#I was thinking her hair will be black and when transformed her hair turns blue

[sofilandstuff]

Vigilante AU 🐈‍⬛🐞🚨

marinette in her civilian clothes from my au

adrien , alya , nino

#I was thinking her hair will be black and when transformed her hair turns blue #it just makes more sense to me instead of being blue all the time #miraculous ladybug #ml #ml fanart #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous au #mlb #my art #vigilante au

[ketterdamskaelishprince]

ada's spectre, and why i'll likely always feel sad about it

here is the promised analysis/talk about ada's spectre. going to preface this by saying i obviously don't know the true intent behind everything and her design, i just like to look, giggle and then make sad little observations which just help me love this silly webcomic even more. so if you disagree with me on something– totally ok! i love to learn and i love to see different interpretations.

there's also a few bits i missed out because i wrote this all last night in a bit of a haze, and i cannot be bothered to expand on some of my ideas, especially when it's just stuff like "BROS SO PARANOID AND RAW RIGHT NOW".

anyways, here we go :) @mugcereal this one's for u pookie <3

so i think with ada's spectre, we first need to look at the instance as to how she gets it, because that always makes things way more sad!

to specify, she turns into her spectre at episode 69, and i think it's really sad how she does it. she basically gets a string of roasts from prospero that go along the lines of calling her "conceited" "twadry" and "... and stupid!" – effectively throwing back in ada's face what she believes everyone thinks of her.

(obviously, as a very big and glaring sidenote, i believe prospero is aro/ace or just aromantic so OBVIOUSLY i am not bashing him for this. bros told her so many times that he doesn't want to be with her, let alone to be touched. that is a flaw in ada's character and is a reminder to us on the importance of boundaries!!!!)

so, ada is basically there, collapsed on the floor in a robe– effectively showing the most intimate and private part of herself as an insecure and lonely girl. and that's when she transforms.

i think it's interesting to understand how this most likely links to her life and how she died. so we know she was killed with an axe, most likely by the man she fell in love with and worked for, and how prospero's words in this situation, hurt her just the same as the words before her death. why?

because they remind ada of what she knows and fears she is: just a stupid, fake and cheap person who will never have the same status and respect as the people she pretends to be and surrounds herself by.

i think it's also interesting that she's clutching her stomach/torso here, and correct me if i'm wrong but that could be a potential signal to the part of her that was axed to death (?). no idea if that's a good shout or not but it's what i first thought!

anyways! now we move onto her spectre design!

first of all, her spectre design eats. like just a personal side note, i love it. it's just so gorgeous and i don't care if she's terrifying to some because to ME? to me, she's my gorgeous little pookie who can scream and show people their worst fears and she looks amazing whilst she does it <3

ok anyways, actual design.

to first understand her design, i thought i'd show you what banshee's traditionally in folklore look like!

typically, they are described in two ways. the first way is a youthful women with long black hair, blue eyes and just super pale. this description could also lose the blue eyes and just keep the black hair– either way the first depiction of a banshee is a super young woman.

this is not the one we're focussing on today folks!

we're going to focus on the second depiction. a hag/ old woman, with red cheeks, a grey cloak and a green dress, often seen to be combing her hair. banshee's throughout folklore are known to wail, scream and cry when a family member had died. to most, the banshee was a sign that death was coming to your household and they are known in myths and folklore as a predictor of death.

now, hold onto the green dress and look at ada's design real quick for me.

here we see a lot of green, which yay! definitely shows signs it comes from the second depiction. i think, on top of it being a nod to the second depiction, i think it could also be an allusion to something else: jealousy.

green symbolism in media can often vary, from meaning new life, luck and also jealousy. and i think if we take in the things ada screams whilst in her spectre form, such as this from episode 82:

you see there definitely is some sort of jealousy there, but this isn't something i necessarily want to focus on, it's just an observation i made that may or may not be true!

anyways, to continue, i want to look at ada's outfit when she's a banshee. i'm going to basically be making my notes i took last night look nicer.

(keep in mind that when i wrote these, my ideas were literally bouncing off my brain and sometimes they're a bit contradictory, but i think that's the beauty of my crack theory analysis!)

i think the act of almost showing her bones to the outside, there's a level of rawness to ada we don't usually see. her spectre form essentially gives her the power to scream out her anger, and by seeing her bones it's almost as if to say this is the ada she doesn't show people. this is the ada that she keeps to herself because god forbid anybody love her (because in life and death it's become abundantly apparent to her that nobody does seem to love that ada).

but then, what i thought was also a super cool thing as how the bones almost act like a corset!

then i got sad because i looked at the bows, and because something dawned on me and it made me start to frown. there was a sad realization to me as i looked at ada's spectre design that even in this all powerful form, she hasn't lost her insecurities, they just become more prevellant. because for all of the traditional wrinkles, hag-like appearance a banshee is meant to have, ada barely has any.

obviously this could be in part to character design and stuff, and yeah probably– but let me be sad!

because ada carries her frills and bows from life here because she doesn't want to be ugly, she doesn't want to be this creeping monster who rips apart people. because if she's not got her intelligence or status or anything going for her, she has her appearance and by god she's not going to let that go to waste. so here her spectre form is, a banshee.

so what must ada do? she must takes her frills and keep her insecurities, her fears and her crippling need to be loved.

another aspect which is super interesting is the stitching on her body. one one hand, it could be an allusion to her violent death, suggesting the man she fell in love with didn't just stop at axing her once, but just kept on fucking going (which, you know: fuck you, whoever you are).

but on the other hand, it could be a metaphor for ada's thinly veiled facade she puts on of being a prim and proper lady (which we actually, interestingly enough, see she looses a lot the more time she spends with montresor– opting to take parts of his language like "ain't" and "beggin'". this sort of leads on from previous ideas people have made of ada willing to change herself to be loved. she swaps civility for the wild wild west all for a bit of love).

ada offers up parts of herself in this metaphor. that's what she always does. she offers herself to the rich man she fell in love with, she offers herself up to prospero (again, look at the. side note. bro wasn't wrong for rejecting her he literally can't like her) and she offers herself up to the acolytes and she fucking barks for them (because i'm not over that).

piece by piece, she strips away everything she is until she literally is just skin and bone. and once she's torn herself apart, she needs to stitch herself back together– because it's against the facade she's put on to look so broken and messy. and so she repeats the cycle again, giving more and more until she is literally hanging on by a thread.

her powers are also super cool. traditionally, as i said, banshees wail when a family member is soon to die/has died, and is often like an omen/predictor of death. so yeah, ada having a banshee scream makes sense. but the whole 'fear itself' is also super cool. i kind of like that she has this– because its sort of satisfying for her, the girl who's been pushed over but still comes running back, to watch as people become paralysed with fear. idk, retribution or whatever.

i'm going to leave you with this not very profound thing i wrote last night (and then just some other mumblings):

i think that although spectres are super powerful and also just a very fantastic concept, they're also fragile. spectres are quite literally the monster inside of you. yet here ada's monster is, and with all her bows and revamped dress of a banshee (or potentially an allusion to her life as a maid) she tries desperately to be anything but that. because to here it's ugly and it's too much of her on display. and with some much of you on display comes the very fear that if you are hated, disliked or something repulsive, you no longer have anything to blame on anybody else. you just have yourself to blame.

(as morella says here in episode 88).

i'm not saying ada isn't deeply flawed, because she is. she has so much fucking baggage and insecurities that they literally forbid her from doing the right thing sometimes. i don't think she's a good person, but i also think that she has the opportunity to be a good person/ do a semi-good/ non-bad thing, and all she has to do is take it. but i also think it's nice how that's shown in her spectre design.

and, you know, if none of this makes sense, that's also fine!

anyways, yeah. somebody tell me never to make a random analysis at night again because it's a bit of a bitch to translate in the morning.

#ada nevermore #nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #nevermore #ada #ada nevermore analysis #nevermore character analysis #character analysis #adas spectre #is that even how you spell it #anyways i love her for who she is #my precious little screaming meow meow #LMAO #ok idk what i'm talking about anymore LMOA #forgive if there are typos because at this point i am TOO TIRED to do anything about it

[cameronspecial]

When Love Turns To Tolerance

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: There used to be love between Y/N and Drew, but now, she only sees the ghost of their love when she is around him.

A/N: This is inspired by "Tolerate It" by Taylor Swift

Masterlist

Y/N has always seen Drew in colour. The vibrant blue hues of his iris, the slight tan of his skin from days in the sun when he is surfing and the golden glow of his hair from the light coming into the room. She would use her best watercolours for her mental portrait of him. And he used to do the same for her. She could see his love for her while the image of her was reflected in his eyes. Now, she can tell all he sees is black and white when he looks at her. It’s like all the cones in his eyes have transformed into rods, making him see her in a duller way. He thinks she doesn’t notice his small changes, but she does because he is her mural and she knows every detail of it. 

Her eyes flutter open to see his eyes still closed. The soft rise and fall of his chest captivates her. She used to like watching him sleep. The serenity of knowing that the person she loves is peacefully asleep in his dream. Now, she loves it. It’s the only time when she can’t see the plain tolerance in his eyes and lets herself pretend that they are still what they used to be. Eventually, his eyes widen and he gets up out of bed. He doesn’t stay beside her in bed for just a few more minutes. He doesn’t kiss her good morning. He doesn’t chuckle when he notices her gaze already on him. He just rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

——

They finished eating breakfast together. He washes the dishes while she is polishing their plates until they sparkle with the towel. She hums the melody of “For The First Time” by Mac DeMarco, hoping he would sing along with her. Chores used to be filled with songs and laughter. They would make games out of who could match their pile of socks faster or who could slide across the freshly mopped floor the farthest. She looks at him and is met with a blank stare. His hands soaking in the water as he removes the sods from the plate. She hates the silence, but it seems every attempt she makes at breaking it, Drew isn’t interested in it. 

——

She returns from the store and finds Drew on the couch, reading Dune. He doesn’t look up from his book. He hasn’t for about a month. Every time she walks into the room she hopes he will though. She wants him to look up at him with the gleam in his and the soft smile she loves so much. She misses it. But when he doesn’t do it this time, something in her just snaps. She doesn’t move from where she is standing, “When did your love turn to tolerance?” He looks up from his book. His eyebrows knit together in confusion but mostly annoyance at being interrupted. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he questions, putting his book down to give her his full attention for probably the first time in months. She feels herself start to cry, “When did you first look at me and saw just the woman you tolerated instead of the woman you love? Or please, tell me that I misunderstood. Tell me that it is all in my head.” Every single thing she has been keeping inside of her until now is finally coming out. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he tries to play dumb. Like her, he is in denial of the changes he felt. He knows he doesn’t feel the same way about her, but she is a routine to him. He is scared to lose something familiar. They are both too scared to admit the truth: he fell out of love with her a long time ago and she is sick of living in this limbo. She shakes her head, “Just be honest with me, please. Because I know something has changed.” “I honestly don’t know,” he explains. “I don’t think it just turned off like a light switch. I think I just slowly started to stop believing you were the one for me.” She knew it was coming, yet it still felt like a dagger to her back. 

“Was it something I did?” 

He shakes his head, not being able to find words to describe his feelings, “No, it wasn’t anything about you or what you did. It was more of a realization. I realized the stuff I thought I wanted in a relationship wasn’t what I wanted.” She takes a second to process his words and feels as though her heart is being squeezed. “Right and were you ever going to tell me? Because we both know it is obvious you don’t love me anymore,” she questions, running her fingers through her hair. He shrugs, “Y/N, I never really thought about it until this conversation. I felt the change but never took the time to examine it. I didn’t want to believe that something was different for me.” “Okay, well what are we going to do now that we are talking about it?” she provokes.

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing needs to change? Maybe this is just a passing feeling?”

“Drew, you may be able to live with your tolerance forever. But I can’t keep being a footnote in your thoughts when you are the content of my whole story.” 

“You’re right. You deserve better than someone who can’t love you with the same ferocity.”

“So this is it? We aren’t going to fight any harder for us?”

“I guess we aren’t. For what it’s worth, Y/N, I really did love you. It just wasn’t the type of love that was permanent.”

And then he leaves in a heartbeat. She is left in tears, watching as the man who was her sky and heart leaves her behind. She knows she is the one to bring it upon them. They probably could’ve gone on for months maybe years in denial, but she knows that when love turns to tolerance, she can’t keep letting her love go uncelebrated. So she had to be the one who broke down the column and brought their temple down to ruins. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic

[misseviehyde]

BITCH-SEED: (The leaving gift)

Jenny loved her younger brother Toby so much. He was funny, kind and musically talented. He was a drummer in a Nirvana inspired school band and didn't lack for moral courage. He was a cool kid who looked out for others - she was really proud of him.

That was why she begged him to stop trying to intervene with her bullying by mean-girl Aimee and her bunch of cronies.

Aimee was a blonde, spoiled rich girl who had taken a dislike to Jenny. She was cruel, self-absorbed and malicious and seemed to spend a considerable part of her energy looking for ways to ruin Jenny's life.

The popular mean girl had a vindictive and cruel streak and Jenny didn't want her brother being targeted and victimised next. Besides, they were moving schools next week so what was the point? Her Dad was getting a job in a new town and the family were all moving. Jenny was looking forward to the fresh start.

She was by the lockers clearing out some of her things ready for the move one day, when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey loooooser."

Jenny's bowels clenched in fear as she heard the teasing, superior voice of her bully behind her and she turned to see Aimee and her clique of girls standing before her.

Aimee was impossibly pretty. Her blonde hair was platinum and straight and perfect in every way. Her flawless features were smooth and beautiful, her clothing expensive and painfully tasteful. She wore white knee length boots, so shiny you could see your face in them, a pleated black mini-skirt and a cute pink sweater of some highly expensive material. A pretty pink bow was pinned into her hair.

Cold blue eyes regarded Jennny maliciously, Amiee's pink lip-glossed lips twitching into a malevolent smile as she examined her acrylic nails - long and white - and advanced on her victim.

"Ohhh are you clearing out your locker already loser? So sorry to hear you're leaving us. I guess that means you think you're getting away from me?"

Jenny backed nervously away from the other girl and shrieked as she crashed into the open door of the locker behind her. The impact bruised her back and sent a stab of pain through her body.

Amiee and her girls howled with laughter enjoying seeing Jenny make a clutz of herself as usual.

"I'll have to find some other pathetic fuck to do my homework and top up my coffee money," laughed Amiee. "You're so fucking pathetic Jenny. It doesn't matter where you go, you'll never amount to anything."

"Hey - leave her alone," snarled a voice and Jenny felt a stab of fear as Toby suddenly appeared at her side. "You bunch of bitches better leave my sister alone. I'm sick of watching you float around here as if the world owes you a living. None of you have got any real backbone. You're just parasites who live off your Daddy's money. Get out of here."

The girls all looked at one another in genuine puzzlement and Amiee smirked - tossing her hair coldly and folding her arms dangerously beneath her breasts.

"Oh yeah nerd? You think you can protect your dumb sister from us? I don't think so and thanks for helping me make my mind up about something I've been planning for a while. Girls I think it's time we gave our leaving gifts to these losers."

Holding out their palms facing up, the popular girls all began to giggle and smirk as with a buzzing, crackling sound, tiny motes of energy materialised above their open hands. They formed into small spheres of pastel coloured energy that floated in the air. The siblings gawked in astonishment.

Amiee's was the largest. A ball of bratty pink light that shone with a powerful radiance and seemed to whisper toxic ideas into the mind.

"Each of these is a bitch-seed. It's how we make more members of our clique. The seeds contain our memories of makeup, boys and fashion and also our stronger personalities and feminine desires that will corrupt and transform anyone they enter. One of you is going to become JUST like us and I think we both know who..."

Laughing Amiee turned and blew on her seed. It shot from her hand and hit Toby... crackling as it entered his body and he groaned in shock.

He gasped as the delicious pink energy throbbed and thrummed through him and around him... strange new thoughts and desires filling his mind as his bones and body ached.

Doesn't it feel good to be girly?

It did feel... good. Really good.

Toby's short brown hair lengthened and his features became softer. Pretty lashes blinked in astonishment and he tugged uncomfortably at his clothing as his hips cracked out and his chest tingled as budding breasts began to form. He was becoming a girl!

"You see Jenny," laughed Amiee. "When you start your new school - it's the perfect time to send someone to start a new clique there. I've done my research and your new school is pathetically short of bullies. I've decided your brother will be perfect to start things there. He has real leadership potential and once I've turned him into my mini-me then you'll never be free. The transformation changes reality for any who don't witness it, and soon you'll be the only one who remembers your brother. Now let's fill him up with more, girls!"

More bitch-seeds floated from the girls hands and into Toby. Pink and purple sparks crackled as they merged into him and Toby moaned as each one was absorbed into his body accelerating the physical changes.

Toby groaned as his nice personality was attacked and overwhelmed. He felt so sexy and bitchy and it felt so good to give into all the whispering girly voices telling him to accept the power.

Yesssssss let your like loser personality become ours. Be a mean girl, you know you want to.

Toby giggled and threw back his head - eagerly spreading his arms wide and accepting the energy into his body. He needed this! It felt AMAZING!

Amiee watched in wicked delight summoning another ball of energy and sending it into him.

"Yessss that's it bitch... take all our power and let it transform you. Let your new thoughts take control. Become a fucking bitch just like us."

The girls surrounded Toby and holding our their hands shot more energy into his body. Each blast caused Toby to moan in pleasure and to writhe in ecstasy - clearly enjoying the wicked energy pulsing into his body.

"Yessssss... give it to me... mmmmhhh fill me up. Mmmmh this feels so good yes I wanna be a bitch just like you girls!"

Toby moaned as wicked nails shot from his fingers and his hair lengthened and turned lighter then finally platinum blonde. His body became more feminine with tanned soft skin and beautiful features. Hips cracked out as his chest began to bulge pushing his t shirt out in interesting places.

Jenny sobbed in horror as she watched the transformation. She was powerless to stop the corruption. Toby wasn't even resisting!

The girls were all moaning in unison now, the bullies groaning like sluts as they pushed their most evil, depraved, slutty memories and thoughts into the bitch-seeds.

Toby's mind was being corrupted and overwritten by dozens of memories - Amiee's strongest of all. His own useless boy memories were being overwritten.

Memories of sucking dick, spending money, acting like a spoiled bitch filled the transforming sluts mind. It overrode now useless knowledge. Who needed to play the drums when you could be a cheerleader instead? Who needed to know the names of his male friends when he could be friends with the most popular girls in school.

Hours worth of makeup tutorials, knowledge of how to bully people and manipulate others seared through Toby's malleable mind. The bitch seeds were finding fertile ground.

"Yessssss, I love it," drooled the blonde girl happily as her pretty eyes rolled back in her head. "Give me moooooore!"

"Wow girls - she's really receptive. Pump her mind full of our nastiest memories. Turn her into the meanest, most spoiled slut ever. Burn that boy out of her. Make her into our new friend... Naomi."

Naomi moaned happily as she heard her new name. Yes... that was who she was now. Her pink lips curved into a wicked smile as she felt her breasts swell up nice and big and her useless dick retreat into being her new clit. This was MUCH better.

"Fuck yes girls - make me fucking EVIL!" laughed Naomu as she felt all positive memories and love for her pathetic sister burned out of her mind. This was glorious.

Sobbing in the corner Jenny watched her bullying sister being corrupted into the worst kind of bitch.

By now the energies had even affected Toby's former clothing. His Nirvana t-shirt was now no more, replaced instead by a tight pink dress that fit the new bitch perfectly.

Naomi's nails were long and sharp, her shaven pussy covered by a tiny black thong whose string rode up between her perfect ass cheeks. Full firm breasts, bigger then Jenny's stood proudly on her chest and her bitchy blonde hair fell like a perfect wave around her shoulders.

She and Aimee looked like sisters now.

Aimer and Naomi hugged as if they had known each other all their life and Jenny squirmed in fear at the matching smiles on their perfect faces...

*********

Linda had thought she should go say hi to the new girl on the beach. Jenny seemed nice - although the look of terror on her face as Linda approached was weird.

The chubby nerd wasn't sure why Jenny was so terrified and she didn't even see Naomi from behind till it was too late.

Linda moaned as the bitch-seed conjured by Naomi flowed into her body and she began to change. "That's it nerd," hissed Naomi, "let the bitch in you grow. Become the bitch you were born to be."

In moments Linda had been replaced and had become Leanne instead. Now a spoiled beach bitch she moved to flank her new Alpha with a wicked smile on her face.

"Thanks sis," giggled Naomi. "Another new girl for my clique. I do enjoy turning the ones that would have been your friends into MY friends."

Jenny cried as she looked into her once kind brothers sneering face. Naomi was even worse that Aimee had been. She constantly mocked and teased her sister and made her feel inferior. Worse - her parents were totally enthralled by their popular, successful, beautiful daughter and now despised Jenny.

School was a nightmare - Naomi had created a new clique of bullies and turned the school into her personal playground. She was now head cheerleader and dating the quarterback. Having to listen to Naomi scream in ecstasy as Chad fucked her brains out in hwr bigger bedroom next door was yet another indignity Jenny had to endure.

"Oh by the way loser," grinned Naomi. "Aimee and the girls are visiting this weekend. They're staying over the whole time and I bet you can't wait to catch up with her."

Laughing Naomi strutted away to the admiring stares of everyone whilst her sister cried like a pathetic little bitch.

Guess Penny wasn't enjoying her leaving gift after all...

THE END

#evie hyde #bitchification #m2f transformation #corruption #m2f corruption #bully #bitch-seed #brother #mean girl #bad girl #evil

[imyourbratzdoll]

hiya love, a request for nomad/infinity war!steve and witchcraft/wanda inspired powers!reader! 💌

you’re both on the battlegrounds, before headin there; you and steve are somewhere on private ground/room together on wakanda, steve decides to help your practice your abilities once more before fighting. steve being completely in love with you, your abilities, how you look, act and say when using your powers & him kissing her hands, cause he’s not afraid of them! (totally not basing that off of wanda and vision🤭). being a dime helping you with your abilities, guiding you, him showing how you can use you power and his shield together, etc! lastly, steve has a special name for you to bring out your witchcraft abilities. you two being the most powerful mcu couple :)

hello, I hope you like this. I've made her powers a mix between jean grey and wanda.

the gif and links aren’t mine, divider by @newlips

Y/n and Steve walk to an open but private field, Steve dressed in his worn-out Captain America suit, his beard nice and bushy and hair slicked back from the length. At the same time, the short woman beside him who walks with power wears a tight black corset with tight black pants, her hair in a messy ponytail. Their friends watch as they go off to train, smiles gracing their faces as they feel the love radiating off the couple.

When they reach a secluded area, they turn to each other and smile. Steve takes a step closer, looking down at his girl, “you ready?” Y/n nods, her eyes closing slowly as Steve’s hand comes up and cups her cheek before leaning down and kissing her gently. A flow of gold rushes out of her and surrounds them. Steve slowly pulls back as Y/n begins to hover.

The magic wraps around her small form as it transforms her clothing into a golden dress, butterflies covering some parts as her skin gives off a glow, her hair down in waves and her feet become bare. After her transformation, she slowly lowers to the ground and looks toward her husband, and his eyes are lit with love and admiration as he gives her a dopey smile. 

“Wow, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how beautiful you look every time that happens.” Y/n’s golden eyes fill with love as his words enter her before they get into position. 

“Okay, show me what you got, my love.” He steps back, watching Y/n lift her hands slightly. A misty gold ball forms before she puts her hand forward, causing her magic to hit a tree, the ball turning into strings as it begins to wrap around the trunk and branches, slowly beginning to squeeze until the tree explodes. Steve quickly goes to stand in front of his wife with his shield held in front but grows confused when nothing hits. His head comes up and looks over his shield, seeing the shards of bark frozen, and his gaze turns to Y/n, watching as golden veins make their way up her face.

She casts a quick gaze on her husband with a soft smile before focusing on the bark again with a wave of her hand. The broken pieces form together again. Steve stares wide-eyed as he watches in amazement, his eyes flickering between Y/n and watching the tree slowly become itself again. 

“You underestimated me, handsome.” She chuckles when Steve’s pretty blue eyes lock with her golden ones, “now throw me the shield. We are a team, are we not?” Steve stands straighter, and a light chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head. 

“I’d say be careful, but I just watched you stop us from being impaled.” He gets into his position and throws his shield. The sound of it fizzing through the air fills their ears as Y/n lifts a hand, her magic wrapping around it softly before directing it into the tree and back to her husband. They continue manipulating the elements around them to see what would work with the shield and what wouldn’t.

When they finished, Steve walked over to Y/n and lifted her hands to his lips. His eyes locked on hers as he placed soft kisses along her fingers, on the back of her hand and turned them over to kiss her palms. “You’re beautiful and powerful, and I love you. Never forget that.” Y/n smiles softly, nodding as she whispers that she loves him too.

They both agreed only to say her other name when absolutely necessary, knowing that her magic would become too powerful and they’d rather leave that for the enemies to deal with.

part 2

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #wndawtchask #imyourbratzdollwork #chris evans imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #chris evans imagines #mcu imagine #steve rogers imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans angst #chris evans blurb #chris evans characters #chris evans drabble #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans one shot #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x fem! reader #chris evans x reader fluff #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #chrisevans

[guide-to-world-domination]

I can’t stop imagining spider becoming an absolute badass, like the amount of ideas literally keep me up at night. For example, imagine that one day, Neytiri just goes off on Spider and says the most foul things to him - stuff that was so horrendous, even people who equally hated Spider being around had to try and calm her down, because what she was saying was completely out of line. To spider, he’s heard this all from the People, the Scientists, the McCoskers - but Neytiri always strikes a cord that can’t be fixed or shrugged off easily. The only thing that snaps him from his thoughts, was what Neytiri said next while she was being pulled away from the situation.

“You will never be One of the People. Your father is a Demon, and your mother is worse for ever loving him and producing such Spawn”

There it is the breaking point. Spider has always turned the other cheek when it comes to people that insult him or insult him by comparing him to his father. He always found that retaliation and tantrums only proved his accusers assumptions correct. But nobody. Nobody insults his mother. Spider could have screamed back and shouted bloody murder at her, but at this point, he just doesn’t care. She isn’t worth trying to prove himself to. His siblings know who he is, that’s enough.

From that day on, he doesn’t go to High Camp again and doesn’t wear his loincloth. He starts wearing cargo pants and tank tops, but he keeps his armbands, knife and jewellery. He wants to come into his own identity, but he can’t shed what remains of his past life (trying to be part of the Omaticaya). Personally, I don’t think that Norm and the other Scientists wouldn’t care too much about what spider does until he crosses a line or breaks a rule that they haven’t outright told him (that kind of behaviour is traumatising, I would know 🙂). So when figures out to give himself piercings and tattoos, they are livid. They are shocked at the transformation - where painted blue stripes used to be, there were inky black stripes that passed over every limb and even on his face; where dirty brown locs used to be, golden blond hair was fashioned into a Viking braid reaching down his back (similar to a kuru).

The only person that understands and doesn’t overreact is Max. Personally, that man was a dark horse in his family before he came to Pandora, I know it in my soul (Headcanon coming soon or after this post). He takes it on himself to support Spider and nurture his clear talents. He wishes he could have raised spider as his own, but knew that he would be shunned by his colleagues for raising his son - he couldn’t be seen as a disgrace after his time as a child.

Spider had a number of talents and skills, including Engineering, Chemistry, Languages, Marksmanship and martial arts. Max helped to nurture each and everyone. Some days, he would have Spider build and repair weapons and tech. Other days, Spider would learn chemical reactions or a new language. Every evening, Max would instruct Spider in combat and would exercise and lift with him to encourage him. Over the course of a month or two, Spider was unrecognisable. He took in information like a sponge and soon Max was running out of things to teach him. Piloting Samsons and Scorpions - took a few tries, but Spider was truly a born pilot like Paz. Stealth and parkour - He was already a natural, but he was fooling Na’vi warriors more often than not after a week of practice.

Eventually, when Jake started performing raids on RDA Trains, Spider knew it was time to put this all into practice. You see, deep down, he still wanted to prove himself to the People, but not so he could be one of them. He wanted to prove himself, to show them what he forged himself into despite them. However, he knew Jake would never approve him going along - he was still a child. The thought to Spider was ludicrous; Spider never believed he was a child, because no child goes through what he did and remains a child. So he decides to go anyway and doesn’t bother with permission. Though, he does ask Max, who understandably forbids this from happening. After reasoning that he would be safer if he got support to complete this venture, Max relented after hours of back and forth.

And thus, Araña was born. Imagine Winter Soldier getup (Hydra-controlled Bucky, not White Wolf armour) where the half mask acts as his rebreather so he doesn’t risk glass from a regular mask entering his eyes. All manners of weapons are strapped to his body including an Assault Rifle, a revolver (nobody knows that it was actually Quaritch’s revolver that delivered the fatal shot to Grace), A bow and quiver, a LOT of knives and a grenade or two. He looks terrifying but despite this Max feels proud - not about his boy going to fight in a war that has devastated everything he loves, but because this kid, his son, has stepped into his role as a defender and Max is proud of how far Spider has come to reach his goals.

Queue Spider being the biggest menace to RDA society that has ever existed. There was no reason for the Na’vi Ground forces to blow up the rail line, because Spider had already hijacked the train and pulled the breaks. The look of an anonymous Sky Person swing around the train killing and disarming grown men confused everyone in the raiding party, especially the Sully’s. There was something familiar about the acrobatics of this mysterious warrior, the answer on the tips of their tongues. It was only after Spider saved Lo’ak and Neteyam from the missile strike, that everyone realised who this person was. Nobody believed it until Spider spoke and then all he’ll broke loose.

I apologise if this too long or weird, I just needed to get this out of my head. I’ll definitely be adding to this given time, regardless of whether or not people like it, and the only thing that can stop me is my undiagnosed AuDHD.

Farewell to all, Yours sincerely,

Your Favourite Evil Overlord

#avatar #miles socorro #spider socorro #atwow #atwow spider #jake sully #neytiri #max patel #norm spellman #grace augustine #kiri avatar #lo’ak sully #neteyam #spider imagine #I apologise if this is too long #i just needed to get this out #it literally came to me in a dream #and will not leave me alone #i am obsessed #I think I’m gonna call this the Vigilante!Spider AU #or the Freedom Fighter!Spider AU #Freedom Fighter!Spider AU

[shintin]

Table No.13

↳ Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

One-shot 

Summary:  It's 4 in the morning, the end of December. You run to the airport, wearing your famous blue raincoat. Water's dripping out of your hair. It's raining out there. Tokyo is freezing. But it doesn't matter, because you are leaving. But tell me, when did you become brave enough to put it all behind you and walk away as if it wasn't just a desperate bluff?

This is the story of a girl who gets stabbed by the hands of her blue-eyed past, with no questions asked.

Word count: 9.5 k

Warnings: Heavy angst, NSFW content, No character death.

Note: ARTS ARE NOT MINE.

Song Recommendation: Ocie Elliott - Run To You & Mahsun Kırmızıgül - Belalım

Go back to the master list.

You looked out the large glass window of Haneda Airport. The sky was tar-black, and big pillows of cloud were forming, blotting out the old-gold color of the sun. It started as a whisper in the air. You could hear the taps on the window, and then it became a pitter-patter. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-crimson hue of the morning was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. The puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The rain was dancing on the rooftops of airplanes, as if nothing in life mattered at the moment. But unfortunately, that didn't apply to you. There were still things you cared about. As a matter of fact, one of them was sitting before you at table 13, in the coziest spot of the airport, but you preferred to listen to the buzzing murmurs of the rain rather than look at him.

"Come on, Chibi! Don't sulk. Everything will be fine," said Satoru gently, taking your hand in his. He didn't know whether it was possible, but he was willing to do anything for you. You were the best thing that ever happened to him. "Now, you better eat your strawberry cake, or I'll eat it. Do you want me to end up with diabetes?" He was joking; although it was silly, he tried to lighten your mood. But according to your facial features, his efforts seemed not very fruitful.

His thumb caressed the ring on your finger, followed by his lips. "Y/N," he called your name as if it were the only holy word he knew in the world. "No one else can have my heart because you're the only one I love."

The sound faded into a long swirling noise with so much rain falling. Clouds were churlish and Kraken-cruel. It poured into a biblical deluge, flooding the rivers, drowning the fields, and overflowing the dams, reminding you of the cataclysm of Noah's ark. You wished for an endless cataract of water sluicing from the sky. The ache in your heart wanted the trees to uproot, the cars to go bobbing by, the entire villages disappearing.

You turned your face and gazed at his eyes. God, you loved them. They held the whole ocean. When he was happy, they were a clear, radiant blue with slight wrinkles around the corners as he laughed or smiled, and there was no trace of a storm.

But when he was sad? Oh, it was a completely different matter. They turned icy, cold, totally unlike him, blazing with sorrow. There were a few clouds, but mostly just ice. They hurt you the most that you could never forget.

"Satoru, I don't -" Your sentence never ended because he was shattered enough by the sadness bathing your eyes to let you do more harm by transforming them into words. In his opinion, you were everything he wanted, but unfortunately, his family didn't think so. Those ancient walking fossils thought that the heir of the Gojo company should be with someone who would bring benefits to their family and help their business grow. Therefore, even mentioning your name, a common girl without a noble background, was considered a disgrace. Satoru, however, was not the type to retreat. He would give up everything, but not you. He interrupted your words. "I'll never let anyone take you away from me," he murmured, and cupped your face with his big hands. "I love you, Y/N." You heard him. "I'll love you forever." You believed him. "I'll never leave you." You took his words for granted.

Eventually, the noise lessened, and the drops faded into a musical chime. The sun came out again, casting diagonal beams of light across the airstrip.

Fear crept through you, so you kissed him. With love. With lust. With…

You felt his hands surrounding your body, but you wanted more. You needed more. You knew you had to save him for your future days. The days that you would yearn for a bit of touch from him, but a famine would devastate you. You had to scrape off that painful itch in your gut. "I love you, too, Satoru."

You felt his grip on your neck as he pulled you in to capture you for a deeper kiss. Your hands went to caress the back of his neck, tangle your fingers in his silky white locks, and feel his pulse hammering against your palm. Soon he found the taste of salt on his tongue, and the wet drops falling on his cheeks inflamed his flesh. He didn't know whose they were as he continued to try and cling onto you like his subconscious knew it was your last time together.

That day, he left Tokyo for Sendai with high hopes, and you made your way to Osaka. Your hometowns.

You were late. Too late. Why did you always wait till the last moment? You promised you would cut this vicious cycle of being late each time, but it seemed you would end yourself, but not mend.

It was raining as if it was doomsday. The torrential rains had closed the streets, and Tokyo was dealing with heavy early traffic. Cursing yourself, you stepped out of the cab and rushed to the airport with your luggage. You ran to the check-in section without wasting time and promptly put your luggage and backpack on the conveyor. Hurrying back to the control gate, you removed your watch and phone, and left them on the table for security to check.

Attention passengers on Fuji Dream Airlines flight 232 to Okinawa. The departure gate has been changed. The flight will now be leaving from gate 26.

Biting the corner of your lip, you waited for the previous person to get through the body scan, praying for the machine not to beep for you. Each beep and red signal meant a more thorough physical inspection, which would certainly make you miss the flight.

Closing your eyes, you went across the scanner. It was as if the gods were in your favor today. The machine gave no warning, and the officer let you pass by with a smile. You nodded, snatched your belongings, and raced to grab your bags. After all, every second was golden.

Like an automatic robot that memorized the process due to frequent repetitions, your body quickly moved towards the ticket counter. You were panting and searching for your ID card in your messy backpack when the sound of the announcement caught your attention.

Amakusa Airlines regrets to announce the delay of light 4022 to Osaka due to departing at 4:15. This flight is now scheduled to depart at 6:30.

Shit. Shit. Shit. The 'L' in your luck had been replaced with an 'F'.

With pursed lips, you raised your head, and your eyes fixated on the yellow DELAY in front of the Tokyo-Osaka flight information. You sighed and looked at your watch; its hands showed 4:00 am. Oh, well! You had to stay here for the next couple of hours.

A drop of water dripped from your hair on your wrist, just to remind you that you had come out of the rain shower a few minutes ago. Only a fool leaves with no umbrella in the fall. All right, no argument. It sounds like you were a chump.

You turned your head around to pick your next destination. It's not like you didn't notice people's judgmental looks on your wet hair and soaked raincoat. But today, you were tough enough with yourself, and oh, to be fair, you didn't give a fuck about them. You hated all that had a bitter taste of standards and traditions.

Do this, do that.

Wear kimono, not jeans.

Walk with small steps.

Don't laugh out loud.

Only whores lick ice cream in public.

Instead of reading, start cooking.

Men prefer women with long hair.

Ugh! You were disgusted by all these dos and don'ts. So, it seemed pretty normal for you never to miss the opportunity to despise old-minded schnooks. This hatred was a daily routine. After all, you had lost everything because of those imbecile tradition sucker maniacs. You had lost him. Why? Just because you didn't fit into their boxes. And it's not like you were hard-headed. You tried to adapt yourself to everything for him, your…your love, but according to those geezers, people are born as nobles. It is not an acquired trait. Assholes!

You took off your blue raincoat, threw it on your arm, and headed to the graveyard of your memories in the company of your dear luggage. As usual, you walked into his favorite coffee shop and ordered a mocha with caramel. It tasted like the old days. Bittersweet. More bitter now, because the past had hidden nothing but pain for you, yet you never wasted time returning to it. Unfortunately, it was the only place you could be with him. You were a prisoner of the past by your own will. You had the key, but nothing was out there waiting for you.

You were successful and independent now. Exactly as you always wanted. You even captured the memory of those days and placed them in a box. You put them there with photographs, his grandmother's ring, and dried bouquets. The box was their coffin, and you set them to rest with the same reverence as a deceased loved one. The funeral came with tears and trauma, no less than actual death.

Now tell me, darling, you could hide a box under the ground and pretend that it never existed, but you knew the echo of his laughter, the blue sky of his eyes, and the sweet taste of his lips would rise from the tomb amidst the long nights to hunt you till the first rays of twilight.

While waiting for your order to be ready, you turned your head and watched the determined people carrying their bags around.

There was something peculiarly depressing about the airports for you. Maybe it was because the airports were where the final goodbyes were muttered, and it was where your lips and his met for the very last time. Airports were where tear-ridden farewells were spluttered. And it was where you looked over your shoulder one last time as you passed through the security, praying, hoping against hope that maybe it wasn't really happening, that you would see him again.

The barista called your name and snapped you out of your thoughts. Holding your precious coffee in your hands, your steps unknowingly walked you to table 13. Again. Yeah, you used to sit here with him. Every time. Even the last time.

A bitter smile appeared on your lips as you slowly ran your hand across the table, as if your fingertips could touch the past. You sat in your usual chair behind the side table, but your eyes still refused to look at his empty seat after six fucking years. Your hands wrapped around the paper cup of coffee to steal its warmth, while your heart found comfort in watching the rainy sky.

"There is something I have to tell you, Y/N." He took a deep breath, probably the deepest, which brought his lungs to the verge of explosion.

The cold breeze slipped into your room and sent shivers down to your core. You went to the window to close it. The anxiety started circulating in your veins like a deadly poison. "T—tell me," you said, closing your eyes. No good would come of "I have to tell you something".

His heart twisted at the sound of your voice. "This isn't working out for me anymore."

His emotionless monotonous tone over the phone struck you harder than a wet slap. Rubbing your forehead, you pressed your lips together, praying for him not to mean what you feared the most. "Yeah, me neither." You swallowed, and the gulp slit your throat like a broken piece of a sharp crystal. "I miss you too, Satoru."

You weren't an idiot. You just read an article in Forbes saying that thoughts can change reality. Simply put, the brain can create delusions in the mind by denying the truth until the last moment to maintain the mental health of human beings. It is considered a survival instinct, and so far, your mind has been doing an excellent job. But the silence behind the phone revealed a different story. A story that even your brain couldn't manipulate.

"You know what I mean, Y/N." His voice trembled like a flickering flame of a burning candle, but he was fast to cover his mouth with his palm. He didn't want you to get wind of anything. It was for your own good.

"What are you saying?"

Your kind tone made Satoru hate his guts. No! He couldn't do this to you. He raised his head, and his red-rimmed eyes begged for mercy from his father, but he wasn't a man of God. He wouldn't give alms for free. Everything, especially your life, had a price, and he had to pay the cost. "I—I thought," his words refused to come out, but he always wanted the best for you, didn't he? He loved you more than anything, so he had to do this. He had to go through with it, no matter how hard it was for him. "I thought I was in love with you, but it was just a lie." Unable to breathe, he made his way towards the big window of the office. The cold air hit his face as soon as his shaky hands opened it. Was it freezing in Osaka like it was in Kyoto? You hated the cold weather. Were you wearing warm clothes? He bit his fist in a failed attempt to hide the lump in his throat. "I thought it—would work, but—but I feel nothing."

"Wh—y are you doing this, Sato—?" When you spoke, it sounded like your voice was made of gravel. Your clear tone was undercut with a choking heaviness that forced you to pause several times. As clear as spring water, a single tear flowed down your cheeks. Eventually, you stopped trying and lowered your head in a quiet sob.

Satoru leaned his head against the cold glass. He could hear your muffled weeping. God, he hated himself. He hated the sunset outside. He hated his last name. He hated everything between the two of you. "I just wanted to fool around in your bed." He fought back his tears.

"I know you don't mean that," you said, shaking your head. The Prefrontal Cortex of your brain was in denial. "It's not true." You were soft, almost fragile, as if your heart would break any minute. Perhaps it was already broken.

"You know nothing," he raised his voice, banging his fist across the wall. "Have you forgotten who I am? The bottom line is— " A tear burned his cheek as he turned his back to his father. Despite the love you had given him, he had to tear your heart apart to keep you alive. "I never loved you!"

"I don't believe you." The phrases didn't come out sharp, as if your tongue had judged your own thoughts too uninterestingly daunting and abandoned the words before their fruition.

"I don't know how to clarify this to you, Y/N L/N! You mean nothing to me. You were only one of my conquests!" He was lying. Of course, he was lying. He loved you more than words could ever explain. Now he could hear your heartbreak, for he was suffering too.

"You're such a coward! Are you breaking up with me over the phone? With crappy explanations? Is this what you promised me at the airport?" As you spoke, your voice started sharp, but then, you broke down, and before Satoru knew it, you were on the verge of bursting into tears, trying desperately to hide it and keep your words straight and stern. "Tell me the truth! You owe me this, Satoru!"

His eyes widened. You knew him like an open palm. He was always his true self by your side, never afraid to be judged. And for a second, he believed he could tell you the truth, but then he remembered how the compensation was substantial. So he added the cherry on top, the ultimate lie, to make sure you would hate him, that you would hate him and move on. Although the thought of you being with someone else, another man holding your hands, or someone other than him kissing you drove him crazy, but this way, at least you were safe from his father's harm. "I cheated on you, and— and now I am in love with her. I can't get her out of my mind. She is so much better than you in bed, and she doesn't dictate me to quit smoking or eating sweets to become something I'm not! She is not a control freak like you! She doesn't suffocate me as you do!"

After your ears witnessed his words, you bled an ocean through your eyes. Your soul felt wafer thin. Your body trembled and chilled. But suddenly, you stopped crying. Maybe the saddest kind of sadness was yours when your tears refused to drip. It was like the world had ended. You couldn't cry. You couldn't hear. You couldn't see. You became an empty shell that once was full of life. "You're completely fucked up."

"I'm—sorry, Y/N." His lungs punished him. His breaths kept coming in short gasps. His chest felt too tight. He couldn't stop wheezing. There was a hole in his chest filling with emptiness, pain, and unbearable agony. His knees couldn't carry his sorrow. He fell on the empty office floor with his back sliding down the cold wall and silent tears on his cheeks. His beloved dad had left the room, knowing there was no comeback after what his son had fed you.

You could be hurt in any way by another and still bounce back, but he… but he… he did the far worse with just a few small words. "Never utter my name again! Don't you fucking dare to say it again! No!" The bells ringing in your head, you felt terrible pain as if someone had punched you in the stomach. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and your skin chilled from the unforgiving coldness of his tone. The teeth in your mouth chattered together relentlessly and uncontrollably, and you couldn't stop yourself from shaking. The next voice you heard wasn't him saying it was another one of his dumb jokes. No. It was the beep of the phone. He hung up and never said goodbye.

Suddenly the roar of the thunder brought you back to reality, to the airport. You turned your head towards the table and noticed that your hands were clasped around your coffee cup. The sound of raindrops hitting the window made your solitude even sadder. You sighed, turned your head, and your eyes fell on the droplets, sliding on the window, sticking one to another, getting bigger and bigger till falling. Those drops and your love were doomed, destined to descend. Because even when life decided to give you another chance, you became the naive victim of fate's cruel sense of humor.

"Where did I put this stupid piece of paper?" You cursed under your breath and continued looking for a copy of your graduation certificate. You knew your messy ass would get you in trouble one day, and here you were, facing the consequences in the worst way possible. How dumb you had to be to lose your diploma?

You closed your eyes and started rubbing your eyebrows, like Aladdin rubbing his lamb for a genie to come out and help him. But you weren't lucky as that bastard. You were responsible for your shits.

You sighed and stared at your laptop's browser screen. You got rid of everything related to college and those years. You wanted to forget everything about him and his cheating. You had changed your email address, phone number, and all means of reaching you after that incident. You didn't want to be haunted by an unwanted remembrance... of him.

You took a deep breath. It had been a year. But it seemed that even years were not enough to get over what he did to you. He shot you and walked out. You had to remove the fucking bullet from your wound to let the sadness come out. He left you on your own, and to be healed, you hurt yourself in ways he never could. Undoubtedly, one year wasn't enough to fade those scars.

You remembered how you sat in silence for days with tears in your eyes. How you ached and drank enough to numb it. How you reminded yourself every day who he used to be and who he no longer was. Damn! It was one of the most brutal realization you ever had. In the end, you thought you learned to live without him, but again, you never forgot him. That was the funny thing about love, because it took you a long time to endure the pain he caused, but a piece of him always remained within you. You couldn't brush off all the good memories you shared and sweep them under the rug as if they meant nothing. And shamelessly, you missed his touch. Oh, God. You missed the timbre of his voice and the solid sense of his embrace—the curse of a lover.

"No! Don't start again! He never loved you, Y/N!" You bumped your head, dispersing the suffocating thoughts, but like a miraculous blow that makes broken things work again, your brain also began working. The light bulb on your head lit up. Yeah. You had a backup of your documents in your academic email.

Proud of the discovery, your fingers started typing. Thank goodness you could remember your email info. Okay. It wasn't that difficult when the username was the combination of your first and last name, password, and ID number.

Once the green checkmark appeared on the screen, you happily started scrolling through your inbox until you noticed an unread email of a familiar name. A name you buried alongside his. Suguru Geto.

You swallowed and checked the date of the email. It belonged to the aftermath of the doomed incident. While your hands were frozen, your fingers began shivering on the mouse. It seemed like you could flee your past, but it would always catch up. Without noticing, you realized you had been biting your bottom lip the entire time. What was that email about? There were two options. One was to delete it without reading and keep on with your life. The next one was... You clicked on the mail.

Your pupils were moving quickly between the lines. The more you read the email, the tighter your grip on the mouse. Your other hand was on your thigh, clutching your dress firmly, to the extent your nails almost made holes in its soft fabric. With each word read, your right foot subconsciously tapped on the floor.

Satoru— tap.

Loves— tap.

You— tap.

But—tap.

His father—  tap, tap.

Threatened—tap

Him—tap

With—tap 

Your—tap

Life ….

Your foot froze in place. A chill ripped through your spine when you reached the end of the email. Your eyes widened from the shock, and your palm in front of your mouth couldn't cover your bewilderment.

You should have known. You had heard from Satoru how wretched his father was. You should have guessed that he would do anything to achieve his purpose. You should have doubted that he wouldn't spare even his child and wouldn't be afraid of getting his hands dirty. But you were the one who never wanted to believe in the ill-disposed nature. You thought even evils would have a red line they would never cross. But you didn't know parents would break all boundaries on the pretext of wanting the best for their child. Understandable. If he saw you as a snake coiled on his son's shoulders, he would obviously cut your head off. It was unfair, though. You were no snake. You never asked Satoru for anything. You never forced him to do anything. You took all his bad days with your good and walked him through the storm; because you loved him. You loved him unconditionally.

Tears poured from your eyes. All those endless pains, sleepless nights, and restless sorrows were all due to his father, not him. Satoru loved you. He must have suffered the whole time, as you did.

Your hand went to your phone, and your fingers dialed the number they refused to forget after a year. Your heart was a madman, beating the hell out of your chest. You couldn't wait to hear his voice and watch the heartache fade.

"The number you have dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try your call again if you feel you reached this recording in error."

You lowered the phone and looked at the screen. It wasn't possible that you got the number wrong. Was your mind playing tricks on you? You dialed again.

"The number you have dialed has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try your call again if you feel you reached this recording in error."

You closed your eyes and pressed the red end button. He had changed his number. You turned your head and stared at the browser's blank page. Silly but possible, suddenly, a thought occurred to you. Something you had banned yourself from doing for a whole year. You looked up Satoru Gojo with the name of Gojo Holding on Google, and as you expected, you found what you were looking for:

Satoru Gojo – Chief financial officer – Gojo Group / LinkedIn

Your eyes were stuck on the monitor. So after you, he agreed to the position. You ran your finger over his name. Your eyes shifted slightly downward. There were pictures of him in suits shaking hands with different people. You looked at his face, white hair, blue eyes, and pale lips. He had changed. There was no trace of his favorite casual clothes.

Subconsciously, your hand moved toward the monitor, and your fingers attempted to caress his cheeks. His usual messy hair was combed in some photos and on the side in others. You smiled sadly. He looked handsome. You had no right to deny it. But something was missing from him. Your fingertip shifted to his lips. There was no smile on his face. In neither of the photographs. What had happened to that goofy Satoru whose grins were his signature?

You clicked on his LinkedIn page, and after finding his contact number, you dialed without hesitation.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

"Good day, you've reached Satoru Gojo's office. My name is Nitta Akari. How can I assist you?"

"Yes! Hello. My name is Y/N L/N. I'm calling for Mr. Satoru Gojo," you said and bit your nails.

"Concerning?"

"Yes, ma'am, I need to talk with Mr. Satoru Gojo." Every time you spoke his name, your heart skipped a beat. You had called him He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named instead of saying his name aloud.

"Do you have a pre-arranged appointment?"

"Um, no. I—" You were interrupted in the middle.

"I'm sorry, Ms. L/N. I can't transfer your call if you don't have an appointment."

You sighed. "I appreciate that, but this is an emergency. Please, Ms. Alkari, I'm sure if you inform Mr. Gojo that Y/N L/N is calling, he would want to talk to me," you almost pleaded and placed your hand on your pounding heart, praying for the receptionist to accept your request.

"Hold on a second."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You were going to talk with him—your love of life. You were going to hear his sweet voice. What did you want to tell him?

"Ms. L/N? Are you on the phone?"

"Yes?" You opened your eyes, and they fixated on his picture in front of you.

"Mr. Gojo has left the office."

You checked the clock. It was 11 am. "When is he going to return?"

"According to his schedule, he will not return to the office today, Ms. L/N."

"How about tomorrow?" You clenched your hand and felt your nails digging into your palm.

"I'm sorry. He won't be able to visit the office till next week, since it's his wedding. Do you want me to make an appointment for the next Tuesday?"

Your heart stopped. The second hand of the clock stayed steady. The leaves of the tree facing your window didn't move. The bird in the sky didn't chirp a wing. The air lost its way to your lungs. You wanted to grasp for oxygen, but the ache in your chest folded your knees. No tears pierced your eyes as your brain digested the words coming out of the receptionist's mouth. Your hands trembled. Your feet tingled. Your vision disfigured as though you were looking through a foggy window. You fell to the floor.

"Or, if you want, I can deliver your message to him on Monday morning."

You felt your heart would burst. Your chest was one minute away from crushing. The torture was so intense and all-consuming that you no longer knew where you were. You wanted to scream, to shout, louder than you had ever done in your life, but no sound left your throat.

"Ms. L/N? Are you there?"

You weren't sure which was worse, the fact that he was going to marry someone so early, or the fact that you thought he never would. It tore you apart; the way he forgot you like you never mattered.

For you, he was a bittersweet fairytale with a grey ending. He was your hamartia, your tragedy, your addiction. Frankly, he was also the only ray of sunlight in your aphotic world. He consumed every existing part of your soul, leaving you with the crippled remains. You couldn't take it anymore. You surrendered and let it all disappear.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Turning your head away from the glass, you laughed at your misery. He didn't love you. He didn't miss you. He was happy without you, busy living his life while you were still stuck wondering where things got out of hand. You had to stop trying to find closure with someone that obviously didn't care to give it to you. You had wasted years searching for the answers you could never get. You had to put an end to it, Y/N.

This table was doomed. It didn't matter how many times you sit behind it and try to make it a usual, boring place by making new memories. It would never work. This gravestone had your names, carrying the heaviness of your last kiss. So it didn't matter how much you would kill yourself to write a new story on top of your hurtful one. You would fail; because the ink of the bad story hadn't faded away yet for the only good one to remain.

Rising from the table, you shook your head, scattering all the sad thoughts. You grabbed your luggage, picked up your cold coffee, and headed to the nearest trash can at the corner of the airport terminal. You stood there for a while, enjoying the faint sun rays on your skin and the pale rainbow colors in the sky. You delivered your luggage and checked your watch. Huh! You still got a lot of time to kill. So you tried to pass it by reading the magazine covers, hanging around the gift shops. It didn't go unnoticed by you that the airport was getting crowded with the sunrise. Ughh. You sighed and made your way through the crowd, unaware of the ridiculous farce of destiny for you.

Amakusa Airlines flight 4022  to Osaka is now ready for boarding, with all the passengers for this flight proceeding to gate 13.

As you walked past, your eyes fell on table 13, and all of a sudden, your footsteps froze. There was a huge mob moving between you and that table, but after all these years, there was still no way for you to mistake him. You could recognize him by a look alone, by a glance. You would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his fingers touched his hair. This big airport and the packed crowd were nothing when you would know him in death, at the end of the world.

His fingers tapped slowly on the table, and time fell away for you. You had never gotten so lost in a sight before. And then the space between you two exploded to nothing. After being away from him for so long, just standing under the same roof as him felt like you were kicked in the stomach, and your whole breath was gone. Before you knew it, you were already biting your lip from the inside to stifle your tears. No more tears for him, you had promised yourself years ago. But promises were like your heart; they were meant to be broken.

You felt cold like that day. You felt like concrete drying in your chest. There was a shard in your guts that never left, though perhaps in time, the edges dulled. It felt like death, just the same as bereavement, and in a quiet moment, it choked the life from your body. You had longed to see him for so many years that he was beginning to feel fictional, but he was real. He was sitting at table 13. Was it a coincidence? Or did he still remember it? There was a part of you that was desperate to know if your absence had done any damage to him. Did he too, experience long, restless nights due to the thought of you? Was his heart broken in the same places as yours? You wanted to know that you weren't the only one hurting from this. You needed to know that you actually meant something to him.

Your legs wanted to run away, run until they bleed, until they drove you out there, from him. But your eyes didn't allow it. They were filled with regrets; the more they looked, the more they thirsted.

You watched as his hands grabbed the coffee, raised it, and that lucky cup touched his lips. You saw how he turned his head toward the glass window and stared for a while. Without realizing, you took a step in his direction. All the cells in your body cried out for you to let go, but the thought of him was consuming you.

His ocean blue eyes, peeking at you at the sunrise. His childish smiles, gifting you the butterflies. His smooth skin, touching your body like a sin. His vanilla smell, filling your nostrils well. His big feet, touching yours under the sheet. His warm hands, conquering your naked body's lands. His pounding heart, feeling it like a fine art. His naughty desire, red lingerie hugging you like a fire. His tender touch, laving your crutch. His cocky smirk, naming him as the biggest jerk. His rigid muscles, giving you rough hustles. His soft hair, becoming your finger's lair. His overwhelmed sweats, pounding you for sets. His shy groans, getting lost in your loud moans. His spit on your cunt, his cock ruining your front. His throbbing length, taking away your strength. His whispers in your ear, shooing away your fear. His peace in your arms, pushing away all of the harms. His never-ending need, revealing his hidden deed. Your endless meekness, turning into his greatest weakness. Your lullaby as a song, driving away every wrong. His peaceful dreams, hiding his painful screams. His contagious laughter, calling down every disaster. His favorite food, exchanging it with your nude. His favorite movie, turning out to be Snoopy. Reading him books, his kisses on your crooks. His goofy attitude, giving him latitude. His insights about pudding, having no idea about cooking. His eye-blinding light, forcing your soul to ignite. His aspiring ambitions, all dying because of traditions. His family troubles, bursting your happiness bubbles. His gloomy demeanor, rooting in you like a malignant tumor. His brutal fights, giving hell to the nights. His cold distance, ignoring your existence. His habit of being late, keeping your eyes on a wait. His unforgivable mistakes, leaving you with heart-wrenching aches. His deadly silence, slitting your throat with violence. His no victorious wars, gifting you countless scars. His yesterday a history, his tomorrow a mystery. His walking away steps, echoing with sound effects. His beautiful lies, leaving you with cries. His broken bond like a Knife…a knife…knife…k…n…i…f…e…w…i…f…e…wife…his wife…

You stopped. Your eyes followed his gaze, and the ache in your heart grew more painful as they saw a black-haired woman with a bow, wearing a traditional white and red kimono and approaching him with slow steps. This was the girl who ticked off all the boxes that suited Satoru Gojo. Not you. Never you.

You looked up to the ceiling in an effort to prevent tears from falling on your face. A quivering sigh escaped your throat. But wait a little. Whoever created your story was crueler than you thought.

This is the last call for passengers traveling to Osaka on Amakusa airline slight 4022, due to leave at 6:30 am.

"Dad! Look what mommy bought me?" A little girl, maybe 4 -5, with white hair, waved a small package of mochi in her hand and then ran to throw herself into Satoru's arms before your shocked eyes.

As you saw his child, what was once a whole was shattered, where once was peace was emptiness, echoes of a love you put your everything into. If only you could hold your heart in your hands and squeeze it yourself, the pain would be more bearable. Your chest felt tight, like someone was ripping your rib cage open and pulling your heart out of your chest. It just hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt your mind wondering why you weren't good enough, why it wasn't you, why you weren't in that woman's place. Why she wasn't your daughter, and it slowly broke you apart. You never thought he would be able to wound you so deeply, cut to the core again. But you got it now. Only the one you loved so much could be your assassin. Of course, it would take an inside job to attack you so resilient. He was the tool of your greatest pain. You knew he didn't mean it, you knew, but in a way, that made it even worse.

You choked back something welling up in your chest. Every few minutes, the pain renewed itself. Your palm flat against the wall by your side, you clenched your eyes shut. "Please turn your head," you said quietly. He couldn't hear you, but it didn't stop you from wishing he would come and save you from the terrible pain you felt without him.

After wallowing in your despair in the lonely corner of the airport, you took a few deep breaths and got yourself together. You always had this constant fear that you were never going to forget him. The way his blue eyes pierced yours or his goofy grin that always made your heart beat ten times faster. And what sucked the most was that he was never yours, to begin with. But you remained desperately in love with him. Damn! It had been six years, and a person could only endure pain for so long. You had to let it all go. The way he kissed you, the way he smelled, the way he touched your waist and pulled you in. You had to let it all go, and you had to let him go. Yes! He was the sweet taste on your tongue of sugar, but he was also the dense smoke that crept into your lungs and choked you. He was the venom in your veins, the tree root that tripped you. He belonged to his family, to his wife and daughter. Continuing to love him was like chasing after the clouds. It was wishing for the moon and the stars to appear in your arms. He was your impossible.

You took one last look at him and the smile on his face as his daughter was in his arms. Your last bit of willpower was lost, and tears began to trail down your cheeks, as you turned and walked away.

To be frank, hearts don't break. It's just another thing the poets say. Hearts are not made of glass, bone, or any material that could splinter, fragment, or shatter. They don't crack into pieces. They don't fall apart. No! You knew it better now. Hearts don't break. They just stop working like yours.

This is the last call for passengers Y/N L/N, Mikasa and Eren Yeager travelling on Amakusa Airlines flight 4022 to Osaka departing at 6:30 am. Will passengers L/N, Yeagers, and Nanami, please go to gate 13, where the flight is ready to depart.

Upon hearing your name, Satoru coughed and spilled coffee over his blue shirt. The hot liquid burned his chest, but not as sour as your name, opening the old, closed wounds. His mind rejected all possibilities. You were there, in the airport, and then it all flowed into his brain, the memories of his youth.

He first saw you sitting in the first row, like a nerd ready to glow.

Brushing your hair behind your ear, you bit all your nails without keeping them dear. You got your score, but he couldn't see anyone anymore.

You were in a hurry to catch a bus when he asked you out. You missed the bus. But instead, you found a new way to your house.

He kissed you under the pouring rain, you standing there wholly drenched without any complain, your eyes closed like a droplet free of every chain. How could you be aware of his bane?

You ate a double burger in less than five minutes on your second date after your third cigarette. Why? Just not to lose the bet. What did he say? Unlucky in cards, lucky in love.

Moaning his name, your fingers grabbed his hair locks, and your holes caught his heaviest flux.

In the darkness of the movie theater, he leaned to utter, "I love you, Y/N." You choking on your popcorn, survived to say, "Tell me that again."

Your laughter the best melody filling the house, when the artist tickled you crazily on the couch.

You left your shellfish-shaped soap on his bathroom side. The reason? It just smelled like the tide. Damn! You never lied.

Your colorful cute little notes in the pocket of his coat, his dad clearing his throat, staring at his son digging his own moat.

You in the kitchen, his hands on your waist, his hums in the air, danced with him there and bare.

Tears fell on the ring that he proposed despite knowing that his dad was opposed.

He waking up with a nightmare, sweats covering his white hair, he would have died if you weren't lying next to him right there. Your fights very not rare, but you were always fair.

Your hands were frozen cold the last day they were in his hold.

He wished you would yell at him on the phone, but you just cried, trembling him to the bone.

Broken pieces of your coffee mug, empty bottles of your favorite wine, his stumbling on the dusted rug, no, you were no longer around.

He walked down the aisle with a woman he had never loved. Thank God you were somewhere alive.

One hand still holding the coffee cup, the other gripped the side of the table firmly, turning his knuckles white. Six years. Six fucking years! And you were here.

"Satoru? Are you okay?" The familiar voice snatched him out of old memories. Turning his head slightly, his wide eyes fell upon a woman bent before him, trying to wipe the coffee stain off his shirt with a napkin. Oh, his allegedly beloved wife, having no other purpose than to please him in her life. The poor woman was unaware that all her efforts were in vain. For not only her white napkin, but there was nothing in this world strong enough to erase your remnants off Satoru's existence. You were eternal, engraved in his soul.

Grabbing her wrist, Satoru pushed his chair back and stood up. Across the airport stood the woman he loved, hurt, betrayed, and forsakened. Across the airport was you, the one who trusted him for years, stayed with him for years, and loved him for years. Unconditionally.

"Satoru, where are you going?" His wife's suppliant voice didn't reach him. Of course, his wife wasn't stupid. She knew that nothing was enough to stop his long steps from running to gate 13, to you, to his lost paradise, but just like Satoru, she endured the marriage for the sake of her loved ones.

You wiped your cheeks with the back of your sleeve and tried your best to take another step in the line. The emptiness in your chest was getting heavier by the time, making it hard to move forward, and holding your shit together seemed impossible when the gate appeared that far away with every passing moment. So you did what you always did. You split the colossal task of surviving into baby steps. All you had to do was, reaching the gate. It was your ultimate destination for now. After that, you would walk to the plane, sit in your seat, and fly away, never to book a ticket from this airport again.

You took a deep breath and begged your legs to drag you one more time as the black-haired couple before you moved forward. You convinced yourself that you were fine, hoping that you might believe the perfect lie, that the scene from a few minutes ago hadn't brought you to your knees.

"Y/N?"

They say different things about the soul leaving the body, but you witnessed with your own eyes how life left you in one breath, just hearing a voice. His voice. You could taste the acidic agony on the tip of your tongue, scorching you to the bone marrow.

An invisible hand forcibly turned your head towards the source of the sound. There he was. Your love. Your murderer. Your salvation. Your deity. Your death. Your hell. Half of your soul, as the poets said.

Your Satoru was standing there with his tall stature, his hands slumped on his sides, a big coffee stain on his shirt, and his white hair ruffled like in the good old days. But it seemed that life wasn't easy on him either. His once bright, bubbly, and even ambitious eyes were gone. There was no shine in them, as if they were blue plastic marbles in a daze. Who had stolen his radiant smile?

But for him, you were still the same Y/N he had lost. Your tear-stained face was puffy and swollen with grief. Your eyes looked tired, and the dark circles under them carried the news of sleepless nights. Yet, in his eyes, you were still the same sun, holding the whole universe together. One glance at you, and his heart started pounding. It constantly pounded, stomping on the shattered remains left of you in his heart. He couldn't stop himself from dreaming of the endless possibilities where you could be together.

He opened his mouth, but none of the words were courageous enough to come out. He stepped forward and raised his hand slightly toward you. There was a long way between you, the bars separating him from you. He could jump over the bars and bridge the gap, but something in his heart was well aware that no matter how far he stretched his hand, it would never reach you.

Hot tears flowed over his face, and he pressed his eyelids shut, hoping his tears would cease. His agitated breathing and tearful eyes remained for a long time as he stood there, statue-like.

God knows how he wanted to say that he missed you, how he wanted to call your name and start a silly conversation the way he used to do. How he wanted to ask you something ridiculous like do you still like cats more than dogs, like what do you think of the color blue, like did he hurt you so much, like were you able to forgive him, do you still love him as he does?

He wanted to hold you tightly, squeeze you between his arms and kiss away all the tears in your eyes. He wanted to sit on the floor of your room again, and you let him kiss you, let him kiss you, and let him kiss you. He wanted to tell you that in all these years, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, that watching you cover your yawn with the back of your hand took his breath away, that he was sometimes so immersed in the music of your tone that he couldn't understand what you were saying.

He wanted to tell you that if you stay by his side, nothing bad will happen to you. He was about to ask you this at that crucial point, but a sudden certainty struck his chest like a cold fist. He knew he had caused so much pain that probably you wished you were fortunate enough never to know him, that you were one of the billions of people in the world that didn't know he existed. He was sure that you wanted to turn back the clock, go to the beginning, to the day he approached you. Maybe you would want to leave so he could never tell you his name, and you would never fall in love.

"Satoru." Your words broke up, and all you could say were stuttering sounds. You never expected to see him here, with the same longing you had buried in your eyes. Suddenly everything seemed possible to you. How could anything be impossible with him still wanting you? Turning back from this line seemed nothing when you would climb every mountain and swim every ocean just to be with him.

A seed of hope sprouted in your heart, and a faint smile blossomed on your lips. Now with a thing you wanted to name enlightenment, you could see the meaning behind every pain you had borne all these years, and martyrly, you were ready to take more pain, take it all the way if it meant you would be safe in the embrace of his arms. You were in love. You would run to him, even if it were going to ignite you alive. You would still call to him even if you were going to lose your sight. You were ready to let go of your broken heart even if it was going to break you apart.

Your hand took hold of the rod, and as if a new soul had been breathed into you, your legs turned to take the path to him. Satoru's spell broke upon seeing your smile, and a nubbin of happiness slipped over his eyes. He started walking around the bars to get to you. His heart was racing like crazy, couldn't wait to feel you, to take you in his arms.

But suddenly, you stopped, like someone woke you with a slap in the face. The color drained from your face, and joy withered away. The thing you called enlightenment turned out to be an illusion.

"Y/N! Don't run in the airport!" The panting voice of a woman reached you while chasing after a child. Not just any woman, his wife.

"Nooo! I want to stay with my dad!" The white-haired girl reached for her father and grabbed his coat sleeve firmly. "Where have you gone, Pa? I got scared." Pouting her lips, not only did she not let go of Satoru, but she also hugged his knee tightly with her other hand.

His shocked gaze turned from his daughter to you. "Please, Y/N," he mumbled, begging you with desperation glooming in his eyes. He stood there like the whole world was breaking crumble apart around him. It no longer existed, and he knew he had to bid farewell to any chance of being with you. The ache in his heart became more unbearable when he realized he hadn't lost you years ago on the phone; he lost you today, before his eyes. He could see the flames of the wildfire he had thrown you in, because it was also turning him to the ashes. Even on your worst day, you didn't deserve any of the hell he gave you.

And on the other side, you were ready to give it all up — everything. You were half out of your mind with love, and you didn't think twice about throwing yourself into a fire, as long as you could keep him by your side. That was how you loved him. How pitiful.

The researches indicate ways for the human mind to cope with grief: sleep, forgetfulness, insanity, and death. Sleep allows people to take a step back from painful things. Like when someone gets injured or bad news, they often pass out. But at times, the wounds are so deep they don't heal. The saying that time cures pain is a fallacy. Yes, time heals most pains, but the rest are doomed to be forgotten. Rarely it happens that the mind suffers such a heavy blow that it takes refuge in insanity. Because most of the time, the truth is nothing but pain, and the mind abandons it to rid itself of murderous pain. Here comes the last escape way, aka death. When someone dies, nothing can hurt them anymore. At least that's what's being said.

Holding the rod firmly, you stared at him with grief, unsure which of these doors you would walk through after today, but you were well aware that he must have chosen the insanity by naming his daughter after you. You couldn't imagine the anguish he had to go through every time he wanted to call his own blood and bone your name. You had no idea whether he did it to preserve your memory or to torture himself. You didn't know. You couldn't say. Your head was dizzy, and everything hurt so much that it felt like you hurt for everyone who had ever been hurt this way.

You looked at him for the last time, trying to savor the moment. You knew you might not get another chance like this. Then you turned back to him, because you were afraid your chest would cave in and the only thing stopping it was the gasps of air you were taking between your tears. Before you knew it, you were sobbing, muffling your quiet screams of anger, frustration, and sadness.

You used your last remaining strength to walk straight, not to faint. Because you didn't want to give him any reason to come after you, to follow you. You loved him. You had fallen madly in love with what could never be, and no matter what your reasons were, you had to stay away from him. You just couldn't allow yourself to be a homewrecker.

"Mama? Why is dad sad?" The little girl pressed her lips together and looked at the black-haired woman with her big blue eyes. She had heard from her uncle Suguru that his father was once the funniest and goofiest person on earth, but no matter how much she strained her ears, she never heard his laughter. The only thing she remembered from him was the sleepless nights and the stench of alcohol. It gradually evolved into a dilemma in her mind, and sadly, she was too young for her mother to give her answers, to talk to her about the cruelty of her grandpa and her father's old, never-forgotten love.

"Everything will be fine, Y/N," he whispered in a distant, flat, quiet, and lifeless voice like he had promised you years ago on table 13. Still, this time standing there, staring at the gate you left, wondering how many lives it would take for him to finally experience a happy ever after with you.

"Of course it will, Papa."

Did you like this story? Would you like me to write the second part? If so, let me know your ideas :)

Also, your reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo smut #gojo angst #satoru gojou smut #satoru gojou x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n

[noobsomeexagerjunk]

Personal QSMP design hcs and interpretations (PART 1)

1. q!Quackity

ducktaur. predominantly golden yellow feathers and bright orange duck legs

partial heterochromia (dark brown with bits of bluish-grey)

his wear is different depending on which language he is maining at the moment

Eng!Q has an eyebrow scar, calloused hands, and some browning feathers. Wears religious jewelry and warm-colored clothes.

ESP!Q has ear piercings and blue-dyed feathers. Always has a clip-on tie and cool colored clothes.

Post-Tilin death, he either has their ribbon as a necktie (ESP) or belt (ENG)

has a pin of the QSMP logo always on his person

Brushes his feathers before teaching class

2. q!Jaiden

she is the cartoon character reflected by the mc skin, though is nonetheless perceived as human

she magical girl transforms into the vtuber fit whenever she wants to. Most of the time, it's to fight or to protect Bobby

she transforms using a magical brooch that resembles the emblem on her vtuber fit. she can add stuff on the brooch to alter her transformed appearance (like changing the bird wings to butterfly ones, or having a shiny rainbow mode)

she made a smaller, less powerful replica of her brooch for Bobby so he can get into armor much faster

she "draws" things out of her inventory with her fingers in the air (think the spellcasting of the witches in The Owl House, but with different symbols)

When Bobby died, her transformed look takes on a more dark and brooding appearance

3. q!Roier

he's not a spider hybrid but like, an actual Spiderman—literally got bit by a radioactive spider and everything

alternates between his superhero suit and a civilian fit. like jaiden, he transforms between fits superhero style

can fire webs from his hands, has slight spider sense, and also venomous saliva (so i beg of you, do not get head from this man)

wears natural makeup bc he likes to. he darkens it a little when he feels particularly vengeful (this is canon but yk)

the spiderman traits also apply to Melissa, whose dyed lingerie is literally weaved from spider webs

Post-Bobby death, he wears more blacks (both in civilian and superhero fits) and a lot more eyeliner

4. q!Bad

humanoid looking demon. resembles a void-like shadow in extreme emotional states

distinctly has a glowing halo. it has long horns growing out of it + a shadowy demon tail

has his mc skin's hoodie but sleeveless. collared shirts of any color is usually under that + beige khakis, white socks and various sneakers!

His hoodie has a small embroidered symbol of the Order Theoritas, hidden near the collar of the hood

his hair is long and usually tied loosely. wears glasses as well

sharp canines make him look a bit catty

his reaper get-up is well-sewn cursed cloth. wearing the fit makes his halo and tail larger, darker, and more shadowy

there's a block of diamond + an image of skeppy always on his person

He lets Dapper wear the ghost chat bell as a tail accessory

5. q!Spreen

werebear. He turns into a human during sunny daytimes, and is otherwise an anthromorphic bear-man.

black bear, like the mc skin

fashion sense however matches the CC; generally street-looking even with the bulk of armor

canines and claws glow when he's fighting someone in bear mode. he grows them out fighting during his human state

smells like cigarettes

6. q!Slime

a player equivalent to minecraft slime

prefers taking on a humanoid appearance, and has taken it long enough to master recolorization of said state. feels uncomfortable taking any other form as well

experiences pain when shifting (i mean that's also canon but yk)

behaves like a magma cube in extreme negative emotional states. will resemble one if you piss him off enough

he has no actual clothes, he shapeshifts the appearance of clothing. (q!Mariana has noticed, and he doesn't like to think too hard about it) his most external layer is armor and glasses.

he and q!Mariana have each a piece of Juanaflippa's shell on their person

7. q!Cellbit

human. well, not completely according to genetics but is more or less perceived as one.

The CC but wearing the blockman-cubito's fits

wears eyeliner to hide the eyebags. This doesnt work and only makes his eyes more expressive

a shadow looms the upper half of his face whenever he's being super weird and mysterious. It darkens when he's consciously about to do something really bad in a dramatic anime way; this is much more emphasized if he puts on his goggles

he paints his nails and the paint always trails. these glow sailor moon style when he comes into contact with the blood of any living creature

has a caffeine addiction

The chainsaw scars are deep enough that Cellbit doesn't like looking at himself when changing; he forces it though to remember why he's doing anything at all

Taught Richas how to draw the symbol for the Ordo Theoritas. He also has the symbol pressed into the leather of his gloves

8. q!Wilbur

humanoid man of unidentified species. perceived as human.

really is human looking, minus the pointy ears and prismatic irises

wears clear glasses. yellow sweater + sleeveless brown longcoat + grey jeans + black boots

has a black scarf and red beanie both made of wool and embroidered with gold threaded flowers.

always has a guitar on his person. since tallulah entered his life, he's let her put stickers and draw all over it.

They jam together when they can

may or may not have an enchanted singing voice

part 2

#qsmp #qsmp headcanons

[evie-lives-here]

The Swarming Incident

Note: Hello! So this is the first fanfic I'm working on; I was fucking around reading another fic when I thought it would be cute to make a fic where there is a fourth daughter that had recently come out of transformation and is maybe struggling with her swarming abilities? Not quite getting it yet. Also, I thought it would be cool if she had something other than blowflies. I'm definitely taking inspiration from the fic where it was fruit flies instead. So, we will be exploring how this works. I will be taking some creative liberties with how the hive mind works. So I hope this goes well. Anyway, enjoy.

word count: 1428

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This is the worst day of my life! Considering I was only born only a few days ago, it is entirely accurate. I pace angrily in the main hall, thinking of how to swarm. I was tired of hearing my sisters and mother say it would eventually come to me. I want to be free so badly! My skin feels like it's crawling, like I have life underneath my skin, ready to burst free.

I whined out loud for the third time. Bela, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace with tea and a good book, sighs and shuts her book, setting it aside with her tea, and stands up. 

"Young one, please do not try and rush yourself…" she begins walking over to me. My hackles raise, already knowing what she will say. The crawling feeling under my skin strengthens as she says it with gentleness and wisdom. "The process of morphing into a swarm is an incredibly difficult one and requires patience. Remember what Mother said: "Patience is a virtue, not a burden." keep trying, sister, and you shall succeed. It took me two whole months to finally swarm fully."

I turn around quickly and whine loudly again, stomping my feet childishly. My body is still tiny and frail, recovering from the cadou. It is somewhat toned but is still getting used to itself. My hair is deep black, not unlike my mother's. But unlike my mother, my eyes are blueish silver. My mother says they can become steely and cold in half a second.

"But I wanna swarm now! My skin feels so itchy!" I say, whining and pouting

"Don't you think I was the same when I woke up? Do you think I did not whine for two months until I finally swarmed? Of course I did! We all went through this, Elena. You are not unique in your experience. So keep trying and stop whining, or I'll tell Mother you're rushing again!" She stands tall and glares, attempting to intimidate me again.

Instead of backing down like usual, I puff up angrily, the buzzing under my skin becoming practically unbearable. My ears start to ring as I stare Bela directly in the eye. I growl lowly and feel the buzzing come to a head.

Belas POV

I feel a bit shocked when Elena stands her ground. Her eyes have become the steely, cold blue I know from her. I feel myself shiver a little; the coldness in her eyes makes me think of the freezing coldness in the winter. I shake the thoughts away as I notice her body start to swarm, almost making her look bigger and taller than me. I step backward, a bit frighted by the display. It doesn't sound like their sisters, either. It sounds sharper, angrier, louder. Whatever the insects are, they create a very dark black cloud, filling the space around us quickly.

"Elena! Control yourself! You are making a mess of yourself!" I say, trying to be stern, but my voice wavers as I only see the cloud spread, blocking out the light from the fireplace and chandelier, blacking out the room entirely. 

I feel tiny legs crawl onto my arm, look down, and see a small group of weirdly colored insects, about 12. I finally looked at the bug, realizing she wasn't made of blowflies but European hornets. I look at the small bugs in fascination. I noticed their coloration was odd: navy blue, black, and gray with similar markings to the normal hornets. Some were different than others 6 of the 12 had blue diamonds on the abdomen, which was odd. The 6 odd ones crawl to the center of my hand while the others inch around mindlessly. They look up at me, and I move my hand to be level with my face. They start buzzing and moving their wings, and I can easily recognize these movements as her sisters, and I do it to communicate in fly form.

What the actual fuck! I don't know– 

The buzzing gets jumbled, and her wing's movements clumsy, making it hard to understand 

"Do you want me to get mother?"

The small collection of hornets becomes frantic, making it impossible to understand as I start to realize the ones with the diamonds on her abdomen are her consciousness.

I swarm the insects on my hand, now taking flight as I go to find our mother.

I ended up in the countess study, not bothering to knock, basically busting in the door, causing Mother to look up from her work, unimpressed as I reformed.

"Bela! It is unbecoming of a lady to not knock. I wouldn't expect this from you. Maybe Elena or Daniela–"

"Mother, now is not the time to rant about my manners. Elena is in trouble."

Mother's eyes glow, and she stands quickly at the news her newest child is in harm's way. 

"Take me to her now."

 I nod and swarm quickly, taking off Mother not far behind her long strides, making it easy for her to keep up with me. I make it to the foyer balcony; the room is very dark, with just a black undulating ball taking up the center, an almost deafening buzzing sound filling it.

Mother looks over the balcony and says, "That's Elena?" I nod and go down the stairs as best I can through the swarm. The six main bugs found my hand again, frantically buzzing. 

How do I change back??

"Mother will know." I see her behind me in the mess of hornets. I'm lost on what to do, having never had a swarm like this one. It made me wonder what the experiment changed to make her like this.

Mother walks to the swarm's center, and I follow her, taking her hand and gently putting the 6 of the bugs into her large hand. 

"This is her." 

Mother looks slightly surprised but doesn't waste time putting them level with her face, eyeing the frantic insects.

"Listen to me, copilul meu mommy's here, and everything will be alright." Mother stops and then starts softly humming a lullaby she made for us. She would sing to us when we had nightmares or to be comforting.

“Culca-te, puiut micut,

Culca-te si te abua

Pâna mâine-n dalba ziua.

Si te culca si adormi

Pâna mâine-n dalbe zori.

Doina din ce s-o facut ?

Dintr-o gura de mic prunc.

L-o lasat maica dormind,

L-o aflat doina zicând.

Abua – bua – bua,

Abua, tucu-l maica,

Nu te teme tu de zmei,

I-a goni maica pe ei.

Puisor cu ochi de mure,

Maica-i dusa la padure,

Ti-a aduce gatejoare

Si ti-a face scovergioare.”

Slowly, as her humming turns to singing, the buzzing quiets and the hornets take flight, flying down and forming a clump in the arms of Mother. That clump forms slowly into Elena, her going limp against Mother, swaying in time with her relaxing to the sound of the lullaby. Finally, the room has its light back as Elena sighs happily as the song finishes.

Mother smiles down upon Elena with a look of pride. “Well done draga mea” 

I finally relax, walking over. 

"Elena, I'm sorry for angering and invalidating you and causing this mess… I should have been more understanding."

 

She smiles tiredly at me. "No, it's okay. I need to learn to be patient. I shouldn't have been trying to force it."

I scoop her up in a hug of my own. "I'm so proud of you."

I hear mothers' delighted hum and feel her strong arms wrapping around us. "I am proud of both of you for apologizing to each other and asking for help when you need it. Especially you, Bela. I know how hard it is for you sometimes. And my dear Elena, I'm proud of you for being able to reflect and apologize for your wrongdoing."

Eventually, the hug ends, and we pull away. Elena yawned, rubbing her eyes tiredly, causing Mother to scoop her up gently. "I think I will be putting this little one to bed. That was a big step, and it's always exhausting to swarm your first time. I remember when you swarmed for the first time, Bela, you were so excited." Mother smiles softly at the memory before kissing me gently on my tattoo and walking upstairs. I hum quietly and wonder if I can call Mother Miranda and ask for some of her experiment notes to help my sister learn faster. I hum and swarm off, wondering how Mother Miranda would react to the swarming incident.

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Well, I hope I didn't go to OOC because I was trying my hardest. I hope this was enjoyable. I will post some art soon in inspiration for the story, so enjoy it when it comes out.

#lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #platonic #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #oc #lady dimitrescu x oc #first post #first fic

[angelsdemonsandhumans]

❝𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧; 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲❞

I am planning to write a story. A story that could be made up of several parts.

In this story you will be a human player, an unbridled fan of obey me, who doesn't realize that after all, the mc won't remain only inside game.

Plot;

The love you had for that game was colossal, so much to become obsessed with it. There wasn't a day that you didn't think about them, you wanted to live with them more than anything else, you were much better off with those animated characters than with your own friends. What you didn't realize, was that what you dreamed about was right in front of you. And that maybe, you were not as "normal" as you thought you were. But that will soon lead you to live the way you had always dreamed of; you always wanted to be with the brothers, with the angels, and finally you had the opportunity to do it. You could not be happier. Let's say that all that happened was; on a normal day of your normal life, someone found out that you aren't someone to be left alone that way. You had to control whatever ball of power you had inside you, since it still didn't manifest; it meant you were still in right time to take control of it. However, don't expect your life to be the same, after that. It all started during an apparently casual school day, where you met a rather peculiar boy. Belphegor.

What do you think? Let me know with comments! Asks, everything! If you like it, I might also use that as a motivation to keep it going.

The start under the cut! (This is just a little part, the next parts will be longer)

You loved Obey me.

You passionately loved all the characters, you deeply loved the engaging story, and you loved every single detail of that game. Especially the characters, of course. Their lively personalities, the actions they take, and the way they interact with you, the player, were simply mesmerizing. You loved them intensely, you felt a deep connection with them, almost as if they were real friends. You were ashamed to talk about it openly in front of your friends, after all it was just a game right? But you almost preferred to stay indoors playing Obey me than to go out.

You had an incredibly crowded group of friends, to be honest. But you never really felt like a part of it; they hung out frequently, and the times you spent time together were mostly at school. You also went out with them outside school, but only rarely. And then, browsing their stories on Instagram, you always saw all of them together, while the only person missing in those images was always you. In any case, you never really felt integrated into that group, so you preferred to remain confined to the comfort of your solitude.

You were closely attached to all the characters, so when they were hurt it hurt you too, you were happy with them. It was like a second family. They were your second family.

At that moment, you were sitting in your school desk, surrounded by a busy atmosphere. Next to you was your "best friend", animatedly conversing with your crush. Like any teenager your age, you were engulfed in love. But that crush was something extraordinary, even if the girl you liked was not yet a full-fledged acquaintance. Thus, you understood that it was necessary to approach her to find out if the interest was destined to fade or transform into something more lasting. Meanwhile, your phone placed in front of the case, (cleverly placed to avoid the professor to notice it) turned on; a notification from Obey me. But you didn't see it anyway.

Your best friend, Cristiano, was deep in conversation with Erika. In your eyes, she was a beautiful girl. Her black wavy hair framed her face, while her blue eyes shone with a magnetic fascination. Every time she smiled, she was just lovely. She had a unique style, and you admired every single one of her outfits when she arrived at school. You didn't even realize you were staring at her again, enraptured by her beauty.

«Mc, you need something?» Her angelic voice made you jump, and you blinked, looking at her. She really was gorgeous... your best friend gave you a slight, provocative smile. You didn't know how to answer, the words were taken out of your mouth at that moment.

«Ah.. uhm.. sorry» You suddenly felt like apologizing for staring at her in a disconcerting way, and you immediately lowered your gaze towards the counter, feeling a wave of embarrassment overwhelm you. Suddenly, you jumped as the start-up sound of Obey Me blasted loudly from your phone. The home screen lit up, revealing the charming face of the white-haired demon. Your momentary fear prompted you to quit the game quickly, your heart racing like a speeding train.

Your best friend watched you with a puzzled look, as did Erika and the other classmates, while the professor also focused on the scene that was unfolding.

Then, other than the adult inside the classroom, the whole room erupted in uproarious laughter, while you were left with cheeks burning with a vivid blush, a mix of shame and embarrassment that enveloped you like a thick fog.

The white-haired boy stuck in your head after that unwanted apparition. You couldn't deny your soft spot for all the white haired boys in the game; Mammon, Solomon and Raphael had won your heart with their unique charm (and you knew they'd be flattered to know). However, at that moment, you would have given anything to disappear from the face of the earth, wishing you could just erase your existence.

༺💜༻

«What was that?!» once again, your best friend put a hand on your shoulder outside the classroom, bursting out laughing thinking back to the moment lived and your priceless expression. It had been a hilarious episode for him.

However, you remained silent, not saying a word. You just took your headphones out of your pocket and plugged them into your phone, eager to isolate yourself from the outside world and immerse yourself in the music. «Oh come on Mc, it was fun!» Cristiano gave you a light shake on the shoulder, still laughing, while you just grimaced and muttered that it wasn't funny for you at all.

Finally he ventured towards the rest of the group, stepping outside quickly. They had also asked you to join them, but aware that Cristiano would speak about your embarrassing moment in class, you had decided to avoid further discussions and had preferred to spend recess alone.

While you were immersed in your thoughts, staring at the screen of your cell phone, a voice interrupted your isolation: «Hey, can I sit?» You looked up and noticed that you weren't going to spend recess exactly alone...

You had settled on the garden bench outside school, taking off your headphones. You would have opened Obey Me in minutes.

In front of you was a mysterious boy. Though you never noticed him before, it was clear he couldn't be a newcomer. Perhaps you had simply never paid attention to him... his hair, probably dyed, had a blue tinge to it and gave off a strange aura. He looked especially tired, as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. Having no reason to object his question, you made room for him on the bench and he took a seat next to you. His voice was incredibly soft. It was a striking contrast to your friends, who had loud, thick voices. Some didn't even sound like they were supposed to sound (Cristiano was 18 years old and had the voice of a 25 year old).

He didn't seem interested in having a conversation, or maybe he just wasn't even awake. He had literally dropped onto the bench. His position seemed extremely uncomfortable, but it was as if sleep had overtaken him with no consideration for comfort.

Sighing, you turned your attention to your phone. Leaning back comfortably on the bench, you opened Obey Me and made sure the volume was turned down. You wanted to immerse yourself in that world again, even if for a few minutes.

Belphegor appeared on the main screen. You appreciated him, albeit reluctantly, but the indomitable chaos of lesson 16 could not be forgotten. It was he, after all, who had ended your existence without apology.

In the D.D.D's home Simeon appeared. He hastened to give you a warm greeting, and you would have loved if you could hear his voice, but you didn't have much time to play before recess was to end. Just 10 minutes more. A spontaneous smile painted itself on your face, illuminating your eyes for some seconds.

you had 99+ messages, 5 calls, 2 friend requests on the left side, and the daemons at :D jobs had done their job, and you could use nightmare 1 time. But you weren't interested; your instant destination was RAD, so you pressed for tasks. You were in lesson 52; stuck, from days. Because you couldn't beat those dancing little black demons.

But you decided to try anyway, hoping for a more positive result that time. Or rather, those times since you were obviously losing, it was the 5th time you tried again, and you felt like the phone was going to fly at any moment.

And victory slipped through your fingers again as time was up, and the demons had won. You let out a frustrated sigh.

«Want some help?» You jumped so violently that the phone almost slipped out of your hand, as you turned around to face the boy you thought was asleep only seconds before. But when did he wake up? And how had he managed to approach so silently? He could have rested his head on your shoulder, his closeness was almost intimate. The tuft that partially covered his right eye looked a little annoying, but maybe it was simply a feature he was used to.

«E-excuse me?»

«Ah, sorry» the boy settled down comfortably, pulling back and leaving you enough personal space. «My name is Belphegor, nice to meet you» He declared with a lazy smile. «I was attempting to sleep but.. I guess I can't. I saw you having a little mental breakdown over that dance battle» he explained in a slightly sarcastic tone of voice, tilting his head to the side as he stared disinterestedly at your phone.

A boy you've never seen comes to ask if he can sit next to you, he collapses on the bench to sleep, has blue hair and a tuft that covers half his face, and his name is Belphegor.

It's a joke, right?

«What are you, an exchange student?»

«Actually yes, I am. The principal told me not to talk about it» he shrugged indifferently.

You stared at him.

You stared at him for a long time.

You stared at him for a long time without looking away.

«You are what?»

He seemed to start to get annoyed, so you decided to stop; you didn't have the slightest idea who he was and, although it was a stupid idea (and it could also have been your friend playing a joke on you but this was too good an actor), you were a little afraid that his words matched what you thought.

«Um.. you wanted to help me?»

«...I am sleepy again»

You watched him intently as he leaned back against the solid bench, before turning his head to one side and reclining there with apparent comfort (a position that was incomprehensible to you). He seemed to fall asleep again, sinking into a deep sleep. You jumped up, and almost made an awkward jog arriving inside the corridors of the school, where a sudden breath caught you, leading you to reflect on the idea of ​​dedicating yourself for some gym, after all.

«Beel would not have all these problems..» you huffed, pulling yourself straight and jumping «Why people keep spwaning in front of me like this?!» Cristina, Cristiano's twin, looked at you perplexed, then smiled slightly amused.

«Sorry Mc.. I just wanted to go out and you happened to come in. see you later» she walked out of the school, and you followed her with your eyes before turning in front of you and start to walk again.

More and more each day you yearned to live with those brothers. Belphegor certainly wouldn't have killed you, you wouldn't even have actually climbed those stairs. Lucifer had said no, and Lucifer was scary!

«What a burden...» you whispered to yourself, as you put the headphones back on your head, immersing yourself in your playlist dedicated to the game. "Choose me" was the selected track that time.

There were 5 minutes left of recess and you hadn't touched any food unfortunately. You weren't even hungry if you came to think of it; you decided to go directly to class, sitting in your seat.

If it was true that Belphegor was the avatar of Sloth and he was there as an exchange student (so Lucifer didn't chain him in the attic), was there a human who was took as an exchange student in the devildom? So the game would have been real, it would have been cool.. right? You sighed. Even if they were real, you'd never be like the "Mc" in the game.

Come on, you couldn't even make human friends, how could you think that demons could accept you better than those friends of your did?

You rested your head on your arms, slumped wearily in your desk, sighing bitterly. You were hopelessly alone, in the end you were always alone.

They didn't exist, and your friends weren't friends.

You turned slowly towards the window that overlooked the garden; from that perspective, it was possible to clearly see the bench where you had spent moments in the company of Belphegor. There he was, in all his solitude. He lay carelessly on the bench, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his stomach. His flowing hair enveloped 70% of his face, particularly in the position he was in at the time.

You wondered if he really was a demon… and then, without warning, you jerked your head up.

A smile crossed your face, almost like a child looking for trouble.

You had a plan in mind, a way to provoke and test him.

And depending on how he evolved, if he was a real demon… well, you would have seen his loss of control, his transformation.

Obviously you didn't think it would actually happen... you just wanted to do something different that year, you wanted to have a new experience, and keep your mind busy. And you knew exactly how. (You didn't even think he was really Belphegor, the avatar of sloth. I mean you had a fear at first, but it was such a remote reality, so unimaginable... demons didn't exist, did they? You just took it as a fun thing to do... But what you didn't expect, and what would shock you, was that it wouldn't turn out the way you thought.)

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles #obey me x reader #obey me x you #obey me og story #lucifer obey me #mammon #obey me funny #obey me x mc #solomon #obey me story #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanart

[mimilind]

A Magical Classmate - Part 1

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Rating: T

Chapter Word Count: 1900

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

1. The New Student

It was over a month into term and the morning lecture had already started when a strange young man sauntered into the hall, taking a seat among you as naturally as if he owned the place. You were a big class and you would probably not have paid attention to him if not for how out of place he looked, wearing a black suit with a striped tie in green and silver, and with his blond hair combed backwards like a rich Stureplan brat from Stockholm. 

Was he an economics student who lost his way? But even they didn’t look that snobby in this city. Gothenburg was for average people. 

The teacher only gave him a brief look before he continued to write on the whiteboard, and you turned your attention back to the lecture.

In the break, Catrine immediately went over to the newcomer and shook his hand. “Welcome to the class! I’m Catrine.”

She was one of those hyper social persons who knew everybody, and if she didn’t she made sure to get to know them as soon as possible.

He stared blankly at her. “Sorry?”

“Oh, you speak English!”

“How perceptive of you,” he deadpanned.

“That’s super cool! What’s your name and where comes you from?” She was assaulting the language badly, but in her defense she studied chemistry and not English.

“Drake Marley. From America.”

You narrowed your eyes. America? Absolutely not. His accent had made you think of English royalty and BBC reporters, and no Americans you ever heard spoke like that.

“Nice. Why are you in a Swedish university if you’re American?”

“Exchange student.” He glanced at the pile of textbooks in his open briefcase; all of them were written in English. “It’s not necessary for me to understand anything; I already know the required course book by heart. But I thought lectures were mandatory?”

Of course the guy had a briefcase and not a backpack… a snob through and through, it would seem.

“Not at all. Labs are, though.”

“Good to know.” 

“Tell me more about you. Where in America? Why pick chemistry? Do you live in a dorms?”

“I like chemistry.” He was looking at the door as if planning an escape route. Catrine had a rather overwhelmingly inquisitive personality that could take a while to get used to.

“Do you really know all the textbooks by heart?” Martin, your dorm neighbor, cut in. He had been ogling Drake with a starry gaze since he arrived.

You could see why. Drake was tall, wide-shouldered, and he had a nice face. Straight nose, dark eyebrows, chiseled jaw. His eyes were an unusual pale blue color that matched the silver in his tie.

If he hadn’t looked so cocky and upper-class he would have been handsome.

“Do you think I make stuff up?” he scoffed rather arrogantly.

What a jerk! You were convinced he was just bragging; nobody read the textbooks in advance. 

“Then what is the second law of thermodynamics, Mister Know-it-all?” you challenged.

He smirked. “Depends on who you ask. Kelvin? Planck?”

“Kelvin,” you picked at random. A tendril of doubt stirred in you. Why did he look so confident?

A group of students had gathered around you now, clearly curious about the outcome of the confrontation.

“According to Lord Kelvin, ‘a cyclic transformation whose only final result is to transform heat extracted from a source which is at the same temperature throughout into work is impossible,” he quoted.

“Wow!” Martin clapped his hands and was joined by a few bystanders.

That was taken directly from the textbook. You shifted your stance, beginning to feel a bit too hot. So, maybe he had photographic memory then, but he probably just memorized the phrase and didn’t understand what it meant.

“Say that in simpler words.”

“It means entropy always increases – and that means for example that a hot item will become cool, unless you heat it.”

You knew you must be blushing now. ”Okay,” you muttered, defeated. 

“Some are both hot and cool at the same time,” said Martin, eyeing him appreciatively. “I say, you must join us tonight at the dentist students’ pub!”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Because their pub is the best,” said Catrine. “Cheap drinks, great music. Try it. It’s fun.”

He hesitated. “Maybe.”

The break was over and there was no opportunity to talk for a while, but you had a hard time focusing on the teacher. Who was this genius, British-sounding, American rich guy? Despite the mortification that he beat you, he intrigued you.

You hoped he would come to the pub so you could get to know him better; not because he seemed very likable but because you were so curious. 

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

When you arrived that night, you saw Catrine and Martin with a group of fellow students at a corner table. There was no sign of Drake.

You ordered your usual pear cider and joined them. 

“Do you think he will come?” asked Martin, sipping his rum and coke. He was nicely dressed in jeans and a shirt with the top buttons open to expose part of his tanned chest.

“I don’t think he will,” said Catrine. “He seems like a fancy restaurant kind of person. He probably only drinks champagne.” She wore a simple, comfortable sweater as always, but with her curvy shape and blonde ponytail she tended to attract guys’ eyes anyway. Not Martin’s obviously, he wasn’t into girls. 

Leaning against the wall, you slowly drank your cider, listening with half an ear at the others’ chatter and the catchy music. 

The dentist students’ pub was small, only two rooms, and the chairs and tables simple and not very comfortable, but the DJ was good and made the most of the cheap equipment. He always put together a perfect mix of new songs and old favorites from the eighties and early nineties.

After a while the others around the table went over to the dance floor in the next room, but you were getting drowsy. Instead you closed your eyes and let the music and alcohol relax you after a long day.

You all but jumped when you heard the door open and shut firmly. Drake strolled in with the same confident air as that morning, and just like then he looked slightly out of place. This time he wore an actual dress coat with tails and everything. Did he think he was going to a ball? 

Ignoring everybody in the room, he ambled over to the bar. “Dry martini,” he ordered. 

“What?” asked the bartender, a gangly dentist student with braces on his teeth.

Drake sighed. “Never mind. Do you have whiskey sour?”

He shook his head. “We have vodka…”

“No.” He leaned over to read the short menu. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

He paid rather clumsily for the drink, peering at the coins and twenty-crown note like he was unfamiliar with them, but that was of course expected for an exchange student.

When he scanned the tables for a place to sit, you waved awkwardly. “Here!”

”Oh, it’s you.” He looked down his nose at you.

His arrogant look made you feel like it was you who were out of place. You squirmed uncomfortably, crossing a leg over the stain on your jeans and wished you had dressed nicer. 

To your surprise he chose your table anyway, but first he wiped the chair with a green silk handkerchief. Then he sat, elegantly crossing one leg over the other. His trousers had perfect press creases, and his leather shoes looked expensive and were spotlessly polished.

Nobody dressed up like that to a simple student back alley pub! Was he royalty? An English prince in exile? You tried to recall all the members of the royal family you knew but could only think of the queen and Lady Di. The former was too old, the latter dead, and neither of them was a guy anyway.

If Drake noticed your glances he didn’t show it; he paid no attention to you and could just as well have been sitting alone. He was staring blankly into the air with a bored expression, taking long gulps of his drink. Whenever there was a new song on, you noticed him wincing slightly. 

He finished the drink fast and put down the plastic cup with a suffering look; he would probably have preferred a crystal glass with an umbrella.

If he hated the company, music and drinks so much, why did he even stay?

“Another,” he called to the bartender. “Please,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

The bartender poured it, leaving it at the counter. 

“I think you must get it yourself,” you prompted a bit shyly.

With a resigned sigh Drake fetched the cup. He emptied it equally efficiently as the previous one, but if the alcohol affected him it didn’t show. 

You wished the others would come back but they were still dancing. The silence between Drake and you grated on your nerves. 

You couldn’t stand it.

”I’m sorry I doubted you,” you blurted.

He raised one eyebrow. “Okay.”

New silence.

Your mouth continued rambling against your volition, desperate to fill the void. “But I mean, it’s not strange I did, right? Normally people don’t learn these books by heart… I thought you were just bragging. How did you even have time to both read and learn it? You must be very smart.”

Great. Why had you said he was smart? He didn’t need his ego stroked. If only the greasy linoleum floor could suck you into it and take you away now.

His lip turned up ever so slightly and for the first time he was actually looking at you. “I am, yes. A know-it-all, like you said.”

You dropped your gaze. Damn. Must he remember that?

”Uh, sorry about that too.”

”And actually I do have plenty of spare time; that’s why I memorized the book. But only the first half. I was lucky you picked thermodynamics.”

Slowly you looked back at him. He was smiling for real now and no longer looked arrogant at all. 

”What? So if I had asked about something near the end you couldn’t reply?”

”Nope.”

You giggled nervously. ”You asshole.”

”If you say so.” He nodded at your empty cider bottle. ”Want another of those?”

The offer immediately raised him several notches in your eyes. You never said no to a free drink. Plus, he had a charming smile now that he had dropped the superior air.

Or perhaps he had never meant to be superior, and it was just your interpretation because he looked so wealthy. Thinking back, he hadn’t been impolite to anyone, and just the fact he was willing to attend a pub like this was proof he wasn’t putting on airs.

“Why do you sound British?” you asked when he came back with your bottle and a third gin and tonic for himself.

“Oh.” He hesitated. “I have been living in London a lot.”

London! That’s where the queen lived too! You wanted to ask more, but now the other students returned, and soon Catrine took over the questioning like a twenty-first century version of the Spanish Inquisition.

Drake only replied to half of it and clearly grew more and more uncomfortable under the barrage. Not long afterwards he rose to leave, excusing himself with being tired.

You looked long after him as he walked out. Damn Catrine and her curiosity!

But you could understand her, too. There was something highly mysterious about that young man, and you couldn’t wait until you saw him again and had a chance to find out more.

A/N:

Hey all, thanks for reading! This is a completely new fandom for me to write in. Let me know what you think. :)

/Mimi

Parts: [ Next Part > ] [ Masterlist ]

Full story: [ AO3 ]

#draco malfoy #draco #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco x you #fanfiction #draco malfoy is nice #muggle reader #tom felton #a magical classmate #mimi lind

[stromuprisahat]

Fewer than a dozen maids remained, and the press had thinned considerably, when a sudden trumpet blast heralded the arrival of Baela Velaryon and Rhaena Corbray. The doors to the throne room were thrown open, and the daughters of Prince Daemon entered upon a blast of winter air. Lady Baela was great with child, Lady Rhaena wan and thin from her miscarriage, yet seldom had they seemed more as one. Both were dressed in gowns of soft black velvet with rubies at their throats, and the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen on their cloaks. Mounted on a pair of coal black chargers, the twins rode the length of the hall side by side. When Ser Marston Waters of the Kingsguard blocked their path and demanded they dismount, Lady Baela slashed him across the cheek with her riding crop. “His Grace my brother can command me. You cannot.” At the foot of the Iron Throne they reined up. Lord Unwin rushed forward, demanding to know the meaning of this. The twins paid him no more heed than they would a serving man. “Brother,” Lady Rhaena said to Aegon, “if it please you, we have brought your new queen.” Her lord husband, Ser Corwyn Corbray, brought the girl forward. A gasp went through the hall. “Lady Daenaera of House Velaryon,” boomed out the herald, somewhat hoarsely, “daughter of the late and lamented Daeron of that house and his lady wife, Hazel of House Harte, also departed, a ward of Lady Baela of House Targaryen and Alyn the Oakenfist of House Velaryon, Lord Admiral, Master of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides.” Daenaera Velaryon was an orphan. Her mother had been carried off by the Winter Fever; her father had died in the Stepstones when his True Heart went down. His own father had been that Ser Vaemond beheaded by Queen Rhaenyra, but Daeron had been reconciled with Lord Alyn and had died fighting for him. As she stood before the king that Maiden’s Day, clad in pale white silk, Myrish lace, and pearls, her long hair shining in the torchlight and her cheeks flush with excitement, Daenaera was but six years old, yet so beautiful she took the breath away. The blood of Old Valyria was strong in her, as is oft seen in the sons and daughters of the seahorse; her hair was silver laced with gold, her eyes as blue as a summer sea, her skin as smooth and pale as winter snow. “She sparkled,” Mushroom says, “and when she smiled, the singers in the galley rejoiced, for they knew that here at last was a maid worthy of a song.” Daenaera’s smile transformed her face, men agreed; it was sweet and bold and mischievious, all at once. Those who saw it could not fail to think, “Here is a bright, sweet, happy little girl, the perfect antidote to the young king’s gloom.” When Aegon III returned her smile and said, “Thank you for coming, my lady, you look very pretty,” even Lord Unwin Peake surely must have known that the game was lost. The last few maidens were brought forward hurriedly to do their turns, but the king’s desire to put an end to the parade was so palpable that poor Henrietta Woodhull was sobbing as she curtsied. As she was led away, King Aegon summoned his young cupbearer, Gaemon Palehair. To him was given the honor of making the announcement. “His Grace will marry Lady Daenaera of House Velaryon!” Gaemon shouted happily.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

I need a painting of the twins on their horses. Blood of the Dragon, bitches!

#ASoIaF #Fire & Blood #valyrianscrolls #ch: Under the Regents: War and Peace and Cattle Shows #Maiden's Day Ball #Aegon III Targaryen #Baela Targaryen #Rhaena Targaryen (twin) #Daenaera Velaryon #Gaemon Palehair #V #GRRM #books #quotes

[dystopia-incognito]

Vox x OC - Day 1 - First Meeting

Vox, on his way home after a long night of clubbing is inebriated and caught off guard when being attacked by an unknown demon.

I wrote this Vox x Lila Sinclair for the @hazbinocxcanon Event Week and it contains some mild violence and cursing but is otherwise SFW.

The hard impact to his face screen had left Vox's head crackle, voice buffering and electronically distorted as he bellowed, "What the ff-f-u-uck?" His screen flashed, froze and crashed, displaying the ominous blue screen of death, street lights were snuffed out as he slumped down to the ground in the now pitch-black alleyway. The big brute of a demon that had hit him over the head towered over him, laughing as he kicked Vox sharply in the ribs. "Not so tough off camera huh, you flat-faced fuck." His menacing yellow eyes glowed with glee as he continued kicking Vox's limp body.

-

Lila's eyes flashed, and the extra six appeared and flitted around her in the now-dark street of the city as she heard someone yell from the alleyway she had passed. Her heart jumped. Should she risk it and check? Maybe someone needed help. Against all reason, she jogged back and apprehensively followed the sound of dark laughter.

Struggling to regain composure, Vox's screen flickered back to life, displaying a mix of colours before settling on its usual deep blue tone. He grunted in pain as he tried to push himself up, only to be met with another kick from the thug. "Ah fuck- You piece of shit!" He spat out, his voice still slightly garbled from the initial blow. He tried to focus his gaze on the attacker, but his vision was still blurred.

Suddenly, a new presence entered their field of vision. The young woman was a strange sight to behold; A warbling blue-green of hair shining in the dim eerie light of many glowing red eyes. The thug turned towards her, smirking cruelly. "Well, well, what have we here? A little lost kitty come to play?" He sneered, taking a step towards her.

Despite his pain and confusion, Vox mustered what strength he could to finally sit up. "I think you're better off making a run for it, toots," He chuckled bitterly addressing the newcomer, his voice regaining its usual charisma.

Lila took in the situation, the TV-headed demon in the nice suit looked pretty beat up and now his attacker had it out for her; Large, hairy and not here to make friends. She squared her shoulders and made a quick decision; "You look well off." She told the TV-demon still sitting on the floor. "If I help you, you owe me a meal. Deal?" She took a step back as the hairy thug neared her. "Think quick."

Surprised by Lila's boldness, the thug paused momentarily, considering her. Meanwhile, Vox couldn't believe his luck - this scrawny-looking woman might just save his ass! With a wry grin spreading across his screen, he nodded in agreement. "Deal," he replied coolly, managing to stand upright despite the lingering dizziness. As if sensing an opportunity, the larger demon lunged forward, growling menacingly. But just then, something unexpected happened - Light shot from Lila's many eyes, illuminating the alleyway with an ethereal glow, all of them were now a hypnotic swirling pattern of the most blinding cyan and focused on the attacker. In response, the larger demon froze – clearly taken aback by this unexpected display of power - then stiffened and fell backwards with a dull thud as he hit the pavement, paralysed. Lila blinked, now slightly dizzy herself as her eyes returned to normal and darkness surrounded them once more.

-

Seizing the chance, Vox quickly transformed into a swarm of electricity, zipping past them and straight into a security camera above.

Lila let out a small gasp as she felt the surge of energy coursing past her as she watched him go. "Hey!" She protested. "You made a promise. Don't you dare fucking off without making good on it." She glared at the camera as it fizzled with the electricity of his presence inside of its casing.

The security camera fell silent for a moment that stretched on too long for Lila's liking before it locked onto her, she could hear the demon chuckle darkly. With a flash akin to a mini lightning strike, Vox reappeared in front of her, Pentagram's lights flickered back to life as his electrified form dissipated into his battered humanoid shape once again. He smirked, admiring her audacity. "My dear, you've got quite a mouth on you." He seemed to compliment, his reasoning to come back now neatly concealed behind the unreadable mask of a placating smile as he straightened his bowtie while walking past her towards the exit. He gestured with a flourish for her to follow him. As they emerged onto the busy street, demons stopped mid-step, staring wide-eyed at the unconscious thug lying motionless on the ground but no one dared to do anything about it. "Very well then," Vox began, turning to face her once more. "To repay my debt, how would you like dinner tonight? My treat, of course." He offered nonchalantly, already scanning the crowd for potential cameras or reporters.

It wasn't just the gnawing hunger, Lila found herself strangely drawn to his magnetic charm and accepted easily despite her reservations as he led the way amidst curious looks from passersby. "So," She began, as they passed a small group of demons that immediately parted like a school of fish to let them through. "Something tells me you're kind of a big deal. My name's Lila Sinclair, and I'm new to Hell. And I should know you, why..?"

Chuckling softly, Vox inclined his head in acknowledgement. "They call me Vox, the Voice of Hell itself. And you, my dear, seem to possess quite the knack for getting yourself in and out of troubled waters." He glanced at her. "Perhaps, with a bit of guidance from yours truly there'd be room for someone like you in my circle." He said smoothly, his words carrying an almost seductive undertone. They arrived at a tall tower with pink-tinted windows decorated with red glowing LED lights, atop it three V's shone proudly in bright neon lights. Vox led her into an elevator and after punching in a passcode it arrived at a sleek dark blue room with walls that doubled as a shark tank with cybernetic sharks which swam in it. There was a long table with several black office chairs on both sides and a bigger dark blue chair at the end for Vox to sit.

Lila recognized it as a conference room and marvelled at the demonic plants potted in the corners of the room before she spotted the surrounding shark tank, all three of her visible eyes widened in awe. "Gorgeous. I didn't know there were creatures like this in these parts of hell. Must've cost you a fortune."

"Indeed, they don't come cheap," Vox admitted with a hint of pride. "But isn't everything worth having its price? Besides, keeping your mind entertained is essential for productivity." He chuckled, walking towards the table and offering her a seat. "Kitty, a Whiskey Sour, and a.." He glanced at Lila as she sat. "Martini for the lady. And bring a plate of tonight's steak au poivre with brandy cream sauce while you're at it." A little modified Fizzarolli robot zipped in and acknowledged orders before zipping away for a moment to swiftly return with the drinks and then the food she placed in front of Lila before disappearing from sight.

Lila sat there slightly stunned, overwhelmed by the change of scenery after nights of fearing for her afterlife. Vox took a seat in his chair, facing her with an expectant look and she felt pressured into taking a small bite of the food. To her pleasant surprise, it was good. Really good. Better than she remembered having in quite a while. "Not bad." She told the TV demon, savouring another bite as she tried to suppress the flood of emotions which washed over her.

Smiling triumphantly, Vox leaned back in his chair, watching her closely. "Excellent," He purred, taking a sip of his whiskey sour. "Now tell me, my dear, why did you decide to venture into such dangerous territory earlier tonight?" His voice held a note of genuine curiosity mixed with subtle threat. Around them, the sharks circled slowly, their mechanical bodies gleaming under the artificial light. Despite the luxurious surroundings, there was an undeniable air of danger lurking within the confines of this opulent chamber.

Lila met his equally red and cyan gaze with a solemn expression, "I was lost, like I said, I recently died and ended up here. I frankly barely understand where 'here' is, although I've heard it being called Pentagram City and that no one can leave. All I tried to do was find a place to stay, maybe get a job. No dice." She shrugged and took a sip of the Martini, slightly relaxing just from the taste of the alcohol.

Listening attentively, Vox considered her words carefully. This brand-new sinner seemed honest enough, perhaps even naïve. Or perhaps she was simply playing him for her own gain. Either way, there was potential in her - this power she had seemed quite useful and would fit right into his vision. Leaning forward slightly, he fixed his gaze upon hers once more. "Ah yes, the trials and tribulations of a newly deceased soul in our fair city. Well, my dear, allow me to introduce myself properly." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a business card embossed with glowing cyan letters reading 'VOXTEK'. "This is my company," he explained, handing it over to her. "Together with my associates, fellow Overlords Valentino and Velvette, we - the Vees - pull the strings of Pentagram City. News, media, its tech scene? I control the information and entertainment sinners and hellborns get to enjoy and consume. And I happen to require talented individuals such as yourself. What say you join forces with me?"

Lila looked at the card, turning over to read the back of it before throwing it onto the table with a huff. "No offence, but what would I be able to offer you and what's in it for me?"

Unfazed by her brusqueness, Vox raised an eyebrow. Clearly, this young woman possessed more fire than he initially thought. Good. That would serve him well. "Oh, my dear Lila," he drawled, leaning back in his chair once more. "Let us start with what you can offer me. "Your abilities are quite unique, aren't they?" He observed thoughtfully. "What was that light projection, a certain type of hypnosis? …and those extra floating eyes of yours could prove very handy too." He continued, leaning back in his chair. "In exchange for your loyalty and services, I propose we enter into a Soul Contract together. You'll receive protection, shelter, food, clothing - whatever else you may require." He listed matter-of-factly. "In addition, you'll have access to state-of-the-art facilities and resources at VoxTek. Not to mention," He added with a devilish grin, "I'll pay you."

Lila couldn't suppress the little guffaw escaping her. "Sorry, a Soul Contract? Now that, Sir, sounds like something I should definitely avoid." To emphasize her words she pushed away the plate of food, her appetite clearly affected by his shady offer.

Raising an eyebrow, Vox studied her reaction closely. So, she was clever indeed. But so was he. "Ah, my dear Lila," he purred, holding her gaze. "Don't mistake me for a fool. Of course, you must always remain vigilant when dealing with demons such as ourselves. However, I assure you, my intentions are pure." His tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "Look around you. Do you really think you can survive alone in this pit of vipers? We both know the answer to that question." He paused for effect before continuing. "Besides, who better to protect your interests than someone who knows exactly what you're capable of?" His eyes glittered with sincerity - or was it merely calculation? - as he leaned over the table towards her once more. Let me put it this way then; imagine having complete control over any situation - influencing others effortlessly, ensuring favourable outcomes every time." His voice dropped low as his left eye swirled hypnotically. "Imagine never having to worry about safety or comfort ever again; knowing that you always hold the key to success." He paused, letting his words sink in. "That, my dear, in exchange for your name on a measly little Soul Contract. See it as a promise; You keep me safe while I- protect you." He flashed her the toothiest grin she'd seen of him yet.

Lila fell silent for a moment, considering her options. And then, with a sigh of defeat, she uttered one word that would seal her future in Hell; "Fine."

Grinning widely, Vox extended a clawed hand across the table towards her. "Welcome to VoxTek, my dear." His voice resonated with excitement as he watched her hesitate before finally reaching out to accept his offer. Their palms touched, sending a jolt of electricity through both of them. For a brief moment, their eyes locked in a silent understanding – two predators recognizing each other's strengths and weaknesses as electricity crackled around them, frizzing Lila's hair and casting eerie shadows over their features. Then, without warning, Lila pulled away sharply, breaking contact with him. Her cheeks flushed as if burned by his touch.

"Alright," she muttered gruffly, attempting to regain composure as she combed her fingers through her hair. "Just give me the damned contract.

-

Thank you for taking an interest! <3

This story can also be found here:

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #oc x canon #vox x oc #vox x reader #hazbinocxcanon #hazbin oc x canon #hazbin hotel oc x canon #vox x lila #vox x lila sinclair #lila sinclair #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbinocxcanon event week #it's a silly little stretch #bare with me #i hardly ever write #i just needed them to meet somehow #character analysis #my writing ✍️ #my art 🎨 #kinda wanna draw some moments from this #wip #Spotify

[noras-dc-shenanigans]

Parents | Discovery

‘Okay. Don’t panic, Danny, no need to panic, your parents just saw you transform into Phantom and now think you’re possessing yourself and are chasing you with a giant cannon that will rip out your ghost half which would kill you for real. It’s fine. Everything’s fine, don’t panic—‘

A massive explosion ahead of him cut him off, and Danny, definitely panicking, veered to the side and phased through a building to get more distance. On the street he’d left behind, the GAV screeched as it, probably, goes up on two wheels from the hard turn his dad made to try to follow Phantom.

A little time bought, Danny dived down, just under the street, and headed in the direction he thought his abandoned observatory was in. While underground travel was great for escaping, it was awful for navigation. Once he’d gone far enough he couldn’t feel the ecto from the giant cannon anymore, Danny cautiously popped his head above ground.

And groaned, because he’s way out on the edges of town, and nowhere near his hideout.

‘I have got to get a compass or something. At least then I could keep in a straight line!’

Sighing, Danny went both invisible and intangible, just to be safe, and started heading back into the city proper. He’d only been flying— slowly, cautiously, looking out for any traps— about five minutes when he heard voices.

Normally, Danny would ignore it, it’s not his business what people are doing, but the voices were coming from an abandoned building and it was like 2:00 in the morning (he thought) and well… at this point anything shady is probably ghost related, so he might as well—

And yup, there it was, the gasp of cold air. Joy.

With a heartfelt, totally unnecessary sigh, Danny veered off to the building and popped his head through a wall, still invisible. It’s took him a moment to adjust from street-lights to nothing, but then he could see what’s going on.

Only… he had no idea what’s going on.

There’s a group of people that certainly looked like they should be ghosts, but other than the faint ecto signature off one larger one…

They seemed to be human. Weird humans, but human.

The largest was dressed in all black, with a cape and a pointy cowl and his lower face being the only visible skin. The maybe-ghost was the next largest, with a red helmet and brown leather jacket over black combat clothes, and some sort of chest armor with a red bat on it.

Then there’s a slightly shorter, more slenderly built one in a skintight black suit with a blue bat and striped down his arms to his fingers. He’s got nothing but a black domino mask on, showcasing his black hair.

The next two also had dominos and black hair, though the middle one was pale and in a red armor-vest thing and tight black pants, and the shortest had darker skin and more green.

All of them were standing around Big Black, who was holding up some sort of device that was giving off noises. Judging by the arguing going on, the noises weren’t good ones. As Danny watched, another person in all purple walked out of a side room, this one appearing female with blond hair under a purple hood, a matching mask over her nose and mouth. She joined the group and said something just out of Danny’s super-hearing range, and they all responded by turning their attention back to the noisy devise.

Danny was still contemplating how to approach the situation when some instinct in him caused him to go back intangible, having involuntary dropped it earlier to concentrate on invisibility. Half a second later, a slim figure in all black, including a helmet, dropped through him. They hit the floor with a roll, and by the time Danny had shot up into the rafters all the others had taken battle stances. Big Black had some sort of shurikan thingy, Red Helmet guns, Blue Stripe two batons, Red Vest and Purple had staffs, and Green Cape a thin sword. Small Black popped out of the roll and into a fighting stance Danny had seen his mom take, so he assumed it was karate.

Somehow, most of them were staring straight at him, despite his invisibility still being up. Just to test, Danny flew sideways a few yards, and yup, they could see him somehow. He’s betting there’s some sort of tech in those masks of theirs.

For another few moments, they’re at a standmate. Then there was an explosion somewhere outside, and Danny startled enough to become visible again. There’s another big BANG! and then some screams, followed by—

“Oh come on!”

Completely fed up, Danny took off in the direction of the familiar shouting, totally forgetting about the Weird People he left behind.

Less than two minutes later, Phantom showed up in the downtown area and sucker punched Skulker in the metal face, taking the hunter ghost by surprise. He corrected himself mid-fall and shot off a bunch of lasers to distract Phantom, before beginning his very, very, very worn-out speech.

“Ghost Child! I have come to finally claim your pelt! With my new upgrades, you won’t escape me again!”

Phantom, unimpressed, rolled his eyes and shot several ecto-blasts at the annoying rogue as he retorted,

“Uh-huh, right. Remind me again, is this the fifth or sixth time this month you’ve said that? I’m thinkin sixth.”

Dodge. Spin. Shoot, shoot, dodge, shoot. Taunt Skulker into doing something stupid with his new jet pack, ice it over, suck him into the thermos before he can recover.

‘Just another day of ghost hunting.’ He thought wryly, clipping the thermos to his belt and taking off before someone can show up to shoot at him. Danny automatically headed for his house, keeping low and invisible, before stopping dead in an empty alley a few blocks away.

‘Oh. Right.’

Memories of his parents just— was it really just an hour ago? Ready to tear him apart to get to their son flooded his mind, and despite not needing to he sucked in a breath, battling the tears that popped into his eyes.

‘I can’t go home.’

The thought hit abruptly, and brutally. Suddenly, Danny found himself in the corner of the alley, behind a bunch of broken pallets. Tears streamed down his face, choked-down sobs barely escaped his mouth, and he curled in on himself, core aching in the way he imagined his heart would, if he changed back.

‘But you can’t do that anymore either, remember? Not after whatever they hit you with. It’s gone. Your human half is gone. You can’t switch back, can’t be separated again, not like that time with their weird invention. This is permanent.’

Grief, pure and thick, shuddered through Danny as he sat there, for minutes or hours or days. He didn’t care, couldn’t, not after losing so much. His humanity, his parents, his home.

All of it, gone, in just a few minutes.

By the time the Halfa’s emotion had run their course, the sky had just barely begun to lighten, and the niggling feeling that he’d forgotten something rushed back threefold when several silhouettes appeared on all sides.

‘Oh, right. The Weird Humans.’

Some part of Danny thought he should be getting up, running, fighting, something. But the larger part, the kid under the hero, the teenager who just wanted his parents, couldn’t work up the strength.

He watched, as if through a tv screen, as Big Black cautiously approached. As the others all moved in, blocked both ends of the alley and the rooftop. He stared blankly, face still hot and wet from his tears, as Big Black knelt in front of him and started talking. Danny couldn’t get his brain booted back up enough to understand, and after a few minutes BB seemed to give up.

Instead, he got closer, and closer, and then Danny was being carried away. The man was holding him gently to his chest, grip firm but not restraining. After a few moments, Danny let his head gently thunk to the man’s chest armor, and closed his eyes.

He was just— just too tired to take anything else. Two to three ghost fights a day, barely attending classes, grades dropping lower and lower as the school year drags on… passing out on top of his homework, rushing out at all time of the night, being shot at by his parents and Red Huntress and rogue ghosts.

Losing his friends, Tucker to his parent’s new job in another state, Sam to her parent’s fancy boarding school in Europe. His sister, to a college half a country away.

His parents, to their prejudice and rage.

It was all just— just too much.

Danny just wanted a break.

“It’s all right, lad. You’re safe with us.”

The voice is gruff, but gentle, and he’d been wrapped in something warm and tucked comfortingly against a chest and it’s just been so long since he felt safe he just…

He just gave in.

————

Alright, my contribution to DPxDCFamilyWeek! Just finished on time!

#DPxDCFamilyWeek #Danny phantom #dc #batman #batfam #it’s sadder then I meant it to be… #oops

[nova--spark]

Maybe this is a bad time to bring this up but we’ve seen the Jasper Trio turn into Cybertronians but what if Team Prime turned human?

Ok I have been thinking on this and Going off my messing with the idea of Quintessa, set in about a year into the Timeskip AU for further funnies. Mortal Machines

A vengeful Cybertronian sorceress had returned with a grudge. And a very high superiority complex to rival most other cons to boot, she used a relic so obscure, that it could be argued even Alpha Trion had not recorded it in the Iacon Relics.

And the unexpected results of this relic, were the entirety of team Prime ( Arcee, Ratchet, Bulkhead, Bumblebee, Wheeljack, Ultra Magnus, Smokescreen , Elita and Optimus Prime ) having a rather...unique and new kind of transformation. Into a human form. Human forms that resembled their holoforms at the very least, which made recognizing them far easier than if they had been regular humans, but... Oh lord was this going to get hectic. It was..an experience for sure. I mean sure, holoforms could be quite realistic in their sensations, to the point of picking up, carrying things, feeling , but this was wholly new to the team. They were just very glad that when it did happen? They were close enough to contact base at all. Safe to say? The kids were very perplexed to see the now human Autobots before them.

The first they encountered was Bumblebee, with sun kissed skin, eyes of icy blues you'd think they were almost silver, and short golden blond so perfect you'd think his hair was golden straw, if not for the faint black streaking through it in spots. He looked so young, in his early 20s surely, and a sturdy 6ft tall. Scars littered his skin, but he was quick to scoop up Raf into his arms, laughing as the stunned kids saw him in a true blue human form. He was dressed in what looked like just casual wear, save for the bright yellow and black leather jacket, with a fittingly bee themed emblem on his back and shoulders.

Next was Bulkhead, who looked so...normal in comparison to some of the more brightly colored team mates, but upon closer look, his near black hair was indeed a dark green in the sunlight, eyes of steel blue, and dark skin, marred in scars. His hair was cut short, but he wore a baseball cap [which somehow held the Wreckers emblem, which was amusing to Miko] that covered it anyway. His face was framed by a large bushy beard and mustache, and he had a few wrinkles, but from smile lines. He was dressed in what many construction workers would be found in, a vest, grey t-shirt, and jeans with sturdy work boots. He looked to be at least in his early 30s, which they found quite fitting. He towered over quite a few, at 6ft 5.

Wheeljack by comparison, looked to be in his late 30s, and was dressed like a biker, a leather vest covered in various patches, his hair a dark grey and streaked with silver that complimented his ever so lightly tanned skintone , and the same steely blue eyes as Bulk. He looked beyond elated, picking up Miko and runnin aorund with her on his back as they tested out how energetic he was as a human, now that he could pick her up with less caution at all. He was only an inch shorter than Bulk at 6ft 4, which he ribbed on his friend for.

Arcee by contrast, looked so simple. Dressed in a sleeveless high neck shirt, black jeans and combat boots, what stood out most was her midnight hair with a pink underdye and her bangs framing the sides of her face fading into the iconic pink of her head pieces. Her eyes were unique, almost a pale blue-violet, with the faintest tints of pink. Her lips were painted a dark blue which stood out against her lightly tanned skin, and Arcee looked to be in her late 20s by comparison to the older men around her. She stood at 5ft 10 next to the guys, small sure but not dainty as they could tell by her physique.

Smokescreen, who to no one's surprise was also in his early 20s like Bee, was in contrast a mix of both his previous and current paint job. His hair was an almost silvery white, but streaked with faint red like Bee's black streaks, and eyes of bright aquamarine. He was dressed in a racer's jacket, white red and blue with his old number on the back, though his t-shirt by contrast was blue and yellow with his current new number on the chest. He looked to be the most excited to be human, and was 6ft 2 , towering next to Jack [who was just 5ft 10 in comparison].

Ultra Magnus was...the fitting image of a soldier in his prime years [roughly early 30s], dressed in what looked like combat ready gear, which was a stark contrast to his blue hair streaked with faint red. His eyes a silvery blue, they were still firm in their gaze as he tried to understand what had happened to them. Pale peachy skin was marked with scars of a fitting second in command however, and he stood tall, at 6ft 6 next to most of the others.

He didn’t say much, he may as well have been a statue if you asked the others, but his eyes passed over each teammate, ensuring they were alright.

Ratchet…was another story. He was outraged by this transformation-transfiguration? Whatever it was, he would like to very much be back in his own body! Standing at 6ft 3, Ratchet had white hair slicked back into a decent braid, with just the simplest streaks of red-orange in it and a well cared for red goatee. His skin was a rich warm tan tone, and his eyes were an almost green tinted aquamarine, as his eyes had never really been the same after his incident with Synth-En.

Dressed in a white lab coat and scrubs, he certainly at least looked like a doctor, which amused the kids quite a bit. At the very least he too looked his age, in his late 40s.

He however, was not at all amused.

Lastly was Optimus and Elita, who had been likewise, caught in the transformation.

Elita was beautiful, standing at 5ft 10 and in her early 40s, her pink hair had a black underdye, and complimented her rosy complexion and sapphireine eyes. She was well dressed in a dusty pink suit jacket, with a white blouse, but casual jeans and most surprising or fitting, black combat boots.

No one could say Elita did not look like a formal yet terrifying soldier.

By comparison, Optimus looked quite…different

Dressed in refined clothes almost reminiscent of a professor, Optimus looked to be almost in his 50s, wrinkles along his eyes which were a gentle cyan blue, and gently tanned skin with a few scars across his features and a well maintained beard as well. His hair in contrast, was a deep blue streaked with white and red. Standing the tallest of all, at a towering 6ft 7 above everyone else. Surprising many, he had glasses, which seemed almost fittingly still on his gentle face and features. He wore a black turtleneck, with a deep red suit jacket and dark grey slacks, as well as black dress shoes.

He looked so…so normal.

Once everything settled, they called June and Fowler, and June was quick to give a check up to everyone.

Now they just…had to figure out how they would turn back to Cybertronians.

Primus help them.

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #transformers prime #tfp #tf prime #nova writings #TFP: TIMESKIP | RID15 AU #Mortal Machines

[aladaylessecondblog]

Fallen Star pt. 10 ("Silk Ripper")

Author's Note: Sadara gets a bit of a body shift in this (dream) chapter; she retains the lady bits but is otherwise made to look like Nerevar. Voryn is very happy and expresses this joy as can be expected. SMUT.

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As she looked into the mirror Sadara began to think of the robe she was wearing, less than the flower crown adoring her head. It was nice enough, but...she still felt she didn't quite belong in this crowd of nobles, this gathering of--whatever it was for. She felt completely out of place, like some wild elf that had been given a flower crown and a robe and had somehow been allowed to gallivant with the lords and ladies of the great houses.

(Hadn't that been the truth, back in the beginning? Save for the flower crown anyway...)

She thought of a gown she'd seen while performing at a lord's manor house once -- one of the ladies attending had been wearing one of blue silk with its bust threaded all over in silver, and as she thought on it, focused, her robe began to shift.

Oh? I can do this?

The mirror still showed her Nerevar's face and golden skin, but she could look down at her hands and see how well that beautiful dark blue went with her skin. Could imagine how it looked overall.

Blue silk, dusky skin, and a crown of red flowers atop a head of long white hair...it made her think of images she'd once seen of Azura, only these flowers weren't blue and her hair was different. A bit blasphemous of a thought, but...she smiled somewhat wryly, she had crossed that line many times already. She'd crossed that line weeks ago when she'd started drinking the Dagoth Brandy.

When she'd kissed Voryn.

When--

"The only blasphemy here is that you have not yet sought me out."

Voryn's voice rumbled behind Sadara and she stiffened as his hands came up to rest on her shoulders. Only for a moment had she forgotten the necessity of keeping her mind clear in these dreams but that moment was all it took.

"You snuck up on me there," she said in a slightly shaky voice, "And...I was fairly certain you'd find me anyway. You don't seem fond of letting me get too far out of reach."

"Centuries of thirst tends to make one value the waters of relief, yes. And of course one prefers to guard its source, to keep it safe."

"To keep others from drinking of the same water, perhaps."

His grip tightened.

"You needn't worry about that, Voryn. Ayem I would never have dared to approach and despite his...checkered past...Vehk...well, he always preferred the company of men anyway."

There was a slight growl.

"Voryn," she said, "You can stop worrying, I'm not going anywhere. At least...not in the waking world."

(She wanted to believe that more than she had ever wanted to believe anything before.)

His head tilted slightly. Sadara gathered the skirts of the gown and bolted for the door to the gardens, a peal of laughter breaking from her lips as she moved.

A memory stirred, something similar, something older than any yet: Catch me, Voryn!

The crowd blurred around her, around both of them, and (she noticed as she approached the doors) began to thin, then disappeared entirely once she crossed the threshold. She looked behind her once only, enough to see Voryn dashing, red and black robes billowing behind him.

In that glimpse she saw a brief change in the garden around them--as she looked, those who HAD been there were there again, but dead. Sickly skin, the white cloth of the grave covering their bodies, while others were ash zombies. The light of the outdoors seemed to dim around him, but a single ray of sun shone off his mask and glared into her eyes.

Fear jabbed into her chest, a cold icy stab...

But then it changed when she turned back, or at least as she advanced. The dead were gone wherever she moved, the light returned again--and she was running, running, heart pounding in her chest, more full of life now than ever. She shoved back the fear desperately, wanting to feel anything else.

Sadara moved off the path and ran through the branches of several weeping willows before stopping beneath the last. Leaning back against the trunk she tried to relax, to catch her breath.

The willow-curtain parted, and Voryn's mask was a dark silhouette even before he stepped beneath the shade.

"What a capricious thing you are," he said, chuckling as he advanced, "And what made you so eager to be chased? For I can only assume you desired it, considering the way you laughed."

"I...I don't know," she said with a slight giggle, "I was simply struck by the urge."

He saw everything here, and yet he didn't mention the sight she'd seen on looking back. The dead, the suffering. It was normal to him, so perhaps he didn't even notice it any longer.

"If I allow myself to feel the sorrow for every lost mind I would never accomplish my noble aim," Voryn said, once more picking up on her thoughts, "And--"

"The words of a demon," Sadara said suddenly in a stronger voice, and clapped her hands over her mouth a second later. "I didn't say that, I swear, Voryn."

But beneath her hands the tone sounded again, unmuffled.

"She is not yours, demon, she is mine, MINE, do you hear me? I will not suffer my champion to be made a pawn of your evil whims. I will not allow you to sever the destiny I have fashioned for her with your lies and false promises."

His hands, so warm every other time, were icy now when they raised to cup her face.

"She is MINE!"

"Begone," Voryn's voice was hard now, harder than Sadara had ever yet heard it, "Sadara is not the pawn you would have her be."

He said my name...

Her vision blurred.

She clung to the sound of his voice, even as the whirlwind of Azura in her mind went on. An angry storm it was, determined to ruin, determined to hurt--

An argument went on, Azura's furious tone saying one thing, Voryn's steel one replying in kind. Ice at her throat, in her chest, and overwhelming fire from the hand she was wearing moon-and-star on.

Mark my words, moon-and-star, mark them well. The Sharmat will be your end, one way or another!

The pain faded suddenly. Azura's voice was then silent as Sadara looked up--and into Voryn's eyes. The mask, puzzlingly, was gone.

"What d-did she do?"

"She attacked you, moon-and-star. She attacked your mind. You are fortunate that I was here to stop it."

"Y...you'd think she'd have done it before now. Wh...when I was...when w-we were..."

Voryn was warm again, so very, very warm, and she was so utterly cold. She welcomed his embrace when he reached down to pull her forward and into his arms, and relaxed at the feel of them around her. Here, surrounded by him, there was no Morrowind in danger, no prophecy to duck, no shame, no pain...

There was only the two of them, and the feeling of being completely and utterly safe.

Whether it was real, or something he was merely exerting was hard to say, but it was so strong Sadara found she could not make herself care if there WAS a difference.

"It is the distance, I think," Voryn said, after a lengthy pause, "You are too far from me, too far from the Heart, and you wear Nerevar's ring, ever the symbol of Azura. Perhaps also an amplifier of her influence over you."

"P...perhaps," she said, and desperate to think of anything but whatever in oblivion had just gone on, added, "But might it also be that you simply want me back in Red Mountain?"

"The thought had crossed my mind. Perhaps you should avoid making further trips to see sunrises until after my victory," Voryn went on gently, stepped back, and lifted both her hands in his own, "When I need never fear for your safety again."

"If anything ever happens, you can always bring me back."

"I can only do so much at a distance. I--I do not want to even chance the same loss again, not when you are now where you should always have been."

"Being separate from you is hard enough as it is," she replied, "Lord Uthol and Dagoth Ulen are good company, but...nothing can really measure up to what you have to offer. Two days has been...well not agony, exactly, but..."

"But the absence of something you love so well is...intolerable. It's settled, then...you return to me tomorrow."

"Such a hurry you're in...this is not only for my safety, I see. You want me back in your bed, too," Sadara teased just slightly, "Can you deny it?"

A dark chuckle sounded from his throat.

"No. I would not want to, either. The day I say I do not want you there is the day I am truly lost."

It buoyed her hope further - there was still a chance, however slim.

(There was more she wanted to think on...but she couldn't. Not here. Not now.)

He kissed her once, and she luxuriated in the feel of his lips on hers. Then a second time, after a momentary break to let her breathe. After the third she was already breathing hard, needing--more.

"And here I thought you were a civilized mer," she said against Voryn's lips. "But now I find you're ready to savage me outdoors..."

"Where?" he growled the words against her neck and pressed close--close enough she could feel exactly how eager he was for this supposed savagery.

"Where you wanted me in life. Your--our--first life."

She wanted to see what he wanted, what he craved. What he'd desired for all these centuries.

"Show me what you would have had if you could have. Awake I would have you as my own. But...in dreams...I am willing to be Nerevar for you...so long as I retain the parts I have."

She was dreaming, after all, and if she had learned anything of his power it was his mastery over this domain. And would it really be such an ask, to be Nerevar, when it made Voryn so happy?

A pause, brief, and then everything shifted around her. She opened her eyes to what she was sure was Kogoruhn, but it was different straight off. The Vault of Aerode she had spent so much time working on now looked clean and clear, though in one corner she saw the table and bookshelves of ingredients that hinted at an alchemy lab.

And there was a mirror she went straight to in order look herself over.

Looking down at her hands--they were golden, as much as they were in the mirror. Her chest was flat, but from the feel of her undergarments there was definitely no additional equipment there. She then was free to think on the rest of her appearance. The strong cheekbones, the blue eyes. The jaw that looked like it could cut glass. The fit body, trimmed with muscle but not to an overwhelming degree. She wondered briefly if Voryn was over-exaggerating Nerevar's features...or if this beauty really was all Nerevar.

If it was, I can see why he would be so smitten with the man.

And for one brief second, there was doubt.

Gilvoth's words echoed in her head. That Voryn wanted Nerevar, not her...

Is this what he wishes for, when I am beneath him? What he imagines?

The blue gown she'd conjured up remained, but the flower crown had turned to a necklace around her neck--she assumed, because of the mohawk of stark white hair on her head. She thought briefly of willing it to change, but...muscle beneath the silk of a gown was a lovely sight.

Sadara waited a few more minutes, and then turned to look into the next room of the Vault. It was darkened, and she raised a hand, thinking to bring up a light spell--

A dark hand reached from the shadows, clenched around her wrist, and dragged her forward into the darkness. Before she could protest lips came down to press against hers, and not until she broke for air did she realize something else had changed.

"Someone's eager."

Her voice was not the one she expected, a little gravelly but feminine too. It was a manlier voice, one she assumed must be Nerevar's.

"Are you going to have me against the wall or are you going to be a gentleman about it?" she teased at Voryn with this unfamiliar voice, "So eager you forget all your niceties...so eager, you must have me now..."

There was a slight yelp as she was lifted from her feet, and she reached up to put both arms around Voryn's neck as he hauled her up.

"A thousand ways and one have I imagined this, Nerevar," he murmured, "You never knew, I never said, but now--well, allow me the time, if you would."

"We've got all the time in the world. This is YOUR realm, after all."

The voice was still strange to her, hers and not hers all at once. But all she need do was let go of that hesitation due to the difference, and every wish of her heart would be granted.

At least, here.

They moved past a doorway, and once more she laughed.

"Why, Voryn, I didn't expect such a thing of you. Carrying me over a threshold? That's an imperial tradition, you know."

Where the bed came from, Sadara didn't know, but it was the same as the one she'd shared with him in the waking world.

For a minute or two there'd been darkness, darkness she couldn't make out at all but that Voryn seemed to know like the back of his hand. And then she was on her back looking up at the face that she and Nerevar both desired.

She wanted to think "I can save you" but forced it back and instead spoke aloud, "I can't see a thing, Voryn. Or did you mean that to be the point?"

Overwhelming, exciting, alluring...mixed with a dash of frightening. No one could see them here, no one could rush to interrupt.

They were alone in the dark, with the only one another visible.

Had she not been so familiar with him by this point she might have been wondering if he meant either to fuck her or devour her.

"While you thought of my cheekbones, I thought of your eyes," Voryn said, letting his hand drift up the outside of her left leg, bringing the hem of the gown up with it. "Clear, piercing blue, that looked straight through me, that I thought might see obviously what I kept hidden."

His claws were gone, leaving only the paradise of his silken touch and the slightest pain from the grip of his nails.

"I was never so clever as that...or I might have seen what--"

"Do not speak of that." Voryn's hand stopped at what would have been the curve of her hip, had she still been in her own body. "I want not to hear of regrets, of what was missed, of what lead to your being stolen from me."

"Then what would you have me speak of?"

Anticipation, it was killing her...but at the same time, she could feel the same from Voryn. Eager to proceed, but more so to savor what was before him.

"Of me, perhaps. Of what you would have for the gift you've given me."

"Silence, perhaps." Sadara gave a brief smirk, and raised her hands to Voryn's shoulders, "And action."

There was a brief pause, and then two words so full of emotion it almost seemed like he was a dam about to burst.

"Oh, Nerevar..."

Voryn moved down, captured her lips beneath his own, and kissed as though he would starve without the taste of her. The hand that had moved the hem of the gown moved up with its twin to the neckline. With a growl he began to rip at the fabric, finding--she could feel it from him--any layers between them to be utterly intolerable.

There was a slight yelp at the first tear, but he silenced the next sound with another kiss, and kept ripping at the fabric keeping their skin from touching.

"More," Sadara finally managed in a weak voice. This, this was what she needed--for someone to want her as badly as Voryn did. Even if she were not wholly Nerevar, only a shadow of him, that was enough to drive the man above her wild. Once more she whispered the word, this time against Voryn's jaw as one of his hands traced down what were now pectoral muscles instead of breasts. "More."

He was touching everywhere but where she wanted him most.

"You greedy thing," his deep tenor sounded off against her ear. "Here I am trying to take my time, and you wish to rush me. What a fool you are, Nerevar...a god moves only as quickly as he pleases."

"He won't be as pleased as he would if he hurried up." And then she gave a slight pull and in the voice of Nerevar, whispered in his ear in turn, "I would be happy to serve my god, if only he'd let me."

Her legs, already spread to allow him closer, moved outward a little more, letting her squirm against his (oh, of course) hard length as well as could be expected considering their position.

She expected almost anything except what actually happened.

He didn't move. It was as if he'd simply stopped functioning, stopped thinking. For a few seconds he was motionless, and she was left wondering what she'd done wrong.

"Voryn?"

And then the moment passed--snapped--and those lips were once more descending on hers, turning the motion into the most possessive kiss yet.

Only when he'd given a second, a third, a fourth, when he was at the point of thrusting into her did he speak again.

"Speak those words again and I may well never let you leave this dream."

A pull back--a thrust forward--Sadara groaned, clenching the hands that weren't hers at Voryn's shoulders. She moaned eagerly, tightened her knees at his sides, tried to draw him in further. It had always felt good awake, but something about this--about that same movement in this world of dreams, it was even more enthralling.

"Voryn," she groaned, and then groaned the word again after another thrust. "Gods. Gods--!"

The pace was savage, unforgiving, all-consuming, and it was all she could do not to simply let herself be reduced to nothing but moans. As it was, the ones she gave Voryn satisfied him--or at least if he had any issue with them he didn't say so. He moved up, braced himself with both arms, and kept all three of his eyes directly on her face.

(It is not you he wants)

Sadara shoved the thought back again, and gave him what he wanted. "Voryn..."

Another deep thrust, a brush of lips over her own, a kiss she couldn't quite complete.

"Voryn!"

A second kiss denied, a third, a fourth. Despite the heaven between her legs it was intolerable--she wanted to kiss him, taste him, feel him on her tongue. She gave a growl of her own and lunged upward, rolling--

Breathing hard, Sadara found herself straddled atop Voryn, who wasted no time in moving up himself. She pressed a kiss to his lips, brought her hands up to thread her fingers through his hair, and rolled her hips as thought everything depended on the steady rocking between the two of them.

"Voryn," She moaned into his ear, "Please..."

For what favor she begged she hardly knew. The idea of staying like this was almost tempting enough to make her not care that he COULD keep her this way. The pleasure stayed steady, but when he moved there would a spike of ecstasy so pure and heady that all she could think and feel was more.

(Would it really be so bad, to stay here, like this?)

The intensity rose, and with it that by now familiar feeling of rightness. She planted yet another kiss on his lips, twisted hers, Nerevar's, tongue with Voryn's, breaking only when he finally pulled back--

"Voryn!"

It tore through her suddenly, left her shaking, wracked with tremors of pleasure that seemed not to wish to leave her be. It was with a great effort that she kept herself moving, slowly drawing out Voryn's own end.

"Nerevar," she heard the whisper, "Nerevar--"

His arms slipped tightly about her, and whatever he said next turned to a moan inside her mouth. She felt the pulse of his cock, the spill, and the delicious dampness that followed.

Not until they had separated, until they were laid beside each other, as the heated high was sinking into the warm glow did either of them speak again.

"Gods above, Voryn, how long have you wanted that?"

There was a pause, and a stroke at the face that was hers and yet not hers.

"Nearly four thousand years, give or take."

She raised a hand to cover the one of his on her cheek and sighed happily.

(A better course of action than to dither about the future, she decided.)

((That could come later.))

#azura is a bitch but what else is new #guys i think she broke voryn #bluescreen dagoth #dagoth ur #morrowind #nerevarine #fanfiction #nerevoryn #voryn dagoth #azura