Thomas Shelby was only sure to blow up eventually. 

“So?” He urged, his voice low and gravelly, after a few moments of silence. 

Silently, you found yourself trailing your eyes from his chest that was straight ahead up to his lips and then to his eyes. You took just a step closer, closing the already thin gap between the two of you and placed your hand around his neck, slowly coming to lean up on your toes. The movement was slow, giving him more than enough time to protest or pull away from you but he didn’t. 

Tommy’s hand lightly landed itself on your hip and he leaned down, meeting your lips in the middle. Unlike the last time your lips had met, this was soft and gentle, a side of Tommy that you had no idea even existed anymore. 

The two of you stayed like that for a while before finally parting your lips. Your faces still rested just beside each other’s, bodies close enough to feel the other’s warmth through the cool night. Your eyes slid open finally to see Tommy already looking down at you, waiting to see if this was a kiss of new beginnings or of closure. 

“Don’t make me regret risking everything for you.”

_________

Taglist: 

@kiaoizz 

@sweatydragoncloudknight

@hinagiku0

@stressedandbandobessed7771

[ambidextrousarcher]

Sarcastic StarBharat Reviews-Episode 22: In which horny deer rishis set off a chain of events.

Hello everyone! I’m back after a VERY long hiatus, had some real life issues to deal with, along with the aggravation of changing an url and some online drama too. And I’m right in time for Diwali, too, yay! Happy Diwali, people! Also Happy Children’s day!

Tagging my usual taglist: @ambitiousandcunning @medhasree @shaonharryandpannisim @hermioneaubreymiachase @hindumyththoughts @chaanv @ratnas-musings @whydoyoucareaboutmyusername @justahappyreindeer @milesbianmorales @allegoriesinmediasres @pratigyakrishnaki @iamnotthat @adishaktis @ratnas-musings. Enjoy your day, everyone!

Review is under the cut.

PS: Nila updates- The Sarcastic StarBharat review of episode 18 is missing from my blog for some reason, I’ll reupload it. Also, for anyone who’s listening to my song covers, the next items are Karam Ki Talwar from Arjun the Warrior Prince, Moh Moh Ke Dhage from Dum Laga Ke Haisha and Jo Beji Thi Dua, from Shangai.

 Okay. Rehash is in order, along with some new nicknames. Till the last episode, Madri has reached Hastinapur, the precap of the last episode makes it clear that this is the episode with horny deer rishis.

I had made a numbering mistake in counting the number of canon fails, my bad, so, as of now, we’re at canon fail #49.

Here’s the nickname rehash and additions to be made-

1. Bhishm-Mr. Paragon of Perfection

2. Dhritrashtra- Mr. Drama Queen (Honorary mention-DisasterRashtra, courtesy of @iamnotthat)

3. Pandu-Honey Boy/Lord of Cheesy Lines

4. Gandhari-Ms. Always Patnidharma

5. Shakuni-Mr. Ominous Music/Mr. Annoying Poseur

6. Karn-Mr. Glitterwash

7. Kunti-Ms. Melodrama/Lady of Cheesy Lines

8. Amba (deceased)-Psycho Princess

9. Satyavati-Psycho Mum

10. Vichitraveerya (deceased)-Drunk Kid

Here are the new additions:

11. Vidur (finally)- Picking the line where he likens himself to a thorn during Pandu’s coronation, he’s Mr. Weepy Thorn.

12. Madri-Ms. Smarmy Tears

13. Krishn-(Parody version, anyway, also, FINALLY) Mr. Excess Gyaandaan.

Now, let’s get to business.

Alright, so, last episode, Gandhari was told that Drama Queen wants her in his chambers. Being the aadarsh, Ms. Always Patnidharma that she is, she goes immediately, and that’s where today’s episode of choice begins.

She stumbles in and stutters out her usual ‘Husband?’ (International viewers, please note, Hotstar has rolled out the English subtitles for your most unfavorite show. It translates ‘Arya’ as Lord, but I’m keeping the ‘husband’ variation, because no.)

Anyway. He shushes her. ‘Don’t say anything, Gandhari, just listen. The mind is so weird, isn’t it?’ Okay…why this sudden volte face? Ah, he’s trying to apologise, I guess? He says that he was absorbed in his negative emotions of hurt, grief and jealousy, but when no news of Honey Boy came from the battlefield, he realized that he still worries and cares for his little brother, and that he was merely unfortunate, not conspired against, concluding that he was unjust to Honey Boy. O…kay? Should I count this as a canon fail? Canon Dhritrashtra can be two-faced, so eh, leave it.

Ms. Patnidharma is shaking her head next to him, because of course, she’s that much of a doormat. ‘I was unfair to you too. I had rejected you, Gandhari, but if I realise my mistake, will you accept me?’ Ah. I see what this is. Anvil-shadowing. Just before Pandu ‘loses’ his ability to ‘be a husband’ Drama Queen and Patnidharma make up with each other. Newsflash, writers: Nothing is this clean cut.

Of course, that was precisely the opening Ms. Patnidharma was waiting for, so she feels her husband up as they hug. Drama Queen’s heart, apparently, very anomalously, is overflowing with happiness, now that he has unloaded his weakness onto Patnidharma, or so he says. Don’t believe him, though, don’t be the naïve idiot Patnidharma is, because that weakness of his wreaks bloody wrecking ball havoc in the future.  

‘So what if I don’t become the King?’ Excuse me. I just choked on my water. What’s up with this volte-face? Just what? ‘I have more respect here than the King himself!’ I think I’m gonna count this as canon fail #50 because nah, he ain’t gonna say this in any adaptation that’s sane. And of course, since he’s randy too, it seems, he goes ‘When you give me a son, he’ll be the eldest son and King after Pandu. I’ll also get the pleasure of being a King. Will you give me the gift of such a talented son?’ Ah. So that’s what the volte-face is for. Canon fail #50 cancelled. Drama Queen would say anything at all to get his way, that’s right. Patnidharma, predictably, goes all gushy. ‘Yes, husband, for your sake, I’ll go to the portals of Yamlok themselves!’ Ah, sheesh, sometimes, watching this show makes me think that I should projectile-yeet myself to Yamlok.

He laughs. ‘When the time comes,’ he says, ‘we’ll go to the portals of death together, Gandhari.’ Well, that, at least, is true. He continues that they still have many happy moments to experience. She nods, melting into his embrace.

Scene changes to a green vista, the whickering of horses heard. Madri, henceforth known as Ms. Smarmy Tears, is laughing, Ms. Melodrama being stony faced and stoic. (That’s a change, though the music manages to make even THAT dramatic) The camera focuses on a deer, and Smarmy asks Honey Boy to stop, because it’s a beautiful deer. Okay…I know what’s coming up next. Anvil-shadowing, anyone? I realise it was very long ago when we were introduced to Ms. Melodrama, but I’ll give you a short rehash. She was introduced saving a deer from hunters. Anyone got the hint? It’s an obvious ‘Madri is an evil witch!’ gambit. Please do not take it. I know that in canon, Kunti and Madri probably had a fractious relationship given the whole fracas over the boon, but I refuse to believe Madri would be this transparently biatch-y.

And…bingo! Smarmy says that the deer is absolutely unique, and follows it up with a request for its skin. Melodrama, of course, is having none of it. She passionately launches into defence of the deer’s children who’d be orphaned, basically echoing her very first piece of dialogue on this show. Do you think there’s a chance that they dubbed it in? I mean…I wouldn’t be able to say that twice with a straight face. But, whatever gives, I guess. Fawn get orphaned often, goes Smarmy. It’s not like I’m asking you for the position of the Queen, can’t you do this much for me? Since StarB has a thing of making women either bitches or doormat ditches, its Honey Boy who cuts in. ‘Speak of good things alone.’ Did this guy get a theology class between the ‘war’ and this moment? ‘I’ll get the deer for you, the rest of you please stay here.’ And then the show takes yet another opportunity to set Melodrama as good and Smarmy as bad, as Melodrama tries to give Smarmy a moral lesson about abstaining from killing for no reason, and Smarmy going all casteist (not sure if that’s the right word, since afaik Kunti’s maternal family are also Kshatriyas? Yadava is not one family. It’s an entire dynasty.) And here’s canon fail #50 and #51. #50 is the fact that Pandu, in canon, hunts the deer because he wants to. Madri has nothing to do with it in the text. #51 because the jibe about Yadavs being shepherds that Madri makes smacks of a misconception about politics in the MBH. The idea of ‘Yadavas’ being shepherds is present because of the lore of Krishn and Balaram in Gokul. While I’m sure there might be some branches of the family that may dabble in those pursuits, typically, considering the social structure of that time, Kunti’s family is of quite royal pedigree.

The scene switches to Honey Boy looking for deer, listening attentively to the rustling leaves. Really, this question goes for canon too, haven’t these guys learnt a thing at all from the whole Dashrath/Sravan Kumar fracas? That it is TOTALLY not a good idea to just randomly shoot in a random forest, anyone? At least sight the prey a little, no?

Regardless, he shoots an arrow, the tell-tale thunk is heard, followed by a human scream (the typically serial-ish ‘nahi, nahi!’ aka ‘no, no!’). Alarmed, he sets off in pursuit of the sound. The camera focuses on a bloody arrow then showing us a rishi and a rishin. ‘Maharishi Kidam?’ exclaims Pandu. ‘It was you?’ ‘What have you done? You shot an arrow without recognizing me! I was dallying (read: deer hanky-panky-ing) with my wife in the form of a deer, and you shot an arrow without considering that the grace and the form of the deer could only mean it is such?’ Okay, for all that I want to call this canon fail #52, I’ll be honest…because such a scene, at least one of Pandu killing Kidama when he’s in sexual congress with his wife in the form of a deer does happen. Sometimes, *sigh* canon itself is quite strange.

But…in the whole of this thing, I have an observation to make, a few questions to ask, in the context of this serial:

1. Madri saw only one deer? What was the deer rishi doing, a deer mating ritual of some sort? Where was the wife then?

2. Does what he said mean that there might be…other rishis doing deer hanky panky?

3. Kidama was a rishi, right? He’d have figured out Pandu wants the ‘deer’ when he saw them and vanished? He could have, IDK, sprinted off real quick, or turned back into human, or just vanished once more. Why escalate it this much?

Honey Boy is very contrite and begs for forgiveness. Canon fail #53. In canon, he basically goes, well, Kings hunt deer, why cry about it? (That is, the dialogue given to Madri to establish her as ‘bad’)  The deer rishi brings up the Dashrath point I gave above and says that Honey Boy’s crime can’t be pardoned, that he shouldn’t have killed a man in congress with his wife, so he curses him that he’ll die the moment he’ll have congress with any woman. Canon fail #54. The original curse specifies ‘his loved one’ not any random woman.

Cue dramatic panoramic shot and dramatic title bgm. Honey Boy is in tears. The rishi dies.

Scene changes and we’re back in Hastina, where the court fool is entering. He says he has a lot of questions. Mr. Weepy Thorn prompts him to ask his questions. So there’s this long drawn out riddle session that’s set up to predict that Gandhari is pregnant, and Drama Queen will be experiencing the love of a son soon. There’s happiness all round, lots of hugs too. Of course, this show takes no rest from anvil shadowing either, so exactly at this moment enters Honey Boy with his wives. Honey Boy is welcomed with joy and immediately apprised of the news. In his head, the dying deer rishi’s words echo, even as his wives smile by his side. (Ah, apparently, there’s anvil juxtaposition, too! Whee!)

Anyway. Satyavati notices he ain’t looking happy and she asks him if he got what she said. He manages to sponge her off, hug his brother and congratulate him. When he does that, Annoying Poseur closes his eye.

As he ascends the throne, deer rishi’s words come back to him, asking what kind of a King he is. Honey Boy refrains from climbing the final stair, turning. He says that he has something of great importance to announce, confessing that he has killed Kidama and is no longer worthy of being a King.

His announcement is met with shock all around, as he renounces the throne of Hastina. Cue dramatic title bgm again. Camera focuses on Satyavati (who’s quite less psycho nowadays), then panning one by one to Drama Queen, Paragon of Perfection, Smarmy, Melodrama, Patnidharma, Ambika, Ambalika, a grinning Poseur (both eyes open), back to Honey boy and Mr. Paragon as he drops his angvastr limply.

Scene changes as Mr. Perfection walks inside Honey Boy’s chambers and they have an argument about his responsibilities. Honey Boy puts forward that for all that Satyavati wants a worthy King, he is no longer worthy, that even Indra renounced heaven for the killing of a sage and meditated for eons, that mere charity and abstinence as suggested by Mr. Thorn and Kripacharya won’t be enough. He continues that the duty of a King, the man who holds the royal scepter is to dispense justice to his people. He asks who would mete justice out on a King? The camera pans out to Mr. Perfection, standing mute, ending the episode.

Alright, this whole thing is canon fail #55. Pandu does not go back to Hastina, he sets out immediately to atone. Also #56, his wives know everything as he does. He doesn’t keep it hidden from them.

Precap: ‘But the crime was ours’ says Smarmy. ‘the punishment, however, has to be borne by our yet unborn children!’ ‘You can’t ever have children.’ Announces Honey Boy, going on to inform them of the curse.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working for Love: A Terrormoo Story, 1/17

Okay, soooo...surprise? For some reason, the first week of November I wrote this entire story. It’ll be broken down into 17 parts, about 4-5 pages each. 

Yes, this means I wrote over 26k words in one week. I don’t know either.

This is a story that I’m dedicating to @personfullofplotholes because of all the work she’s helped me with for my BBS, MCU, and personal writing. Without her, Libahunt wouldn’t be a thing, and I’d probably be out of the fandom completely. 

So this story will be posted every Saturday! I hope that you enjoy! ^.^  

Main pairing: Terrormoo There will be other pairings mentioned through it, though not in detail and no real moments or focus.  But they’ll be dabbled in there, so fair warning. 

Drabble One

Brock was not lazy. 

Really, he wasn’t. Sure, he lacked the active schedule he’d had when he was in high school. College had been a hard transition, and though he managed to get through it with a 4.0 GPA, his health took a hit. Making ramen noodles at three in the morning was simply easier than trying to prepare a balanced meal and study for his economics final. His friends hadn’t mentioned any changes in his waistline or that his cheeks had plumped up through the college exams and parties. The pants he’d shimmied into after high school were stuffed in the deepest corner of his closet by the last year of college, but he was genuinely happy with his life. He had a positive group of friends and a financially stable job as a teacher. Brock even got an apartment that had come with a gym membership to ‘Wildcat Athletics’ (the landlord, Nogla, said that he was ‘best buddies’ with the owner of the gym, and worked there on weekends) for as long as he was a tenant and paid his bills on time. 

The only thing that even reminded him about his weight hangups, if he was being honest, was his boyfriend. Or, well, his ex-boyfriend. That factor was the exact reason that Brock stood outside of the aforementioned gym, lower lip dragged between his teeth on the chilly Monday night. Valentine’s day had been over a month ago, but still held more heartbreak than love for Brock. He’d been left stunned and insecure by the cruel words his lover had used to end their relationship. 

“I can’t be with a guy who doesn’t want to fix what’s wrong with his body. You’re just too heavy for me to keep pretending to be attracted to.” 

Two years spent fostering a welcoming and loving relationship had meant nothing because Brock now had love handles? His ex was in better shape than Brock from day one, but he’d assumed their relationship was built on more than looks. Brock had always been a little heavier, yet he balanced the slight physical shortcomings with his endearing personality. Never once had his ex complained about his body when Brock let him borrow his car or covered some of his bills during his ‘career transition’ between jobs. When Brock’s raise meant a vacation to Iceland, there were no complaints of thicker thighs and missing abs in the natural hot springs. He’d never made comments about the weight gain when the two were between the sheets, though recalling their love life over the past six months, Brock could remember several times his shirt remained untouched through their sex. The touches lacked the romantic charge they’d held at the start of their relationship, when Brock’s hips fit better under his hands and his shoulders weren’t rounded by stress and long study sessions. 

But now all of these ‘burdens’ were too much for his ex to handle, and after his scathing comments, the man left Brock broken and crying in his apartment without a second glance. 

“You’re not doing this for him,” Brock reminded himself, hand gripped tightly onto his phone to keep from turning around and heading back to his car. He’d already visited the gym a couple times over the past week, but always felt the impulsive desire to leave as soon as he stepped out of his car. His shirt was the baggiest he could find in his collection, hoping that it’d cover the lacking muscles and stretch marks he’d been staring at for weeks. 

His break-up had been the catalyst for coming to the gym, but it wasn’t the only reason. Brock had several other contributing factors. Nogla’s face looked so hopeful when Brock mentioned he’d checked out the gym, and exercising gave him something to do to get him out of the house. He did get a small burst of pride each time he finished his walk on the treadmill, though he hadn’t been able to use it to take on the weights. For the most part, the gym wasn’t saturated with muscle-heads or judgemental members, and people who were in the same shape as him looked content going there. He’d only met the owner, Tyler, once, but he didn’t give a judgemental stare or rude comment when Brock mentioned Nogla’s offer. He did look grumpy while having Brock fill out paperwork and take his photo, but Nogla reassured him that it was just ‘his normal mood’. 

Night workouts were always met with less clutter, as most didn’t want to work out after a 9-5 job. Brock’s guilty pleasure of sleeping through three alarms kept him from being a morning warrior, and he enjoyed the quieter time. 

“Hey, welcome back.” He gave a small smile to the man who greeted him at the front counter before showing him his scan card.

“Hello.” He didn’t muster up the courage to exchange any more words than the polite greeting. ‘Evan’ (as the nametag offered) was handsome and kind, his smile disarming and real each time Brock came in. But his ex’s grin had been charming, too, and Brock wasn’t good enough for him. Brock was reminded of how the frumpy college t-shirt had a hole in the right shoulder and a stain under the logo that would be impossible to find attractive. Plus, Evan was far too attractive to be single like him. He tried to make his own smile hide his negative thoughts when he dropped his gaze and took the card back, scampering to the safety of the treadmills. 

There were only a few people in the gym, and the station he liked to use was free. The tv in front of it played Animal Planet, which helped him through the harder parts of his routine. Plus, it was furthest in the corner of the gym, meaning that most members didn’t see him. The less people that caught sight of his flushed face, sweat stains and pathetic gasps, the better. His water and keys were tossed into the holders before he fumbled through the buttons of the machine, feeling confident enough to push his level to ‘4’ instead of the 3 he’d been hovering over for the past week. In seconds the belt was moving under his feet, and with Maroon 5’s ‘Give a little more’ playing in his headphones, Brock threw himself into his workout. 

It wasn’t long until the higher leveled routine took its effect; Brock’s legs tingled with protest at the higher incline as each minute passed, but he tried to keep his mind focused on the music pounding in his ears. His chest expanded with greater desperation after minute seven, and Brock had to close his eyes after the ten minute mark to keep himself from shutting down the machine. The pads of his fingers were clammy, making it hard to change the song on his phone to something with a heavier beat. Another change in the treadmill’s incline had brown eyes looking to the TV, though dismay flooded him at the breaking news that was interrupting normal programming. The boring story didn’t have subtitles big enough for Brock to read, meaning looking at the screen was pointless. His eyes pulled away from the speech to find something else to distract him. It only took a few seconds to find the stairmaster, though the intimidating machine was not what caught his interest. 

There, practically jogging from the speed he was using, was a man that rivalled the treadmill’s ability to leave Brock breathless. The sweat that made Brock’s skin fluster and smell looked much different on the other member. The muscle tank top was cut open wide under the armpits, leaving an easy window to peek at the fit torso and stomach hidden under the cloth. If the thirteen minutes of torture hadn’t already turned him into a persperating tomato, Brock was sure he’d be blushing. He winced at the realization he’d been staring before he forced his eyes back down to his hands, watching chubby fingers clutch the pulse monitors like a lifeline. 

“Don’t stare, that’s creepy,” he huffed to himself. If he didn’t need his hands stable to keep from falling off the machine, he would have smacked himself. People were not at the gym to be objectified. Even if the man was beautiful, he had the same rights to a peaceful work-out. It didn’t matter how clear his skin looked, the cute way the front of his hair curled over his forehead from his work-out, or how bright his eyes were in the fluorescent light of the-Brock visibly jerked at the realization that his eyes had betrayed him, looking at the gym member again. 

It’s not your fault, his conscience (in Mini’s voice, which made it so much worse) tossed out, Brock already rejecting the excuse as it formulated. He has really nice legs, and those pants are definitely spandex from how tight they are painted onto his ass-

The fact that his unconscious had picked up on something he didn’t even know he’d evaluated had him pulling away from the thought. Again, his eyes were following the sleek movements of the man, and he wanted to cry when he realized they were settled on the spandex-covered posterior. Embarrassment rearing up, a weird noise of protest bubbled out of Brock’s mouth. His feet stumbled for a moment, and he was sure that his sneakers made an unpleasant noise against the treadmill’s belt that echoed from how empty the gym was. 

Horror rushed through his bloodstream as the blue eyes from before glanced his way, Brock ducking his head as low as he could during the worst part of his workout. He could barely keep himself walking up the high incline, but the lowered head made it so much harder. The sticky feeling of sweat clung to the collar of his t-shirt and the fabric against his back. He must have looked like a disaster, and the hottest guy he’d ever seen in the gym was looking at him. For a moment, he wished he could melt into the floor. Two grueling minutes went by before Brock finally raised his head again, breath shaky from both the work-out and his embarrassment. The blue gaze was still focused on him, and then a wave was paired with a beaming smile. He didn’t need to look to know his face was the reddest it’d ever been. 

Thankfully for Brock, the timer on his treadmill hit twenty, and the belt slowed to a stop. He didn’t hesitate to jump off the treadmill, eyes dropped to the floor when scampering from the embarrassing situation. He barely remembered to wave goodbye to Evan, escaping into the cold of the night. The gasp of breath was chilling through his lungs, but with how hot his face was, Brock wished he could dunk his head into a bucket of ice. Why had that guy waved at him? Was he trying to show that he knew Brock was staring? What if he was just being passive aggressive? The entire ordeal was mortifying, and Brock could already hear how loud Mini’s laugh would be when retelling the terrible experience. 

One thing was for sure; Brock was never coming back on a Monday night again.

And there’s part one. This is a very silly and fun story, and it will jump between Brock and Brian’s POV. So if you wanna know what Brian’s thinking, you’ll have to wait until next week and see! So, what did you think? Likes and reblogs will always be a good way to show me some love. Until next Saturday! 

[penniesfortheferryman]

———  BASICS! ♡

NAME! ♡     Lisa

PRONOUNS! ♡     she/her 

ZODIAC SIGN! ♡     Sagittarius. 

TAKEN OR SINGLE! ♡   Single.

———  THREE  FACTS! ♡

1! ♡    I am a terrible procrastinator, with horrible memory and very bad hyper fixations that have started to change very few weeks to few days. Which is hard to handle since I tend to be all over the place. Which is not helped by my ADHD brain that wants to do five things at once, gets muse or inspiration for like five minutes and decides to change. That’s why some times I am just not around to RP or I reply faster to certain threads, maybe it just shorter or I am just more into it? There are a lot of reasons why I would reply fast to one thread and not another, but never because I just don’t want to rp with that person.

2! ♡    I cannot write in complete silence, I HAVE to have music playing in a different tab. If not music than a video on YT or a movie, or even ASMR sounds that I like. But I find it really hard to concentrate in complete silence. My brain has to have a few things going on to focus, which is weird but I’ve learned to deal with it.

3! ♡    After figuring out I can watch videos on mostly YT at like 1.25 speed or 1.5 speed, I doubled the amount I am normally able to watch. HOWEVER, now some people who talk at normal speed sound off to me, and makes my brain think they are talking slow but they are talking normal. I mean, it only happens with some people for some reason. But also it helps to watch people who post like 2 - 5 hr streams videos. I don’t know what to do, not sure if I can stop. lol.

———  EXPERIENCE! ♡

PLATFORMS USED! ♡    I’ve mainly used Tumblr for like 10 years on different RP blogs. With some discord RP, though only with like a handful of people. Uh, I used kik before, when it popped up and was popular for a bit. But it quickly made me feel uncomfortable and I just couldn’t be bothered, most phone app RP things that come around I tend to get bored of fast. I mean. I barely text people back at a reasonable time, I certainly will forget to reply to things on my phone.

———  MUSE  PREFERENCE! ♡

GENDER! ♡    I don’t think I have a preference? I just rarely have muse for female characters. 

LEAST FAVOURITE FACE(S)! ♡    There are some FC’s that really get under my skin, but I try to not let that get to me if someone follows me and uses them as an FC, under most circumstances. 

MULTI OR SINGLE! ♡    Both? I’ve dabbled in multi but it was TOO much work for me, and anyone who does multi has my respect. As for myself I tend to stick to single, with some variations of verses here and there.

———  FLUFF / ANGST / SMUT! ♡    

FLUFF:    Always.

ANGST:   I like angst, but I prefer to plot it out sometimes, since I’ve had experiences with RPer’s trying godmod during angsty threads because my muse wasn’t responding liek they wanted them too. I also like to have, Idk some reason for the angst, even if it’s something simple. I do not like just random out of character behavior from my muse or others just fit the narrative of the thread. makes me feel icky.

SMUT:  Yes. But Kharon is a very selective muse, and he’s very vanilla mostly, so I am weary of not plotting a little since, some people try to make him do some kinky stuff that he wouldn’t do. Also I get awkward with writing smut since I never know the level my partner is okay with. Like, do I use dick or member? IDK man. idk.

PLOT / MEMES! ♡  I like plotting, but I prefer memes. Since it’s nice for ice breakers or setting up threads, and it’s easier for me to reply too. Not to mention I know it is good for people who do not like to talk to people through IMs due to anxiety or any other reasons like that.

Tagged by: @seaprofound​ Tagging: EVERYONE! ( just take it, and if you do it, just tag me! )

[writinglionqueen]

Strange Magic | Part 3

Summary: Tonight’s a Halloween party and all the witches and ghouls are invited! A coven of witches want to meet you and they’re delighted. While your lycanthrope hunts his prey, his little witch had to stay. But, under the light of the blood red moon, the devil may come too soon. Upon the night of the blood red moon, the darkness can’t end too soon. So my little witch, sit back and rest your feet because I have to ask;  Do you want a trick or a treat?

(Read part 1 here) (Read part 2 here)

Pairing: Drew McIntyre x Reader (mentioned)     

Word Count: 3,119

Warnings: No Drew, unfortunately. But I give you more to the world of witchcraft and give you Zelina as a witch, as well as a few more witches to meet.  

Special Thanks: To my editor and favorite, go to beta; @superrezzy00! Thanks again my little fellow witch for being my second eye on this. 

The darkness for Halloween night couldn’t come soon enough for you. The night brought about various ghouls, witches and the likes to your little magic shop. 

If the werewolves would��ve come, there would practically be no room. 

It felt jampacked, even for you. Granted, there was space to move about, but the chatter of everyone filled every other space that wasn’t taken by a body. It made you happy and a smile spread across your face at the possibility of being known for your grand Halloween party. 

You had so many other...creatures here, it was surreal. Some were spirits using a host body while some were softer demon-like creatures who took the shape of humans. Some cryptids had also occupied the space as well as the witches from other covens, but they liked to stick to themselves and amongst the other witches. Their familiars were left at home but all seem to enjoy the party with a drink in their hand. 

You made a note to figure out their classification and which covens they had come from. Meeting other witches was highly exciting for you because they always stick to their covens. Not so much out of fear that they would be hurt or even killed, but because of the stigma and the loss of power that comes with lonesomeness. That’s why you were the rarity. 

Being alone meant giving up some power...but not necessarily for you. 

See, you figured out your power and how deep the magic dwells within you long before you left your previous coven. You chose being the only witch in Meadow Creek. You chose it all those years ago; a few centuries give or take. You’ve seen other covens grow and wane...you’ve seen witches burned at the stake or even praised. 

But....as far as you or many other witches were concerned...you were the most powerful. 

So, seeing the witches here made you smile. Each was different in their own way. Either by their actual appearance or, also, by the type of magic they performed, or their power that you could feel that lies within them. 

One had dark, straightened hair. She was petite and kind but her eyes...they held a purple glow. They didn’t outshine her smile, though, that gleamed in all the candles scattered about. No. Her smile was quite kind as well, and soothing. You think she went by the name of Zelina...or something close to it.  

But you could feel that her power was fairly new. But she had control over it. Which was why she was here today, 

If she couldn’t control it....that would’ve been a problem. 

You could sense an empathetic kind of magic within her...but the tattoo of the moon phases going across her forearm told you she was more of a cosmic witch. She probably relied heavily on the moon above all else. 

Everyone does when they first start out though; the Moon Goddess is highly praised for aiding in spells and magic. It’s one of the first kinds of magic any witch learns. The python tattoo slithering about her other arm almost threw you off. You thought she was a green witch but her power felt more closely resembling the moon’s energy. Perhaps the snake was her own familiar, lying in the etchings on her arm until she called upon it. Very clever. 

Another witch had ebony skin that glowed. Gold etched tattoos littered her skin, all looking like they were held together by a thin thread of gold. Gold beads were woven in her dreadlocks that she had up for the occasion. Her wrists, neck, and ankles were covered in golden bangles that jingled quietly with every step. Her ears held golden cuffs and golden bangles that shined brightly in the light. It was like she was etched in gold and elegance as she walked with her head high, her golden eyes looking like fire burning bright in the candles. She intrigued you.

Her power felt strong and much older than that of Zelina, but it also felt...various. You had heard that she went by many names. It was a curiosity but not unheard of. She may be an eclectic witch for all you knew. Most eclectics held various names for the various religions and cultures they partook in. Perhaps, her various names were  a way for her to stay close to each niche culture without having to pick and choose. Eclectics were very elegant in their approach to magic, drawing their inspiration from the people and places they’ve seen. All were very smart and adaptable to changes. 

You wanted to know more about her practices and her herself. 

The third witch looked like your typical goth witch. She was pale. Her hair was the color of a raven’s feather and straightened and neat. She made sure to wear dark lipstick and dark velvet clothes. Her tattoos were very typical of her appearance. Very typical and made you think that she was probably a moon witch as well...or the run of the mill, traditional witch. She also seemed young in her magic. Probably naïve as well.  

But they were all very new to you. It was interesting to see them and you wanted to talk with them, get to know their own histories with magic and their practices. 

You moved towards them with excitement strumming through your body. And when you stood before them, smiling at them, you felt the excitement down to your toes. 

“Thank you all for being here,” you greeted with a smile. “Your messages and gifts were generous...and your familiars were a curiosity. I enjoyed them a lot.” The three smiled at you. 

“Thanks for having us,” Zelina replied with a nice smile. “My familiar enjoyed your décor when he came by.” You looked to the snake tattoo. 

“May I ask if you bind him to yourself with a spell?” you asked her. She gave a knowing smirk at that. 

“I’m glad you noticed,” she said. “Aleister has been by my side for a while. It makes both of us feel....safe for him to be bound like this. He helped me with the spell.” You nodded. 

“It’s quite interesting. I’ve never seen a familiar be bonded to a tattoo like that. It’s extraordinary.” The other two nodded. Zelina smiled. 

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from a witch like yourself,” she replied. You looked to the golden witch. 

“Your tattoos intrigued me the most,” you told her. “Did...did you etch those on yourself?” She smiled, showing off a dazzling white smile. 

“Yes, I have a tattoo for every region I’ve traveled,” she answered with a voice as smooth as silk. “I still have room for more.”

“They’re beautiful,” you admired before turning to the last witch that watched you with a small smile. 

She held an air that seemed...haughty...even for a newer witch such as herself. Her air had you wary, though. For some reason, it felt dark around her. Like, dark magic was woven into her being somehow even if it wasn’t obvious. Being this close, you could feel dark energy...but....you couldn't see it about her like you typically did whenever dark magic was present in someone. 

Dark magic was forbidden so it couldn't have been possible for her to possess it. But...you could see red flashes when you looked into her eyes. Images of a....of a demon, when she took you in. But the flashes stopped the moment she gave you a smile, showing her teeth. Completely gone. 

You shook the images out of your head. Perhaps you were seeing things with the blood moon about. 

“Your tattoos are interesting as well,” you complimented. “I take it you’re some kind of traditional witch...or even a cosmic witch?” She smirked. 

“I dabble in both,” she said. You gave her a short nod. It wasn’t much of an answer. You needed a newer subject. 

“It’s great to meet new witches,” you said to the three. “I...haven’t been in a coven since...what feels like forever ago.” The other two smiled at you, while the third...she gave off an “I-don’t-care” vibe. 

“It’s been a year since I’ve been a part of mine,” Zelina said. “Hearing about your success prompted me to try and take up being in solidarity for a while. It's been nice, but I still visit my coven every now and again. Having Aleister helps.” You smiled at her knowingly. 

“It’s hard, you loose a little bit of your power when you’re on your own until you learn to gain it back,” you said to her. “I guess being close to your familiar helps. I’m glad to hear it.” She took a sip of the homemade drink you whipped up this morning. 

“Oh, tell me about it,” the ebony witch replied. “The first couple of years away from mine and I almost gave up. I didn’t have a familiar either at that point. But my sisters were very supportive and told me to just travel. That’s when I found my own power. That and visiting with other, international covens was such a blessing. You tend to find the same...practices, down to the same spells worldwide, which...makes me feel that we are all connected as one. I’ve grown friendships with so many of them at this point.” You listened with excitement at that. 

“Wow, I should travel at some point,” you commented. “Learn from other covens.” She gave you a smile of her own.  

“If you need any lodgings just shoot me a message,” she said with a wink. “I’ll be happy to connect you with some of the covens that I’ve visited around the world.” You let out a laugh. 

“I’ll be glad to take you up on that offer in the future,” you said to her. “I’d have to take it up with my-” You stopped. A pet name for Drew was on your tongue. You were about to refer to him but... 

you didn’t know what to even call Drew. 

He, obviously, was your lover, in a sense of the word. You felt strong emotions for him; ones that made your heart flutter when you see him, ones that made you smile to know he was in your shop, ones that made you feel afraid for his safety when he was gone. The two of you woke up in each other’s arms most nights now. He meant more to you than anything. You’ve...never felt this way about anyone before.

“I’ll have to take it up with my partner,” you said, quietly. 

“I’m sorry to hear that he couldn’t be here,” the golden witch sighed. She took a sip of her dark wine. 

“Yeah, I very much wanted to meet your werewolf lover I’ve heard a lot about,” Zelina said to you in disappointment. You froze at that, trying hard not to frown. Her purple eyes were inquisitively watching your reaction. 

“I was disappointed to learn that tonight we were going to miss him due to the full moon,” the girl with the pale skin agreed. She pulled her dark hair out of her face, tucking the straightened strands behind her ear. 

“Yes, well, it was for everyone’s safety....it was better to have him be away for his shift than be here,” you said quietly, sipping your hard cider. 

“Why not block the shift?” the golden witch asked. You looked to her. Her golden eyes reflected the light of the many candles in the shop. Inquisition glinted in her eyes as she played with a loose lock. You noticed that the tattoos on her forearm glinted just a little more fiercely this close up. . 

The three witches surrounding you had their attention on you though, you needed to return it. 

“Is it hard?” purple eyes asked. You shook her head as you looked to her. 

“I make shift blockers for a lot of the werewolves in town, but those are typically used when their emotions make them shift...nothing can stop a full moon shift,” you explained to them. “Especially a blood moon shift.” The three in front of you nodded. “It would’ve been too risky for everyone here.” A lolled silenced followed for a moment. 

“I’ve heard a rumor,” the pale skinned girl said, changing the subject. The other two looked to her as did you. “Word has it since it’s a blood moon...I’ve heard that Bálor is afoot.” You froze. The girl smiles at you sweetly, as if she knew. 

“He’s not,” you said slowly, a deep warning to your voice. “The magic that binds him is the most powerful magic of all. Not even he can break through it.” The nose ring girl raises a dark brow at you. She was obviously amused by your words. 

“It’s a blood moon though. You know he’s at his most powerful tonight.” You glared at her. 

“He won’t escape,” you hissed. “I’m the one who imprisoned him.” The other two girls looked weary, their colored eyes looked between the two of you. 

There was just something about her that seemed off. How could see find it amusing at the very thought of the Demon King escaping?

“If he does though,” she teased. “I can’t help but think of how amazing it would be if he took one of us...or at least me. Make me his.” She tried to wink to the other two witches but you were seething. “I’d do whatever he asked, just to be his.” You felt your stomach churn in disgust. 

The other witch’s thoughts and fantasies had happened before. But the witch that was taken, her soul was bargained for just the idea of his love when he had none to give. He never had any love to give. But her submission transformed her into a hideous hag that was at his mercy...until her final days. Her magic was just too powerful and it consumed her. The Demon King didn’t even flinch at the lost of his witch...he was after something else...someone else. 

You shivered. 

“Forgive me, I have to play hostess with other people,” you murmured. “Enjoy the rest of the party.” You moved around the small coven, hearing them whisper amongst themselves as you passed them by. Zelina and the golden witch murmuring their disappointment at seeing you scurry away. You couldn’t stand to be next to the other witch, though. 

Her words of how the Demon King could escape whirled in your mind. 

You went over to the snacks, looking them over to see if you needed to replenish any of them. You just needed something to do to take your mind off of the possible thought of the Demon King’s escape. You couldn’t help but feel as though someone’s eyes were on you, however. Turning, you found the pale witch looking to you again. She smiled, eyes flashing red once more before turning to leave your shop. You watched her leave, feeling her dark energy leave with her. It made you shiver.

The rest of the night went along without another hitch. You were able to enjoy the company of the other two witches just fine when you returned to them, just so you can learn about themselves and even see a bit of their talents. Zelina even allowed Aleister to roam about the party in a human form. He would bring back plates of food for the two of them to split and just, enjoy each other’s embrace. 

You got an idea just how close Zelina and her familiar were. It wasn’t until you saw the familiar again that you noticed the ring on his finger that mirrored that of the little witch. The two looked happy, content. You longed for that with Drew. 

The eclectic witch, whom was becoming your favorite, had shown her talents and her journeys by drawing in golden string in the air. It had fascinated you and took up most of your attention, even away from the other guests. That was, until the witching hours were up and sunrise was set in due time. 

You said goodbye to your guests, promising the two other witches to meet again for some tea or something. 

You turned back to your shop. The ghouls and goblins and witches didn’t leave much of a mess...but you still had to put your shop back in order. 

A quick wave of your hand and murmur under your breath had the entire room looking like brand new. Another quick spell had the shop items back in their places, ready for tomorrow when you reopened again. 

Drew would’ve been, teasingly, displeased at your inability to try and clean like a normal person...but he also knew how much you love your spells and wouldn’t have teased you long about it. 

You smiled of the last memory of that instance...you cleaned his kitchen for him on a day he sat aside for deep cleaning. You finished your tasks early and Drew huffed in playfulness at your lack of real elbow grease with the cleaning. His teasing reprimand only lasting until you cooked him steaks and morel mushrooms. He “forgave” you but you couldn’t help but giggle and “promise” to use your hands next time. 

You couldn’t wait for your werewolf’s return home. It would still be a day or two until he was well enough to come back...but, to you, it would feel like an eternity. 

You flipped the lights off to the shop, smiling to yourself as everything was clean, orderly for tomorrow. You climbed the narrow stairs leading up to the living spaces you designed just in case you needed to stay later at the shop. You moved over to the bay window, the bright red moon was still shining bright. It brought a warm, red glow that had you trying to relax.  

The open window allowed the curtains to shift and sway. It wafted in the cool breeze of autumn, the scent of the colored leaves seeping in. 

You could hear the trees outside, rustling in the wind. 

As your mind drifted to Drew....about where he could be, what he was doing and if he was hunting or not, you heard a howl within the wind. It made you smile. Your wolf was alright. You knew his howl. 

But, a voice makes your smile fall the moment it reaches your ears. 

“My little witch, I have returned for you,” a voice calls from the shadows, making you freeze. Fear crept into every fiber of your being. It made you shiver at the absolute darkness that seemed to have manifested in your living space. It was him. 

It was Bálor.

You turned to find the iridescent, blue eyes and the bright evil smile of the Demon King himself. 

“Did you miss me little one?”

Happy Halloween to you all!! ~A very witchy queen 

Tag: @adriennegabriella @alwaysbenhardysgirl @amariemoore @andie01 @annoyingasian @artemisapalla316 @aspiringhorrorfilmmaker @balorstrowmanblackmurphy @biforbecky2belts @blackmoonrising @burning-coco @calicina @calwitch @claymoreme @darlingambrose @dcnmarvelgamergeek @demonqueen29 @desstehhnee @drewmcintyreinarefereeoutfit @finnsauroraborealis @fireyegale @fivefootxo @flawlessglamazon @haharollins @hardcoresweet45 @homeorbust @i-have-saracasm @itsicantbelievethis666 @kalliravenne @king-drew-mcintyre @lilred91 @littledeadrottinghood @littlesuperstar @lolorockstar101boom @madamaholmes @madebypointlesswerewolves @meishaabae @meremaidqueen @moxleysbaby @moxley-unhinged @mox-made-me-do-it @moxtiel @neversatisfiedgirl @new-zealand-chic @nicolewoo @nothinginlifebutgreif @number1120 @ofbeornandbjorn @psychic-angus @queenofthearchitect @reigns420 @rollinsreginssupreme @rollynch-roman-empire @sassymox @sassyspacedust @savemeroman @scuzmunkie @shieldgirl18 @slytherinyourrpants @snowtroopergirl @softmoxymuffin @superrezzy00 @svnflowrs @taryn-dibiase @thatpanpal @the-beastslayers-queen @thehoundsofjustice @thewrestlingwarehouse @theworldofotps @trashofambrolleigns  @twistedbeautifully @undeadspazzattack @unprettypeony @voidstrugh @wrestlersownmyheart @writing-reigns @writtingrose @xbreezymeadowsx @xladyxfatex @xprincessofthefallenangels @yaint-me @youcantreignonmyparade​ 

[pastelbatfandoms]

Get to know My OC-Meghana

01. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded?  I actually looked up names that went with either Hercules or Megara and found Meghana,which is an Indian name that means Thunder. 

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness? Her biggest weakness is definitely her emotions and her powers are more dangerous when she’s emotional which makes them easier to exploit. 

03. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves? Her natural beauty

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical)  

Hades- Meghana thought he was Charismatic,funny and cute when they first met,yes she knew he was The “Villain” of Olympus she just didn’t care. It was when he showed off his more intelligent and even gentler side that Megs started to fall in love with him.

Physically? I mean have you seen him? and I don’t mean his Blue skinned,monstrous side that everyone thought of. (not that she minded that) but his more human look but still godlike with the bright blue hair,piercing eyes,that magnetic smile and those muscles ♥♥

Harry Hook- Another one of her Lovers that has Charisma for days. Also being The Son of Captain Hook aka Killian Jones,Harry had a wild unpredictable side that Meghana loved. But Harry also had a Sensitive side that he showed to very few. 

Physically-Where to start?! Harry’s smile,that body,that hair,his killer dance moves,THAT ACCENT! 

05. Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type?  Confident,even when she was a Virgin lol

06. Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying? No

07. Is there a catchphrase or sound that they tend to make a lot (likely without being aware of it)? 

08. What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it?  Her Temper,But being with a band of Pirates they kinda embrace that. Her Impulsiveness,her stubbornness. 

09. Do they have a favorite season? What about a favorite holiday? Spring and Winter. They don’t really celebrate Holidays on The Isle. 

10. Is your character more feminine or masculine? Feminine but with God like strength 11. What is something that would make your character fly into a rage? Being left for someone else,being used. 

12. Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up? Well she kind of had to give up her Powers while on The Isle. (At least The Darker ones.) But probably her Inner Strength. 

13. What are your character’s sleeping habits? Heavy or light sleeper? Blanket stealer? One that always rolls onto the floor? Pushes their lover onto the floor? Sleep talker or walker? Light sleeper,if she sleeps at all. Cannot sleep alone,but always looks like she’s sleeping peacefully. 

14. Do they live alone or with family? How do they feel about their family/roommates?  Meghana’s never truly been alone. First it was being born into a family of Gods,then getting sent to The Isle with Hades,then joining Uma’s Crew after Hades dumped her. 

15. Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear.  Maleficent. But not out of fear.  16. Is your character the athletic type or more of a couch potato? What are some sports/games that they like? Her Father is The Hero/Demi God of Strength,what do you think? 17. Does your character have dreams of getting married and/or having children? Yes well Marriage anyway. 

18. What kind of home would they want to live in? Where would they place this abode?  Anyplace her loved ones are,she’s very adaptable. 

19. Would your character be the kind to get into fights? (physical or verbal) Would they be a good fighter or cave in rather easily?  Meghana can be peaceful until you push her buttons,being a student of Hades and on a Pirate Crew you better believe she has a Temper. Uma and Harry taught her how to fight without the use of her powers and she has become rather good at it. 

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures? Yes,her Favorite’s are Big Dogs and Horses. Her favorite Mythological creatures are Pegasi,Unicorns and Cerberus.  21. What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear?  Well she’s already dealt with being Abandoned,I suppose her parents hating her and never being allowed back in Olympus. (Which doesn’t happen)

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have?  Besides her Godlike Beauty she doesn’t really have any other unique traits. But unlike most Greeks her hair is a Golden Red like her Fathers. (until she goes to the isle)

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved? When Meghana was in School on Olympus she was a very good student. The Classes and School (which looked more like a Cathedral) were very different from Earth’s or even Auradon Prep. Meghana’s favorite were Music with The Muse Euterpe and Pegasus Riding with The Goddess Nike. 

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like? I kinda already did....

25. Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day? Being sent to The Isle of The Lost by her Father and Zeus. 

26. What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc?  Hades is a very demanding yet gentle lover. If there is something Meg is not comfortable with,which is few and far between he comes to realize,Hades won’t do it. But when he’s jealous that’s another matter entirely. Hades can also be especially Seductive and persuasive when he wants something. 

Harry is very Charming and Flirtatious,though he gets Jealous as well,although it more has to do with his insecurities more than anything. Harry is very dominating and passionate in bed,usually taking the lead,unless it’s a day where Meg feels more Dominant then Harry can become Submissive as hell. Harry also likes using his Hook as well but not in an Extreme BDSM way more of an Enticing,seductive way. 

27. If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it? Using her Powers and going Evil like Audrey did. But Aurodon doesn’t really do arrests,more like Banishment. 

 2 8. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for? Model or Olympics.

29. What is one of the most courageous things your character has ever done for a loved one?  

30. When it comes to the arts (music, film, theater, etc), what does your character like?  Greek Poetry,The Ballet,Musicals,Fine Art,Anything Opulent with a darker undertone,She also has a fondness for Dance Music and Black Metal. 31. Would your character be the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it when necessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what? I think Meghana would only kill when Necessary,like if someone she loved was threatened or hurt,or if she was blinded by rage and betrayal. (like when Hades left her for Maleficent) 

32. If your character’s lover offered to take them out on a dream date, what would they want to do? A date with Hades would be a bit unusual,if still Gods,they would probably spend the majority of the time in The Underworld,then sneak up to the surface for a picnic. 

With Harry it would be a bit more daring,more going out at night on The Isle,teaching her how to sneak into places,teaching her how to sail and telling her about his adventures in Neverland when he was young. Causing a Ruckus wherever they went.

33. If your character wanted to be alone, where would they go? On Olympus it was to her favorite Water Fountain in The Nymph gardens,usually taking Pegasus along with her. There’s not much freedom on The Isle to be alone but at times she’ll go up to The Helm of The Ship or her Quarters for privacy. That’s usually only when she’s troubled though as she is the type to not like being on her own,especially on The Isle. 

34. Does your character have favorite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc)  Grapes,Pomegranates,Apples,any fruit really as well as Bread. Though recently she has become fond of Sea Food. 

35. Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go? Megs is a DemiGod so No,she knows what lies ahead and is even looking forward to it.

36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life? No

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them? Flirting,being Manipulated,Liars,Judgemental people (Villains and Heroes alike) 

38. What kind of weather does your character like? Cloudy skies, rainy days, sunshine, etc? The Isle is usually cloudy so she has gotten used to that. Sun or Rain is both fine with her,Megs doesn’t really have a preference.  39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct? Snobby,Evil,Immortal (Contrary to popular belief Gods are not) Selfish,Reckless,Naive,,Mean. Yeah she really is none of those things,she can be a tad Selfish at times but that is not always a bad thing. Also Just because she is Friends/in love with Villains does NOT make her one.  40. Does your OC have any guilty pleasures they enjoy? Hobbies, past times, music, etc that they wouldn’t want known by others?  Well few Heroes know that she still dabbles in the dark arts every now and then,even sneaking a peak at Mal’s Spell Book once or twice. Other then that not really no.  41. Does your character’s family affect your character in any way? They used to and to some extent still do,since she is stuck on The Isle. 42. Is there anything in your character’s past that they regret, haunts them, or they wish they could change?  Maybe encouraging Audrey to become Evil,Meg didn’t do it on purpose only saying she knew where Audrey was coming from and how she felt,also if SHE had Maleficent’s Staff....Also not liking Mal on The Isle because of her Mother... 43. Does your character have a switch that changes aspects of their personality whether they are around friends, family, etc. Is there someone who gets to see their true self? Not really. I suppose she’s more on and Intimidating to those she doesn’t know.  44. Is there a particular event that would emotionally devastate your character? Losing Harry or any of her Friends on The Isle.  45. Is your character the kind to hide their true emotions or do they wear their heart on their sleeve? A bit of both. Though she has become more guarded as of late.

46. What is some random affectionate thing that your character always does to their lover? Meggie is The Queen of Affectionate gazes but on a more physical level,she does give her boys kisses on The Cheeks when she’s excited and neither Harry or Hades are averse to PDA. 47. Is your character outgoing? Would they be the leader of the friend group, or the quiet one that gets dragged along? Outgoing definitely. She started off as a bit more Introverted until she met Hades,but Megs has always had a Sassy,’I can take care of myself’ side just like her Mother.  48. Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious? Her Men flirting with someone else or being Flirted with. Which is a problem because both Hades and Harry are flirtatious by nature.  49. What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood? Not so much anymore. But she has had to wake up or comfort Harry during a particularly bad night terror.  50. If your character confessed love to their crush, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc, what would they say? When Meghana first confessed her feelings to Hades,during an intimate moment,Hades was at first taken aback,he never told her he loved her,until they were broken up,but he always called her My Queen or My Love so Megs took that as the same thing. 

With Harry it was very mutual,though they were both cautious at first,Harry looked at her one day while with the crew and whispered “I think I’m in love with you.” Megs responded back in kind and they’ve been together ever since.