#bottom ones are not adopted yet but they will. trust me

[happycricketbox]

Sakamoto and his adopted children

#bottom ones are not adopted yet but they will. trust me #revenge babies + mafuyu #sakamoto days #taro sakamoto #shin asakura #lu xiaotan #heisuke mashimoto #mafuyu seba #akira akao #cricket brand #kinda obsessed with the series rn :)

[thevoidstaredback]

Red Hood was furious. Beyond that, actually, and he could tell that Nightwing shared his sentiment. Danny was technically the new worker in the alley and had basically been adopted by all the working girls and boys, which is why he had yet to meet him. Apparently, he would scare him off?

Anyway, Red Hood would be out for blood as soon as he got Danny dropped off at The Club. The poor kid was still in shock, cowering in on himself, letting the jacket hide him as much as it could. He could tell the kid was anxious to have Nightwing following behind him, but he was glad he was bearing with it. He needed the insurance that someone wouldn’t try to take Danny while he didn’t have eyes on him.

When they did get to The Club, he and Nightwing watched as Danny walked inside with his jacket still wrapped around him. The kid was bombarded by several of the people still there, though they all backed off when he flinched, gently guiding him to a chair. Lucy was the one to come out and greet them.

“Thanks for bringing him back,” they said, their voice soft.

“It was no problem, Lu,” Red Hood shook his head slightly, his posture relaxed.

Lucy shook their head in denial. “No, I mean it. We were all so worried when he didn’t come back! The others had lost sight of him and came in panicking.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Nightwing stepped up next to Red Hood, “what happened?”

Lucy worried at their bottom lip, glancing at Red Hood, who nodded, before answering. “We always make sure to keep within sight of each other, just in case someone steps outta line. It’s for our safety. That, and keeping in lit areas. I wasn’t out tonight, but there were seven others on the street with him. There must’ve been a few seconds when they didn’t have eyes on Danny and he was nabbed because none of the others said that they saw anyone else out around the time he disappeared.” They met both vigilanties' eyes behind their masks. “Who was it, Hood?”

Nightwing was hesitant to tell, obviously having an idea of what would happen to the BJ. Red Hood had no such reservations. He knew the names and faces of everyone in Crime Alley, including the addresses of those who have them. They all know his rules and the punishments for not following them. “Go back for the night, Nightwing.”

“Hood-”

“No. Plausible deniability and all that.” he waved off, following Lucy as they led him into The Club. “Tell Batman I sent ya early because Alley business came up.”

“It’s no place for a Bat,” Nightwing sulked, “I know. Good night, you two!”

“Goodnight, Nightwing!” Lucy waved as the man grappled away. They turned back to Red Hood before opening the door. “Who was it?”

“Mr. Jameson in apartment 25 of the Katt Building near the middle of the Alley.”

They hummed and opened the door. “I’ll pass it on to everyone.”

The group of fifteen were comforting Danny, helping him clean up and offering an ear to listen to. Danny, throughout it all, was staring mostly blankly at the coffee table in the middle of the commons area. He only really reacted when someone gave him a dog plush. Though, that was only small, hesitant movements to take the plush and pull it close to his chest, Red Hood’s jacket still hiding him as though he were a child hiding from a lightning storm. And that’s what he was, a child hiding from the outside world because it hurt him.

Red Hood had to admit, though, that the guy’s cute. He was really hoping to meet him under better circumstances. Regardless, he took off his helmet, the domino underneath keeping his identity mostly safe from getting out, though he trusted everyone here to keep the secret if they ever found out. He knelt on the floor in front of Danny, keeping his movements slow and telegraphed as he made sure to stay in Danny’s line of sight. “Hey there, hun.”

Danny didn’t respond. He didn’t even move. His breathing had slowed back down to a normal pattern, though, and it seemed to be slowing even more.

Red Hood made sure not to touch him or get too close. “Hey, can you hear me?” he asked, “Blink if you can.”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, very slowly, Danny blinked. Red Hood smiled at him.

“Good. I’m not gonna ask ya what happened, okay? None of us are. We’re gonna take care of the guy, though. He won’t ever bother you again, ‘kay?”

Again, his blink was slow, but tears slowly fell from his eyes as he did so. Relief seemed to wash over his expression as he relaxed into the couch, the jacket and plush being held slightly looser.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to go somewhere else?”

The response was quiet, barely a whisper that Red Hood almost missed, “Somewhere else.”

Not too surprising. “Where do ya wanna go?”

“Home.”

“Where’s home?”

Danny didn’t answer as he pulled the jacket around the plush in his arms. Not a good sign, but it was an unfortunately common one for Crime Alley residence.

Red Hood thought for a second, mostly for show, before saying, “I’ve got a safe house you could stay in to recover. No one but me will know where you are if you don’t want them to. You’ll be able to stay as long as you want and you can leave at any time. Sound good?”

“Can Lu or May or Jakey know where it is?”

Not ideal, but anything to make him feel safer. “Of course they can know.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want me to tell them?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“We’ll touch base then,” He slowly stood back up. “Let me or one of the others know when you’re ready to go and I’ll take ya to the safe house. No rush. We’ll go at your pace.”

Stepping away for a second, he put his helmet back on and turned on his comms. He listened to the conversation he’d tuned into, knowing that Oracle would make him known if the others didn’t stop talking in a moment.

Sure enough, after about thirty seconds, she muted them all and said, “Red Hood, nice of you to join us.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he muttered, ‘Nothing particularly nice about this situation.”

“Oh?” Oracle asked, “What’s going on?”

“Ask Nightwing for details.” he said, “I’m not gonna answer calls for the next few days. Everyone stays out of Crime Alley until I say.” “So normal rules then?” He hummed in response. “Alright. Goodnight, Red Hood.”

Red Hood turned his com off completely, turning to face the kid on the couch and lean against the wall. Danny’s was gonna be okay. He was going to make sure that he’ll be okay.

Part 2

#dc x dp #dp dc crossover #dc universe #hurt danny #danny phantom #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #danny needs ice cream #red hood and nightwing to the rescue #but nightwing has to leave #still not child friendly #but it's gonna get fluffier #i pormise #warnings (if any) will be at the top of every piece #poor danny #dead on main #it was an accident #but that's the ship

[lou-struck]

Golden Touch

Mammon x reader

~A cursed piece of Grimm gives Mammon what he has always wanted, but there is a price.

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of Mammon potentially being dangerous to the reader, a bit of crying but it's sweet I promise.

a/n: Another Prompt that I was placed into a folder and forgotten about!

It has been a long yet rewarding day of volunteering at the animal shelter with Satan. In preparation for an upcoming adoption event, the two of you got to pet and socialize with dozens of cats who are looking to find a new fur-ever home. 

You feel like you are covered head to toe in enchanted car hair, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. The day was long but definitely rewarding.

“Oh my, there it is,” Satan says, walking over to a side table by the front door and holding up his leather-bound wallet. The lucky cat keychain you bought for him swings happily from the bottom of it. Earlier today, he was so excited to join you on your day out that he forgot to bring it with him. “That’s odd; all my Grimm is still here,” he murmurs. 

“What is so strange about that?” you ask, peeking over his shoulder. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He raises his brows and counts through his Grimm again with a Frown. “Normally, it would be a good thing, but Mammon has been home with my unattended wallet for hours, and there is nothing missing.” He states as if it were obvious. “He must be up to something.”

“But he didn’t take anything; maybe he is trying to be better.”

Your optimism brings a soft smile to the Avatar of Wrath’s face, “Sometimes, Mc, you are too trusting for your own good. It’s going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

Before you can respond to Satan, your DDD chimes from your pocket. “Who is it?” he asks, watching as you pull out the device. 

“It’s from Mammon,” you say, reading the message. “He says he wants me to come to his room as soon as I can.

With your time being stolen away from him so quickly, Satan’s brow twitches in annoyance, but he doesn’t object. “He is probably up to something shady,” he warns. “Don’t let him drag you into one of his stupid schemes.”

“No worries,” you say brightly, tucking your DDD into your waistband, “He probably is just bored.” Giving the blond demon one last smile, you head off down the hallway toward Mammon’s room. 

As you walk, you ignore the sense of unease in your gut.

One that tells you that this already long day is going to only get longer. 

~

You arrive outside Mammon’s door, knowing how embarrassed the Avatar of Greed got the last time you poked your head into his room without announcing your presence, making sure to knock loudly.

“Come get in here, you silly human,” you hear Mammon’s muffled voice call from inside. “And shut the door behind you.” You shake your head with an amused sigh; of course, Mammon seems to be up to something. You place your hand on the golden doorknob and twist it until the door clicks open. 

Wait, golden?

Since when has Mammon had a golden Doorknob?

But as you step fullying into Mammon’s room, the little doorknob is soon pushed from your mind when you glance around at the once-familiar bedroom. His stereo system, his sports car, and even each ball on his pool table are made of solid gold. Everything is golden and glowing. The rich glare is so intense you have to squint your eyes just to make your way across the floor. 

“Do ya like what I have done to the place?” Mammon calls, lounging on his solid gold mattress. 

“Mammon, what is all this?” you ask curiously. “What did you do to your room?”

“I just made some improvements.” he grins, flashing you a pearly white smile, “Check this out, Mc.”

His hand goes toward a still normal-looking snowglobe that rests on his bedside table; before you can object, he grabs it, and the whole thing instantly turns to solid gold. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Mammon, how did this happen?” you ask in disbelief. Mammon’s initial enthusiasm for what can only be a curse is concerning. He really looks like he has the Midas Touch. 

He just smiles and takes a piece of Grimm off of his nightstand. “I was walking home, and I found this Grimm on the road. I picked it up, and once I got back to my room, everything I touched with my bare hands turned to gold.” He flips the coin into the air playfully before placing it into his stiff golden jacket pocket. “Do you know what this means?”

“That you’re cursed?” you answer plainly. 

“No, It means we are going to be rich.” he grins, an excited blush appearing on his cheeks. “We can have all the gold we want with this power; I can take ya out and spoil ya anytime you want; the only thing is I need to find something to cover my hands with when I’m eating.”

“Has that been an issue?” you ask, wondering why he seems so unbothered by this curse. 

“Yea, I accidentally turned my cup of ramen into gold earlier.” he sniffs, looking over at the golden container on his coffee table. “At first, it was pretty annoying, but then I realized I could buy as much ramen as I wanted now. Honestly, I can buy anything I want.” His eyes shine with eagerness, and you can only imagine what kind of lavish plans are going through his head.

It’s hard to reason with him when he is this excited. You know you’re going to be the one who asks Lucifer to break this curse for him before he accidentally hurts someone. “How did you even message me?” you ask, looking down at his still-normal DDD. 

“I used the voice typing thing Levi uses when he is playing those games,” he smirks, sliding his now useless sunglasses off of his head where they rest upon his white hair like a crown. Their golden lenses are impossible to see out of. “You gotta admit, this is a power worthy of the Great Mammon.”

“As far as curses go, I do admit this is very you.” you giggle, “But do you really want to stay this way forever?”

“Why not?” he asks, “I’ll never have to worry about being short on Grimm ever again.” his blue eyes sparkle dreamily at the statement. He is so caught up in his fantasies you know that you’ll have a hard time bringing him back to reality by yourself. 

“That’s true,” you agree, the wheels in your head cranking up a plan to get Mammon to want to break the curse. “But could we go to Lucifer and just make sure that this curse doesn’t have any weird catch…” 

Your words cause a momentary flicker of fear to flash across his face. “What do ya mean by catch?”

“Just like a side effect,” you shrug nonchalantly, “You know, like every time you turn something into gold, you lose a bit of your hair or something like that.”

His eyes immediately dart to his reflection in the mirror as he looks for any signs of magical balding, finding none. He breathes a deep sigh of relief. “Yer pretty smart for a human, I knew there was a reason I kept ya around.”

“The only reason?” you tease, stepping out into the hallway, “I really thought I meant something to you.”

“N-not the only reason.” He stammers, cheeks flushing a deep red as he stumbles after you, His hands brushing along the wall as he walks, leaving a trail of gold in his wake. 

~

Lucifer sits at his desk, a blank expression on his face as Mammon tells him everything about his little Midas Touch problem, but he truly doesn’t have much to explain after accidentally turning Lucifer’s Record player to gold. For your own safety, Lucifer has you standing on the opposite side of the room from his brother. At least he sees the danger in this current situation. 

“That is all very interesting, Mammon, but I’ll need to inspect that Grimm you found to truly understand the effects of the curse.” He says, his voice is steady, but there is a look of tired annoyance in his eyes. 

“My Grimm?” Mammon repeats defensively. “Yer gonna give it back r~” he is cut off by a menacing glare from the Avatar of Pride that has him pulling the coin out of his pocket and dropping it on the desk.

With gloved hands, Lucifer analyzes the Grimm; there is a strange flow of magic radiating off the coin as he works. Mammon shifts nervously in his standing position as he watches the dark-haired demon mutter incantations under his breath. 

“There, now, was that so difficult?” Lucifer smirks, tossing the coin back to Mammon teasingly. “from what I can tell, your curse is to simply turn whatever you touch with your bare hands into gold. And it is breakable. If you wish for it to be broken, then it will fade away on its own.”

Mammon laughs boldly in his brother’s face, “Why would I ever want to give this up?”

Lucifer’s crimson gaze lands on you so briefly that, at first, you thought you were just imagining it before giving Mammon his full attention. A devilish lift to his lips. “Because, so long as you continue to feed this curse, you are forbidden to have any sort of contact with Mc.”

Mammon’s jaw drops comically fast as he registers Lucifer’s declaration. “Wh-what do ya mean I can’t be around MC?” he asks. “It’s not like m’ gonna turn’ em to gold.”

“You very well could, Mammon,” Lucifer frowns. “And we both care about them too much to put them at risk.”

Mammon looks distressed as he looks quickly between you and his brother. His eyes turn glassier by the second “B-but I could wear gloves or somethin. Please, Mc, ya trust the Great Mammon, right?”

“Mammon, gloves can rip.” you say solemnly, “I understand that if you are going to be happy with your new power, I can no longer be a part of your life.” with Mammon’s full attention on you, Lucifer sends you a knowing look. You are playing your part well, albeit a bit dramatic.

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks down at his hands, his brow furrowed as he weighs his decisions, a life full of endless riches and a few golden inconveniences, or you, the kind human who has stolen his heart. 

There is only one real option for the Avatar of Greed.

“Ahhhh damn it, don’t look at me like that, Mc,” he cries, “Just break the curse, Lucifer.”

Pleased at Mammon’s decision, Lucifer struggles to hide his affection for his brother. Having placed the cursed coin in the Avatar of Greeds path earlier to teach him a lesson. A soft silver light radiates from Mammon’s tanned hands, dispelling the curse’s magic trend into nothingness. Any objects that he had turned into gold return to their normal forms as the magic is wiped away. 

There goes Mammon’s plan of selling whatever he had turned earlier.

When the light fades, Mammon carefully touches the arm of one of Lucifer’s office chairs; instead of turning gold, it remains in its perfectly polished state. “It’s gone?”

“Obviously,” Lucifer replies. Although he doesn’t show it, he is happy that Mammon made the right choice. In fact, he is proud of his brother. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have much work to do, and you are only a hindrance to my progress.”

“Fine, we were leaving anyways,” Mammon huffs, striding across the room, taking your hand with his, and leading you out the office door. As the Avatar of Greed guides you away, you glance back at Lucifer and shoot him a knowing smile that he slyly reciprocates.

Now back in Mammon’s less golden bedroom, he has yet to let go of your hand. His eyes are fixated on how comfortably your fingers are intertwined. “Are we just going to stand here?” you tease, slowly pulling your hand away from his. 

Greedy as ever, he is reluctant to let go of your warm skin, “Hey, I gave up a lot to hold yer hand.” he pouts, his cheeks turning a deep red as he looks at you. He closes whatever space that was between the two of you and pulls you in for a tight hug. “B-but I had to do it; I knew how much you would miss getting to hug the Great Mammon.” 

You know he’s projecting; you saw it on his face back in the office. All that vibrato about how he wanted to keep the power was just an act. As much as he hates to admit it, Mammon is clingy; he needs touch and reassurance to make him feel loved. 

Not just from you but from all his brothers, 

When he is not dragging you across the Devildom, he looks the most content when Asmodeus is touching up the polish on his fingernails, Supporting a sleeping Belphie with his shoulder on the sofa, or Bumping shoulder with Levi trying to break his concentration during a game of Devil-Kart. 

“I was going to miss you,” you murmur into his shoulder. “I’m glad you chose to break the curse.”

His breath hitches as he squeezes you tighter. He trembles softly as a few teardrops land on your head. 

“Me too.”

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

#obey me nightbringer #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me fic #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #om mammon #mammon x reader #Mammon fluff #x reader

[darsynia]

Hand(s) Off (Complete) | Ch 6: Fantasy

(Steve Rogers/f!Reader sex pollen-esque multichapter)

STORY MASTERLIST | STEVE MASTERLIST | SERIES | PREV

Summary: You and Steve have to navigate the aftermath of the overexposure to Mistress, and something tells you that your mood swings and inability to self-satisfy is directly related to the drug…

Length | Warnings: 4,030 | masturbation MINORS DNI

Fill: Adoptable ‘Pheremones’ from @allcapsbingo

Tags (please request!): @starryeyes2000 @munstysmind @ronearoundblindly @chickensarentcheap @themaradaniels @tiny-anne @deepbatched @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @wolfstar-marvelsfan @icequeen1371 @chibijusstuff @nekoannie-chan @brooke0297 @caplanreads @mrsevans90 @hails270105 @venusfalling @zzz000eee

Fantasy

Steve doesn’t take sex lightly. He doesn’t take attraction lightly either, and that’s what makes everything so confusing, because he likes you. Most of what he knows about you comes from Bucky, despite the time you two have spent near each other, and while these positive, protective things he’s feeling seem logical, there’s no way they’re natural.

Bottom line: Steve doesn’t think he can trust his gut when it comes to you. His gut says you’re exactly the sort of girl he wants to get to know. He wants to bring you flowers, take you to a baseball game, maybe hold your hand as he walks you back from a date. All things he’s skipped right past, thanks to Mistress. All things he might not have wanted, if it weren’t for the way the two of you met.

All things he maybe shouldn’t want at all, if Bucky wants them too.

Steve levers himself off of you with a hand on the wall and one on your shoulder, careful to project as much respect as he can, despite what’s just happened. He can still feel the echo of your satin-smooth skirt on his fingers, and that’s private enough, given the other after-effects of the explosive kiss you've just shared. Backing away quietly, he stops after just a few steps to watch you, telling himself it’s not to admire the way the deep breaths you’re taking accentuate your breasts. No, he’s watching your closed-eyed expression shift between secretly pleased and embarrassed.

“Did you take out the earpiece?” you ask quietly.

“I threw it,” he admits, and your eyes open to look at him first in shock, then in amusement, and then both of you fully crack up. The laughter is such a release, such a relief, that he’s wiping amused tears from the corners of his eyes when the door opens.

Bruce sends you both giggling again when he says, in an Annoyed Dad Voice, “The preliminary test results are in.’

“So let me see if I have this right,” you say fifteen minutes later, folding your hands on the conference table in front of you. “You detected pheromones in the enclosure, an unusually high level of them.” Banner nods. “They’re recognizably pheromones but not anything you’ve seen before, and there’s two kinds?”

“Three,” Steve says in a stunned voice, trying to be helpful even now.

“Well, technically the third one is a combination of the other two, one from each of you, and it’s so complex I’m not sure I can call it a pherom--” Banner cuts off as Dr. Lyonne clears her throat beside him. “Sort of, yes.”

You and Steve are on one side of the long table, with the two doctors at the other. It feels like you’re at a hostile takeover meeting, where two sides negotiate how much freedom the defeated company will have-- except you and Steve are the ones who have been taken over, and the answer on freedom is as yet unclear.

“Okay, setting aside the third one, then.” You pull in a deep breath and let it out. There will be time to freak out about everything they’re telling you another time, when you’re not in the middle of learning about it. “You’re saying we were both hot and horny for an unnaturally long time with Mistress in our systems, and that made the drug… teach our bodies to create these pheromones? Are you sure you don’t want to go get the Ancient Aliens guy to deliver this news?”

Banner does a wince-chuckle and looks down at the table. When he looks up, his expression is the same bleak, apologetic one he’d started with. “Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous, but this is clearly alien biology. I doubt it helps at all, but if it hadn’t been for what happened to you two, we’d be a lot more in the dark about this.”

“You’ll need to study us to figure out how to reverse it,” Steve breaks in. You look over at him, note that his back isn’t touching the chair. If there’s an ‘official’ way to sit in a chair as a military man, that’s what he’s doing.

“If it helps, my husband and I are also submitting samples. I imagine we’ll need to come in and have you check to see if we give off any pheromones?” Dr. Lyonne says, looking to Banner.

He’s nodding gravely. “Yes. Without the accompanying symptoms, I doubt there are any, particularly not this long since the incident. At the level that we detected them from you two, though…” He gestures to your side of the table. “You say you were about forty, fifty feet apart at the performance, but both of you felt better last night, and even better today?”

You feel Steve’s eyes on you as you nod, and you can tell by Banner’s look of satisfaction that you’ve both responded in the affirmative; he pushes back from the table, obviously uncomfortable with the boardroom setting.

“Ok, we have an imperfect two-week sample, I’d like to have both of you come in every day for two weeks. Obviously I can’t take blood every day, but I’ll set up something to detect the pheromones.”

Dr. Lyonne swivels to face Banner as he paces the windows. “How about we split a lab in three, have each of them enter separately, meet in the middle after we get their individual resul--”

“We’d compensate you both for this, of course,” Banner breaks in. You see Dr. Lyonne’s wry smile and wonder if she’s used to having ideas so good her boss wants to move on before she’s fully articulated them. She seems like a strong enough personality to handle it, at least.

“I’m happy to help, but I can’t take any money. It wouldn’t be right.”

“We’re not paying you for sex, Rogers,” Lyonne says, a challenging look on her face.

Even though you’re not looking at him, you can feel Steve’s dismay. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t need to be paid for something I’d be--”

He cuts himself off, and there’s enough unsated lust simmering in your system to enjoy the possibilities of that sentence. I don’t need to be paid for something I’d be doing anyway.  

“Steve, you have to understand, it’s unethical for me not to pay you for this. The city, the planet needs the information we’ll be collecting, and I hate that it’ll take so long, given what we’re learning,” Banner says, walking over to grip his abandoned chair. He looks agitated but not angry. “Ideally you’ll both be anonymous, but how do you think anyone’s going to take my results studying an aphrodisiac if they realize that one of the subjects aren’t compensated for their time? No one will believe the results are genuine!”

“All right, but if we’re going to mention ethics, I want to point out that it’s not ethical to force Dee to participate in this at all, paid or not.”

Banner pulls in a breath, but you turn your chair and say, “Wait. Steve, I get it. You chose the serum-- but Tony Stark didn’t choose the magnet in his chest. Bucky didn’t choose--”

“Okay, I hear you,” Steve says, reaching out to put his hand over yours where you’d been holding on to the edge of the table. The immediate calming effect is almost annoying, and you glare at him for a second, sending his eyebrows skyward.

“You don’t feel that? It’s like a mini injection of Xanax or something,” you grouse.

A notebook slides across the table, followed by a pen you have to spin your chair around and pull free of Steve to grab before it falls to the floor.

“Write that down?” Dr. Lyonne’s scarlet lipstick’d grin is almost predatory.

“I feel it,” Steve belatedly answers under his breath to you as Lyonne and Banner confer across the room in urgent voices. You pause your writing  mid-sentence, biting your lip. This turns Steve bashful adorable, like that helps any, saying, “Shoot, sorry. I’ll just--” and getting up.

“I assume you want me to keep away from Steve except during the tests, but what about Bucky?” you ask aloud, covering for everything that’s chaotic inside your body and your mind right now.

Steve speaks up, quick and gruff. “That’s right, if the two of them want to start dating, how will that--”

“Steve! That’s not--” Your body is tuned for pleasure today, and this sends you images of Bucky you’ve never pictured with your waking mind before. A challenging smile, his arm held out in expectation that you’ll of course take it, the sexy fit of his leather jacket and your secret knowledge of what’s underneath… 

You press your eyes closed and open them to see three very interested pairs of eyes focused on you.

“Bucky is my friend,” you say, a twinge of guilt at the boundaries you’d just mentally crossed making your tone more brittle than necessary. “I was asking because the two of them live together. Are you expecting me to stay away from anywhere Steve could be, to avoid contaminated pheromone test results?”

Dr. Lyonne leans close to Banner to say something you don’t catch, and he nods before saying, “To be honest, I haven’t thought through all of the logistics. How about the two of you figure out a good time of day to stop by for testing, so there’s at least 22 hours between each, and I’ll get back to you on that question? Say, this weekend?”

“Four days,” Steve says. “Do you want us to stay apart in that time?”

You have no idea how you want that question to be answered.

“I uh, hmm.” Banner puts his hands on his hips and scrunches up his face, clearly thinking. “Better start the habit of once a day, so it’s easier, come Monday?”

“Phrasing!” Dr. Lyonne groans, waving Banner off with one hand and gesturing at the two of you frantically. “Run! Shoo! Before he starts getting more descriptive!”

You get home at lunch time and lean up against the apartment door after you lock it. Your roommate won’t be home for hours, and now that you’re alone, all you can think about is Steve Rogers’ frantic lips on yours.

Closing your eyes, you go through the motions of stripping off your ‘outside armor’ as you relive those heady moments. Toeing one shoe off leads to a few seconds of remembering the way his fingers dragged along the nape of your neck before he asked to kiss you. On your way to your bedroom, you drop your bag on the back of the couch, then steady yourself on it, thinking about that first exquisite swipe of his tongue against yours.

You almost turn your ankle in the hallway because you forgot to take off your other shoe.

The heat of embarrassment quickly shifts back to arousal when you’re finally in your bedroom, with the door locked behind you. That’s when you realize your keys are still in your hand. You usually hang them up on a hook, or at the very least, put them in your bag.

“Completely wrecked for Steve Rogers,” you say aloud.

Fuck, even his name sounds different to you. Instead of living in your memory banks as Bucky’s childhood friend, someone decent and good and loyal, he’s… well, right now he’s a taste in your mouth. One you can’t get enough of.

You leave your skirt in the middle of the floor.

Shirt and bra go flying in the general direction of your dresser. Something in the back of your mind tells you that it’s a terrible idea to associate that particular paragon of values and virtue with hedonistic, desperate pleasure, but you cannot possible bring yourself to care. Not with the memory of Steve Rogers’ lips latched to your neck. Not with his need-distorted sounds of assent vibrating through you.

Your fingers feel clumsy as you rush your device from the drawer, accidentally striking the button that starts the pulating rhythm you love most. Grateful for the privacy of a silent, empty apartment, you throw yourself diagonally on your bed. The toy in your hand sounds far too loud to be decent, and god, the ghost of Steve Rogers is invading every inch of you today, isn’t he?

There are places on you he hasn’t been, your mind supplies as you settle into the silky indulgence of your sheets. Setting the vibrator next to your head but not turning it off, you slide your hand down to slip the tips of your fingers past the waistband of your panties. Don’t touch your breasts. Pretend he wants to, but he won’t let himself.

That thought has you arching your hips up, your eyes clenched shut. God, your naughty mind is turning the taboos of this whole situation into something delicious, and you can’t be fucked to care.

Honestly, given the taboos of this whole situation, ‘can’t be fucked’ is likely to be true, and is that fair? No.

Grabbing your blanket, you throw the edge over your eyes and let yourself picture Steve Rogers trapped in the room, able to see you, unsure of whether to participate. Your nipples tighten at the thought, and you push your fingers down, finding your folds wet with the wanting of him. Shit, you’re in it now, because you used to let yourself imagine a faceless man, someone who wanted everything you had to give. Now all you can imagine is Steve, as though his broad shoulders have taken up the entire doorway in your mind, intimidating anyone else who might have designs on you.

“Oh, fuck!” you voice, grabbing the toy-- because the thought of a jealous Steve has ramped you up to Mistress levels of desire. You’d told yourself the whole journey home that the first thing you needed to do was try to come. Sure, you’d orgasmed today and it had been glorious, but this-- As you fit the toy exactly where you like it most (panties on for your imaginary guest), an outrageous thought occurs, and you're already indulging yourself, so why not keep going? “For science,” you gasp aloud, rocking your hips.

Would Steve disapprove of this display? Would he watch, or stop you?

Would he join you?

With your eyes tightly closed and the weight of the blanket preventing you from seeing anything, you can feel Steve's presence in the room, even though you know he isn’t there. The thought that your desire is linked with his, that maybe right now it belongs to him in a twisted, dangerous way heightens every buzz and touch, and your orgasm rolls over you with powerful certainty.

Bruce and Dr. Lyonne are deep in discussions of their plans when you leave, and Steve doesn’t want to interrupt. Truthfully, he’s glad he can be a help with these tests. As he rides up in the elevator to his apartment, the reassuring thought strikes him that few users are likely to resist the aphrodisiac pull of the drug. He hopes that means not many people are caught up in this strange cycle of desire and proximity.

Bucky’s in the living room watching a movie when Steve lets himself in. There are no messages for JARVIS to inform him about, and he grabs some water before walking over to see what film it is. Bucky’s face is wary, confused, even concerned, enough so that he doesn’t notice Steve until he sits down.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. This--” Buck hits pause on a scene that looks so similar to the torture he’d described under HYDRA that Steve grabs the remote and shuts the whole thing off. “You don’t have to do that. I’ve got a--” Bucky feels his pocket, the surface of the couch beside him, lifts up a book Steve’s been reading to get to sleep over on the table. “Lost it already, that figures. Dee wrote out the scenes I should skip. It’s The Matrix.”

Steve hasn’t heard of it, but he knows what his friend is like. “This one of the ones you’re supposed to skip?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grins. “She’ll probably yell at me.”

“Only if watching it messes you up,” Steve says, shoving the rim of his glass to his lips for a sip, so he doesn’t say anything stupid about you. The secret that he’d touched you again burns his mouth like bourbon.

Bucky gets up and stretches, backing away from the couch so the movements don’t hit Steve. “You get those tests done?”

“You could have warned me you were planning to send her over,” Steve says. His voice sounds more unhappy than he’d meant to show, so he frowns, which makes things worse.

“Would you have gone?”

Steve tries to think of an answer that isn’t a lie, and when he can’t, he looks down and shakes his head. “What if I tell you Bruce wasn’t ready?”

“Banner was like a kid in a candy store, I can tell you that without even being there,” Bucky says. “You figure anything out?”

The array of ‘yes’ answers to that aren’t safe to say aloud, Steve decides. “He thinks it’s changed us, taught our bodies to make some kind of chemical that messes us up until we’re close enough to swap our individual versions, I guess. He wants us to meet up once a day for two weeks to test it, starting Monday.”

Bucky sets a firm hand of reassurance on his shoulder from behind the couch, and Steve lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“That’s good-- the part where he figures it out, I mean. The two of you haven’t been yourselves.”

“She doesn’t deserve this, Buck.”

“Good thing it’s you, then.”

Steve reaches up, squeezes his friend’s hand, and then gets up. “That’s not the message your fist sent me,” he teases. It’s a risky thing to say; the punch had been thrown after Steve’s low-ebb, frustrated, self-flagellating comment that Bucky was just mad it wasn’t him in the room with her.

“If you didn’t get the message, I’d be happy to send it again,” Bucky shrugs. “Your room’s ready, by the way. All new furniture put in this morning, while you were gone.”

It’s an out, and Steve takes it, grabbing the laundry basket of his clean clothes and heading into the hallway. As reported, his room is completely redone. He stands in the doorway and blinks at it for a few minutes, then asks JARVIS to dial up a number. He could do it on his phone, but this feels more appropriate.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony says on the second ring. “Guessing you saw the room.”

“This is too much, Tony,” Steve says, walking over to touch the clearly antique dresser. It looks exactly like the one in his parents’ bedroom, so much so that he wouldn’t put it past Stark to have done the research to find out the exact model, rather than making a lucky guess.

“Don’t chew through your sense of obligation, Steve, it’s not all vintage. There have been much-needed improvements to mattress design and bed construction in those middle decades.” There’s a pause, and then Tony says, “You wouldn’t have stayed in there at all if I’d have done it starting out, admit it.”

He’s got a point, but Steve can’t let it go. “This had to cost--”

“Well, yeah!” Tony sounds amused, not annoyed. “Would you rather I spend that money on weapons? Tell you what, you try it out with your girl, and I’ll--”

“Tony!” Steve had specifically wanted to avoid thinking about you and his bed in the same mental breath, and Tony Stark had just blown those good intentions all to hell within five minutes of walking into his remodeled bedroom. That thought had come before the objection that you’re not ‘his girl,’ actually, and Steve’s stunned speechless with that realization.

“I saw you called with the room speaker, figured I’d rile up Barnes if he was around,” Tony says, completely undeterred. “Anyway, you’re worth it, end of conversation.”

The phone call cuts out without even an apology from JARVIS.

Steve looks around the room again. Every piece of his new furniture is familiar, not to mention entirely different from the utilitarian set up that had come with the room. He sets the basket down, noting that the blanket you’d covered yourself with that day is neatly folded and laid across the foot of the bed. Oddly, that helps with his qualms; just like the room, he’s been remodeled after a crisis, and things have been added against his better judgment. Even with all the same furniture back, things would remind him of you. The solution isn’t to change everything. It’s to adapt.

Just thinking about you is sending his heartbeat racing, but Steve tries to tamp back the impure thoughts and gets on with the task of putting away his clothes. 

The bottom drawer sticks as he pushes it back in. He has to blink a few times to regulate his emotions-- and then, a thought occurs.

Steve’s knock on Bucky’s bedroom door is loud and insistent.

“All right, hold on!”

When the door opens, Bucky’s in a tank top and shorts, and some of his long hair is stuck to his face with sweat. The image hits Steve in a place he hasn’t considered in years, in decades, really, but that’s not why he’s here. He shoves that all away and cranes his neck to see into the room.

“I knew it!” Bucky crows. “You wanted to see if they gave me 40’s stuff too, didn’t you? They did.” He backs up to let Steve in.

It’s the suite’s ‘master’ bedroom, and Steve sees that there’s a pull-up bar installed in the doorway to the private bathroom. Just like in his room, the furniture is achingly familiar, right down to the four poster bed and the color light shining from the lamp. He walks over to peer under the shade.

“I guess they can color them, now, ‘cause the old bulbs are illegal,” Bucky supplies. “You gonna be okay?”

“Tony said I was worth it.”

“You are.”

“Well, so are you,” Steve says, his voice thick. “I’m so sorry she was caught up in--”

Bucky punches his shoulder, derailing his apology, but then tugs him into a brief hug. “As long as I can have the two of you back, do whatever you have to. Now, get out of here, I have fifty more of these things to do.”

Steve nods and heads for the door. As he goes, he sees that there’s a rubber grip on the pull-up bar so Bucky doesn’t have to worry about damaging the thing with his metal hand.

Everything about his life in the tower seems to be tuned to his happiness, made for his comfort, encouraging him to feel safe and needed. The only thing missing from the life he used to picture back before the serum is someone to share it with.

Unbidden, he’s struck with an image of you in that gorgeous skirt looking up at him with obvious happiness and desire in your eyes. He can still hear the lovely, expert tones of your voice singing a song he’d loved hearing on the radio. You’ve challenged him, stood up for him, pleased him-- but most of that hadn’t been your choice, not really. Is there a way through this mess that leads to all of you at peace and happy, Bucky included? Or is that completely unrealistic, a fantasy borne out of his need to make decent a situation that is anything but?

Something deep inside him rebels, at this.

You’re a good person, that much is clear. You could have-- heck, you could have filed charges. You could have refused to have anything to do with him. Instead, you’d looked on him with warmth at the performance, and then participated in Banner’s tests in good faith, right up until you realized that the data would be deceptive. You are worth the stress and temptation that it will take to salvage this.

Steve can’t wait to try.

THE END

Next in the series...

mini note: it occurs to me that I should say, that gap in time between the mutual orgasm from last chapter and the chat at the boardroom involves some time for Steve to clean up, hah 💚

#allcapsbingo2023 #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america smut #captain america x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #captain america x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #sex pollen #humor #romance

[solarishashernoseinabook]

Yet another AU where Halt raises Will instead of dropping him off at the Ward…

this might become another trr sequel idk yet

~

After five years, Halt thought he was getting the hang of fatherhood. He would drop Will off at the Ward for longer missions, which Will tended to treat as an adventure, and for shorter missions he had him stay with someone from Wensley Village. In a few years, when he could trust Will more, maybe he would begin taking him along on missions. For now, Will was loud and impulsive, more interested in playing games than sitting still, and Halt saw no harm in letting him stay a child a bit longer.

Will was turning out to be remarkably normal, all things considered. He was much better than Halt socially, outgoing and friendly. He had picked up a few of Halt’s fidgets, and sometimes he would try and imitate Halt’s mostly-blank expression, but his quick grin always shone through after a few moments.

Halt was packing for the Gathering now. He put Will’s things in one saddlebag and his own in the other, but packing for two people meant being very economical with what he brought. He had just finished packing Will’s clothes, and was trying to find a way to fit Will’s toy horse on top of them – Will had trouble sleeping without it.

Halt heard Will climb up to sit on the table. ‘Dad?’

‘Hm?’ Halt responded without looking up. He tried shuffling the clothes over to fit the horse in.

‘What’re dopteds?’

Halt paused and looked up. ‘What are what?’

‘Dopteds. Missus Cherry at the Ward says I’m a dopted.’

A smile tugged at the corners of Halt’s mouth. ‘She said you were adopted, not a dopted. It means I didn’t have a wife, I found you and decided to keep you.’

Thinking that was the end of it, Halt went back to trying to fit the horse into the saddlebag. He gave up and decided to put it with his things instead, though it would mean leaving behind his spare cloak.

But he should have remembered that Will always asked follow-up questions, and sure enough, Will asked the one he’d been dreading. ‘Where’d you find me?’

Several possible answers flashed through Halt’s mind in the space of seconds. For some unknown reason, the one he settled on was, ‘I went out to the bog, dug a hole, and found you at the bottom of it.’

‘I came from a bog?’

Halt paused in the act of setting aside his spare cloak. After a moment, he decided he might as well run with it – he could hardly take it back now. ‘Yes. Took weeks to get the smell of peat off of you.’

Will’s face split into a mischievous grin and he giggled. ‘I bet I had leaves in my hair!’

‘And a tree growing out of your ears. Go get Abelard out of his stall, we’re heading off now,’ Halt said, fastening the saddlebag.

*

Halt had forgotten all about it by the second day of the Gathering. He was jointing a brace of large, fat pheasants, occasionally glancing up at Will as he played a game with some obliging first-year apprentices.

Crowley was watching them as well, and meandered over to Halt. ‘Hey, Halt?’

‘Hm?’

‘Any idea why Will’s been chasing people around all day calling himself the bog monster?’

‘No idea,’ Halt said, keeping his face deliberately blank. If Crowley found out the truth, Halt would never hear the end of it.

Crowley raised his eyebrows. ‘You sure? None of us can figure it out.’

‘Quite sure,’ Halt said gruffly. He gathered the pheasants in a pan and stood. ‘Now stop asking weird questions and help me cook these.’

#ra #rangers apprentice #halt o'carrick #will treaty #dad!halt #autistic!halt #fluff

[muddyorbsblr]

relinquish the crown outtake: midgardian amusements

Masterlist

Placement: Before the main story, quite some time after "no formalities needed"

Summary: Your friends – Queen Frigga's ladies in waiting – introduce you a peculiar "Midgardian prediction device" called…Tick Tock?

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings (trust me you need these): themes of incest (he's adopted but still), mentions of blood & wounds [if i missed any let me know and i'll update immediately]

Not warnings but still be aware: Reader is oblivious AF, like painfully oblivious

When you walked into one of the smaller ballrooms to rehearse for the upcoming music festival to celebrate the Spring Equinox, you came across your grandmother's ladies in waiting all gathered around what seemed to be one of those rectangular Midgardian devices called "smart phones".

"Try this one and ask it who would save you if you were abducted by enemies of the realm," the sun-haired one, Halley, spoke up and touched the screen as it was pointed at Narda, another lady in waiting with reddish-blonde hair. After a few seconds they giggled. "Fandral! How apt."

"What're you all up to?" you addressed them. "Hopefully no good, so that I may volunteer my aid." 

When they looked up at you from their position on the stage, they hopped off and rushed over to you. "Y/N, how we've missed you so! We haven't seen much of you since you decided to commence training under the Warriors Three and your mother. Come. We have been finding entertainment in this peculiar prediction device the humans on Midgard have called…err…Tick Tock?" 

You eyed Narda with confusion. "Tick Tock? Like the sound that clocks make?" They nodded at you. "I suppose that's apt. Clocks telling time, prediction device named after the sound of the device that tells time. Perhaps we underestimate the cleverness of these mortals sometimes, my dear friends." You motioned to the stage for them to sit. "Come. Show me what had you all giggling over Fandral. Again." 

They all giggled again as a fire-haired girl, Astrid, began to explain. "It is this thing they call a 'filter'. You show it your visage and present a question. The face that it lands on will be the answer to your question." 

"Amusing," you commented. "So who are the faces it will choose among?" 

Halley spoke up. "Your grandparents, your parents, the Warriors Three, and a sinfully attractive mystery figure that we cannot identify quite yet. Come, Princess. Let us ask a question for you." You took the device and pointed it toward your face. "Now you press the white circle at the bottom of the image and ask it who is most likely to rescue you if you were abducted by enemies of the realm." 

"Alright." You did as you were told and asked the image, "Who would rescue me if I were abducted by enemies of the realm?" 

Once the faces stopped spinning, the ladies giggled again. "Oh you got the mystery man, how exciting!" Narda exclaimed. Then she noted the fond smile on your face. "You know who he is, don't you, Y/N?" 

"Perhaps," you answered, looking upon the face the device answered you with. "You may chance upon him since he is walking along the palace halls today." You looked upon their disappointed faces and sighed. "If we chance upon him this fine day I will introduce you to him myself. Agreed?" 

"Oh Y/N, you spoil us. Always bringing us to the presence of the most deliciously attractive males this realm has to offer. How does it feel to be the Norns' favorite?" Astrid teased. 

You bit back your usual retort that these 'deliciously attractive males' they constantly lusted after were members of your family, men that had raised you and watched you become the grown woman you were today. Well, all with the exception of Loki, of course, their "sinfully attractive mystery figure".

"Alright, show me what other predictions this device can make," you said in an attempt to steer the subject away.

"Ohh! You'll enjoy this one. You point it to your face and it will project upon your eyes the first letter of the name of your heart's mate." Halley touched the screen a few more times and then handed you the device. 

You looked upon the image as letters flashed into your reflection's eyes and furrowed your brows in confusion as it stopped on the letter L. "There must be a mistake," you declared to your friends.

"Why is that, Your Highness?" Astrid retorted. "Did it show you the initials of either of your parents?" she joked. 

"No. It showed me the letter L. But the only L I know is Loki." 

"The dark prince?" Halley queried. "Interesting. I've heard he's quite beautiful."

"He's also my father's brother, for fuck's sake," you laughed. 

Astrid giggled at your jibe about the god of mischief being your father's brother, which made it an impossibility in your mind that the man would ever be your heart's mate. You hadn't yet been taught about the history of your family, how they used to marry within the bloodline to keep your lineage pure. Meanwhile she and the rest of the men and women in her year had already been informed.

You were blissfully unaware of the possibility that perhaps the prediction device had been right. 

"I heard my name?" a voice from the door echoed throughout the ballroom. Everyone turned their heads and all, save for you, gasped at the sight of their mystery figure from the filter at the door, in the flesh. Looking even more sinfully attractive than the image on the device. 

Norns, the things I would let him do to me, Astrid thought to herself. But then her fantasies felt like it had been drowned in ice water as she saw where his gaze was fixed upon: You. 

She watched as a fond smile grew on your face and you stepped off the stage and stepped into his open arms. He held you in such a loving embrace, she was convinced that you'd taken a lover in recent days and simply conveniently forgot to relay to them the good news. Then again, if I had him in my bed, I would barely even be able to exit my chambers.

Halley spoke up first. "Y/N, I believe you promised us an introduction," she said in a teasing tone. 

You pulled away from the impossibly handsome man and turned to face them, the two of you still keeping your arm wrapped around each other's waists. "Forgive me, my friends." You turned your gaze up to him, motioning toward the three ladies. "Loki, these are my friends, grandmother's ladies in waiting. Halley, Astrid, and Narda. Ladies…" You turned to face them now. "This is Prince Loki of Asgard."

Astrid's blood ran cold. She didn't expect for the answer to their "mystery figure" question to be the dark prince. Neither your fond smile nor the embrace you two shared indicated you two were family. And the look of longing that he gave you once you turned away your gaze from him, as if he craved your touch, your kiss, painted a lurid picture. One more consistent with the old traditions of your bloodline, the traditions built under the guise of purity, but the true nature of it being the lecherous vice of incest. 

The three ladies giggled at your introduction, and you shook your head slightly at them,  turning your gaze to the prince once more. "They were showing me this peculiar Midgardian amusement, a prediction device called…Tick Tock?"

"Like the sound of a clock?"

Your face lit up with a bright smile that he mirrored, as if by instinct. "Exactly!" You scrunched your nose at him and Astrid widened her eyes as she saw him move so subtly as if to kiss it, lips twitching. "Anyway, they showed me this one where it spun a carousel of faces, you ask a question, and it shows you the face of the one most likely to be the answer to your question."

"Seems like an amusing pastime, darling. Whose faces?"

"Mother, Father, Grandmother, Grandfather, Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, and you." How could you not notice the glaringly evident look of longing in his eyes? Did you mistake it for fondness? Were you assuming that the looks you gave each other were equal in familial love? Or were you simply blind to even the most remote possibility that the god's gaze was tinged with lust?

"And what question, pray tell, did you present to this predictor?" 

"I asked who was most likely to rescue me if I were abducted by enemies of the realm." 

"Ah. I assume the answer to that would be either Thor or Sif?" 

"Actually no. The answer it gave me was…you." 

The smile on his face grew as you looked at him with an innocent gleam in your eyes as you gave him the answer, your body leaning in to his as he splayed out his hand on your side and subtly tightened his hold on you. "I would rain hellfire on everyone who stands in my way until I find you and bring you home, Princess." 

Astrid watched as wonder entered your eyes, looking so unbelievably comforted and almost…soft as you gazed into his eyes. "Well then it's comforting to know that in case I cannot extract myself  from my abductors that my life will be in such capable hands." 

"Though at our going rate, dear Y/N, I suspect it will be you who saves me one day." You scrunch your nose at him again. "Now, what would the other predictor be that had you so confused and flinging profanities?" 

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you recalled the "heart's mate" filter. "Ah yes, that one. I'm convinced it's broken," you remark dismissively.

"Now you pique my curiosity, darling. Tell me. How did the predictor work?" 

You make a motion to step out of his hold and he immediately releases you, his eyes lighting up when you grab hold of his hand and drag him towards your friends on the stage and instruct him to sit on the edge. Astrid handed you the device and watched as you took a seat on the stage, situating yourself so close to him you truly could be confused as lovers. 

You pointed the device to show your faces and pressed the button to start the filter. "You see the letters reflected in your eyes?" He nods, his gaze fixed on you rather than the image. "No, you have to look at the device, Loki," you chuckled, and so he did. Astrid hovered close by to see the letters that reflected in your eyes. Yours still showed the letter L. As for the god next to you? His eyes reflected the first letter of your name. 

Seems the predictor was correct after all. 

She saw a look of pure relief flood across Loki's face while you weren't looking, walking toward your friends again with a bewildered look on your face. "Whoever created that predictor must have made an error somewhere in their process." She expected you to place the device back in her hand, but instead you turned and placed it into her purse. "This prediction device has the power to consume all our time, and we must rehearse for the festival, lest the Queen be cross with me andher ladies in waiting."

She would make a grand queen one day, Loki thought to himself as he witnessed you address your friends in such an authoritative and yet gentle, almost motherly, manner. A wonderful mother, too--Stop it. He had to cease his stray thoughts of one day having a family with you, no matter how beautiful the image presented itself in his mind. 

You pulled your hair into a loose bun and he felt his heart drop at the sight of the gash on your cheek. "Y/N. Darling." He stood up and made his way over to you. "Your face."

"Hmm?" You touched your fingertips to the cut, seemingly nonplussed at the feel of the wound. "Oh. That. I was training with Hogun before this. His mace must've caught." 

You chuckled at the worried expression on his face, as if this was something to trivial to you, as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, making sure your hair didn't catch into the wound, and framed your face in his hands. "You bleed." He couldn't keep his composure. Something about the sight of your face marred sat so wrongly with him; in his eyes you were like a porcelain doll, something so delicate and beautiful that while the slightest imperfections would never diminish its beauty, it would physically pain him to see the cracks.

Granted, he was aware you were still a warrior; gashes like this would be child's play to you. You'd most likely endured worse in battle. Norns, just the mere thought of you going into the battlefield made him physically ill with worry. 

What was this feeling plaguing him so? This feeling that had him wanting not only craving your touch, but even simply your company. That had him so willingly pledging to protect you from whatever harms could come your way, so addicted to the sight of your smile, of that adorable scrunch of your nose that had him itching to press a kiss to it. Or to your lips. Or anywhere, really.

This was more than simple lust, and he feared the words that came to mind when he attempted to describe what he felt for you. 

"Loki. Really. 'Tis nothing," you tell him with a chuckle. "If it will help you rest easier, I'll make my way to the Healers after rehearsal." You tilted your head at him, your gaze gleaming with blissful ignorance for the tempestuous emotions stirring inside of him as he held you the way he did, somehow only seeing what you needed to see in the moment: his worry. "You wish to heal it yourself, don't you?" You narrowed your eyes playfully at him.

"I would be more efficient than the Healers, I can promise you that, darling." 

You gave him a look as if relenting and deciding to humor him, and presented him your gashed cheek. "Be my guest." He hovered his fingers over your cut when a thought crossed his mind. Perhaps you wouldn't think harshly of him, and if ever you did he would simply remember to never do it again. 

Before he could change his mind, he leaned in and pressed his lips to the skin around your gash in a tender kiss. When he pulled away the wound was gone, your face unmarred once more and calming the worry in his heart. The look in your eyes went unchanged, no abhorrence or repugnance, and you gave him a tender smile in return, a warmth washing over him as you did so.

"Thank you," you whispered. "For healing me and…for humoring us with these--feeble Midgardian amusements," you finished with an almost sheepish smile. "It's funny, when I was much younger, that was how Grandmother would heal my scrapes. There were--many." 

"Well with the frequency which you climbed and hid in trees to scare our souls out of our bodies, were you really surprised with the frequency of your scrapes, Y/N?" your friend Narda shot back teasingly. "She was a complete menace growing up, Your Highness. Would have made you proud," she remarked with a giggle.

"I have no doubt," he answered, his gaze never leaving your visage. "I'll take my leave, grant you the privacy to rehearse. Dining hall at sundown? Will I see you there?" The silent question in his words was obvious: Will you be dining with your family, including myself, or your friends?

"Perhaps," you answered. 

As Loki exited the ballroom, your friends turned to look at you with incredulity in each of their faces. "Out with it," you told them. "Why the faces?"

"Y/N, when he first walked in, I thought you'd taken a lover and forgot to tell us the good news," Halley told you, making you snort in response. "The two of you are far too attractive together to just be each other's family."

You eyed your friends with a frantic confusion. "You three are absolutely absurd," you laughed. "He's my father's brother, for fuck's sake."

"So you wouldn't mind if I tried to…?" Astrid trailed off. "He's too delicious to go about these realms unclaimed."

"Of course! He's my family and I only wish for his happiness." You meant the words as they escaped you; however, when you spotted the lascivious smile on your friend's face, a pit presented itself in your stomach. As if you knew that ultimately, she was not what would grant Loki his happiness.

Naturally, you were correct. The only realization you hadn't made that night is that you held the power to grant him that elation. 

A/N: I told y'all she's so oblivious it's painful. Also…I'm not getting the best vibes from one of her friends. Y'all picking it up, too? No? Just me? Huh--

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27

relinquish the crown: @kalinaselennespeaks @severuslovebot @kats72 @baffledbymybrilliance

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #dark!loki x reader #dark!loki #loki odinson x reader #relinquish the crown #muddyorbs writes

[winterinhimring]

Give me your harold headcanons

Harold headcanons coming up!

General:

An ambivert. He enjoys talking to people and connecting with them, but he's not really a guy for huge gatherings. He can draw energy from being with people, but not when there are three hundred of them, and sometimes he just wants to be quiet and read for a while.

Genuinely a friendly person. Also uses amiable cheerfulness as a mask to keep people at a distance. You can have a thirty-minute conversation with him in which he's both very pleasant to you and genuinely enjoying himself, and come away without having learned anything important or private about him.

The type of emotional honesty he shows to Peter and MJ is fairly atypical for him. He has to trust someone pretty deeply before he'll share that much of himself.

Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts AU (because canon makes me sad):

Still took the performance enhancers and helped with the fight against Venom; did not die because of post-NWH changes (I don't really like the movie but I do like what a great jumping-off point it makes for AUs).

Picks up drawing and writing as hobbies again. Paints when he can, although that's more time-consuming.

Draws little caricatures of anyone who's being especially annoying in a meeting in the margins of his notes, and shows them to MJ, who always laughs at them.

Rosie Octavius (I did say this was a fix EVERYTHING world) took one look at him and, much like Otto with Peter, adopted him as an honourary nephew. He takes his writing to her occasionally for recommendations and ends up publishing a couple of collections of short stories under a pen name with her help. Dedicates one of these stories to each of his friends.

Is generally fairly good at pretending to still be a normal guy, but definitely went through a phase where he kept accidentally pulling handles, doorknobs, etc. off because he wasn't used to the superstrength yet. (Bernard keeps multiple spares of every. single. type of doorknob in the house now just in case.)

Eyes now reflect light ever so slightly, like a cat's (side effect of improved night vision). Wears glasses at work so that if someone catches him in the dark they'll assume the reflection is from the glasses, not his eyes.

Occasionally goes out vigilante-ing, either with Peter or on his own. Mostly when there's a crisis and Peter needs the help, but occasionally just because he wants to. Once rescued a little boy's sketchbook from bullies and took him for a ride on his (now free of pointy objects) glider.

Does acrobatics on the glider, both solo and with Peter, partly because it's fun and partly because it gives Norman a heart attack every time he sees Harry do a loop-the-loop outside his window with Peter hanging on to the bottom of the glider. (Was eventually persuaded to use magnetic boots if he wasn't going to put foot clamps on said glider after an incident where he and Peter both wound up dangling from the glider by a strand of webbing as it merrily flew towards a wall, and almost had to be rescued.)

#asked and answered #hawkogurl #winter says things #headcanons #harry osborn #raimiverse #also relevant to the #requiem fic #greek tragedy brotp #raimi trilogy #norman osborn

[5ung39]

'In another life, I shall see you again'

"Coming Cale-nim"

Choicale week 2022

Day 1 - Soulmates & Star Crossed Lovers

Harris Village, a once ruined town of embers, turns into a lively safe haven for all races; regardless of gender, shape, job type, or social status. A place that many call home. One of which is an original member and founder of the new Harris Village. A dark-haired man with streaks of wine riddled in his bangs. For he was one of the many heroes of the empire. He was Choi Han, The 'Youngest' Sword Master. The only trusted guard and lover of Supreme Commander Cale Henituse. The crimsoned-haired man who made a home for so many people. The light of Choi Han's world.

"Some people say fate is what draws people together... But I still find it funny this all started with a lie over dinner." The Dark swordsman looks up at the Crimson man who stands in the town square. A man who holds a shield as his swords stand before him.

"I hope to meet you again... I different time, a new face, a new story." 

 A large form emerges from atop the statue. A once invisible form turns into a dark inky mass of scales. Raon Miru Henituse, one of their adoptive children.

"Strong Choi Han are you still looking for Human." 

 A nod soon followed the dragon's question. "Oh course Raon, I can still feel him with me. Even if it takes a million years. I- no we will find him again."  The unbreakable shield and the forever-moving sword. The two pairs shall meet another life. Yet they will hold the same roles each time. One a leader the other a sworn knight.

____

"Han-ah! Are you coming were gonna be late for our next shoot!" a pale man yells up the stairs to the sunkissed man to hurry up. The dark-haired man ran down the stairs stopping for a sec to avoid stepping on the black cat that sits at the bottom step. 

A string of words flows off the man's back as the illusion of a swordsman running towards his liege fades. To a pair of world-renowned actors who stand in the living room bickering on what to have for lunch.

 "Coming Cale-nim!"

#lcf #lout of the count’s family #백망되 #choi han #lcf choi han #cale henituse #trash of the count's family #choicale #Choicaleweek2022 #Choicaleweek #repost from twt

[ruby-likes-to-pick-roses]

Damn I need to post more abt my OCs here so here are some of my object OCs for an object show comic I'm working on!!! (im sorry for having a shitty camera)

sum doodles below

An oldass drawing of one of the characters (u can tell cuz the doodle is fading away)

More silly doodles

Hooman Candlie and some Medusa doodles

The one on the bottom left is for another story lol

Bunny and Darkness with an asset!! (tbh its actually just Bunny, Darkness is repeatedly hand drawn [pun unintented])

Fun facts:

Candlie, Venn, and Concha are based off some random objects I spotted in my classroom lol

The circle pasted on Acetate is an aroace flag and the circle on Venn is a nonbinary flag

Nautilus and Medusa are def not created as a loose reference ppl of the same name from the hit storyline Black Heart in the hit game Project Arrhythmia (trust me bro)

Moon Drop is also def not named after that animatronic in FNAF SB (yeah bro trust me)

Bunny and Darkness are supposed to be OC adopts before but after not being able to sell them cuz I dont have my own bank acc yet, I just took them in as my own lol

SULFURIC ACID

#object show #objects #object ocs #oc #original character

[bowling-with-ham]

Look at My Fucking Neo Petce

their names from top left to bottom right are astrid247, Tom_of_Faerieland, Kriehtd, fognus, MekoXx, EvilMina, Greasons, kisame_24, and lilialilia5

Astrid, Meko, Evil Mina Kisame and Lilia i got at the pound. Evil Mina I got because I loved her name (and i didn’t know rainbow aishas were common.) kisame_24 I got because he was painted and I didn’t know how name-based trading worked yet, but instead of repounding him i got attached. Astrid was one of my dreamies (or more broadly “any stealthy”). Lilia was another dreamie and I got her randomly at the pound and even tho christmas pets are really common now i’m still so pleased

Tom of Faerieland I designed in D2I after i saw the judge hog mask and then made a reality (except his jacket which is stupid inflated right now for some reason). Greasons I made cuz i thought of the name and then had to have it (christmas skeith was another goal, i like that they’re the grinch). fognus i bought the outfit for and then adopted a random stuck pet whose name i liked, and he turned out to be super old :0

and Kriehtd i got in a Wondertrade!

so i have 5 of the dreamies i set out to get two weeks ago hehe :D folks were not lying this is a good time to join neopets i think

i would explain their characters and Lore but this is already long. but trust me it’s there. barely

#neopets #peophin #skeith #ogrin #neopets ruki #moehog #kougra #grundo #neopets aisha #kisames customization is scuffed at the mo ik i don’t have a strong concept for him

[independentzaun]

👪 Family.

Send a symbol for a drabble/short piece of writing about my muse's

👪 Family.

I'm not sure this is exactly the type of thing that ask meme "intended" but this came into my head and I HAD to write it.

~ ~ ~

Walking slowly into the building there was an odd tinge of reluctance to Silco’s movements. A bottle of alcohol in one hand he moved silently down rows of shelves, and cubby holes before turning down another section and continuing to one specific spot. His other hand held a fold out chair as the man had no intention of simply standing there while visiting. As he found the person he wanted Silco unfolded the chair to sit down in it. He was completely alone as far as anyone could tell, but as he looked up at an urn held safely in a cubby hole Silco could practically see the one he was there to visit despite them no longer being alive.

“Hey youngling. It’s been… some time. I’d understand if you are mad, but it wasn’t intentional. Everything has just been so busy the last few years.” A soft grim chuckle escaped from Silco as he shook his head. “I almost joined you wherever you are, but that time just hasn’t quite came yet. Not that I’m complaining. The longer I live the more I can tell you when that time comes, and the better the chance I can finally accomplish… well no matter. I’m here now.”

A soft sigh came from him as he placed the bottle of alcohol on his lap, and reached into his jacket pulling out his cigarette case. Moments later a whiff of smoke emerged, and tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling Silco blew a smoke ring taking silent for a few seconds until he started to speak again. “Where to start. Well I had a brother named Vander. You would have liked him. I liked him, trusted him, loved him even. He tried to kill me though that’s how I got my eye, and these scars. He adopted a couple of kids later on. Vi, and Powder as she was called at that point. Both really strong in their way… I hate Vi, but I’ll give her that.”

The bottle of alcohol was opened and he raised it up. “I’m sorry you never got to learn what your favorite drink was, but I brought Father’s. You must remember it, that swill he bought every payday and squeezed out until the next. Here’s to you and the rest of our family.” Taking a swig of the cheap beyond bottom self practically toxic drink Silco didn’t even flinch and swallowed it down. “You know, you’ve got a niece, and she’s...perfect just as she is. Her name is Jinx, and...fuck. You tell anyone else I said this and I’ll kill you.” His voice was clearly teasing with that note from an older brother playfully threatening a younger sibling. “I love her though. She’s my daughter even if it’s not blood, not that blood has ever mattered much when it comes to such things here in Zaun. We both know that. Too many orphans, and so many families that came together just out of happenstance. I wish she could have met you. Maybe things would have been different.” Another drink, another puff of his cigarette.

“Vander is basically gone now, and Jinx almost killed me. No don’t be mad. It’s complicated, but she had her reasons and I forgive her. It was an impossible situation. Vi was there, and this sheriff… I’ll tell you about it some other time.” Closing his eyes Silco took a deep breath. “It’s strange, I didn’t understand Vander for so long, but that changed not all that long ago. An offer was made, but they wanted Jinx in return. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t give her up. I couldn’t give up my daughter, my family. You understand right? You always talked about how we’d take care of mom, and dad when we both got older...You’d understand of course you would. Smart little shit, smarter than you should have been.”

Shaking his head Silco sat in that spot staring at the urn with cremated ashes in it for a while as he finished his cigarette, and then another one, and a third. A couple sips of the swill in the bottle as he thought back to his family that he’d had over the years. Mother, father, his younger… Vander of course. Jinx. Family lost, gained, and lost again. Years of emotions slowly stiring inside of him, and drifting upwards aided by the alcohol until one slow tear drifted down Silco’s cheek. “I miss you. I forgot for a bit. I was so distracted by plans, and rage, and business, and… I miss you though.” Standing he set the bottle of alcohol on the chair, and placed two fingers against his lips before touching the urn.

“I won’t stop though, and I won’t ever forgive Piltover for how they’ve treated us. What they put us through… what you went through. You’d probably say I should forgive, and concentrate on something nicer but you were always the kinder one of us. You could be, being the youngest. Until you couldn’t be anymore… I’ll come back some day. Maybe one day I’ll even be able to bring Jinx to meet you.”

Turning Silco walked away stone faced from the urn holding his younger sibling. He’d never been able to properly cremate, and keep safe their parents but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t ensure the younger one didn’t have a peaceful place to rest. Even if it had meant buying the whole business years ago to ensure it’d never go bankrupt and that one particular Urn would always have a place.

You didn’t abandon family.

Not if you could help it.

He still believed in Loyalty.

#fleetingreflection #silcoanswers #silcodrabbles #I've decided that my Silco used to have a younger sibling. Have a touch of angst.

[bleeding-star-heart]

Tory politicians as ranked by me, an American, in terms of revolutionary symbols.

The ranking system is as follows:  Very bottom is ‘The Marseillaise’ and the tricolor for the French Revolution, Meaning: burn the system down and start again.  Mid-range is ‘Star Spangled Banner’ and Revolutionary War Flags a la Betsy Ross. Meaning: let’s be far, far away from you and have total independence. Top is ‘shrug’ and business suits. Meaning: ‘It’s not great but we can live with it.” We doubt many, if any, will earn this distinction.  So Let’s go:  Liz Truss:  Three tricolors and “The Marseillaise”. Seriously, woman? Seriously?! You shouldn’t have closed down schools during the Covid lockdown? What is wrong with you? Do you like the idea of children catching Covid and dying?!  Because that’s what tends to happen when you have an infectious disease and no vaccines or boosters?   Not sure what that business with the pork markets is about, looked it up, still don’t get it. Also, for some reason, she wants to be enemies with France?!  Rishi Sunak: two tricolors and ‘The Marseillaise.’ Also opposed Covid lockdowns, supported Brexit, and his idea of supporting the British economy was apparently to encourage people to eat at restaurants during Covid-which naturally increased Covid cases. Another of his economy-supporting plans fell victim to fraud, and in general his ideas just seem to fail a lot.  Normal people who screw up that much get fired.  Theresa May:  Four Betsy Ross flags and the “The Star-Spangled Banner.” I looked up this ‘one-nation conservative’ thing she has going on, and well it sounds nicer than the GOP’s ideas, but stupid in that it trusts the upper crust a LITTLE too much. And in practice, she’s no angel either. Between seeming to have ZERO compassion for undocumented immigrants, SUPPORTING that war in Yemen, not wanting queer couples to adopt, and other things, I would perfectly understand if people didn’t like her.  Also, she inflicted Trump on poor Queen Elizabeth II. (Whatever your opinion monarchy is, NOBODY deserves to have Trump inflicted on them).  But at least she cared about police brutality maybe? And had the decency to condemn Myanmar’s treatment of the Rohingya. So, for that she gets “keep away from me” because I wouldn’t want to live in a country run by her.  Boris Johnson: ALL the tricolors and a LOUD playing of “The Marseillaise”. Seriously, this is an embarrassment. Who on earth decided that a Trump clone should be in charge of the British government? I mean, the fact that Trump was the U.S.’s 45th president was shameful enough. And yet for some reason, instead of learning from our mistakes and avoiding the racist old man with bad hair, terrible taste and worse manners, and even worse policies, the British public elected him.  Granted, you had the sense to kick him out when he copied the ‘sex scandal’ page from Trump’s book, but still.  Don’t look shocked if Boris turns out to have stolen nuclear secrets too. Trump got elected in 2016, the British public put Boris in power in 2019. There was plenty of forewarning. 

#uk politics #take with grain of salt

[afamer-112a-blogposts]

I decided to take this blog post to work out ideas for my final project and talk through the characters, themes, and works I’ve been inspired by. While every single work has been spectacular in its own way, the few that stood out to me were US, Candyman, Wet Pain, and Get Out. I decided to mainly hone in on themes including privilege, revenge, and magic– I’d like to add commentary on race, but I am still working through the details on how to do so respectfully and eloquently, as a white person who is deciding to speak on the topic.

My story takes place in a dystopian city named Governor’s Fall, locals refer to it as “The Falls” for short, after a series of natural disasters wiped out the majority of the population living on Earth (or so people think…). Here, buildings often fall into sinkholes (hence the nickname), swallowing the towering structures whole. On one certain occasion, one of the few cinderblock apartment buildings still housing tenants is eaten by a sinkhole, yet remains standing underneath. Trapped inside, the residents must make their way out of the building and back to the surface to retrieve resources for their families. As the journey to the top (especially from the bottom), each floor elects a representative to make the trip.

On the first floor (the floor trapped the furthest underground), Grayson Bloom (our protagonist, aged 22, non-binary, mixed race) is elected to make their way to the surface, retrieving goods not only for their floor but for their two adopted siblings, Mirabella and Arthur. As Grayson makes their way up the collapsing staircases, they meet Derek Price, a white, middle-aged man living on the 7th floor, who poses himself as a supportive figure. The pair continue their journey of trials and tribulations until reaching the 11th floor (the second highest), where the two are introduced to Fiona Greene, a young Black woman dedicated to retrieving both supplies for those stranded on the lower floors, as well as a system to reliably transport them to the highest and safest floors.

Grayson ultimately pays a price for trusting Derek and learns the scary truth of what is happening to their city and the world around them. In a tale of bravery, selflessness, dedication, resilience, and horror, Bloom defies the odds posed against them in the forms of racism, wealth inequality, and magic/demons.

[masqsims4]

End of Generation 8

As the Eighth Generation comes to a close, the public is on edge and the royal houses are distrusting. Cracks are forming in even the strongest foundations and the world is beginning to take notice. On the eve of yet another rise of the Mother Plant, in a Fifth Invasion, the world takes one last breath and waits for the inevitable to happen. No one knows who to trust, where to go, or what the ultimate answer is to the ultimate question. All we, the world, can do now, is wait.

Britechester (Neutral Ground)

The Fourth Invasion of the Mother Plant left the entire region and it's two academies in ruins. Hundreds were killed and thousands more injured, and the very earth of Britechester is so fragile that outside of specialized personnel of the Strangerville army, no one can set foot in the area. With both colleges out of physical commission, outside educational institutions are looking into local areas to make their own academies or online studies to help those finish their formal educations.

It is currently unknown if the area will ever recover.

Brindleton Bay (Seindu Kingdom)

The Seindu Royal Family

After King Tristiran's death in the Fourth Invasion, the mourning royal family had to decide for the next heir to the throne. After passing a law that adopted members of the royal family had a place in line, pending there was a genetic link to the royal family, the public favorite had shifted to Princess-honorary Nifsara La Croy. Her hard work in public service, royal duties, and international negotiations did not go unnoticed, and being the current oldest of the royal heirs did she ask the Dowager Queen Winter for the throne. Winter favored her own son as king, and so she compromised: Nifsara can be a Regent Queen until Crown Prince Ari could prove himself to be better, and if he couldn't, the throne could go to Nifsara.

Nifsara was furious at these turn of events, but decided to take this position to campaign harder as the next Queen of Brindleton. She's worked so hard for this role, she can't give up now! It doesn't help that allegations came out that Infected children were being passed through the adoption system, which cast suspicions on her of being Infected. "Test me!" she publicly declared. "I did not rise from the ashes to be treated this way by my own people!" With her husband, Regent King Emmet Braieforma-La Croy, and her infant daughter, Princess Starling La Croy, by her side, Nifsara doesn't have to face the uphill battle alone.

From top left to right: Dowager Queen Winter Zilvu-Beerloith-Seindu, Regent Queen Nifsara La Croy, Regent King Emmett Braieforma-La Croy, Nikel (servo)

Bottom: Princess Starling La Croy

Brindleton Boarding Academy

While the seventh generation was disenchanted, the chaos of the Invasion Generation has pushed for aspirations and goals of their own. Prince Ari wants to be king, and has been working hard to get the public's support over his adopted sister. Princess-honorary Saavi Seindu has set her sights and passions on the rightful independence of Sulani. And Princess Dafnea is following her mother's footsteps in the acting scene.

However, the knowledge that their lives will have a comfy trust fund waiting for them has taken dedication away from some. Princess Catalea has scored a royal heir for a fiancé, while Lady Arana feels no pressure to strive for anything in life. Many of the younger generation can either reach for the stars knowing they won't have to struggle, or plan to just laze their cares away in the safety of Brindleton, away from war. While there is a divide in the wills and will-nots, the next generation of adults looks promising.

From top left to right: Lady Arana Hakzar, Princess Catalea Seindu, Crown Prince Ari Seindu, Princess Dafnea Seindu

From bottom left to right: Princess-honorary Aparia Seindu-Hidu, Prince Issac Seindu, Princess-honorary Saavi Seindu

From top left to right: Prof. Manta (servo), Princess-in-waiting Alisha Seindu-Bernal, Princess Ai Ikari-Seindu, Princess Francesca Seindu

From bottom left to right: Princess Anahea Seindu, Prince-honorary Zacheo Bongrin, Princess-honorary Matilda Post, Prince Takaharu Seindu

Brindleton Life

Far from the fighting, invasions and Infections, life is surprisingly chaotic in Brindleton. Princess Zarinah prepares herself to be the next Royal Advisor, while her husband, Valentino Bernal, prepares himself to be the next Chief of Justice. Prince Xavis and Princess-conjoin Leuconoe take their roles seriously as Captains of the Guard, with Leuconoe offering water and magic expertise to Brindleton for the first time. While these two have their lives under control, the Brindleton Estate is brewing with chaos and destruction.

Lord Marmaduke Bongrin has done nothing with his jetsetter life but to waste his trust funds on travel, parties, and beautiful women, which angers his wife, Maribel Post, to no end. Widower Shigeru Kiraseindu had to learn to live life as a single parent when his new partner passed away, leaving two more children for him to raise. The former King Roderock Vomnu came to live with his son after his wife passed away, which made him yet another person for Maribel to care for. When Marmaduke gave Maribel yet another science baby for them both to cheer her up, Maribel lost her composure and screamed at Marmaduke for making her life so difficult. Shigeru decided to have the entire family at the Brindleton Estate, took away Marmaduke's passport, and paid for Maribel to have a vacation away to cool her heels and recharge. While other family members pitch in, Shigeru is putting Marmaduke to the grindstone and forcing the young man to care for his out of control family.

Prince Honorary Kiran Cisi-Seindu, royal advisor; Prince-conjoin Valentino Bernal, chief of police; Princess Zarinah Seindu, royal advisor-next in line

Prince Xavis Seindu, Captain of the Guard; Princess-conjoin Leuconoe Seindu, mermaid; Prince-in-waiting Kalino Seindu, Princess-in-waiting Hualani Seindu

From top left to right: King-conjoin (former) Roderock Vomnu, Lord Marmaduke Bongrin, Prince-conjoin Shigeru Kiraseindu

From bottom left to right: Kael Norwood, Ronin Norwood, Princess Melody Seindu, Prince Xavi Seindu, Prince-honorary Kian Post

Princess-honorary Maribel Post

Del Sol Valley (Seindu Kingdom)

Head of Entertainment

The household of entertainment shifted to the second daughter of Jasih Seindu, when Kimra was too reclusive and mentally unwell to hold the position. Content to stay away from the Strangerville Invasions, after having survived the first one, they find themselves in a war of a different kind. Many of the youngest of the Eighth Generation were born with vision and hearing problems, some completely deafblind. Hoping to raise awareness for the condition, as well as raising money to provide services and life-changing surgeries, Sage Sinqri-Seindu has been working with hospitals and gene therapy clinics to help the youngsters of Gen 8 and find solutions for Gen 9.

Meanwhile, the next in line for Head of Entertainment, Xie Braie, had to put her education on hold to help raise her orphaned niece, Alana Braie, who lost both her fathers in Sulani during the Third Invasion.

(from top left to right) Prince-conjoin Andrei Seindu-Bongrin, Princess Sage Sinqri-Seindu-Bongrin, Thindai (servo), Princess Xie Braie

(from bottom left to right) Princess Alana Braie, Prince-in-waiting Solar Sinqri-Seindu-Bongrin, Prince-in-waiting Corvis Sinqri-Seindu-Bongrin

(top picture from top left to right) Lord Winson Seindu-Hakzar, Princess-herald Jenni Vranzeks

(top picture from bottom left to right) Lady Isadore Vranzeks, Prince Jasih Seindu II, Princess Makenna Zakanagi

(bottom picture) Princept-conjoin Bruno Kaminski-Vakki, Princept-honorary Sammy Stoddard

Starlight Academy

Many of this generations alumni were born under the lens of a camera and no nothing of life outside of their every move being filmed. Treated as props, and not allowed to have a private moment to themselves, they feel used and useless. It's up to actual family to show them life as their own person and give them their own hopes, dreams, and life on their terms.

(from top left to right) Crystala (servo), Prince Jax Seindu, Prim Osanna Vakki, Princess Mystery Seindu

(from bottom left to right) Princess Alma Seindu, Prim Artimisa Vakki, Princess-in-waiting Stella Sinqri-Seindu-Bongrin

#Sixam royal family

[sussex-nature-lover]

Sunday 12 March 2023

The One Where We’re Stand In Parents

After their wedding last year the elder Ms NatureWatch and her husband took a few nights away with young Pepper, their rescue dog, who we think will soon be around the three year old mark. She’s been with them for 16 months and has settled down really well. Now though, they’ve taken the opportunity to have a honeymoon break away over seas and we’ve been designated to stand in and look after her. It’s a big job as she’s only had one night without them since the adoption.

I’m pleased to report that her first 24 hours, including her overnight, were  successful, there were no tears at bedtime and we actually had to wake her at just before 7am for a quick walk around the garden.

After we’d fortified ourselves with a couple of cups of tea off we set for a proper walk and were so grateful we caught the sunniest and best part of the day for the longest walk. Here’s some photos from what we saw both yesterday afternoon and today

If we’d gone any further down this track we’d have been in the muddy woods, instead of the wet and muddy fields, so we took a sharp left and stuck to the edges of the field.

There isn’t usually a pond here at all, shows how much rain we’ve been having. She had a look, but wasn’t inclined to take a dip, thank goodness

Throughout our route there are odd pockets of Spring naturalising

and some sights that definitely aren’t natural!

We only found three cattle out in the fields - most were in the barns - but two were this mother and calf. The calf took exception to our four legged friend and charged over mooing to see her off. Pepper retaliated but we got her away without too much trouble.

This afternoon there was a young sheepdog loose on the track, but once again we were able to guide our way safely past.

At one stage a small herd of deer ran through the next field. I think they caught her eye but she didn’t make a sound. The white deer was amongst them, but it just wasn’t possible to get a picture in focus. That ghostly figure through the trees is it - trust me.

Far more interesting for part terrier was this active burrow. Luckily we didn’t let her get too close as I wouldn’t have fancied retrieving her if she’d set her mind to investigations

We heard lots of great tits and sparrows; there were plenty of starlings around and at one stage I had to get out my bird app to identify a mistle thrush singing, that’s very unusual

There were a couple of buzzards who were bothering the rooks and crows, you can just about see one above amongst the branches to the right of the nest, high up

I’m never lucky with buzzard pics, so I was quite pleased to at least catch this one in frame

In sharp contrast to spring, the little brook at the bottom of our woods has created quite a tumultuous waterfall - small, but mighty and yet, you can almost say that the Blackthorn blossom is out, so hopefully the heavy rains and even last week’s snow, are on their way out. That’ll definitely suit us if it is, sooner the better.

#nature blossom dogs wildlife

[galaxy-koi-art]

Don't think I'll be streaming tonight (not feeling it tonight), so I'll instead share the doodles I did last week of my OCs. All of them are from tabletop RPG campaigns, both past and present.

From left to right, top to bottom:

Erica Hawkes, a Witch from a Monsterhearts campaign. Erica was a generic mean-girl-type witch who held disgust over how other people looked. As far as tabletops go, she was my first traitorous child and inspired parts of Caelan, who would show up years later. This campaign was also my first not-5E tabletop game, and it was a breath of fresh air.

Cynthia Featherstone, a Paladin from a D&D 5E campaign. "Special interest from 2018 to 2021" would be the proper title for her, as I have an entire blog dedicated to her campaign. She still means a lot to me and playing through a game on stream got me thinking about her again. I still hold mixed feelings about what she could have been as a character, though. Was really hoping to do a recovery arc for her.

Merlil, a Sidekick (UA) from a D&D 5E campaign. Also known as The Bone Fairy and stood at barely over a foot tall, Merlil was my little chaotic OC. I loved making some dumb decisions as her and do not regret a single one!

Caelan Wallace, an Inquisitor from a Pathfinder 1E campaign. Always on the hunt for the truth, but he falls victim to placing too much trust in others of his faith. Also, he gaslights children to get motives out of them.

Ilonna Weaver, a Mesmerist from a Pathfinder 1E campaign (same one as Caelan). She was formerly a tailor and ran a shop owned for generations by her family. Then, when the shop turned to a blaze and her husband left with her son, she turned to crime. Has a new adopted son who's a necromancer.

Hakam "Hybrid" Tushir, a Rakshasa from a Blades in the Dark campaign. Tortured past led him down a rabbit hole into sacrificing part of his humanity. He believes all of his humanity is gone, but it's very clear it's not yet because of how he is tortured by puns. Also, he takes very good care of his dog, Gem.

I might do another doodle page showing off some of the other OCs! They deserve some spotlight as well.