#you can decide if he's still high warlock or not

[courtingchaos]

I’ve been thinking about eddie who’s in the early pre relationship stages with you. but in his mind he’s married to you he’s been pining after you for so long. he doesn’t want to scare you though so he’s pumping the breaks and trying to take things slow.

you’re spending the night at his and he’s managed to keep enough distance from you that he deems respectful in his courtship of you. but when he wakes it’s to your hand high on his thigh, and you’re out for the count. and he’s hard as a rock and needs to move you before you wake up and see what state he’s in.

not wanting to wake you and alert you to his issue he thinks on his feet and decides he has to become soft asap, then he can move you. then if you wake up it’s not going to be to him feeling like a complete pervert.

so he’s reciting his favourite passages from all of the books he’s read.

only it’s not doing much. the pretty girl in his bed is winning this round.

he starts reciting them backwards to increase the difficulty and hopefully distract the ache away. but in his ingenuity to up the anti he’s inadvertently made it so tough that he’s now whisper shouting the words out loud. waking you. eddie still hard as a rock reciting poetry in a wicked order that makes no sense to man nor beast, is stopped abruptly in his tracks, gasping at the feel of your palm squeezing the meat of his inner thigh. Mortified and yet. Still painfully erect with no hope of going down anytime soon

sorry to vomit this at you but it seemed like fate that you’d asked for a request (this is far too long and detailed I’m sorry) and I was thinking about this at the same time

1. Don’t apologize, you’ve struck gold. You have not dug too greedily nor too deep.

2. You’ve written this really well so I could just post this with a bunch of reactions under it but, if you’ll allow me to expand upon this.

Picture this with me okay? He’s reciting Jabberwocky to himself. It’s a nonsense poem. He had an English teacher once give out a project for them to learn and recite a poem and of course he chose this. It has fun words in it like vorpal and borogoves. It’s become one of his bits actually when he’s trying to command a room.

“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:”

Everyone will sigh. Jeff and Gareth and Frank will drop their heads onto their desks or over the backs of their chairs in long groans. Dustin still thinks it’s fun, he hasn’t gotten tired of it yet, and Mike likes it he just won’t admit it. Eddie loves it though, likes the way slithy toves slides off his tongue when he puts on that creaking voice he uses for warlocks durning games.

Now though he mumbles it to himself in the dark, his ludicrous attempt at bringing down his mood. Something had woken him at the witching hour, 3:07 shining a bright green from across his room. He wasn’t cold, his window shut against the chill earlier when you’d come over. He wasn’t overheated, quite content with you softly cuddled up next to him. No itch or ill folded sheet causing him discomfort. He had seven solid minutes of waking, a few he spared to revel in the heat of you lying next to him. To feel your shoulder lying on his as you pressed your face into his pillow. Your knee bent up and almost over his own and your hand planted firmly on his thigh.

Oh. That.

Those fingers he liked to twirl around his own and lick salt off of when you were done with your fries? Those fingers were under the hem of his boxers and a very much pressing into the meat of his thigh. You don’t move except to breathe but all he can focus on is that hand literal inches from his dick. The dick he’d kept in check for weeks now in the hopes he wouldn’t chase you away with the absolute need he felt. Kind of like right now where it lays heavy and hot against his thigh just like your hand.

So Jabberwocky it is.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

But in the dark with a hard on, slithy toves makes him chuckle. Almost full on giggle and he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet. Slithy toves sounds like a euphemism for pussy and he can’t help the huffs of laughter pushed through his nose. He looks down in the hopes that this has distracted his dick but apparently laughter makes him harder and he files that away to look into at a later date. Borogoves floats through his brain and he immediately thinks about giving your boobs a new nickname and he has to put a foot down for himself.

Next verse.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

Bandersnatch has to be a euphemism, there’s no goddamn way, it has the word snatch in it. He rolls his eyes and before he can sigh you shift beside him in your sleep, closer with your nose in his curls on his pillow and that soft hand he’s thought about when his own is too boring in the shower scoots another inch closer to the problem.

Maybe if he whispers it out loud?

“He took his vorpal sword in hand;-”

Absolutely not. Nope. New plan when he feels your sleeping breath across the front of his throat. It ghosts over his adams apple and all he can think about is your lips on his neck last week and how he’d pulled at his hair after you’d left just because it drove him insane.

Maybe if he recited it backwards it would confuse him enough all the blood would need to race back up into his brain.

“Outgrabe…raths…the-no…mome the and…” He’s squinting hard in the dark, reading invisible words on the ceiling in this new attempt to circumvent disaster.

“Borogoves…ha. Damn it. Borogoves…the were…mimsy all.” A headache is all this is giving him but for a moment he’s forgotten your hand and where it was. He’s searching the next line in his head and trying to jumble it so it isn’t so halting in the early morning quiet.

“Wabe the in gimble and gyer did!” He almost claps his hands when he makes it through without pause but he stops himself for fear of waking you up. Instead he spends 20 minutes working his way backwards through his poem, whispering to the night about the Jabberwock.

O frabjous day indeed when he realizes his dick is half soft now, not such a nuisance and a terror after he’s distracted himself. He thinks about waking you gently, a hand brushing your hair away from your face or running lightly over your leg but then you move. You move of your own accord and hook your leg over his. Kneecap bumping your hand higher and if he breathed wrong right this second you’d be brushing fingertips over his balls.

“And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,”

He mutters without whisper. It’s not full volume speaking but he really doesn’t want you to wake up and find him hard and awake with your hand shoved up his shorts. As much as he would really love to feel your hands on him like that he’s been trying his best to be gentlemanly. Only necking on your timetable when you steal him away to a quiet corner. A little over the pants stuff, heavy petting but you’ve never pushed it and it won’t make you uncomfortable, no matter what his dick wants him to do.

“Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!”

Eddie sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

“Hm?” You hum at him. A high note in the back of your throat that has him whipping his head to see you stirring. Adjusting to your side and dra-a-agging that hand. He doesn’t know what to do as you come around and blink up at him in the dark. He can see the edges of your expression from the light filtering in from outside, smooth brow and faint smile until it isn’t.

“Di’ yousay sumthin’?” Slurred against his shoulder where your mouth is pressed.

“Uh, kind of.”

“You okay?” You press up against him, your pelvis into his hip and he’s about to be caught. There’s no way you aren’t going to notice the outline in his boxers or the way he’s gotta be sweating gallons just in nerves.

“I…yeah?”

“What’s the ma-” You shift to prop yourself up so you can sleepily inspect him and he wants to subsequently die and sigh happily when your hand meets trouble. “Oh.”

Oh. Oh? Oh yeah, no big deal, it’s just his dick showing up to ruin the party like the world’s worst frat guy. “Look, I was trying to make it go away and I-“

“Why?” Having just woken up your voice is soft in a deep way. Scratchy from dry air but it fits the mussed hair and the rucked up t-shirt you have on. His gaze falls on the sliver of stomach that you’re showing off between the covers and he’s having a hard time coming up with an answer.

“Why?”

“Is there an echo in here?” You laugh and slide your palm over his stomach that tenses. “Yeah, why.” Your pinky catches the hem of his thin shirt and pulls it up to reveal his own section of underbelly. “We’re alone right?”

“Y-yeah.” It comes out like a hiss though because your nails scratch across that newly revealed skin and right over the trail of hairs below his belly button. “We don’t have to do anything.”

“I know.”

“I just don’t uh, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

Your fingers move back and forth over his stomach before you let them dip back down to the waistband of his boxers, fingertip seeking under the elastic ever so slightly. “You’ve been very patient Eddie.” The rings on your hand are body warm but hold a child to them when they glide over skin. “I think we just had a little misunderstanding at first though.” Fingers comb through wiry hairs on their search for their prize. “I’ve been trying to do this since you asked me out, but I thought you wanted to wait.”

“Oh my god, no. I mean yes, because I thought that’s what you wanted but I read into things too much sometimes bec-ause fuck.” He was running his mouth but then you’d grabbed him. Wrapped that dreamy hand around his cock and sighed into his cheek like you were the one experiencing earth shattering euphoria.

“Eddie I’ve wanted to do this for months.” A slow tug to the tip and you do something with your fingers that makes his mouth hang open in a silent plea. Another twist before you run your thumb over his slit and he grabs your wrist.

“This is gonna be over so quick if you keep that up.”

“Well that’s not so bad, I was still a little tired.” Highlights pick up the line of your lips and that sleepy smile that’s all for him. Heavy lashes flutter when he lets you go and shoves his shorts down to give you room to work. “You can get me back when we wake up.”

He throbs in your grasp at the promised idea of getting you back and all that entails. He can’t help himself but think of wet and warm places while your hand moves in languid strokes. Hot puffs of air across his chest where you lay your head to watch and then he’s watching you watching yourself and falling into a vortex of horniness. He wants to weave his fingers into your hair for some reason. Wants to feel the softness between his fingers while you rub velvet skin through your own.

“Eddie?” You pant into his shirt, lips catching and dragging on the cotton.

“Yeah?”

“What were you reciting?”

It almost pulls him out of his pleasure it’s jars him so. Briefly he thinks about lying and saying Shakespeare but you’re already giving him a 3 am handjob so he thinks he might not have to fib. “Jabberwocky.”

“Alice in Wonderland?” Your hand leaves his cock suddenly but he doesn’t get to whine about it before he’s whining about you licking your palm and getting back to work. He nods above you like you could see him but it earns him a chuckle from you and a stray few fingers that tug at his balls.

“God damnit yes.” He does push his hand into your hair then, the other fisting into the sheets beside him. You make a passing remark about reciting it then but he honestly might not even know his own name. The way his legs move restlessly against the bed and his fingers grip into your scalp. The damp slide of your palm over the head of his cock, the twisting motion you keep doing, it’s all rocketing him towards his finish. The burn of it in his belly clouding his senses and making him buck his hips up into your touch. The air of your breath keeps breezing over his overheated skin and your panting laughs are shoving him closer and closer until he’s squeezing his eyes shut and going stiff.

Warm lines splash up his stomach and he knows in a minute or two he’ll feel shame unmatched by man heretofore known but right now he couldn’t care. Soft hands drag him through the aftershocks while you make praiseworthy noises into his chest. You coo at him for a job well done and he can feel the heat rise on his cheeks. Sitting up again to look back at him your drag a finger through the mess he made and when you take three seconds to inspect it he doesn’t expect you to bring it to your lips.

“I-“ He what? What can he say while he watches you suck on your index finger like he does? When a slick grin hooks the corner of your mouth up into something devilish and he has an awakening at almost 4 am.

“How was that, huh? Glad we got that over with?” You drop your cheek to your shoulder to give him a smolder but Eddie needs to taste your lips after you’ve tasted him. It’s a need not a want so he rushes you, pushes you back into the bed and gets his mess everywhere but it doesn’t matter. He kisses you deep until you both have to come up for air and then he’s peppering your neck in them until your giggling is too much.

He uses his shirt to wipe himself off, promising a shower in the morning, and pulls both of you under the covers to conspire in the afterglow.

“Do you think reading that poem is gonna Pavlov you now?”

“How so?”

“I mean,” your laugh cuts into your explanation, “slithy toves kind of sounds like a name for-“

“Pussy! I know!” He laughs with you. “And Bandersnatch!”

[reverieblondie]

Raphael and/or Haarlep reacting to seeing Tav in the wavemother robes?

Hello Anon! So I decided to combine all of these together for a drabble for Raphael and Haarlep! Enjoy! 18+ Under the cut!

Haarlep X Fem!Tav Raphael X Fem!Tav

Haarlep:

It makes them crazy… from the moment Haarlep met you, you have invaded their thoughts. If Haarlep didn't know any better, they would think you were a succubus yourself with how you play and tease. Your sultry voice when you say their name, asking them about their latest naughty conquest. How your eyes rake over them so slowly, never shy like others; no, you always kept eye contact like a silent challenge…

Haarlep thinks about when they last saw you… They slowly slide their hand down their chest, flicking their sharp nails over their nipple before giving themselves a pinch. It had been another mundane day for Haarlep in the House of Hope when a sweet scent caught their attention. Haarlep slowly swayed to that familiar perfume, then finally they saw you once again gracing this drab house with your alluring presence.

Haarlep chuckles to themselves as they slide their hand down their textured abdomen to tease their growing length… that's still twitching from the sight of you.

You stood there looking completely refined and yet so teasingly revealing; Wavemother robes are what you called the tight shimmering dress as Haarlep circled around you, taking in every curve of you. Haarleps hot hand softly touching your thigh to slide to your hip,  "No panties, pet? That's very naughty…" You laughed as you placed your hand on theirs; Haarlep still remembers how cool your skin felt against theirs… How they just want to have your cool body laying on top of their hard, heated one, smiling down at them as your hips slowly grind yourself on their ridges, making Haarlep beg.

"Haarlep, if I were to be wearing panties, you would just ruin them." That's right, pet… Haarlep keeps pawing at their cock, moving faster and faster as you keep invading their mind…

Haarlep should have dropped to their knees and worshipped you…lift up that dress and slide their hot tongue all over your quivering sex, relishing in the feeling of you pulling on their horns as you let Haarleps eager tongue fuck you to your high. Haarlep wants to hear your soft moans and your demands for more.

Haarlep then feels their cum hit against them in a groan; Haarlep rolls their eyes; they can't believe how badly they have it for you… How badly they want you to dominate them, preferably while wearing that dress…

Raphael:

No word about you, no word from you…how dare you. What could you possibly be doing? Should he send Korrilla to spy? No, he can't wait for a report; he must see you now! Since the end of everything, Raphael hasn't seen you. You gave him the crown the last time he did, and then you were gone. Raphael had sent his lower warlocks to spy on you, but they never reported back; they better be dead. How dare they not bring him any word about his mouse!

With his irritation reaching its peak he decides to go find you himself, he snaps his fingers to find himself right outside of Elfsong Tavern, where it seems quite busy on this particular night. Raphael strolls in, passing by all these useless blood sacks, looking for one mortal in particular…

Then he spots you in a dress he's never seen you in before, shimming with some alluring chain detailing wrapping around you; he wonders what it would be like to pull on that delicate little body chain.

While he is watching you from across the way, he sees some mortal chatting with you, leaning into you, and watching you very intently… Unacceptable. Before that mortal can get any closer, you're being dragged away from your new acquaintance by a familiar warm hand wrapped tightly around your wrist.

Finally, when you two are alone in an empty rent room, you pull your wrist from him, and he's bursting into his cambion form. "Raphael, what do you want?"

Raphael lets his jealous rage settle before he speaks, his eyes glued to your curves. "What do I want?" Raphael lets out a laugh; I want you by my side, to challenge and taunt me always, "Can a devil not keep in touch with their previous clients?"

You fold your arms, walking around the small space, your eyes staying on him, "Keeping in touch with me? I figured you would be too busy for that."

Raphael feels his body get warmer as he watches you sway, the urge to bunch that little dress up and grab you and split you open on his cock, to have you whaling till this whole tavern of insufferables knew his name from your swollen lips. Thrusting in deep, letting his nails gig into you, making you scream till your voice is left raw. The mere thought made his mouth water.

"Never too busy for my favorite client."

"Ex-client." you chime in. Oh, mouse, you're still his… till all the stars fall from the sky, you are his…

"Raphael? Are…you alright?"

Raphael hums. Is he alright? No, he won't be alright until you are lounging, sweating, and ruined in his bed as he gently plays with the strains of your hair, Cooing at your blissed-out face as haarlep eats his seed from your abused cunt.

"Perfectly adequate mouse, why do you ask?"

Tav huffs a laugh as she points to his rear, "Why is your tail like that?"

As soon as she says it, the feeling registers that damned propositioning 'S' shape. "No reason.."

You move in closer… "really? You sure? You're not sick, are you?"

Raphael urges his tail down, "Definitely not, mouse…"

"So why does it do that?"

Damn your questions… "exhaustion." Raphael growls.

"Funny, I always thought that meant when someone was horny… but if I'm mistaken…" you start for the door with a smile, and then with a snap, you are no longer at Elf's song. You're in his hellish boudoir.

Perfect…  

[narnian-neverlander]

In Whatever Way [Adam Warlock x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: When he unknowingly tests your patience, you snap at Adam and say something you immediately regret.

Word Count: 5,1k

Warnings: Guardians 3 spoilers, talk about canon typical violence, cursing, slight injury & mention of blood, bit of angst, hurt & comfort, idiots in love, author being a sucker for the ‘oh. oh.’ moment of realization trope

A/N: Kind of a follow up to this one, but can absolutely be read as a stand alone

I have exactly one complaint and that’s Adam not having Will’s freckles (for obvious bodypaint reasons), so I went ahead and fixed that 💁

If someone had told you a year ago that a Sovereign would become your favorite person in the galaxy, you would’ve laughed in their face and then put a bullet in between their eyes for good measure. But life’s got a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

That first night after the defeat of the High Evolutionary, it’d been way too messy and hectic to find Adam a place of his own, so you’d dropped him off at your tiny apartment, very specifically told him to stay put and to not touch anything, and then headed out again in search of food and some clothes. You’d found those, but alongside them, you’d also found the furry F’Saki Adam had basically adopted. He’d looked about as lost as his owner, so you’d tucked the little guy under your arm and had taken him with you. Arriving back at your home, you’d discovered Adam curled up on your bed, fast asleep. The F’Saki had immediately scurried out from your grasp, made himself comfortable at Adam’s legs and had started snoring almost right after. You’d stood in the middle of your room, still in your dirty, torn uniform and bone tired, a young Sovereign and his pet passed out on your bed and had actually stopped to wonder how on earth your life had gotten to that point.

Not seeing a reason for staying any longer, you’d decided you might as well go out and get blissfully blackout drunk with your friends. Leaving a note with the change of clothes and food, you’d turned towards the entrance to find Nebula standing in your doorway. She’d scanned the situation she’d walked in on very carefully and then had simply raised slender, judgmental brows at you. You’d shooed her out, gently closing the door behind you, and had reminded her that ‘Adopting strays that’ve tried to kill us is kinda our thing; didn’t think I’d need to tell you of all people.’

Ever since that night, Adam had been virtually glued to your side. It’d been a bit strange and uncomfortable at first; you weren’t used to always having company, much less that of a Sovereign. There’d most definitely been an adjustment period with quite a few mishaps, one of which had ended with him in the med-bay with a bloody nose after he’d scared the ever living daylights out of you while you’d been testing the upgrades Rocket had made to your gauntlets - you’d apologized profusely for the rest of that day. Over time though, it had become apparent that he meant you no harm, nor did he have any ill will, he simply wished to repay the kindness you’d shown him when he’d felt he had no one looking out for him anymore.

And despite the fact that his golden skin and hair, his engineered-to-be-perfect face and body and his manner of speaking reminded you of his heritage everyday, you’d found it increasingly easy to ignore the fact that he was part of the species responsible for so much pain in your life. Of course, it wouldn’t be fair to hold him accountable for actions committed by his people long before he was even born. But it wasn’t just that, Adam was simply… different from the rest of the Sovereign. He might’ve been created to be perfect, but he was far from it: He was only just understanding his own limits, landing him in situations that had him in over his head more often than not. He could be arrogant and quick to anger over the smallest details. He only liked learning things if they came to him easy, but grumpily and quickly dropped the ones that didn’t. But there was always an underlying innocent curiosity and kindness in his actions; in the way he’d so effortlessly bonded with the rescued animals he was now taking care of. In the way he always immediately offered assistance, no matter how menial the task. In the way he’d taken such an interest in any and all earth things, simply because they held special meaning to you. In the few months since he’d come into your life, he’d captivated you so completely, had gotten you to care for him so deeply and truly, it even shocked yourself at times still. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

There is however still one topic of conversation that never seems to get easier and that’s his late mother, Ayesha. High priestess and figurehead of the crusade against your kind; all because of shapeshifting abilities you never even asked for. You’re very well aware of the fact that, before he became a part of the Guardians, she was the only family Adam had. That he’d cared for her very much, he still does, it’s obvious in the way he talks about her. And usually you let him talk, for his sake; to let him grieve by sharing stories about the loved one he lost. But today’s been exhausting, to say the least. You’ve been up since the crack of dawn and nothing seems to work out the way it’s supposed to. At the moment, you’re down somewhere in the bowels of Knowhere, courtesy of a broken filtration system. And since your resident genius raccoon mechanic is off world with Groot and you aren’t half bad with machines, the honor of trying to fix it had gone to you. You’d been down there for hours now, though, and aren’t making any real progress. Adam had joined you a little while back, and while you usually welcome his company, he’s picked a particularly bad day to select his mother as a topic of conversation. Your nerves are frayed, your patience running thin, but you hold your tongue, choosing to only answer in occasional hums of acknowledgement to confirm that you’re listening. That works out just fine right up until the moment he says “You remind of her, actually.”

The wrench you’re currently using almost slips from your sweaty palms as you bristle and hiss “Don’t ever say that again.” His answer is immediate and while you’re not looking at him, you can hear the genuine confusion in his voice. “Why not? It’s the truth.” The more rational part of you knows he means it as a compliment - but that part seems to have taken the day off. You swallow the rising bile in your throat before you reply with “I am nothing like that vile woman. Don’t compare me to her again, do you understand?” You’ve quite obviously hit a nerve, as you hear him rise from his seated position on some debris and when he speaks again the confusion in his voice has given way to anger. “My mother was not vile, take that back!”

You mumble “Maybe not to you…” more to yourself than anything else as you busy yourself with the repairs, absolutely not in the mood for this conversation, but he hears anyways. “I don’t care what you might think of her; she loved me!” A bark of laughter escapes you before you can stop it, bitter and cruel. “Please, maybe she loved what you were supposed to be; the ultimate weapon, the next step in their precious perfect evolution, but you failed that spectacularly. And even that’s pushing it!” The bolt you’ve been trying to loosen seems to have gotten stuck even worse as you aggressively throw your whole weight down on the wrench’s handle, any and all social courtesies you’ve kept up around Adam in regards to this particular topic going right out the window. “But don’t take that personally; Sovereign just aren’t capable of love, it’s as simple as - FUCK!!” The bolt finally gives way, sending you face first into one of the pipes of the machinery. Pulling back with a pained hiss, you bring a hand to your throbbing forehead and let out a few more curses when it comes away bloody.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Two deep, slow breaths it takes for you to calm down. It takes two more for realization to hit and the regret that comes with it threatens to choke you on the spot. Adam’s gone deathly quiet and you’d honestly prefer if he lost his temper with you; that you could handle at least. You’re terrified of what you’ll find when you turn around, so you do so slowly and immediately wish you hadn’t at all.

Adam’s an awful liar; he wears his heart on his sleeve and his emotions always plain on his face for everyone to read. And right now? Even on that first night, when he’d been injured, scared and all alone, you don’t think he’d looked so completely and utterly heartbroken. His name has barely left your lips in a desperate plea when he turns and takes off, the golden glow of his powers vanishing around a corner and completely out of sight not a second later. There’s no point in going after him right now, you know that, he’s stubborn, especially when he’s upset - not that that helps you feel better about yourself in any capacity; you well and truly want to throw yourself out of the nearest airlock. With a heavy sigh, you pick up the discarded wrench from the floor, deciding to give the young Sovereign some space and quickly, haphazardly finish with your work instead.

By the time you leave the med-bay, a bandaid now covering the wound on your forehead, it’s been a good hour or two, so you make your way to Adam’s apartment, hesitantly knocking on the door. When there’s no answer, you peek through one of the small windows, but the room is empty except for Blurp curled up on the bed, snoring contently. You check the cantina next, then the complex where the animals had been set up. You check in with Kraglin and Cosmo, Drax and Phyla, and basically any residents of Knowhere that you come across - no one has seen the golden man since he went off to help you. Your search eventually brings you to the spaceport, where you find the Bowie freshly docked, Groot carrying crates down the loading ramp, Rocket on his shoulders. Considering you were running out of places to check that were actually on Knowhere and Adam didn’t need oxygen like the rest of you, you figure you might as well ask if they’d seen him somewhere in the general vicinity of the giant head while coming back.

“Rocket, have you seen Adam?” the question’s out of your mouth before you’ve even properly reached them and your furry friend doesn’t bother to look up from the data pad he’s studying as he scoffs “Nice to see you, too, (y/n). Yeah, me and Groot are fine, mission went great, thanks for asking; always touching to come home to such a warm welcome.” Mumbling out an apology you only half mean, you cross your arms over your chest and look at him expectantly. When he realizes you’re not gonna go away, he hooks the pad to his belt with a groan and looks at you, one elbow propped up against Groot’s head. “How the flarg would I know? Goldie’s attached to your hip, not mine.” You don’t wanna have to get into details right now, so you settle for “Usually, sure. But I messed up, he ran off and now I can’t find him.” Rocket snorts, clearly not buying it. “The guy looks at you like you hung the friggin’ stars in the sky, what could you of all people have possibly done to piss him off that bad?” Drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, you avoid eye contact with him and busy yourself with a loose thread on your shirt instead. Details it is after all. “I… might’ve insulted his mother and told him I don’t believe Sovereign are capable of love.” The quiet lasts for all of half a second before Rocket starts cackling so hard, he goes tumbling off of Groot’s shoulders and ends up on the ground; clutching his stomach he’s almost howling in laughter and it makes heat shoot up to your face in both embarrassment and anger as you stomp your foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “Rocket this isn’t funny!!”

The raccoon struggles to his feet, one paw still on his knee as the other wipes at his eyes. “You’re right; it’s not. It’s hysterical! I mean… if that’s how you talk to a guy you’re actually into, I’d hate to see how you treat the ones you don’t like.” Brows furrowing in bewilderment, the complete change of topic makes you fumble for a moment as you ask “What… what the hell is that supposed to mean?” All traces of amusement vanish from Rocket’s face, jaw going slack as he stares at you and realizes you’re serious. He lets out a low whistle before he states “Wow. And here I thought the golden boy was clueless. At least he’s got some excuse, he ain’t been around the galaxy for all that long, but you? You can’t be for real.” You’re very quickly growing very tired of this conversation, so with a huff, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “Rocket, are you gonna stand here and give me riddles for the rest of the day or are you gonna help me?” Said help comes from the tree that’s been busy unloading the ship up until now. “I am Groot.” Your head snaps towards your teammate at the insinuation. “What tracker?” Now it’s Rocket’s turn to look embarrassed, a disappointed sigh and a long, drawn out version of his name leaving your lips. “I thought we talked about this ages ago; you can’t go putting trackers on people without their consent!” He doesn’t seem all that bothered by your outburst as he mocks “Oh boo hoo, y’all constantly whine about that right up until the moment it benefits you - like right now!” But he goes digging through one of the pockets on his belt anyway and holds out the small device he finds to you. Your anger more or less evaporates as you are yet again reminded that Rocket does care, in his own way. You kneel down to his level, take the tracker and give him a hug as you thank him - and just for good measure, press a long, disgusting kiss to his furry cheek as payback for laughing at your predicament. He scrambles out of your hold in obvious discomfort, gagging noises accompanying you as you take your leave, but as usual, he needs to have the last word, shouting “Save the smooches for Goldilocks!!” at your retreating figure.

Not even ten minutes later, you’re looking up at one of the tallest buildings in Knowhere. It’s an old, dilapidated communications tower that is long overdue for demolition; it’s all rusted metal and broken off, jagged edges, entirely impossible to climb without flight capabilities. Out of options, you helplessly check the tracker once more just to make sure that, yes, unfortunately he’s really up there, Rocket’s tech could be trusted on that and squinting up at the top you’re almost sure you see a glimmer of gold. You pocket the device with a shaky inhale and cup your hands around your mouth. “Adam!” you shout, even though you don’t really need to; he’s got enhanced senses, you’re certain he’d be able to hear you even if you whispered. “Adam, I know you’re up there, can you please come down?” Five seconds pass. Then ten. Then thirty. Nothing. “Listen, I know I messed up and I know you’re upset, but this isn’t gonna just go away, we need to talk about it!” A full minute of silence passes this time, dread and anxiety weighing down your shoulders more and more with each second that ticks by. When you speak again, you’re worried about your voice breaking, so it does come out as a whisper this time. “Adam, please. At least give me a chance to fix this.” Head hung low, you run both hands through your hair and over your face with an annoyed groan, upset with both his stubbornness and with yourself for having caused this mess in the first place. Thinking your attempt at a conciliation lost, you turn to leave and almost fall flat on your ass in shock when you find Adam standing there, arms crossed over his chest and glaring at you. “I do not wish to speak with you.”

“And you don’t have to, you just… have to listen for a moment, alright?” It takes him a few long, agonizing seconds to begrudgingly nod and you let out a relieved breath. Despite the hours you’d just spent searching for him, carefully laying out what you wanted to say, you’re drawing a blank at this very moment, but you try anyways. “Okay, look… I’m sorry about what I said earlier, I truly am.” When he scoffs in disbelief you reach for his hand, only to have him pull away, making your heart sink. Ever since he’d started experiencing things for himself and figuring out his likes and dislikes, it’d become clear quite quickly that Adam enjoyed physical affection, especially when you were the one to initiate it. He’d never turned it down - until now. How badly had you messed up?

“I mean that, Adam. It’s just that… I know Ayesha was your family and you miss her, but the person you knew her to be and the person I knew her to be are… quite contrasting. And I honestly don’t think there’s a way for me to reconcile both views with each other. I’ve let you talk about her because it seemed to make you happy, but you have to understand that it’s hard for me to hear praises about a person who was directly responsible for so much suffering and pain in my life. However, I also know that my experiences and rage… blind me, to a certain degree; lumping together all Sovereign isn’t fair, cause everybody’s their own person and can make their own choices, you’ve proven that.”

You can see the gears turning in his head, but he stays quiet and avoids looking at you all the same. You swallow hard around the lump that’s formed in your throat before you continue speaking. “Be that as it may, I also want you to know that you don’t have to accept my apology if you don’t want to.” His eyes are on you in a second and the hopeful tone in his voice when he says ‘I don’t?’ threatens to split your heart in two. “No, you don’t. I’m apologizing because it’s the right thing to do and because I feel absolutely awful about having hurt someone I care so much about. But if you feel that I’ve crossed a line, then…” Clearing your throat to keep your voice from breaking, you feel tears burning behind your eyes. “Then you’re under no obligation to accept it for my sake and I’ll have to live with that. I’ll give you some time to think about it.” Brushing past him, calls of your name fall on deaf ears as you leave, considering that’s just about all the emotional toll you’ll be able to take today.

A pillow tightly clutched to your chest, you’re curled up in bed not much later, tears still fresh on your cheeks. Honestly, you’re not sure why exactly you’re even crying. Because you’re sad at the prospect of having lost a friend? Because, despite of what you said, you wish he’d been less stubborn and just accepted your apology? Because you’re frustrated with yourself over how close you’d allowed the two of you to grow in the first place? It really doesn’t make sense to you. It had taken years for the rest of the Guardians to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself so that they could squeeze inside, but Adam? A few months was all it had taken for him to get under your skin. For you to look forward to spending time with him everyday. For his laugh to become your favorite sound. For —

Your train of thought gets stopped dead in it’s tracks by a soft knock on your door, immediately followed by the scratching of tiny claws and an all too familiar whine. Wiping your palms over your eyes to get rid of the rest of the wetness staining your face, you scramble out of bed and make your way towards the entrance of your apartment. As expected, you find Adam and Blurp on the other side, the F’Saki slipping inside like he owns the place as soon as he’s able. He makes himself comfortable on the foot of your bed and looks at both of you expectantly, all bright eyes and perked ears. A setup like this normally means movie night, a little tradition you’d started to help Adam get a hold on as many customs as possible while still having fun and not actually throwing him into social interactions that would make everybody involved uncomfortable. For all intents and purposes, with the dim lighting in your room, the messy bed and Adam on your doorstep in his usual sleeping getup of sweatpants and a tank top, it does look like that’s what’s about to happen, you can’t blame the little guy for misinterpreting. Dragging your gaze back to the golden man at your doorstep, you’re surprised to find he doesn’t look half as exhausted as you feel. Matter of fact, this is the calmest and most determined you’ve seen him all day.

“May I come in?” You step aside to let him, gently closing the door behind you both with a quiet click. “I’ve thought about what you told me earlier and I think I’ve come to a conclusion on what I must do.” Dreading what comes out of his mouth next, you can’t seem to muster up the strength to look at him and keep your eyes downcast, only for his hands to enter your field of view and grab hold of your own. “I need to apologize to you.” Your head snaps up to find that he’s completely serious and barely manage to stutter out an incredibly intelligent ‘Huh?’

Adam lightly squeezes your hands when he continues. “Up until you pointed it out, it never occurred to me how the topic of my mother, my people might make you feel. Unintentional or not, my actions hurt someone I care about and I don’t like how it makes me feel. Apologizing is what I should do in that case, correct?” You wrangle with yourself for a second, but then squeeze back gratefully. “Yes, that’s right, and I’m thankful that’s the conclusion you came to, but… Adam, you couldn’t have known. I never said anything about it, instead I let my negative emotions fester and grow until I couldn’t take it anymore and it all came out in the worst way possible. If anything, we’re both a little to blame for this.” Pausing to take a deep breath, you continue with the question you really want answered, even though you’ve got a pretty good idea already. “So… does that mean we’re okay? You’re not upset with me and want me out of your life?” You watch his eyes grow wide in shock and his hands move up to your shoulders to settle there with a firm grip. “Is that what you were afraid of? Why you’ve been crying?” Shrugging as best as you can, you mumble “Kind of? You seemed so angry with me, I just thought I’d crossed a line there was no coming back from and it made me sad, so—“ The sentence stays unfinished as Adam envelops you in a bone crushing hug, even lifting you off the ground a little.

“(y/n), you’re the best thing that’s happened to me since I came into this world and I don’t even want to think about what my life would be like without you in it.” he says, face buried in the crook of your neck and you’re glad for it as you feel heat rising all the way to the top of your ears. Hugging him back just as tight, you reply “I don’t want to think about my life without you in it anymore, either.” Content just being in each other’s arms, you stay like that for a bit, until he breaks the comfortable silence with a quiet call of your name as he carefully puts you back on your feet, to which you respond with a hum of acknowledgment. “Do you really think me incapable of love?” And just like that, the feeling of wanting to throw yourself out an airlock returns; frantically stringing together the word ‘No!’ about ten times as you pull back to properly look at him. “No, of course I don’t, that was just… When people are angry, they’ll sometimes say and do things they don’t actually mean. But I swear I don’t think that about you, how could I? You’re proving the opposite every day.”

“I am?” he questions, brows furrowed, confusion and doubt clear as day and you can’t help but laugh softly as you go to cup his handsome face between your palms. “Oh my sweet Adam, do you really not see it?” Bringing his own hands to lightly hold your wrists, he sighs. “I wasn’t created to love. I was created to kill. To destroy. To bring pain and misery. So when you said that, I was… I am scared you might be right.” Gently running your thumbs over his cheeks, you simply look at your golden boy for a mere moment. The last rays of the artificial sunlight filtering in through your blinds cast him in a beautiful glow; eyes warm like honey, skin glittering like stars and the pattern of slightly darker golden, coppery spots over his nose and cheeks, an imperfection akin to freckles you’re still surprised they let him keep, all the more prominent. Of course he’s capable of love, he has to be. Surely, you wouldn’t fall for someone who wouldn’t be able to—

Oh.

Oh.

So that’s what that prick of a raccoon had been talking about. With the benefit of hindsight, it honestly baffles you it had taken this long for the other shoe to drop. Adam calling your name is what kicks your brain back into functioning after that epiphany; you blink and shake your head a little before responding. “Sorry, I was just… never mind. Do you… do you really not see how your everyday actions show love?” His eyes flick between yours as he considers your words and then settles on “I’m… not entirely certain what love is supposed to look or feel like.”

“Oh dear, uhm…” you’re unsure if you’ll be able to explain that to him properly, but you’ll be damned if you don’t at least try. “Well… there’s many different forms of love. All similar, but slightly different in some ways. But overall it’s… to deeply care for another being, I guess? When being with them brings you joy? When you want to see them safe and happy? And even though you might wish for that happiness to be with you, it’ll be fine if it’s not cause they matter more to you than yourself.” Your hands have wandered to the base of his neck, fingers buried in the short hair as he cocks his head to the side in thought. “Like you and the rest of the Guardians let Peter Quill and Mantis go on their own paths even though it made you sad to see them go?” Grinning, you nod in confirmation. “Exactly. And the way you took it upon yourself to take care of the animals we saved? The way you adopted Blurp, in spite of what your mother wanted, cause you felt he was sad and lonely? How you went out of your way to make sure I felt comfortable around you? All of that means you care. All of that are ways of showing love.” It’s obvious he’s trying real hard to comprehend everything you’ve just explained to him, but it a lot, so you continue with “Love is one of the most simple and basic emotions in most beings. But navigating it and differentiating between it’s different forms can be difficult - for everyone. There’s no rush though, you can take all the time in the world to figure it all out for yourself. I promise you have nothing to worry about, you’re perfectly fine, okay?”

Adam brings one of his hands from your waist up to cup your cheek and smiles when you lean into his touch. This is what he’d been trying to tell you earlier, when he’d compared you to his mother: He trusts you completely, your judgement, too. You make him feel at peace like no one else in the universe. “Okay.” he replies and you return his smile, just barely containing the urge to pepper kisses over his pretty face and -

Yeah you’re gonna have to deal with this particular mess of emotions sooner rather than later.

The tender moment gets interrupted by Blurp whining at you two, impatiently hopping from one paw to another on the foot of your bed. “It would appear Blurp insists on a movie night. If you feel like it?” you chuckle and Adam happily agrees. So you set up everything as usual and settle on a lighthearted family comedy to watch. But the day’s been long, exhausting and emotionally draining; try as you might your eyes keep drifting shut and you’re out cold ten minutes into the movie.

The golden man jumps a bit when there’s a slight thump against his shoulder, only to find you fast asleep. His focus now on you instead of the movie, tender fingers ghosting over the bandaid on your forehead in concern, he thinks about what you’ve just told him. About what love was supposed to feel like and it dawns on him that yes, the warmth that spreads through his chest all the way down to his feet when you do as little as smile at him must be love. And yet when he’s with you it’s… different from what it felt like to be with his mother or to be with Blurp or the rest of the Guardians. It irks him to not be able to properly discern what makes you special; you’d said there were different forms of love, but how was he supposed to understand the difference?

As you curl into his side more, one arm coming across his chest to hug him and his name subconsciously falling from your lips in a barely audible, sleepy mumble, he realizes it doesn’t matter, nor does he really care, at least not right this moment. For now, it’s enough for him to be certain of the fact that he loves you and you love him - in whatever way.

[deconstructthesoup]

I've seen some good ones floating around, so here's my take on a Fantasy High Swap Class AU:

Adaine: She's a College of Creation bard, something that stemmed from needing something to keep herself sane growing up in the Abernant home. She channeled her studies of the cosmos and magic into songs, and she actually managed to pass herself off as a Conjuration wizard... until she got found out and sent to Aguefort. Luckily, it's the perfect place for her to hone her craft, and she winds up becoming an incredibly well-known songwriter---more on the indie folk side of things than punk rock, but still. (And she does also become the Elven Oracle, if only by accident.)

Kristen: She starts out as a Zealot barbarian under the Church of Helio, but it doesn't take long for her faith to waver, and she eventually falls into the unpredictability and beautiful chaos of the Path of Wild Magic---and eventually multiclasses into an Oath of the Ancients paladin, inspired by claiming Cassandra as a deity. She's got a lot of righteous fury and craziness at her disposal, and she's never gonna back down from a fight.

Fig: While still keeping her rebellious attitude, she decided to still accept the girly side of herself when her horns grew in and be more pastel-punk (kinda like K Tanaka), and she embraced her devil side by becoming a Trickster Domain cleric---specifically, a cleric of Asmodeus. She's still a lover of disguises, a shameless flirt, and has a shaky relationship with the truth, but it's cranked up to eleven due to her serving a deity of all that. She does eventually multiclass into being an Alchemist artificer, which is... just as chaotic as you might expect.

Riz: He's still a detective at heart, of course, but he winds up using his smarts and sneakery to become a School of Illusion wizard. This actually makes him perfectly suited to being the guy who's always trying to figure out the truth, even if his disguise habit is almost as bad as Fig's sometimes, and he takes on his secret-agent style way earlier than in canon. He's not strictly lawful---he's a big fan of finding out loopholes---but he's definitely the team's designated "smart guy."

Gorgug: His subclass was the hardest to figure out, but I decided he would be good as a Cavalier fighter---his martial prowess is still focused on helping and supporting his friends, regardless of whether it's through rage or skill. Eventually, though, he gets inspired by Adaine's creative ways of using magic and multiclasses into a College of Valor bard. And yes, he uses these skills in part to become a band member of hers. Fig is also part of the band.

Fabian: And last but not least, our Fabian got inspired by both Cathilda and a much more sober Hallariel to become a Swashbuckler rogue. His story is kind of an inverse of canon, with him learning from his mother and mother figure more than his father---partly due to the fact that Bill died before canon in this---and gaining a lot more pride from that (and yeah, that includes him introducing himself as "Fabian Seacaster, son of Hallariel Seacaster, the greatest swordfighter who's ever lived!"). But after his Bad Day, he realizes that there's worth in appreciating what his father has to offer, and he becomes a Fiend warlock of Old Bill---Pact of the Chain, of course, so the Hangman can be his familiar.

So, uh... yeah!

[jisungsdaydreamer]

Anti-Romantic | TEASER | CHAPTER 3 OUT NOW!!

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME» · «SERIES MASTERLIST»

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!reader Genre: non idol au, fluff, smut, romcom, drama, opposites attract Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, dysfunctional relationships, taboo couples/relationship therapist and patient dynamic

P.S. ♡ If you like my work, please consider giving me feedback in the form of reblogs, comments, and asks! ♡

As the most beloved dating coach in the sunny state of California, Hyunjin has dealt with all kinds of nightmares— from real desperate housewives and their indifferent husbands to toxic shotgun marriages doomed to fail— and he’s fixed them all. Dubbed the “Love Doctor,” Hyunjin has a PhD in both sociology and broken hearts. Every single day for Hyunjin ends the same: yet another flashy career success and to celebrate, sliding on his rose-tinted glasses and sipping on pink champagne, his perpetual poison.

That was all before you, of course.

For your entire life, you’ve been unlucky in love. From your endless unrequited high school crushes to your situationship who turned out to be gay, love has just never been in the cards for you. It’s all changed you from a hopeless romantic into a pessimist who doesn’t believe in true love. You now make fun of every couple you see, religiously watch wedding fails on Youtube, and absolutely hate romantic comedies. 

But no amount of lackluster girls’ nights or hours thrown into your crappy job can fill the hole in your heart. You’re absolutely lonely. In one last attempt to give love a chance, you ditch your Tinder dates and decide to turn to L.A.’s famous “Love Doctor,” this hotshot relationship therapist all of your friends rave about. 

Barrelling into Dr. Hwang’s office like a cyclone, you bring along your signature stormy attitude and want a remedy to your emotional dry spell, even though you still believe in your heart that counseling won’t work for you. You don’t expect, however, your new intimacy expert to be hotter than hell, definitely not a middle-aged woman ready to lecture you about putting out.

No, Dr. Hwang is more like the Grandmaster of love, the amorous warlock of the West Coast, and with the way he silently strips you with his bedroom eyes the moment you walk in, perhaps even the sex scholar of the Valley. As he slowly disarms your defenses, you do your best not to let him know of your inappropriate fantasies about him. But even worse than your impossibly vivid wet dreams, you’re falling in love with your fucking therapist. Or Hyunjin, as he so charmingly commands you to call him. 

And you try to keep your feelings for him at bay, you really do. But Hyunjin just doesn’t give up, relentlessly tugging at your mind and heart and taking up every quantum of your life. Because after all, the Love Doctor loves a good challenge.

«GENERAL M.LIST» · «NAVIGATION» · «TALK TO ME»

TAGLIST @army-stay-noel, @hwangjuhong, @chizumiyoshi

📢 ©jisungsdaydreamer 2023 | All rights reserved. I do not condone translations or transfers of my work onto other platforms such as Wattpad, AO3, etc. Tumblr is my only platform. Acts of plagiarism are strictly prohibited.

[ohmtoff]

we need more nsfw nerdy nick headcanons🫢

AAAAAA actually so happy you asked for more bc im kinda in love with nerdy nick now lmao (nsfw)

part 1 here

nerdy nick who decided to adopt a dog with you, naming it denji if it’s a boy or makima if it’s a girl.

nerdy nick who’s a part of a dungeons and dragons party that is about to start on a campaign. you better believe he has a pink dice‼️‼️‼️ he already made a long detailed background of his character (a tiefling sorceress) and he already sent it to his dungeon master. for this campaign, though, you decided to try to join and learn the game.

“Okay, so what’s your character idea?”

“Uhhh what about a warlock with a huge ass?”

on session 0 you were lost and tired an hour into the game, while on session 7 you were already in your character cosplay with nick and lasting 6 hours.

nerdy nick who was soooo scared of meeting your friends bc he was worried of being too much and too random and just too nerdy for your friends. he’d act like how he normally would when he first meet new people, making mundane small talk about your relationship and about himself, but you can see that after an hour in that he was exhausted by how he went so quiet.

noticing this you interrupted the convo to talk about the upcoming HoTD season, and you can see his face lighting up. one of your friends who watches the show would chime in and nick would excitedly start talking about it too, yapping about the targaryen lore, surprising but charming everyone of this new confident side of his. your friends also think he’s adorableee when passionate. you would do anything to not make him insecure of his interests anymore.

nerdy nick who got so horny seeing you cosplay as his favorite character for halloween that he made you keep the costume on when having sex. you had him exposed on his back that night, legs spread and high against your shoulders. “Fu—uck, oh fuck me harder, please,” he pathetically whined, and you loudly moaned, pounding harder into his hole, punching out loud but tiny ‘uh-huh!’s out of him with each thrust as drool slides down his chin. He absolutely looked well-fucked. his warm walls clenched as he came and shouted “Choso!” while he spurted across his stomach. The squeeze was enough for you to groan inside him, pumping him full of your warm cum.

“Did you actually just call me choso when you came?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

nerdy nick whose insecurities run deep bc not only did he grow up heavier than his brothers, he was also more invisible. he did have friends, but his tendency to ramble and lack of fashion sense made him less popular and desired. you can see it in how he always uses a top; be it in the beach, or sleeping, and sometimes even during sex. so when he met you he didn’t know what to do with all your compliments. he would just blush so hard and he’ll pretend to get mad at you like “shut uuuup! stop lying” and you’d unrelentingly smother him with kisses while calling him your “pretty boy” “handsome man” and all other praises that he deserves.

you make sure to make him know that he’s beautiful by worshiping the fuck out of his body. you’d pepper kisses from his thigh up to his tummy where he’s still covered by his shirt. it was one of those times when he’d not want to take off his shirt during sex because he felt more insecure than usual. you’d whisper mantras of praises along with the wet kisses, making him giggle and shudder bc your breath along the inside of his thigh tickled. “so, so pretty. how could you ever find it in yourself to not love this?” you emphasized the word with a bite of his thigh a strand away from his cock. you’d dedicate that night to just pleasing him, letting him fuck hard into your mouth, his hips ragged and desperately thrusting into your throat while you try to not gag on his big cock, your spit falling out of your mouth making his groin wet. you hands crawl up, up, up, driving his shirt upward to flick his nipples. at one point it gets too hot for him so he takes his shirt off and you smirked—success. his body curls and his words came out as broken sobs, wanting more. you pulled your mouth away which made him grip your hair in protest. you looked at the way his body glistened, his face flushed, his legs tremble, and you felt hungry. “Beautiful,” you panted. “So fucking beautiful. Drive me crazy with how beautiful you are. Can’t fucking believe you’re mine. Say you’re mine,” as you furiously fisted his angry red cock with hands soiled with his precum and spit. “i’m yours, i’m yours, i’m yo—AHH!”

he never uses a shirt at the beach again.

a/n: woahhh wtf who wrote that

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 1

We're SO Back

School is back in session y’all!!!!

Fantasy High has returned to us after a long break and I am thrilled to come out of my recapping hiatus to bring back the Report Card for Junior Year! You know I could let my favorite chaotic high schoolers go un-analyzed! 

This episode wastes no time in getting started so neither will I. Brennan makes what I think is a very strong narrative choice by starting us in media res at the end of a classic Bad Kids adventure. It is the summer between Sophomore and Junior Year and the party has spent the last four months hot on the trail of the dreaded Night Yorb.

We catch up to our Intrepid Heroes in the Red Waste and they’re trying to catch up to the Night Yorb which is a big, eldritch, manta ray like monster who threatens to plunge the entire world into darkness, creating a very slow (but still effective!) apocalypse! The Night Yorb is flanked by its groupies, made up of members of the many cults dedicated to it (collectively known as “Yorbies”).

As I said, the Bad Kids are hot on its trail, in (and on) the Hangvan. Gorgug (who has been leaning more into his Artificer vibes lately) has outfitted the top of the Hangvan with a solar lasso that can be used to capture and reel in the Night Yorb so that Fig and Adaine can defeat it with a magical sigil. I’m gonna quickly run down where everyone is and what they’re doing:

Adaine and Fig are both standing on top of the Hangvan in order to spring the sigil when the time comes. Adaine is also joined by Boggy and a new addition, Moggy the Doggy (aka, Mordekainen’s Faithful Hound), which is a very round, very cute, very invisible Pomeranian looking dog. 

Gorgug is also up top with them because he’s manning the solar lasso. 

Fabian is inside the Hangvan along with Baby (aka Wretchrot, aka Fig’s screeching blood imp who has no mechanical benefit unless she takes another level of Warlock as Brenan keeping reminding us) and Ecaf, a mirror with a sultry voice that Fabian is *heavily* flirting with, much to everyone’s discomfort. It’s tres Narcissus. (Also, ha, Face backwards. I see you Brennan).

Kristen is in the back with Fabian and Riz is driving, even though he is WAY too small to effectively be driving a Gorgug sized van. 

The Hangman–Fabian’s trusty motorcycle/hellhound–is out in front of the Hangvan.

Also Squeem is on the roof with the others! Beloved, fan favorite Squeem!

Yeah, so this episode does a thing of pretending like we’re jumping into the last episode of an arc that we’ve seen every episode of and introducing characters in a very Sam Reich, “He’s been there this whole time” way even though it’s their first appearance. I think it’s very funny and it reminds me of that Community episode where they’re all flashing back to episodes that never aired. But anyway, I mention this so that if I mention a name and you’re like “Whomst?” it’s probably just a bit, you’re not forgetting a major character.

Anyway, we’re joining this chase already in progress which means our kids are hurt and down spell slots but their opponents are as well. The distribution is pretty uneven–Adaine is way less hurt than Fabian and Kristen for instance, which honestly checks out (curious how they decided on that though). 

Because this episode is just one big battle sequence for the most part, I’m going to follow the precedent I set in the recaps for The Seven and just give the highlights in bullets and then do an analysis on where all the Bad Kids are right now at the end:

Murph comes in hot, using his first action of the new season to shoot his gun and doing 30 points of damage with a 27 to hit. New year, new Murph! 

Siobhan invokes the corn cuties debacle from fight one and all the falling off the tables that happened. Clearly, a bit of Adaine’s oracle energy is rubbing off on her because the next thing that happens in that Fabian decides to jump on top of the Hangvan to cast Faerie Fire on the Night Yorb (which has shrouded itself in magical darkness), rolls the first Nat 1 of the season, absolutely eats it, and gets run over by Riz–narrowly avoiding going down. He’s ultimately fine–The Hangman comes and picks him up–but it’s not a very auspicious star from Master Fabian. 

Emily and Murph have a cute moment of womping Brennan back to back by using Silvery Barbs to make him reroll two attacks on the Hangvan–one of which is a crit–and then giving each other the advantage on the next roll.

Kristen is a real pillar in this encounter–holding up the Circle of Power spell that allows her friends to ignore big chunks of damage that absolutely would have dropped them. But throughout the entire fight, her patron goddess, Cassandra, keeps trying to talk to her and Kristen keeps leaving her on read–we’ll get more into that in a bit. 

Adaine comes in clutch with a Nat 1 portent roll to stop the NIght Yorb from resisting Gorgug’s attempt to reel it in further. Truly, the best time to roll a Nat 1 in this game. Divination Wizards are awesome!

We learn that “Don’t Speak of the Night Yorb” is more than just a silly bit when Fig realizes that saying its name makes it heal up which isn’t great because they’ve been *very* cavalier about invoking its name. 

Squeem gets a big emotional goodbye with Gorgug on top of the Hangvan, heroically leaps off to fend off some Yorbies…and then rolls a 2 and totally faceplants. No! Squeem! Beloved fan favorite Squeem! They already had to revivify you once! 

On the Night Yorb’s turn, Brennan does an attack and shakes so many dice that it sounds like maracas. It’s 61 points of damage and squishy wizard Adaine goes down, but everyone else stays up–large in part due to Kristen’s aforementioned Circle of Power. (Siobhan, describing how bad her saving rolls were zings two separate friends saying, “It was Fabian level nasty. I fucking Murph’d it.”)

Luckily, Fig and Gorgug are up on the roof with Adaine so she does not go sliding off the van when she goes down. They catch her before she can fall. 

At this point the Van has sustained a lot of damage so Murph reminds the teacher that they have homework/Brennan that they have to roll for a mishap. That turns out to be the breaks blowing out. Now, all the Van can do is accelerate! It’s just like the movie Speed!

Two more characters who we totally know and have been here this whole time show up to help–Balthazar and Duggan McCann! A cool grizzled veteran and a centaur cowboy. Riz immediately starts doing cool guy banter with them because he’s somehow convinced them that he’s cool (which he is for the record, just in a completely different way lol). Unfortch, Baz almost right away gets eaten by the NIght Yorb. Who’s gonna take care of his litter (?) of parrots?????

 At this point in the fight, everyone gets a ping on their crystals, reminding them that school starts in three days. This stresses everyone out more than the fight that they’re currently in. 

Fig brings up Adaine with a Healing Word but she immediately has to do Wis save with the rest of the party. She and Fabian fail, but once again Fabian is saved by fear negating effects of his dad’s eyepatch. So Adaine starts to have a panic attack about the fact that she’s fighting the Night Yorb while standing on the roof of a moving vehicle which, real talk, very normal and valid reaction. In fact, probably concerning that she’s reached a point in her life where that *isn’t* the default reaction. 

The Hangvan is coming up on a jump it’ll have to make to continue following the Night Yorb (and it can’t even try to stop because the brakes are cut). Riz fails the roll which means that the van is probably going to fall on its side. Adding insult to injury, a pillar of rock falls and is going to crash into the van, doing even more major damage. 

Fig watches this, and almost dissociates, feeling the weight of the entire summer taken from them to do this quest. Feeling so so tired. Feeling the fact that even if they win, they’re just gonna have to go back to school and adventure some more. A piece of magic she’s been holding inside of for a long time flickers and she hears an enticing voice whisper in her ears. “If you would take me, you know what you would save.” She smells a sour, curdled scent and she knows that if she says yes, she can save her friends. Maybe there’s another way, but she just wants this to be over. “I’m yours,” Fig says. 

There’s a flash of “lemony, yellow, creamy” light (hmmmm) and the rock stops falling. The Hangvan starts righting itself.

And then there’s a sick gurgle from Fig’s stomach. 

Uh-oh, gang. 

For those of you who are new to these recaps, every week, I give one PC Detention and put one on the Honor Roll for their in-game actions. We’re starting off hot this semester with:

Detention 

Kristen Applebees for Being a BAD Friend to Cassandra 

Like, OK. Faith is complicated. Kristen’s relationship with religion is complicated. Being a cleric is complicated. But notice that I didn’t say being a bad *cleric*. I said being a bad *friend*. To be clear, she’s also being a bad cleric, and I’ll talk about that later. But having understandably conflicted views on religion doesn’t make sliding in your Fantasy Airpods while the being who is essentially a lonely teen girl and who is keeping you and all your friends alive tries to talk to you NOT seem like a giant dick move. Come on girl, get it together. 

Honor Roll

Brennan Lee Mulligan for Being a Great DM!

I realized as I was writing this that I’ve given Brennan Detention but never Honor Roll so he’s getting it today. It feels so good to have him back in the dome with the kids and he drew me back into the world, right away. I’m so psyched that we have a full season of this ahead of us! 

CHARACTER CHECK-INS

Like I said earlier, because this is the first episode back, I want to really quickly check in with all of the Bad Kids and where they are, character-wise. I’m going to do this roughly from least concerning to me to most concerning to me. 

-Adaine: Adaine seems like she’s living her best life. She has her frog! She has her dog! Her character art is so much more chill and she’s coming into her own. This season, I’m hoping we get to see more of her relationship with her sister (yes, I’m a predictable bitch. Sue me) and with Zayn (who is also living at Mordred in her tower) who I think has a lot of potential to be an interesting supporting character with more spotlight. But yeah, go Adaine! 

-Gorgug: Gorgug is making his parents proud (not that they ever weren’t) by taking another artificer level. He’s not a 7/3 Barb/Art split. I love that he’s gone from calling himself dumb to taking on this very technical skill. He also apparently has a homunculus? Fascinated to see what that looks like. 

-Riz: Now that his big investigation is over and he knows his dad is a cool secret agent, Riz has switched his subclass from Inquisitor to Arcane Trickster which means he’s got tons of gadgets and that he’s a ring guy now. Love that for him. He’s very much not a chill person though so I’m very curious to know what the next thing he’ll latch onto is. He the kind of guy who always need something going on, you know? 

-Fabian: Fabian is a fancy, dance boy now (6/4 Fighter/Bard)! But that doesn’t mean he’s any less athletic. I mean, have you ever seen a male ballerina? He still is, however, a total disaster. And I mean that affectionately. I mean, his current love interest (?) is a mirror that is showing a fuzzy reflection of his own face. My guy, what are you doing? Although I will say, idk if that’s more or less toxic than him dating Aelwyn. 

-Kristen: Kristen. GIRL. 

OK, so first of all. There is nothing inherently wrong with getting super jacked and like, respect. But in this context it feels like a red flag. Like the kind of thing you do because you’re on the rocks with your girlfriend or if you’ve recently broken up. I will be *very* interested to know what Tracker is up to as she’d not mentioned in this episode. Last we heard, she was out doing cleric stuff for the Moon Goddess, right? Long distance can be hell on a relationship. (Also, idk how seriously we’re supposed to take this but Ally mentioned the one shot it happened in in this episode so Kristen was also totally trying to flirt with a college girl in that college visit oneshot. Brennan shut it down pretty quick, but it very much did happen). 

Also, speaking of cleric stuff, Cass. I feel SO bad for Cass. Like, a god isn’t owed followers, but Kristen chose that role. She CHOSE it. This isn’t like a Helio situation. Cass wasn’t pushy. She specifically says in this episode that she doesn’t want to be pushy. Hell, she says in the episode where she’s introduced that if people don’t want her around she’ll go away. But Kristen chose to be her follower, knowing what the implications of being the sole follower of a goddess is. Cass is made in her image. That’s how deeply entwined they are. Her goddess is made in her image. In The Seven, we learn that Ost’s god hasn’t talked to anyone in years. Kristen has Cass coming in like a mom offering snacks mid battle and Kristen is leaving her on read! It’s honestly kinda hard to watch her be so blithely dismissive of someone so dependent on her even though it’s played off as kind of a joke. I felt like I was watching a loyal puppy get kicked every time they interacted. 

And like, I said this before, Cassandra is made in Kristen’s image. But specifically, she looks like Sophomore year Kristen. Still all skinny and still in her tie-die shirt and shorts. There is a definite vibe of almost wanting to kill the part of yourself that embarasses you, you know? It feels like she's being mean to Cass but also to herself. 

Also, mechanically speaking, it’s wild to be just ignoring the person you’re getting your powers from like this. Like, this is real Wizard behavior. You don’t have to answer to anyone if you studied for your magic but you absolutely do as a cleric. Does Kristen even want to be a cleric? It honestly doesn’t seem like it. She’s shown a pattern of behavior of chafing at every god put in her path, even the ones she literally made up. I thought Cass might be the end of her searching, but we’re right back on the Merry Go Round. The party absolutely needs a healer though so idk how she deals with that. 

I saw the snipped clip of Ally’s interview about Kristen’s arc this season involving what happens when chaos stops being cute, and I can def see seeds being planted. Fascinated to see how they explore that because this feels like a real ticking time bomb of a situation. 

Oh also, her Dex went DOWN????? GIRL!

Fig: I had a lot more to say about Kristen but Fig has to be last on the list for making a deal with a literal devil lol. Like, classic Fig though, right? This WOULD happen. Emily talked about potentially retiring Fig and getting reeled in by some enticing plot hook from Brennan and it feels like we might be about to find out what that is. I won’t speculate on it too much right now because we’re presumably about to find out but there were a LOT of yogurt themed adjectives when that magic activated which has me very split on whether this is about to be deeply concerning or deeply silly. Or both! It could be both! 

Random Thoughts

I LOVE that we have a proper theme song now. It feels so fitting and I love the opening art and it’s all so cool. The show’s so profesh now!

Also, shout out to @caitmayart for making the new art! It has the quality of a professional and the extra love of a fan. It’s my fave D20 official art so far. 

I don’t know when this feature was added but I love that there is a full transcript you can pull up and search and jump to that time in the video now. That’s gonna be SO useful for me. 

One of my favorite things about Adaine is that she’s generally polite but occasionally she’ll just absolutely verbally decimate someone so casually and this episode she said to the Solesian Yorbie they encountered, “What movie theater were you assistant managing before you decided to become a Yorbie?” Brutal. 

Also love how vehement she was about the fact that Brennan couldn’t touch Moggy, even when she went down. You are absolutely NOT gonna kill that dog Brennan.  

“Object interaction, touch Gorgug’s foot.”

Fig asks Gorgug how they can heal a van and he says, “Take it to a shop for 3-4 days.” Zac, underrated comic genius. 

I really can’t overstate how funny it is that Fabian spends most of this episode flirting with his own reflection. I’ve said this many times but something I love about Lou is that he’s not afraid to make Fabian deeply uncool, even though Fabian’s whole thing is being as cool as possible. 

Kristen says she needs to have an intense conversation with Cassandra when the fight is over and what does that mean? Like a breakup conversation? Which I guess would kill her because then she’d have no followers again? I am, como se dice, concerned. 

Also, just looking ahead, Tracker is also a cleric. A pretty faithful one from what I can tell. I have to wonder what her take on Kristen completely neglecting her goddess and church is. 

I think it’s so funny that Emily was thinking about retiring Fig so she could just ride off into the sunset with her cool rockstar life and awesome girlfriend because Riz’s big thing last year was being worried all his friend would pair up and leave him so for him to accept it and then have his fears validated right away would be like, welp. 

At a certain point, Murph has to roll damage and he rolls 45 out of a possible 50 damage. That’s crazy. Let’s see how long that luck holds.

[rowanyx]

So in the Adventuring Party, Brennan asked Beardsley whether there is a world in which Kristen gives up being a Cleric.

Mechanics-wise, I understand why the response was a no. That kind of big change would have a lot of restructuring to do, from the character sheet to minis to even plot changes, which would be difficult mid-season like this. (See Riz's sub-class change from Inquisitor to Arcane Trickster happening now, rather than when we actually met Pok)

Story-wise, though, I respectfully disagree. In fact, I posit there is many a world in which Kristen could change her class.

The big one, I think, would be Paladin. Especially either Redemption or Oathbreaker. After all, you could easily argue that this whole situation (i.e. Cassandra seeing Kristen not putting her priesthood first, dying, and the new mysterious voice that taunted the party with the rotting corpse of the god Kristen already failed) cumulates into exactly the type of description for an Oathbreaker (going back on their word and then joining up with some evil entity instead). And, well, after two gods dying, one you've very much stated to want to be good for but can't get yourself to do so, sounds very much like the type of person that would seek Redemption. If not for themselves, at least for others.

And this could also work to show sort of backslide into the Applebee's family drama. After all, we know Bucky just started as a Paladin himself. He's probably not high enough leveled to have a sub-class of his own, but doesn't Redemption fit? The kid who was forced into Kristen's old role, who is already going around trying to save his classmates from Hell? If Kristen did switch to Paladin, they would most likely share classes (something like Gorgug's Artificier track, school-wise). A perfect opportunity to flesh out the relationship there, either to save Bucky from Mac and Donna or have him 'save' Kristen.

Of course, these are just two of the easier paths to see.

Porter did want another Bad Kid in his classes, didn't he?

Maybe Kristen finds she desires a guide and becomes a Totem Warrior Barbarian.

Maybe Kristen decides that just because her parents suck, doesn't mean the whole bloodline did. This causes her to delve into old records and come out of it as a Path of the Ancestral Guardian Barbarian.

Another idea, given the Buff Kristen movement, is a Fighter. Especially the training and power describing a Champion or the fighting spirit of a Samurai, to lose so many gods and keep going.

Or maybe she finds the issue is the evangelizing. That she cannot dedicate herself to bringing others into her path, but still desiring a higher being to help her. There are many to make a Warlock Contract with. She's even living with one, technically, by way of Fig's Archdevil job.

You could even argue for an Eloquence Bard, with all the speeches and now the Presidency campaign.

Or hey, Cassandra was a moon goddess, wasn't she? Maybe even a Lunar Sorcerer.

Unlikely but theoretically possible, she's just desperate to fix something and takes up Artificing. After all, how different can a Battle Smith really be? It's still healing and protecting, right?

Or, let's revisit an old topic. At the top of the game, Kristen was called the Chosen One. We saw that title following her even after leaving Helio. Sol treated her kindly for it, she invented YES! and even reinvented it into YES?. An argument can even be made that that's part of why Cassandra was fixed so easily after clinging to her. But what is that? Where is that power from? Perhaps some new magic awakens in Kristen. That of a Divine Soul Sorcerer.

Just, Kristen, taking a hard look at religion and Clericdom and deciding maybe it wasn't right for her.

[lawsofchaos1]

Promptlet: Malec Early Meeting

Izzy and Jace start clubbing early because Shadowhunters consider themselves adults around fourteen when they begin full mission status at the Institute. So, sixteen year old Alec just sighs and brings his Advanced Clave Law seminar work to Pandemonium and sits in the corner of the bar with a thick legal text and his battered spiral notebook for his rough draft essays. He doesn’t care if Jace and Izzy are taking field assignments, they’re still his little siblings and need a chaperone.

Magnus, obviously, starts hearing gossip from his bemused bartenders about the young nephilim downing club sodas with lime while frantically highlighting a battered copy of the Accords and decides he needs to figure out what's going on. Immediately.

So, Magnus ends up chatting with Alec (who, as it turns out, really likes the Shirley Temple Magnus snaps up for him in what was supposed to be a joke) and starts flipping through Alec's latest homework assignment. Magnus blinks, snaps up another Shirley Temple to keep Alec busy, and carefully reads the essay twice over, pulling out his own notebook (bound leather and fountain pen with a gold nib of course) halfway through. Alec found a loophole, a big loophole, that would exempt Downworlders from being questioned without notification to their faction leader. 

Alec is an absolute disaster of a baby gay whenever Magnus so much as says hello or looks in his general direction, but, once he starts arguing the Law? He is vicious and ruthless and sharply concise. (Although Magnus becomes a little bit of a disaster himself when Alec absentmindedly starts chewing on his cherry stem while debating the finer points of interpreting The Clave vs. HOTI-Beijing, 1823.)

Ragnor comes over all the way from England just to see Magnus utterly lose his cool at this now seventeen year old shadowhunter who is literally drinking Shirley Temples and eating his weight in the extra cherries the bartenders slip him because they adore him too. Also, in terms of relationship dynamics? I think it would be kind of fun to explore Alec having a gigantic crush on Magnus (and Magnus just kind of utterly adoring Alec in turn between his obvious looks and, more importantly, his intelligence and his sharp humor and just .. everything) but also realizing that Alec is seventeen.

Alec is much more open (not that he had a snowball's chance in hell of hiding his Gigantic Crush on the High Warlock from anyone in Pandemonium except his siblings), and wages what amounts to pretty much open warfare to get Magnus to date him. He's insistent that Shadowhunters don't mature as slowly as mundanes (which.. fair) and makes bulleted lists and actions plans for every reason Magnus tries to say he deserves better/Magnus is too old/Alec is too young/etc.

And.. just how the Downworlders slide a stray Shirley Temple across the table for advice? Alec starts bringing little vouchers for a certain amount of advice time (or maybe little cupcakes or chocolate chip cookies that he makes for Jace and Izzy or something?) and slides them furtively across the table.

"Where might one take the High Warlock of Brooklyn out on a date?"

And then somehow two days later Magnus ends up in Central Park responding to a call from one of his warlocks and instead Alec is waiting there with a picnic lunch and a blanket and looking very, very smug.

This teenage Shadowhunter is outsmarting him. What even is this?

Also, Can you imagine the first time an old fling of Magnus' portals in to Pandemonium for the evening, expecting a night of fun, and the moment they ask where Magnus is at the bar, every Downworlder in hearing distance is glaring? Suddenly a good dozen wolves and vampires put aside their decades old fights and start running interference to keep this brazen interloper away from where Alec is holding court ranting about the Clave's shoddy grammar and lack of consistent position on Oxford commas (which, how dare) and how that can be used to interpret their latest ruling in three different ways, depending on what side you want to fight on.

(Magnus is sighing and staring dreamily from across the table.)

One day, Camille starts her usual nastiness and trying to get Magnus to come crawling back and Magnus feels .. nothing for her. The only thing Magnus feels is rage that Camille would try to interfere when he's clearly ... dating someone now.

And Magnus blinks wildly internally because holy shit he's dating Alec. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN MAGNUS DOES NOT KNOW

I do think Magnus would hold off on anything physical until Alec was what Magnus considered of age, so think how fun it would be to explore how the two of them date when their primary love language can't include sex?

Think of all the cuddles and the literal sleeping together and the hand holding and the forehead kisses and, excuse me but did I mention the cuddles? I really want Magnus and Alec cuddling on Magnus' throne at Pandemonium after a hard patrol and Alec falling asleep and all the Downworlders just kind of cooing at their very favorite nephilim.

(I also imagine an impressively oblivious pair of siblings who don't realize their brother isn't just moping in a corner while they dance for literal years.)

When Alec is older maybe Jace and Izzy start trying to subtly tell him it's okay to be gay, he doesn't have to hide it - they'll still love him, and Alec is just .. like .... 'what are you talking about?' as he smugly claims his gorgeous boyfriend.

[florianniss]

Dungeons and Drag Queens

RatedE, Identityporn, drag queen!eddie for @steddie-week July 3: Long / mutual pining / Holding Me by Warlock

The feel is silky and light between his fingers, cornflower blue and not particularly racy. Steve holds the hanger against his chest and looks down, trying to decide if he should get the medium or the large bottoms to go with it. He does some quick math as he looks at the measurements on the tag. They’re both —

“Can I help you?”

Steve comes fucking unglued. He throws the bra and panty set in front of his face to protect himself against attack. He’d been so careful to avoid all the sales clerks. This lady must have been lurking behind the return rack, just waiting for him to make his move.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, but looks pleased with herself. “Looking for something for your girlfriend?”

“I wish,” Steve mutters as he fixes the strap on the hanger. What he wouldn’t do to make that happen.

“Excuse me?” 

Steve looks up and meets her eyes. She’s probably his mom’s age, her hair teased so high it’s clear she’s trying to look younger. It makes it only slightly less embarrassing, considering he’s been caught feeling up the ladies' lingerie on the upper floor of JCPenneys.

“Uh. Yeah.”

Her smile is knowing; she gets he’s covering up something. “Well, what size is she? Maybe I can help.”

Steve understands she makes a commission, but this is ridiculous. “Um. Well. She’s about my size.”

The woman blinks. “Your size. You mean your height?”

Steve thinks back. With the heels? Yeah. Without?

“No. She’s shorter.” He doesn’t know what this has to do with buying underwear.

She looks at him now like he’s stupid. “And what’s her bust size?”

Steve panics and stares at her. She takes his increased breathing rate for later stages of stupidity. Her shoulders heave a great sigh and she points at one of the mannequins who sports handful-sized boobs. “Bigger or smaller than that.”

It’s good that Steve deals in motorcycles for a living. He’s failing miserably at everything else. “Uh. Smaller. Pretty — pretty flat, actually.”

Steve notices for the first time her name tag says ‘Robin.’ Oh, how his friend would be laughing at him right now.

Robin gives him a look that for sure means she’s sorry for whoever this girlfriend is. “All right. I’m not sure this is the best option for her, then. How about if we try something else?”

Steve nods his head. Because apparently he’s a spineless weakling.

Robin the sales clerk takes him to a rack of nightgowns and pulls a silky cream colored, long floor-length thing that’s more wedding than sleeping attire.

“All the girls love this,” she says, fanning out the dress so it’s skirt twirls. “I’ve sold so many of these I’ve lost count.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest so he doesn’t touch it and imagine smooth skin beneath the beaded bodice. He’s suddenly picturing long brown hair cascading over bare shoulders, and he wants one too.

“But blue,” he asks. It’s got to be blue.

“OK,” she hums and searches through the rack until finding one in powder blue. “Any particular reason?”

Steve wonders if she’s pushing the cream ones on him because there are dozens still on the rack. He stands his ground. “Her eyes are big and brown. And I think blue would be pretty on her.”

Robin gives him the first genuine smile as she searches his face for something. “That’s nice.”

She hands over the nightie and Steve is careful to only touch the curved part of the hanger.

“Anything else I can help you with?”

Steve looks longingly over one shoulder at the lacy blue lingerie set and wonders if his Robin might agree to pick it up later.

“No. That’s it.”

To be continued on AO3

[raccoonfallsharder]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day five machinery✷.⁺⋆˚₊

semi-romantic angst & fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | minific | word count: 1,946.

Ka-chunk-hnk. Ka-chunk-hnk. 

Rocket scrubs his knuckles against the fur and flesh that have grown over his metal sternum. His ribs strain like creaky bellows, lungs splitting and bruising against the bones. It’s been like this sometimes, since before he can remember — but lately it’s a chronic condition. 

Ever since the High Evolutionary’s voice had echoed over the comms on the Bowie, lethal and shrill. 

Rocket sits at a table across the street from Nebula’s offices, and waits. His fingers drum on the pretty, dusty mosaic surface. 

Ka-chunk-hnk. Ka-chunk-hnk. 

You step out of the doorway, back arching as you stretch. Nebs must’ve had you hunched over datascreens all day — a waste of eye candy, he’d think, if he’d let himself tap too far into his old jackass-habits. Not that it matters — he’s already been preparing to be an absolute, unforgivable dickhead to you, ever since he woke up the rotation before last and decided he couldn’t bear the sound of it anymore.

Ka-chunk-hnk. Ka-chunk-hnk. 

“Hey,” he calls out, voice low and carrying. “You. New kid. Buttercup.”

Your eyes swivel, wide and startled. Shimmery. He kinda hates that about you, except no he doesn’t. He scowls when you look at him and tap your chest, brow creasing in confusion. Who, me? he imagines you uttering, voice perplexed.

Yeah. You. 

He points at you with two fingers, then slashes them toward the chair opposite him. He can see you hesitate — then you’re drifting across the street like a leaf in a stream, eddying around little obstacles and whirlpools as they arise. It takes too long, but you’re finally sinking into the seat across from him.

“Captain?” you say politely, and he tries to hide his scoff. Nothing says new kid on Knowhere quite like deference. Still, it’ll be useful for him today.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I gotta job for you.”

You blink those gorgeous eyes of yours. “Me?”

He rolls his eyes and tries not to let himself feel bad about exploiting you — all that kindness, that generosity, sitting right there on the surface, ripe for manipulation. “I need you to get me something outta Pete’s old place.”

You blink those starry eyes again. He really needs you to stop doing that, ‘cause it’s killing him. “Pe — Star-Lord’s apartment?” 

He grunts and flicks his eyes back towards Nebula’s door. “Yup.” He lingers on the y, and pops the p. “Super-confidential, very-official, super-frickin’-secret Guardians-mission. Can you do it?”

“I — what do you want me to do?”

Ka-chunk-hnk. Ka-chunk-hnk. 

And this is how you end up slipping through the barely open door of the legendary, absentee Star-Lord’s bedroom: all for a captain with pretty, heartbreaking almandine eyes. 

You’re such a sap.

But Rocket had given you an override hex for Peter Quill’s rooms, and you don’t see how you can refuse him anything, so in you go, even though you know he’s fucking lying about — well, everything related to this so-called mission, you’re sure. No-one has touched this room since Star-Lord left a few cycles before you’d arrived — other than to fix the Warlock-shaped hole in the wall and window, anyway.  Kraglin, Groot, and Nebula all insist he’ll be back soon, and so the apartment remains as he’d left it. 

You glance around, and sure enough, there’s the treasure Rocket had sent you to find, sitting on a rickety high shelf: a dense ball of bulging white tissue, pressed like dough into a silvery, skeletal cage. 

You pick up the sphere. It’s heavy in your hand, like it has its own field of gravity — and you suppose, in a way, it does. Turning it, you recognize the OrgoCorps logo, and it’s the final confirmation you need. You slide the sphere into the pouch on your belt, and you slip from the room, shutting the door behind you. 

“Don’t let Nebs see you,” Rocket had warned. “Don’t let anybody see you.” He’d muttered something your translation chip had haltingly tried to identify as fuckin’ narks. “She’ll be all over my ass if she finds out.” He’d looked up at you, those almandine eyes suddenly narrowing shrewdly, and had said, “You understand what I’m asking you to do, right? You’re the frickin’ fall-guy.” 

“Got it,” you’d said mildly, unbothered. So now here you are, tapping with raindrop-light fingers on Rocket’s apartment door. It swings open and you slide in off the street seamlessly, and he’s got his hand in the pouch at your hip before the door’s even closed behind you.

You jolt at the brush of heat and his intrusive nearness, but he’s already got the record-sphere in his hand, turning his back to you and striding toward the… bed? It’s a slab of cold metal with a ragged blanket and no pillows, and you do a double-take around the room. Nope, that’s definitely the closest thing the poor guy has to a bed. 

The Captain’s fucking miserable. 

Still, you’ve decided that light-hearted sarcasm is the best way to engage for now. 

“Geez,” you snip playfully. “Buy a person dinner first.” 

He startles, tossing you a wide-eyed look over his shoulder that’s too shocked and vulnerable to allow you any satisfaction. But then he rolls his eyes and huffs out a disgruntled sound of annoyance, and begins connecting the ball of white tissue to a handful of datapads and small machines he’s got set on the bed. 

“Sit,” he rumbles with a gesture at the hunk of scrapmetal masquerading as a mattress. He already got his eyes locked on the numbers and letters as they  scroll up on the screens, and he’s glaring at them mutinously. “Or get out.” 

You hesitate. But the fact that he’s opened a spot for you in his apartment at all feels like an indicator that he doesn’t want to be alone, even if he’s too frightened to bring any of… whatever-this-is to his friends. Instead, he stands beside the bed, typing shit into his datapads and screens, and you perch on the spot beside them, facing him. You take him in as he works: the furrowed brow, and the crinkles along the sides of his nose as he tries not to grimace or snarl. His ears — one alert and forward-facing, and the other swiveled into a half-flattened scrap of fur and flesh. Even his tail looks a different than usual: tensed and bristling, tucked tight against his inner calf. 

“There it is,” he mutters, and his eyes scan the screen. They jump and widen, then scan again. His brow drops and now both ears lay flat, and he reads it all again. The fur on his neck and the backs of his forearms rises.

Then he hisses a curse that the translator can’t pick up at all this time, and he shoves himself away from the screens, pacing back and forth in front of you thrice before throwing himself onto the bed at your other side. Your eyes follow him, wide and startled, as he keeps up the steady stream of indecipherable swearing.

Slowly— cautiously — you turn sideways, pulling one leg onto the bed with you, away from the pile of ramshackle tech so you can study him while you chew your lip. You want to ask what it is he’s discovered, and if he’s okay — but the words stay trapped in your throat, meaningless and hollow. You hesitate, and then sigh, and lower yourself onto your back beside him.

The two of you stare up at the ceiling for what feels like ages. Outside, the lights of Knowhere grow gold, signaling the end of the second wake-shift. Topaz light slants in through the frosted windows at the head of the bed.

“Your bed is a chiropractic nightmare,” you say after a moment, and he whuffs a startled laugh. 

Silence falls again, but it feels easier, curling comfortingly into all the crevices of the room. Maybe it’s because of your comment, or maybe it’s because you aren’t looking at each other. Maybe it’s because you’re no-one at all to him — just Buttercup, the New Kid, Hey You.

But he speaks.

“Ever since — ever since we got back,” he mutters. “Ever since the Arête — my heart’s been acting weird. I thought maybe it was — I thought maybe it had been injured worse that we realized, or maybe—“

His voice crackles away, and you don’t chase it. You just wait in the fake sunset-light, watching it warm the shadows. 

“It sounds awful,” he says at last. “Like, yours—“ he lifts a hand above you both and taps out a rhythm on the air with deft fingers. “—thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.” You can hear the grimace in his mouth. “That’s a good heart. That’s a healthy, normal-person heart. But mine—“ He curls his clawed fingers into a strangling fist, and twists viciously. “Ka-chunk-hnk. Ka-chunk-hnk.”

He drops his hand to his abdomen.

“It’s not fuckin’ good,” he mutters, and his voice is so desolate that your belly suddenly twists and that space behind your eyes tightens. “It’s not… I always knew it didn’t work right.” He makes a tortured noise in his throat that sounds like it’s trying to be a laugh. “But the records say everything’s operating like it should be, so I guess I’m just a messed-up little—“

You roll suddenly. If you’d been thinking clearly, you never would’ve moved so quickly, and later you’ll be grateful that he didn’t lash out at you with startled, defensive claws. But all you can think is to offer him some sort of solace, some sort of peace. 

So you press your ear to his chest.

On the other side of the Indigarran cotton, you feel heat and fur, flesh and metal. He stiffens— frozen beneath you, and then shivering with an uncertainty you’re sure he’d never let show on his face. He smells like fireworks and whiskey and forests in late autumn, and beyond that — a touch or two faster than yours — you can feel the quiet thump of his heart. It’s a little quicker and jumpier than you’d expected, but the longer you lay with your cheek to his chest, the steadier it grows. 

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.

“It sounds like a good heart to me,” you murmur. “I don’t hear what you hear in it — not at all.”

There’s a crackling, staticky quiet, and then he makes a wounded little sound deep in his chest, and you feel it rumble up under your cheek. His hand shifts from his abdomen and his fingers are suddenly cradling the back of your head, holding you against him. 

“You don’t hear it?” His voice is agonized. Desperate. “You really don’t—?”

You can’t shake your head with the way he’s wrapped around you, his other arm coming up to join the first, almost clinging. And you — well, you don’t want to give him any reason to think that you’re not perfectly content to stay like this. “Definitely not,” you tell him. “I’m no doctor, of course, but — it sounds beautiful to me. It sounds like it works far better than you ever realized.”

Your head shifts as he lets out an exhalation so long and splintered that you suddenly wonder if he’s been holding his breath ever since he got back from CounterEarth.

“I thought—“ His words are all hushed and creased, puffing into the air and then tumbling to the metal cot around you like crumpled balls of paper. “I thought maybe it wasn’t a real heart,” he says raggedly. “I thought maybe it was just a — a broken machine.”

You pull your own hand out from beneath you, and you tap out the rhythm just below his collarbone. 

Thud-thud. Thud-thud. Thud-thud.

“I promise,” you tell him softly. “I can feel it. It’s real.”

lol whatever i'm under 2k words sooooo i am still very cool. (this was a scene i'd had in my brain for like six months. it's the core component of the oneshot i was writing called real but thanks to this "drabble" (i don't think 2k counts as a drabble whateverrrr) i have a new title in mind (broken machinery) and at least part of the main scene written so YAY

day four. family ✷ day six. bite rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

[gay-dorito-dust]

Adam had a mission to get to but unfortunately for him, there was a pivotal part of his attire that was missing; his vibrant red cape.

The golden god couldn’t for the life of him seem to find it anywhere he was most likely to leave it, once again was he was forced to retracing his steps but even further back this time. When he still couldn’t find his red cape anywhere, that’s when he decided to enlist your help in finding his lost belonging because if there was anyone he could go to in times like these, it’d be you without a shadow of a doubt.

‘Y/n. Thank goodness I found you, have you by any chance seen my…cape.’ Adam’s words trailed off when he teleported into your room, only to catch a good eye full of how the familiar red fabric draped across your shoulders like a blanket, swamping you almost entirely with it’s ill fitting, looked suspiciously like the cape he was searching high and low for.

‘Your cape?’ You asked, tugging the fabric closer towards you, almost hesitant to depart from it. ‘Can’t say I have.’

‘I can see it draped over your shoulders.’ Adam retorts. The feeling of seeing you so snug in his cape made the golden being feel things, warm things, and things that were borderline possessive.

‘What? Why would I have your cape that’s a wild assumption Warlock. I’m no cape stealer.’ You replied stubbornly despite knowing that you were caught red handed.

‘Y/n.’ Adam starts and you watch him hold out his hand expectedly. ‘Give me my cape back.’

‘What’s the magic word.’ You said and Adam’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. ‘Magic word?’ He repeats as though the words were foreign to him. ‘There’s a magic word I need to recite in order to get my cape back?’

‘Yeah, there is and it’s please but you ain’t getting it unless you catch me first.’ You were about to leap to your feet and start the chase when a gust of wind picked up and suddenly you were held under Adam’s arm as his red cape was held under his other arm.

‘Does this count as me successfully capturing you?’ Adam asked innocently as you pouted at the lack of warmth. ‘Damn you Warlock, damn you.’ Was all you said.

‘You put yourself in this situation y/n and thus must reap the consequences of your actions but if you wanted to use my cape as a blanket in the first place.’ Adam started. ‘You could’ve just asked without feeling the need to steal it.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ You responded, still a little down from loosing so soon but happy at the same time that Adam was willing you give you his cape in the future. You were also quite glad he didn’t ask why you took it in the first place, as you wouldn’t be quite sure how to explain the negative impact of his departures had on you; So your secret was safe for the time being.

‘Though I do have one question, why did you steal it in the first place?’ Adam then asked.

Never mind.

[achromant]

Achro's 2024 Orctober Masterpost

Below is the list of prompts that i used and some thoughts that went into the sketches. They generally follow the official list from instagram, but i made a few minor changes to it.

You can click on the prompts to hop over to their respective post to see the full pic.

Warrior

Went cyberpunk with this, cause i love simplified futuristic fashion.

Mage

Polar opposite of the warrior. Wanted to do something shapey and flowing. Loosely based on my Isabella concept.

Hunter

Really didnt want to draw some kind of archer, so i went the monster hunter route. People are super horny for this one, which was almost the intention.

Priest

Tried to avoid the catholic niche, so i went with modern hazard suits. I imagine there is a very hands-on department of the church that cleanses cursed areas, like a magical cleaning service.

Rogue

Honestly, i just went for the dark gold contrast. Love me some shiny.

Druid

Just didnt want to do a green druid. Luckily, it was time for orange, so it got this nice autmnal feeling. Wanted to do a werewolf initially, but i was in the mood for something a bit more chonky. Sometimes you just need a bit more fluff, yknow?

Pirate

Oh, ya-har-har. It's a pirate! Well, a dead one, at least. I forgot why i killed him, but he probably burned alive with his ship. idiot.

Alchemist

I named him Pickles. The 5 on his helmet connects to the Five of Chalices. In tarot, that card stands for loss and mourning. I imagine that Pickles tries to replace the blood in a body with wine to achieve eternal life. He is also an idiot.

Warlock

i made eight different version for this. Still hate it. He is probably the lost brother of Pickles, but got his eternal life from a deal with something more sinister. More intelligent than his brother, at least in theory.

Barbarian

Another one that took multiple attempts. Still havent decided whether he deserves pants. Might paints something a bit more spicy with him later though.

Shaman

This one is just high.

Paladin

The idea with the shield was that it looks somewhat normal from the front, but has this nice stained glass effect only visible to those behind the paladin. His story revolves around a lost lover he failed to protect, and now he's on a journey of vengenance and self-discovery.

Death Knight

Went a bit more demon than death, but oh well. Will defintetly use him as an enemy somewhere in the story.

Archer

Based this one on Lara Croft, obviously. Didn't want to give him a bow at first. Still don't think he deserves one.

Necromancer

Honestly, this is just the standard ugly little hunchback character, but people are very adamant that he's a character from Legend Of Zelda. He's not, he is obviously from the same universe as Hatsune Miku.

Demon Hunter

Colleague of the warrior. Probably the reason the priest needs to work overtime. Actually, no, he's warrior's boyfried now.

Bard

Oh, this one is a character i made a few years ago. He's the protagonist of a story i'm writing. The skull on the head of his instrument is that of his former teacher.

Monk

Needed another round boy. Not quite satisfied with this one, but the direction is nice.

Mercenary

Probably a friend of the warrior/demon hunter. Comic relief character. The Wanted poster he's holding up shows Moth.

Warlord

This one was supposed to be a bit more epic, but i made each of the orctober sketches in ~1h. Will probably revisit this to make it a proper painting.

Sorcerer

I know he looks like he has a tragic backstory, but he doesn't. He's very evil and should be locked away in some secure place. Preferably one that it fireproof.

Engineer

i forgot what my initial idea for this was, but i really like whatever i did here. His tattoo is of the "danger! explosion" sign, but in a heart. Slightly fucked up the writing though, accidentally mirrored it. Whoops.

Magical Girl

This one was supposed to be a "Cleric" as per the prompt list, but i already had a priest, so screw that. Wanted something super sweet and pink. The motif this outfit follows is the Weeping Heart flower. Also slight nod to Madoka Magica.

Scout

Didn't want to do the typical RPG style scout, so this one bakes cookies instead. He also has an axe, which has absolutely nothing to do with the cookies, i hope.

Beastmaster

This one was purple, so i really wanted to do somethine werewolf-y. I imagine him being the younger version of the barbarian, who will later learn that he shouldnt rely on the wolf alone, and better get a bigger axe.

Dragon Rider

So. This. I wanted to go for a biker dude, but went a bit too punk with it, and then just leaned into it. He is a biker at heart, but his dragon is the equivalent of a bicycle. Neither of them mind that though, theyre a very happy couple.

Assassin

This one needs a bit of explaining. I started with a himbo-type dude-bro (he had a "knife to meet ya"-shirt), to get a contrast to the rogue. And then the next thought was pretty much "what would be the most inefficient weapon for an stealthy assassin?", so he got a chainsaw. The rest of his design is a nod to Lolipop Chainsaw.

Witch Doctor

This one is 100% based on Baron Samedi, one of the main voodoo gods, which is why this character is half skeleton. The feathers are just for drama. I love feathers.

Sage

Oh, this one is just an old man. I'm pretty sure there was a reason i gave him a bunny hat, but dont ask me what that was.

Cyborg

Eyyy, throwback to the first of the month! Warrior got a bit of an upgrade. Only cost him an arm! Not much of a fan of fullblown cyborgs, so i went with the cyberpunk direction again, and left the traces of his upgrades at a minimum. Wonder if his boyfriend approves.

[angelynmoon]

"It was forged in a Dragon's fire." Merlin grinned at Lancelot.

There was alot Lancelot wanted to ask about that, like how Merlin got close enough to a Dragon's fire and lived to tell about it but Merlin was already handing the Dragon's blade to him and taking Lancelot's.

"You're better off using it, Kilgarrah will have to sulk about it." Merlin told him.

Again Lancelot had questions, like the Dragon had a name and it was still alive, but those would have to wait since he had a Warlock to protect.

Lancelot decided he liked the Dragon's blade and he wondered if he could request his own, surely the one in his hand had been meant for someone else, likely Arthur, but it felt right in his hand as Lancelot defended Merlin from the Immortals' swords.

Then they were in the throne room and they should have known it would be guarded.

Lancelot looked at Merlin and nodded, the Dragon's Sword ready as they continued, so focused were they on getting to the Cup that they didn't register the sound of the warning bell ringing as they fought.

Lancelot letting out a gasp as he took a hit to his shoulder, luckly not on his sword arm.

Merlin looked at him but Lancelot shook his head, motioning to the Cup, he'd be okay, the others might not be.

Merlin knocked the Cup from its podium as the doors burst open, the men whose blood now spilled across the throne room floor exploding in bright light as the Cup clattered to the ground.

A shout of rage left Morgause and she threw Merlin at a wall.

Lancelot forced himself up to get between them when Merlin laid on the floor gasping, he hoped nothing was too injured, Lancelot had seen men be thrown like that and never walk again, he couldn't let Morgause hurt Merlin.

"Get out of my way, boy." Morgause snarled.

"No." Lancelot said, ignoring Merlin's quiet gasp of his name.

"I am a High Priestess of the Old Religion." The woman smirked as Arthur and the other Knights entered the room from behind the throne and Morgana entered the same door Morgause had, "What do you hope to do against me?"

"Sir Lancelot, your Oath." Merlin said as he shifted to sit against the wall he'd been thrown into.

Lancelot glanced at him, Merlin was giving him the same look he'd given him when he'd Knighted him, so proud, so loving, even as his arm rested across his chest, he likly had several broken ribs.

"Your Oath." Merlin said again.

Lancelot nodded and turned back to Morgause and Morgana, who now stood next to her sister, hand up preventing Arthur and the others from coming to their aid.

"And I am a Knight of the Old Religion," Lancelot said, taking in the way Morgana frowned and Mogause stiffened, "A Knight is sworn to valor, his heart knows only Virtue, his blade defends the helpless, his might upholds the weak, his word speaks only truth, his wrath undoes the Wicked."

As he said the last line Lancelot swung the Dragon's Blade at Morgause while she incanted a spell that hit the Shield Merlin had cast over him.

The Blade hit Morgause in the stomach.

And she laughed, "No mortal blade can kill me!" She shouted.

Lancelot tore the Blade out of her, watched her stumble back.

"Then you should know that this Sword was forged in a Dragon's fire." Lancelot said as he watched her fall.

"NOO!" Morgana screamed as she grabbed at Morgause, her cry echoing against the walls, shaking them, making dust spill down.

"Merlin!" Lancelot cried as he turned to gather him up, the man still sitting on the ground.

"Lancelot." Merlin whispered, "We can't leave Morgana, we can't."

"Percival." Lancelot turned to the large man who had fallen into step next to him, "Grab Morgana."

Thankfully the man did not question him as he grabbed the woman and threw her over his shoulder.

Merlin pressed a hand on her ankle and she screamed as her magic was locked away, though the damage had been done and the Castle still shook.

Lancelot felt the moment Merlin passed out and swung him fully into his arms, Gwaine taking his sword so he could hold Merlin better against him as they ran.

Once in the Courtyard Gwen and Gauis both ran to them as the Castle continued to shake.

"What happened?" Gauis asked as he motioned Lancelot to lay Merlin out.

"Morgause threw him into a wall, it must have hurt him badly because he did not stand back up." Lancelot explained.

"Let me go, you peasent." Morgana shouted as she fought Percival's hold.

"Why did you bring her?" Elyan asked, glaring at the woman.

"Lancelot told me to grab her." Percival shrugged, making Morgana yell more at being jostled.

"Morgana." Arthur said quietly.

Morgana glared at him, "Don't think being my brother will save you."

"I miss you." Arthur said softly, "You used to be my best friend, the person I could confide in, where did that woman go?"

"She never existed." Morgana snarled, "She was lied to and hunted and betrayed."

"Arthur." Merlin said sluggishly as he woke, "The bracelet, I think Morgause enchanted it to manipulate Morgana."

"When did you discover this?" Gauis asked as he forced Merlin to stay laying down.

"When she first stared wearing it, Gwen said she wasn't acting the same, she was restless and quicker to anger, so I researched it and had Lancelot look in to personality enchantments in other kingdoms, sometimes they are used to make opinionated women dolcile." Merlin explained.

"You think Morgause enchanted it to make Morgana angry." Lancelot concluded.

"Yes. The Morgana we knew would never turn on the lower people." Merlin said softly.

Arthur and Gwen looked hopeful.

"Fine." Gwaine said and stormed over to wrestle the bracelet off of Morgana's wrist.

She fought him until the metal was no longer against her skin and then she went still.

Percival pulled her off his shoulder to set her on her feet and followed her down as she crumpled.

"What have I done, Arthur, Arthur, I'm so sorry." Morgana said as she began to sob, "I killed so many people, I tried to kill Uthur!"

"Well, a lot of people have tried to kill Uthur." Merlin joked.

"Merlin!" Gaius scolded, even as he let Lancelot help him sit up so he could wrap his ribs.

"I'm still angry at you!" Morgana shouted at him, being held back from throwing herself at him.

"Yeah, that's fair." Merlin agreed as he put a hand over Lancelot's where he'd grabbed the Dragon's Blade.

Morgana stilled, "'That's fair'?"

"I poisoned you, admittedly it was to break the curse on Camelot that Morgause used you to anchor, but still, I hurt you and it's okay to be mad at me." Merlin told her.

"Oh." Morgana exclaomed softly, "She wouldn't have done that if she really loved me, would she?"

"No, Morgana, she wouldn't have." Gwen said softly as she sat next to her friend.

"I hurt you too." Morgana said, "I'm so sorry, I tried to kill you because I was jealous."

Gwen paused, not sure what to say.

"I'm going to teach you everything you need to know to be a good Queen, and maybe you can forgive me?" Morgana asked, hopefully.

Gwen smiled and pulled her into a hug, "You're going to be my sister when I marry Arthur, I suppose I have to."

They both started to laugh quietly.

Arthur cleared his throat, "Unfortunatly, Morgana did use Magic and Magic is against the Law in Camelot."

"Arthur!" Gwen cried as she clung to Morgana.

"Lancelot." Merlin said, making Lancelot sigh as he stood between Arthur and Morgana, Sword in hand.

"Sir Lancelot." Arthur frowned.

"I can't let you harm her, Sire, it goes against my Oath, she's," Lancelot looked down at her and her fearfilled, teary eyes, before turning back to Arthur, "She's helpless, Sire."

"She's a Witch." Arthur argued.

"I bound her Magic, Arthur, she'll only Dream until I realease her." Merlin said as he stood up, ignoring Gauis' protests, coming to stand with Lancelot.

"Lancelot, you are a Knight of Camelot, stand aside."

"Yes, but I am a Knight of the Old Religion first, I swore an Oath to defend the helpless." Lancelot told him.

"You said something like that to Morgause." Gwaine said thoughtfully, "she seemed unnerved by it."

"Because the Old Code is binding, to go against it is to forfit your life." Gaius explained as he stood to go tend to Uthur, who stared at nothing "When the kings of old realised that many Noble Houses could not survive taking such an Oath they got rid of it's use."

Arthur looked at Lancelot and his position in front of Merlin and Morgana and at Gwen's pleading eyes.

"Fine, but she goes nowhere without an escort, if she does she'll be locked in the dungeons for a week." Arthur said, frustrated.

"What about her Magic and the Law?" Leon asked, having been silent until now.

"Oh, fine, I guess I'm lifting the Magic Ban as well, it wouldn't do to spare only the Royal family, I'm not a hypocrate." Arthur cried out.

"Well, there's one thing in your favor then." Morgana teased.

Arthur pointed a finger at her, "Do not make me regret this, Morgana."

"I won't." Morgana promised as she clung to Gwen.

"As for you Merlin, when were you going to tell me you had Magic?!" Arthur shouted.

"To be fair, I've never told anyone." Merlin said.

"Don't make me put you in the stocks." Arthur threatened.

"Don't make me set my Dragon on you." Merlin countered making everyone turn to look at him.

"I'm sorry, your Dragon?" Gwaine asked.

Merlin paused, "So, um, I may or may not be the Last Dragonlord since my Father Died and I inhereted his powers."

Merlin shrugged and winced as his hand came up to cradle his chest.

"We're going to have a long talk later." Arthur sighed, "For now, let's salvage what we can and make a camp. Merlin, you and Gwen babysit Morgana, Percival, you Babysit Merlin and Gwen."

"Yes, Sire." Percival nodded.

"Everyone else, split up, see what you can find, and be careful." Arthur told them, pleased when they split into pairs without him needing to tell them to.

Gwen stood to help Merlin sit down and pulled him close to her and Morgana.

"So, tell us all about how Sir Lancelot took your virginity, was he sweet and gentle or does that hide a more rougeish nature?" Gwen asked.

"Gwen!" Morgana cried, offended.

Merlin almost sighed in relief at getting out of answering.

"You know you're supposed to start by asking what the first kiss was like." Morgana said and turned to look at Merlin expectantly.

"Well..." Merlin began, knowing there was no escape as even Percival was looking at him curiously.

Eventually they would fall asleep, after giggling over the men they loved or in Morgana's case the knight she was never allowed to pursue, perhaps, in time she might be able to win his heart as he'd always held hers but for now they slept and in the morning a new beginning would rise with the sun.

--

A/n: is this an excuse for Morgana to not be evil? You betcha. Is it also me wondering why Merlin didn't give the Dragon Sword to Lancelot, you know the skilled swordsman, and fixing it? Yep. Yeah I know it was probably Kilgarrah making hin promise but he can just be a sulky Dargon about it. Also Merlin does get Lancelot his own Dragon Blade for the Anniversery of his First Knighthood. The other's whine about it so Merlin teases them by getting them daggers and calls the baby swords since they're being babies about it. They get anniversery Swords too but baby swords first.

[alexanderlightweight]

Amnesia

Hey, hope you like this! Was an interesting prompt to tackle

—

“This is my directive?” Alec finds himself asking, looking over familiar looking papers and cataloging the loop of what must be his own writing.

“Yes sir. We bypassed all current attempts at interfering and locked down the system.”

Alec listens and reads through the tablet quickly, frown deepening. “And this is secure information?”

He’s sent a startled look, one that ensures Alec knows it’s real.

“Okay, then please set up all protocols and contact those needed. I’ll be leaving for personal assessment and priority healing as soon as my second takes over.” Alec gets dressed quickly before he adds as many weapons as he can get away with.

No matter how different things seem to be, Alec still doubts his actions are going to be taken well by the clave.

But for him to lay down the level of paperwork that he did, then he needs to commit.

Alyssa, one of his assistants apparently, sends out a message and then a portal is forming and the most stunning being to ever exist steps through.

“Hi.” Alec finds himself saying, already falling hopelessly in love. Wow, if this is who Alec had waiting for him, no wonder he made those protocols.

“Hello darling,” he’s told gently, lovingly even in a way Alec never knew to want. “Alexander, what do I owe the pleasure? I thought you had a day full of meetings?”

And Alec finds himself reaching out and he marvels when arms are opened and he's offered the comfort of a protective embrace.

“Commander Lightwood has activated his personal protocols. As per an incident with a magical artifact at three twenty-three am, commander Lightwood is experiencing displaced memory.” Alyssa recites, holding out a pad towards Magnus.

“I can’t remember anything.” Alec reminds his hunter, because Alec knows he’s a shadowhunter, but he doesn’t know current events.

—

“Are you saying he doesn’t remember me? Alexander—”

“I’m saying, High Warlock Bane, that the Head of New York is compromised and remembers no one. And, as per his personal protocols, is to be delivered to your care and protection and kept there. His access to the clave, his family and the Institute are to be decided at your leisure and discretion.”

Magnus barely registers her succinct and clipped tone as the hunter taps her boot pointedly. She’s trying to imply something but as Alexander snuggles closer, Magnus is trying and failing to process.

“Is this even legal?” He finds himself asking, his arms tightening around Alec. Alexander nods against him, even as Alec’s hunter gives him a dry look.

“Commander Lightwood made sure that it’s completely valid. It's the most legally protected and secure way to keep you together. In normal circumstances he’d be sent to Idris, to be cared for by the clave.”

And Magnus feels his magic seethe at the very idea, “the clave would never let me see him again. They’d ensure he never got his memories back.”

And Magnus doesn’t care that he’s being so candid, not when Alexander’s shadowhunter is nodding in agreement and stepping respectfully back.

She’s finally stopped tapping her boot and Magnus realizes that she was keeping track of time. She holds out a slim bag and Alexander snags the strap with a grunt, still pressed close to Magnus.

“And you don’t mind this, pretty boy?” Magnus asks, tilting Alec’s head back because he has to ask and Alexander’s hazel eyes flare wide and he shakes his head, cheeks ruddy with a shy blush and an obstinate glare.

The combination shouldn’t be as charming as it is.

And Magnus; Magnus already misses his boyfriend but this, seeing an Alexander so instantly enamored but without fear is enthralling.

Magnus will hoard all these new treasures he’s been given, and he will protect Alexander and keep him safe until either his memories return, or forever.

[paracosm-draw]

A little fandom crossover but I've been obsessed with the concept of Warlock Darth Vader and Fae Obi-Wan who fall in love with each other 👀 

It's Sunday prompt day !! 🥳

I'm so excited about this new concept and I received very interesting prompts to write about, I can't wait to post them all !

This one was the first I wrote about, thank you for sending it, it gave me so many ideas, I got a little carried away aha. I couldn't write the whole falling in love process or I had to write a whole fic but I hope you'll still enjoy it !! 💕

TW : mention of heavily scarred body (kinda suitless Vader)

___________

When Vader first sets foot on Aldhani, he immediately feels like the atmosphere is different than any other planet he’d ever landed on. And he has visited a lot, conquered a lot.

This one would make no exception.

Stepping off the metallic bridge of his ship, he presses the sole of his boots on the wet ground, tall grass lazily dancing in the wind around his legs.

The view is breathtaking, a soothing break in the dark turmoils of the war.

Framing the valley in which he landed are mountains, rising high enough to be crowned by the clouds. The early morning light is painting them in shades of orange and the only sounds he can hear are the singing of the birds, the light breeze playing with his hair and his own breathing, loud and unnatural.

Closing his eyes, he lets his mind wander, searching for any living presence in the area.

It’s an easy mission, the population being mainly made up of farmers and religious people, none of them bearing any kind of power. That's why he came alone, on the orders of his master, counting on his magic and lightsaber alone to convince them to join the Empire.

When he’s done scanning his surroundings for any advanced intelligent form - he hasn’t found any - he decides that his best chance is to leave his ship behind and to follow the river deeper in the valley until he finds a village.

Before leaving, he decides to change his heavy suit and coat for something lighter and more practical. He adjusts the lightsaber to his tunic belt, wraps himself in a long dark cape and checks that his portable oxygenator is fully charged. Once he’s done making sure it’s carefully strapped to his mouth and nose and working fine, converting the right amount of air into his oxygen needs, he grabs his traveling bag and heads to the river.

The walk is pretty gentle on his mechanic joints, far more comfortable than walking on the rough stone banks of Mustafar or worst, in the sand. Here he doesn’t even think about his next steps as he strolls along the riverside, leaving space for his head to think and his senses to explore.

The Force is strong in here, almost palpable, pure life energy flowing into every being, from the smallest flower to the highest mountain. It’s neither good nor bad he realises. It’s nothing and it’s everything at the same time. It doesn’t care about the war, it doesn’t care about politics, about pain and hope. It exists only to serve a purpose : giving life and keeping the gears of the universe turning.

The thought keeps him wondering for a while.

The sun is high when he’s confronted to a choice. He's deep down in the bottom of the valley and in front of him the river is sinking between trees marking the edges of a forest. He can continue following it or try to avoid the woods in which he might get lost.

He hesitates for a second, deciding to rely on his instincts. The call of the forest is strong, as if the Force is even denser here, flowing through the sap of the old trees and impregnating the very ground. He can almost feel it buzzing around him.

So he follows it.

The cover of the trees is welcomed as the sun starts to hit harder in the middle of the day. He has dropped the cape and rolled up his sleeves, exposing one delicately crafted mechanic arm, the other one being only torn flesh and burned skin. Still functional but painful and unsightly. He doesn't really care, he has learned how to wield his lightsaber with his other hand.

The scars on his body and face are another thing, though. They make him suffer every minute, a painful reminder of what he had to endure to become as powerful as he is today. They took away any sense of comfort he had taken for granted for too long, forcing him to rely on a machine to draw breath after breath and keep himself alive. They also took away the privilege of being perceived as “normal” in other people eyes, not that he seeks any kind of contact with any kind of people, but some looks still hurt, even years later.

He's on the edge of the slippery path to self-loathing when something makes him stops right in his tracks. A feeling.

Looking around, he realises that the river has given life to the beginning of a lake. From where he is, he can see it entirely ; a calm body of water enclosed by ancient trees, their reddish foliage reflecting in the water like a mirror.

For a moment he just stays there, staring at the gorgeous sight. It looks like a dream.

Light pierces through the branches, illuminating the myriad of insects flying over the surface of the lake, diving through the shades of blue to highlight the silver scales of the fish hiding in the shadows.

The Force is so thick in here, bathing every creature in vital energy, he can taste it on the back of his tongue.

And then he realises why he had stopped in the first place. He had felt something. Something bigger than the frogs and the deers wandering around. Something with a consciousness so vast and complex he wonders why he’s only feeling it just now.

It is there, right in the middle of the lake.

Someone.

Vader’s heart misses a beat as he crouches down behind the trunk of an elder tree.

There’s a creature immerged in the deep waters, swimming gracefully between the water lilies. A man, as far as he can tell. The sun, where it pierces through the leaves, is kissing his pale skin and making his wet hair look like a flaming crown.

Vader’s eyes are stuck to his silhouette, and the time seems to stretch out as he follows him slowly getting back to the bank.

And then the man climbs out of the water and he doesn’t know if he’s chocked out by the fact that he’s completely naked or if it’s because of the pair of wings sticking out of his back. His face still heats up all the same.

Saying that this creature is the most beautiful person he’s layed his eyes on is an understatement.

He’s gorgeous, droplets of water running down his skin like little beads of light, bronze hair sticking on the back of his neck, his body lean and strong.

And there’s the wings. Vader still has a hard time believing his own eyes.

They’re tall, rising up a few inches above his head and falling to his bare feet, where he notices a bracelet around one of his ankles.

They look incredibly thin and fragile, for they’re mostly transparent. But when they're playing with the light, they’re suddenly painted in a million color, like a diamond in a beam. He’s never seen something like that before, it’s hypnotizing.

Just when he leans a bit closer on the tree, his scarred hand rips on the bark and he loses his balance, putting a knee on the ground with a loud thud, and the echo of the sound seems to ripple in the Force.

Immediately the man turns his head in his direction, scrutinizing the shadows where he hides.

“Who’s there ?” He asks warily, swiftly picking up a piece of clothes on the ground and putting it on.

Vader feels a tingle of regret when the beige tunic drapes almost all of his body, covering his arms and falling just above his knees. He watches him tighten it at the waist with another blue piece of fabric, and feels his cheeks burning up again when the man picks up a thinner leather belt that he fixes around his thigh, lifting the tunic in the process. He notices the dagger in the sheath just before the piece of clothes falls back again, hiding the pretty thigh and the weapon with it. He’s so fascinated by the whole sight that he needs a second to realise that the wings are gone.

“I can feel you.” The man says again, and this time he’s moving in his direction. “Show yourself.”

Vader can understand what he says without any problems. His accent informs him that he’s probably not a native from this planet.

He weights his choices for a while. The stranger doesn't seem to be dangerous, and his weapon is no match again his lightsaber. Maybe he can even lead him to the nearest village.

He steps out of the shadow of the tree with his hands up, showing no sign of hostily.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

The man stops in his tracks and his eyes widen when they land on Vader’s face, his lips parting in a horrified grimace.

Vader is used to that kind of reaction, but he can’t help feeling sharply self-conscious about his looks under the creature's gaze. It almost makes him want to hide under his hood.

They stare at each other for a long while, none of them daring to move or to speak. Vader feels like the stranger’s eyes are piercing right through him, dissecting every one of his scars, reading every bad decisions leading to them like an open book. He has to force himself not to squirm under his gaze.

Then the man takes a step closer, reducing the distance between them from another meter. From where he stands Vader can see his face better, he can tell that his eyes are the same color as the lake, fierce and suspicious, or that he looks like he’s in his late thirties. His skin seems as soft as his own is damaged, studded with a galaxy of freckles on his nose and cheeks. A beard is framing his perfect face, sharing bronze and golden hues with the hair falling on his shoulders.

He looks like the Sun personified and Vader cannot take his eyes of him.

“Who are you, stranger ?” The man asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. “State your name and business.”

His voice is firmer and colder, but it still sounds like music to Vader’s ears. He sees his hand getting closer to his thigh when he doesn’t answer and decides to speak then.

“I think I’m lost.” He half lies. “My ship crashed half a day of walk from here and I’m looking for the nearest village to repair it.”

The man raises an eyebrow and takes another careful step closer.

“I heard no such thing as the crash of a ship. And you didn’t tell me your name.”

“Is it really that imp-”

Vader cannot end his sentence that a root breaks out from the soil and wraps itself around his legs, pinning him to the ground and growing bigger by the second, curling up around his waist and pressing his arms to his side like one of those snakes he saw once in an archive. The pressure is strong enough to immobilize him but it feels like they could break his bones at any moment. When they reach his throat, the instinctive rush of magic flowing through his body makes his skin tingle, ready to be used at full power to defend himself.

“I can feel the darkness in you.” The man growls.

His dagger is in his hand now, and there’s something irradiating from him in the Force. It takes Vader a second to understand that he’s also using some kind of magic to control the roots. It makes him re-evaluate the situation and his opponent.

“Alright.” He says, struggling as one of the roots wraps itself tighter around his throat. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The man frowns and slides in front of him, close enough for Vader to see every details of his face, like the little mole under his right eye or the pink shade of his lips, twisted in an upset line.

“What are you ?” He enquires, making no move to ease the pressure on the other’s body.

“I’m- I'm a warlock.” Vader decides to reveal. It’s a half-truth, but the stranger doesn't need to know more. He doesn’t need too convinced, though.

“Liar.” He hisses a few inches from his face and Vader can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on as his self-preservation instinct begins to doubt whether he's the predator in this situation. “You reek of the dark side. Why are you here ?”

As he asks questions, the man grabs the sides of his cape and pulls them apart to search him. It doesn’t take long until he finds his lightsaber, that he takes with a disgusted look on his face.

“You’re a Sith.” He growls, narrowing his eyes to look at him more closely, hostility clearly written on his features. “You’re siding with the Empire. You’re here to enslave us.”

Vader doesn’t deny it, there’s no use.

“Don’t kill me.” He just asks softly, and he doesn't even have a good excuse to add.

“And why would I let you live ?” The man snarls. “When you come here bringing chaos, pain and destruction ?”

He takes a step back suddenly, looking around in alert.

“Are there others like you ?”

“I came alone.” Vader replies, he had stopped struggling and the roots had stopped tightening, making it uncomfortable but not impossible to breathe. “I swear.”

“Why should I trust you ?” The man asks again, crossing his arms against his chest.

“I’ll let you read in my mind.” Vader says. “You’ll see I'm telling the truth.”

It’s a risky move. He doesn’t know how powerful the stranger is, and he already made the mistake of underestimating him once. But he doesn't want to engage in a fight.

The man gives him a suspicious look. He has no reason to trust him, but he seems conflicted. Vader can almost hear his thoughts. He’s not sure he’s strong enough to kill him if he tried, but he doesn't want to put his village in danger by bringing him there as a prisoner. It’s a dead end. Maybe he can offer a solution.

“I could… Tell the Empire that I found no-one here.” He says carefully. “That you already fled to another system to seek the help of the rebellion.”

The man's eyebrows shot up at his words.

“And why exactly would you do that ?”

“It would be a waste to destroy a planet like that. Where the Force is so strong and balanced.” Vader replies, and then coughs as his oxygenator finally has a hard time providing enough oxygen in his state.

The man observes him for a while, pondering.

“So you’ll just fly back to your emperor and lie to his face for the sake of one planet out of the hundreds you probably already doomed ? This is absurd.”

“This- This planet is no use for the Empire.” Vader says and, oh, black dots are dancing around his vision now. “I- I can’t breathe.”

He sees the man straighten, peering at him to evaluate if he’s trying to fool him or if he’s really in distress.

That’s when his legs give way under his weight that he has a glimpse of the stranger rushing to him before everything goes black.

When he comes back to his senses, he’s lying on his back on a pile of soft leaves, under the cover of what looks like a weeping willow. It takes a second for his brain to kick in, and when it does his first reflex is to get up. That’s when he realizes that his hands are tied in front of him, and that he’s not alone.

“I thought you were dead for a while.” The man sitting a few meters away from him says.

He’s building a fire camp with dry wood and terse grass. He added another layer on his shoulders and Vader shivers when the chill air of the evening slips under his thin tunic. He must have blacked out for a few hours. Without thinking, he closes his eyes and concentrates on the fire camp. A second later, a spark ignites in his center and flames start to consume the dry wood.

He can’t help but smirk when he hears the man gasp at his little trick.

“What-”

“Relax.” He says, slowly sitting up on the ground. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m just cold.”

The stranger makes a face but doesn’t reply. Instead he picks up his dagger and starts to peel some edible roots piled up by his side.

Vader watches him in silence for a while. He’s still as fascinated by the stranger. He wants to know more about him. About his story.

“What’s your name ?” He finally asks, trying to find a more comfortable position for his metallic joints. At least his oxygenator is working fine again.

The man raises his head in his direction, his blue eyes staring at him with a mix of curiosity and defiance.

“You didn’t tell me yours.”

“Ah, fair enough.” Vader replies with a light smile. He hesitates for a millisecond. “Anakin. My name is Anakin.”

“Anakin.” The man repeats, and it’s strange to hear it in the mouth of someone else. To hear it again after such a long time. Maybe it’s not as dead as he thought. “I’m Obi-Wan.”

Vader thinks that it’s a beautiful name for a beautiful man he met on a beautiful planet.

Now he doesn’t have to get back to the emperor just yet, does he ? He can take a few days away from the war, from the horrors and the pain. He can pretend that he’s not a monster for a while. He can bathe in the beauty and the calm of this planet, let it heal him even if he doesn’t deserve it. The best he can do is to avoid corrupting it.

“Obi-Wan.” He tastes the name on his tongue and decides that he likes it. “Tell me more about you.”