#but have you considered neon pink? maybe purple? orange even? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miekasa · 3 years

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any spare levi headcanons tonight????? 😁😁😁😁

Sure, why not, he is the love of my life after all. These are pretty random, and fit in some sort of generalized modern boyfriend au. Hopelessly domestic, as that is the nature of nearly everything I write for Levi, anyway. Also still terribly obsessed with the idea of him with a motorcycle, so there’s that.

He owns at least six black blazers. They’re nearly identical; slight differences in texture and cut, one with lapels, one that’s boldly all leather that you swear you’ve never seen him wear. They’re kind of his go-to staple, other than a sweater.

That being said, he doesn’t exclusively wear all black. His closet leans towards more neutrals, sure, but he’s not allergic to color. You might not catch him wearing neon orange on the average day, but he’s not averse to a nice shade of green, any shade of purple that suits his mood, even a softer pink.

He has towels and rags he sets aside especially for you when he comes over. He always washes them and put them back in place when you leave so that they’re ready to go for next time.

Claims to not have any attachment to the shows/dramas you watch, but he’s totally backseat watching. Halfway into every single series, he starts sitting down when you turn it on, and scoffs at dumb decisions the characters make.

He splurged on one of those frame TVs that look like a painting when they’re idle. It was a good investment in his opinion.

He doesn’t hate Starbucks drinks—there’s worse things out there in terms of quality of tea. What he despises about the establishment is the way they call out names for you to pick up your order. He’s learned that mobile order ahead is the way to go.

Has slippers for around the house, so consequently, you have slippers for walking around his house. He keeps both pairs (and a few extra for friends and guests) tucked neatly beside the door for easy access; yours always go next to his.

Does not understand the purpose of a robe. Buy him one tho and he will suddenly find an excuse to wear it: making breakfast, lounging around watching TV, doing some light cleaning and dusting. It’s comfy, alright, he can admit that much.

The little puppy you got him that he swore he was not going to warm up to now gets the royal treatment. The best doggie goods and treats, top rated shampoos, cutest drying towels, even a miniature couch he constructed just for the pup. They’re best friends, there’s no breaking that bond now.

Speaking of the puppy, affectionately named Captain, Levi can be found walking him every day shortly after work. They have a few different routes, but they always pass by the local vendors/market, who enthusiastically anticipate their appearance every day. Some of the older ladies running stands have even taken to bringing a few treats with them for Captain—after bundling up some goods for Levi, too, of course.

Captain also has a special doggy backpack Levi uses for when he’s on his motorcycle. If you follow anybody on TikTok in his area, you’re bound to see at least one video of the pup while Levi’s out riding. He’s become viral on social media without even knowing it.

(When you show him a video someone posted of him and Captain with well over 100k likes, and a million views, he only rolled his eyes. But remembers that particularly day; remembers the folks had a kid who politely asked to pet the dog, so he let him. He also maybe asks you to send the link to him).

On the subject of the motorcycle, there was a good few weeks he wouldn’t let you on it. Always found an excuse, a smart reply that was punctuated with gentle push on your forehead and calling you too clumsy for it. Later, you found out it’s because he’d ordered you a helmet; didn’t want to risk you riding without one.

He always keeps it in the storage compartment should he make a stop to pick you up while he’s riding; and he usually wears at least two layers to have a spare to wrap you in before you get on.

When he cooks, he always makes sure there’s enough for leftovers and/or to give you some later. He also bakes frequently, and at least once a week, he stops by with some kind of treat for you—“Trying out a new recipe, let me know if you think it’s missing anything.”

On the subject of food, he won’t police what you eat to annoying extent; he knows that not everybody has the time or will to make pasta from scratch like he does. But, he will smack your wrist if you consider ordering fast food when you’re over at this place. Give him 30 minutes and a single pan, he’ll make something much better than whatever you can find on Uber Eats.

Really, though, he doesn’t mean to obnoxious about the homemade food thing, it’s more habit for him. Growing up, he had to learn to be resourceful, so buying fast-food isn’t ever at the forefront of his mind. Cooking for you also turns out to be something somewhat intimate that he enjoys, so just let him.

Once bought an Apple Watch because he liked the look of them, it wasn’t insanely expensive like other high end watches, and it could connect to his other devices, so why not? A week later he returned it, the ping of his notifications were in one too many places for his liking.

You tried to convince him to keep it—“At least for when you’re jogging! It can track your activity and calories!”—but he clicks his teeth. He’ll survive without keeping track of them.

He learned the hard way that jogging with Captain is no good. His legs are too tiny and Levi ended up carrying the puppy the entire time. Captain is more of a walk dog… or ride on the back of his bike dog.

If you changed anything in his phone settings—like the ringtone for you contact, or the sound his keyboard makes—he wouldn’t go back in and try to figure out how to reset it. Unless it was something obnoxious, like adding an autocorrect shortcut to say something lewd.

He doesn’t really listen to music when he’s just walking. When he’s on a run, that’s fine, but he somewhat prefers to just… hear the environment around him when he’s on a stroll or a break from work. The only reason he’d have headphones on in public is to take a phone call, but even then, he’d prefer to wait until he’s somewhere more private.

He likes having you over at his apartment and has contemplated asking you to move in. He doesn’t want to rush anything, though, so he’s content with your sleepovers for now. (Though he really cannot fathom that you call them “sleepovers” like you’re 14. Please).

He speaks to his mother at least once a week, and she always asks about you. Levi tells her that you’re fine, gives her small updates about you, but Kuchel really just wants to know when the wedding is. He pretends to be busy whenever she starts asking and conveniently ends the call.

Occasionally, he’ll stop by and take you out for lunch. Depends on how much time he has during the day for himself, but he always enjoys sharing a meal with you.

Whenever you’re out with your friends drinking, Levi will pick you up. Even if you already told him that you’d Uber home; as soon as you text him that you’re going to leave soon, he’s already on his way.

He makes pretty good cocktails himself. Teases you for running his alcohol supply dry when the truth is he has more of your favorites in his cabinet than his own. He secretly likes the way you flirt with him when you’re tipsy.

You don’t always cuddle on top of each other when you sleep together. You can just lay by each other and that’s enough; but sometimes, you catch Levi turning towards you in his sleep, reaching for your hand. His body seems to search for yours subconsciously, and you swear there’s a hint of a smile on his sleeping face when you put your hand within reach.

Do not try to pay for dinner when you’re out with him. He’ll pull the “I’m going to use the restroom” move and pay the bill behind your back if he needs to. Open your own doors, maybe; pull out your own chairs, sure if you want; but not this.

He flosses very diligently every night. Mostly because he fucking hates the dentist, so if he takes the extra steps and is extra careful with his teeth, he doesn’t have to go as often, right?—Wrong, it’s the one time the roles are reversed, and you and Hange have to wrestle him into the doctor’s office.

On the flip side, if there are any doctors you routinely avoid and/or forget to schedule check ups for, fear not, because Levi will do it for you. He’ll drive you there, too—the only caveat being, that he usually doesn’t tell you where you’re going until you’re almost there. You think he’s doing the mysterious man surprise date thing and then boom, he’s pulling up to the ophthalmologist. Good luck.

He’s purchased a physical, paper copy of the news on every one of your anniversaries, birthdays, and other special occasions. He keeps them all neatly tucked away in a drawer. Sometimes, he looks back on them—sees what was happening in the world around you on that day. Maybe someday he’ll cut them up and bind them together in a book for you.

He doesn’t like having headphones in when you’re home with him, and preferred if you didn’t either—unless it was for work or school. He welcomes you to use his speakers and play your music aloud; he likes listening to what you listen to. If you look closely, you can catch him humming along or tapping his foot when he really likes a song.

Saves pictures you send him in an album in his camera roll. Occasionally can be found scrolling through them—particularly if you’ve been away on a trip, or he hasn’t gotten the chance to see you because of conflicting schedules.

He takes relatively short showers and doesn’t have a strong preference for the water temperature, so he lets you shower first. Unless you want him to join you, of course.

It’s not hard to tell when Levi wants you. He becomes noticeably more touchy, even if that margin isn’t too wide by anyone else’s standards; and he rarely tries to hide it. It only happens in the privacy of your apartments; but he’ll come on to you—leaning a bit further into conversations, a hand on your knee, a kind of cloudy look in his eyes.

Sometimes he forgoes the attempts at being subtle, just kisses you out the blue, carefully backs you up against the wall, puts his hands on your hips. He can be awfully direct when given the opportunity.

#anonymous #[dreamy sight] levi where art thou levi.......... i am yearning deeply #levi x reader #aot x reader #levi smut #levi fluff #snk x reader #aot imagines

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 4 years

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Pact Marks | All Brothers

Request: pact mark hc with the brothers?

Word Count: 1971 words

Page Count: 5.5 pages

A.N.: hope you guys enjoy this!

Tags: none :)

[ U N D A T E A B L E S ]

Lucifer

Lucifer would place his pact mark on the space where your neck meets your ear, somewhere modest and easy to hide, something you could show and hide as you pleased. Though you could hide it, it was in an obvious spot, fitting for the Avatar of Pride. When you summon him or speak with him through it the pact mark glows a deep blue.

If you wear your hair down, he will play with your hair before rubbing the mark gently, and if he is in an extra soft mood he'll give it a quick kiss before moving on. If you wear your hair up he feels prideful, more so than usual, and it intensifies even more if it is a formal gathering where any and all can see it. He'll be glued to that one side where the mark is, and he'll lean in to whisper to you whenever he wants to speak with you, giving a quick kiss to it or just touching it before standing up again.

His pact mark with you on the palm of his hand, and he finds himself thumbing it mindlessly to comfort himself, he starts to understand why Beel does it when he's nervous. Lucifer isn't nervous though, he just likes to remind himself of you, he likes to touch the mark that proves you're both bound together in such a way. When he speaks to you through the mark or tries to look through your eyes, activating the mark, it glows a bright white and reminds him of a blessing mark that angels give.

Having a pact with Lucifer makes him feel light, in a literal and metaphorical sense, every time he even thinks of it.

You bring him light that he thought he had lost long ago.

Mammon

Mammon would keep your pact mark on your collar bone, in the center, right where your throat dips into your chest. He knew you were caring, and being around you had him feeling different, and he wanted to be greedy. Since he is more emotionally inclined, I like to think that he can connect with souls and auras better, so when he felt your soul and looked at it a bit closer he felt so connected to it he knew he wanted to get close with you. It glows a bright gold when it activates, and he loves it, so sometimes when you're sleeping he'll call to the mark and kinda just look in amazement.

Since he is very touchy, he loves to lay his head down on it, and listens to your heart and the soft buzz of his magic in your skin. He falls asleep fastest on those nights.

His mark with you is in the same place, and like his older brother when you use it it glows a soft white, something he loves since it matches well with his demon markings. Run your nails over it and the boy m e l t s. Since he had his collar opened all the time he loves when people see it, he makes pacts with witches all the time but this is the first time he's allowed a mark on him, and this honestly has everyone just lowkey s h o o k. Like Mammon? The pact whore for grimm? Allowed a mark? on H I M ?

Having a pact with Mammon makes him feel pride, ironically, but also loved and wanted.

He actually feels like an equal, when all else isn't, this is the one time where it's you AND him.

Leviathan

His pact mark on you is on your foot and wraps around your ankle, it seems easy to hide, but you can never really hide it. Unless you're wearing shoes that cover your ankle often or pants that don't ride up your ankle, it's always showing somewhere. He is a strong swimmer and loves to see you swim too, so he knows legs are important for the task, and that's where the idea of placing his mark on your ankle came from. Sometimes, he'll jump in the tank with you, and since he can breathe underwater with his gills (broski I like the idea of him having gills P L E A S E), he'll sit back and chill with Henry swimming around his head, seeing your mark move with the rest of your leg.

When you use the mark, it becomes a soft orange, the same shade that hides behind his eyes when they become more snake-like. Lay your legs over him when he's playing games and he'll settle the controller on your other ankles, letting his fingers brush against the mark on the other. Little shit will even let his claws some out just to scratch them lightly and tickle you like a motherfucker.

His mark is on the ankle opposite of yours, so when you're both cuddling he'll link your ankle around his, the feeling of you WITH him blows his mind sometimes. Same case when he uses it, glows white, due to you being a human and having such a bright soul.

Having a pact with Leviathan makes him feel like he's worth something.

You helped him gain confidence and become a demon that deserves the title of Avatar of Envy.

Satan

His pact mark runs from the top of your calf to about mid-thigh, right on the back of your leg, it's large, slender, and delicate. It glows neon green when activated, something that he honestly finds cool as hell, because:

1. It's something that means you have a piece of him with you.

2. You make it look awesome.

3. It's honestly so fucking cool.

Like Levi, when you're both relaxing, him reading and you doing work/listening to music, and your legs are on his, he'll touch the mark mindlessly and feel so at peace. But, if you're ticklish, guess who also is a little shit. If you're in bed, and laying on your stomach, he'll lay his head on your thigh and just trace his with a look on his face that says 'wow' and if you think of that meme, yes, that's valid.

His mark is on the top of his hand, he always gets to see it, looking at it shows him the progress he's made. He knows how to manage his anger and actively tries to have it processed through a better outlet. You helping him along the way makes him have hope, an emotion that could seem a bit foreign at times, but he likes it. He feels light.

Making a pact with Satan has him feeling like he can be anything he wants.

He can be himself, not an extension of someone else.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus has no shame, but, when he cares- when he really does, he wants to make it meaningful. He would place it on your hip and have it there and only there, it won't wrap around to your ass or to your front, just your hip. He loves to watch it glow a radiant pink, so he'll section off time to just lay his head on your lap and ask you to call him, the tug of magic and the light emanating from your skin does something to him. Sure, it could be lust, or maybe something more, you may be able to figure it out if he told you.

He didn't want to though. He'd just enjoy the feeling without having to figure it out, because figuring it out meant facing himself, and we can't have that just yet. His pact mark is right over his heart, though Mammon's mark is in the same area, it isn't right over his heart. It is settled right between his pectorals, a slight bit to the left, always hovering around the muscle that proves he's alive and able to love in some capacity.

He often would come up to you and just place his hand on it, palm flat against your hip while his mark would flare up in an ivory light, he swears he can feel your pulse through it and wonders if you can feel his.

Having a pact with Asmodeus makes him feel as if he can be seen past his title- which ever one, and just be himself.

He can devout himself to something that means more than him.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub's pact mark is not on your abdomen actually! He wanted to place it on his favorite spot, on the back of your shoulder, away from the place where his sin seems to ravage him. It of course, glows a deep crimson, but be prefers it when it isn't activated- because it means you're safe and you don't need to call on him to help. He loves when you sit on his lap, because of a few reasons.

1. You're with him :)

2. You're happy :)

3. He can look at your mark as much as he likes, especially if it's exposed, he'll "somehow" leave small kisses all over it. They're so soft, you can't help but laugh, it's ticklish at times. It becomes even more ticklish when he presses his face against it, and if you laugh, he laughs, his laughs against your skin either make you soft or cackle in delight.

4. Your pact mark is right against his!

Beel would have his pact mark right on his chest, matching it to the side you choose to have your pact mark on. This makes the big boi real emotional, and he'll sometimes let some magic through and it glows, and you're kinda like:

"I hope that's a glow stick and not you again Beel."

"Let's just say it's a glow stick for now."

Having a pact with Beelzebub means you're a part of his family, happy, and healthy.

It really just makes him emotional.

Belphegor

When you make a pact with Belphegor, this lil' shit is honestly so surprised you said yes, but considering it was a gift you probably said yes to be respectful. But... you didn't.

Your pact mark with him is on the back of your neck, where the cervical vertebrae are, moving a bit lower to the thoracic spine. When you suggested it go there, he had to ask why, and boy did he tear up once you explained it to him later that night. You wanted to trust him again and put the past behind you, so what better place to mend a wound than the place that finally put your lights out?

Please don't say it like this to him though, if you do he would think you're joking.

But if that's how it comes out, he'll think you're joking, until he remembers you're you and... he gets it.

It glows purple when activated or when you're sleepy/ in some type of stress, he wants to read your emotions so he can help you as much as he can, make up for what was done. He would never admit it though, and you can tell he's trying his best. His mark would be in the same exact place, not only to remind him of what he did, but that he can do better to make amends. He punishes himself for your death and you try to ease him out of it- and though it takes time, you'll find your way to it.

He finds himself doing what Beel does, and will bury his face into your mark when he cuddles into you, and places small kisses on it. If he is laying on you, please touch the mark, it manages to calm him into a good sleep.

Making a pact with Belphegor means you're ready to grow and build something better with him.

You help him find a better path that he needs to walk down on his own.

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thewhitejournal · 3 years

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A Hotchner Getaway

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader Oneshot

hello everyone! this is a little oneshot requested by @thomasgibsonfan01 , its kind of short but i hope you all enjoy! :)

summary: the reader and Hotch are taking a vacation to South Carolina with Jack and maybe a daughter with a sunset beach walk enjoying family time

content warnings: like one curse word

“Alright, are we sure nobody has to go to the bathroom before we head out?” Aaron called out to the two little ones in the back seat, his gaze on them. You turned your head to look at them, too. Strapped into their respected car seats were Jack Hotchner and Willow Hotchner, the two of three pieces of your heart. The third, of course, sitting in the driver’s seat. You turned to look back at them, too.

They just smiled at their parents, shaking their heads ‘no’ vigorously. Sure, you weren’t technically Jack’s mom, but the Hotchner boys considered you to be, and that was enough for everyone. The two kids had enough excitement for the four of you. Willow got your hair color, but Aaron’s eyes. She was beautiful, and kind already, just like Aaron. Sometimes you could see him in her face like when she scrunches her face up at whatever vegetable it was she was boycotting for the evening. Aaron looked the same way when something wasn’t going to his plan.

You and Hotch chuckled at their overjoyed faces, turning forward. He started the car, ready to head the six or so hours down to South Carolina.

David Rossi had somehow convinced Aaron Hotchner to take a week’s vacation; he had to have used some kind of magic or something. You knew work would follow him down to the shore, but you didn’t mind it; it was what you’d signed up for when you married the FBI agent. It was a well-deserved vacation for everyone, especially Aaron. He overworked himself almost every day of the week and damned if you weren’t going to make sure he had a good time.

Four and a half hours later, the kids had already had to use the bathroom twice, but now they were resting quietly in the back, lulled to sleep by the movement of the SUV and the sound of the road under the tires. It was starting to get to you, too; Hotch made everyone get up earlier than usual on a Saturday morning so that you could “make good time”. His perfectionism showed in his personal life just like it did at work.

His hand was laced with yours, your arms resting on the center console. You felt his thumb suddenly rub over your hand softly and gently. You looked over at him; you could see his caramel eyes behind his dark sunglasses, affixed ahead on the highway. You could almost feel your gaze on him physically soften. He was your everything, your soulmate, your hero.

His lips twitched upwards. “Like what you see, (Y/N)?”, he muttered, stare never wavering from the road. You laughed quietly.

“Maybe a little.”, you whispered, a smirk on your lips. He squeezed your hand in response, and you squeezed it back. The smirk grew bigger on your lips, your life feeling like it was finally complete. You closed the distance between the two of you, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. A wide smile painted itself on his lips, and his hand still in yours, he pressed his lips to your knuckle, lingering for a moment. His eyes never left the road; Aaron Hotchner would never willingly put his family in danger. His job did that enough every day.

The horizon started to change as it does when you get closer to the beach; if you didn’t know any better, you’d say you could see the curve of the Earth. The hotel was only fifteen minutes away now, and the kids were awake and watching everything pass by outside the windows. You looked at them lovingly, watching their expressions light up at all the bright neon signs and new buildings they’d never seen before.

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow on everything in its path. The light played on Aaron’s face in every perfect way, highlighting his features and making his eyes look like deep pools of honey.

“You guys wanna stop at the beach before the hotel?”, Hotch asked the kids. Cheers and sounds of excitement erupted from the backseat, earning a chuckle from Aaron. You just smiled at all of them, your heart feeling full.

“What about check-in time, Aaron?” You glanced at the clock on the dashboard; the latest to check in was nine, and it was only half an hour away. He waved it off, a huge smile on his face.

“We have time.” Hotch deviating from a plan unsettled you sometimes, but not this time. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were almost as excited as Jack and Willow. You were ready to feel the warm sand under your feet and listen to the waves crash against the shore. There was always something about the beach, and now all of you would be living in a moment you’d never want to leave.

Hotch found a parking spot right next to the public entrance for the beach, and the kids were practically bursting through the door to get out. You laughed and told them to wait, getting out and feeling the salty humidity in the air hit your skin. It was refreshing, in a way. Opening the passenger rear door, you pulled Willow from her car seat, taking her into your arms. She looked up, watching the birds fly by and taking everything in. You would never get used to the hue of her eyes being the same as Aaron’s.

You rounded the car to see Aaron holding Jack’s hand and leading him to the beach. “Mommy’s a slowpoke, hm, bud?”, you heard Hotch ‘whisper’ to his son. He giggled and nodded. You took in an exaggerated gasp, looking over at your daughter in your arms. She mimicked your facial expressions, and then you smiled, it mirroring on her face. You let her down and she caught up with Jack, the two of them running straight to the water.

You stood next to Aaron, trailing slowly behind the two of them. You watched them letting the saltwater hit their ankles for the first time. They started splashing each other, and Aaron’s authoritative voice sounded out, telling them not to splash each other while they were in their clothes. You chuckled under your breath. He looked over at you, a smile on his face.

“Are you laughing at me, Mrs. Hotchner?” He furrowed his brows in a playful manner, the expression traveling to his lips. You just shrugged, smiling at him. He mocked your shocked expression from earlier, making you roll your eyes and hit him lightly on the arm.

He caught your hand, intertwining his fingers in yours. He held onto you like you were his last breath. The kids were getting into the sand now, it certainly embedding itself in their clothes, but neither of you cared. They were happy, and that’s what mattered. Hotch looked at you with a look that was only for you: with so much love in his eyes you were afraid they might melt from his head. But it was okay, you were returning the same look.

The sun was kissing the horizon now, the oranges and pinks and purples painting the clouds in a way you’d never seen. You just watched your kids playing in the sand and the water, holding onto this moment and wishing it never had to end. Aaron wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. You did the same.

Your family might’ve not been perfect in its dynamic, and it might’ve had its bumps and rough patches sometimes, but it was yours. And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

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the-mercurial-star-o-vesper · 3 years

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Troops! To the Sky-y-y-y-y~!

Been a bit since I did a NSR stuff.

Love this game.

OBSESSION Let’s list exactly how many stuff we can relate to 10 here in regards to 1010. - 1010 is Binary for... 10. - Neon, the Noble Gas, has an atomic number of 10. - J is the 10 letter of the English Alphabet. - 1010 is printed on the side of Blue / Purlhew’s head. Red / Zimelu and Green / Eloni hairstyles likely also show 10 from the front when put together (Or IO) - 10 outta 10, best band. (Which means Eve is literally in a league of her own). - Neon J’s radar is a J-Scope. - It takes 10 seconds for White / Rin to respond when Mayday confronts them. - There’s 5 members of the band, half of 10. And they’re the Fifth Megastar... Half of 10. - The Letter J is derived from the Greek Letter Iota... Mayhaps 10ta? (Hilariously, if you place the obsolete letter Digamma back the Alphabet, this makes Iota the 10th letter, with the 10th value). Really, if its not 5, 10, its also IO or maybe I/O. Its even in their designs. And for a band that’s meant to be satirical, hot damn, that’s a lot of thought and research (Could even be unintentional, which is the best kind of intentional). There’s prolly plenty of stuff I missed, and some of this stuff was pulled from the wiki.

NEW Neon is derived from Neos, Ancient Greek for “New”. The element Neon is literally “New One”. Nova, from DJ Subatomic Supernova, is Latin for “New”. Also consider that Atomic part when put next to Neon. No wonder these two are friends, they share an aesthetic.

THE SYMBOL OF EYES Real talk now. The multicolored population and strange eyes are significant in this game, moreso than one thinks. When Bunk Bed Junction gains fans, those fans will suddenly be colored outside of hijacks, and when you look at Yinu Mom’s fight, her eyes are very significant to it. And its through her that your shown that Eyes are Very important here. It isn’t just Love, its Idolization, its Bondings, and it also shows you have an inclination towards certain people who share that color with you. [Meaning that the multicolor of this multicolor population actually has some real significance outside of fantastical design] Yinu’s Mom’s eyes are yellow, and both her husband and her daughter are yellow. She has eyes for them. And when she forgets them, her eyes go blank in her fight. Using this has the example... When Mayday idolizes someone their person shares the same color as her eyes in some form or fashion. Sayu is Magenta or Fushia, and so, Mayday is pretty easy to fall into being a fan of Sayu. When Mayday idolizes 1010, she’s specifically has eyes for Rin. While Rin is white, notice his Barracca Portrait... Purple-Pinks. Even in his BioShields, they’re Pinks and Indigos. Mayday highly idolizes Kul Fyra, who later turns out to be Tatiana. And Tatiana? Shares Mayday’s eye color. Going on from Mayday... - Zuke Zuke has Red-Orange eyes. He has a very close friendship with Mayday, who is Orange and wears Red. But this also extends, as he seems to be attracted to those with a lot of Passion. His relationship with Eve is an indicator, but she’s only half (The relationship broke off at his end). He still cares for Eve, but it was a very one-sided relationship. Also, notice how his brother, DK West, has Red Hair. Mayhaps a special sign that he looked up to his brother. - Eve has Green Eyes. She has eyes for Zuke, something which Zuke himself eventually has to refute. - DK West His eyes are always closed. Literally, he’s close-minded to forming relationships. Though some digging shows he has the same kind of eyes as Zuke’s. Mayhaps they show the same inclination to make the same kind of bonds? - SAYU and 1010 Don’t know what to tell you there, they’re specifically designed artificial idols. Inspite of their very cool looking eye designs, they don’t seem to have eyes for anyone in particularly... or anything, for that matter. - Yinu herself has Red and Pink eyes. Perhaps this signifies a strong familial bond with her mother? I don’t think so. I think that her Red and Pink eyes signify a passion for her craft, over any friendship or familybond she’d have. When she takes back control over her concert, it only plays classical (Something she loves performing). She rips it away from her mother’s dubstep, and even, from You. No matter what album you play during her performance, her finale will always have her classical. Further proof of this shows up later. - DJ Subatomic Supernova He doesn’t have eyes. Or a face. But the same theory applies. His “eyes” are directed to space and eternity, and his entire head mimics that. Hell, the black hole that forms from his head is literally his ego collapsing on itself. I mean, he is egocentric, after all. - Neon J Same as the DJ, he doesn’t have eyes. But he does have a Radar Face. Radar is mostly to track outside movement or radio signals. The guy isn’t looking for anyone in particularly, he’s looking out for Everyone and Everything. In a reversal to DJSS’s self-obsession with eternity, Neon J is literally looking out for everyone and not focusing on himself (Hell, his own cyborg body is merely a white uniform variation of 1010′s black uniform bodies) - Tatiana Her eyes are magenta-purple, akin to Mayday’s. This both shows their similarities and as being Mayday’s idol, but it also shows that Tatiana really does have eyes for the city. Dido goes for her lennon specs. They share the same color as her eyes. Cos NSR Tower is also Magenta-Fuschia. Truely, Tatiana only has eyes for the city. But in the end, look how her eyes mimic Yinu’s, and that’s just after she regained a passion for Rock. Tatiana formerly magenta eyes, only for NSR and the city, now has shifted with Red. A rekindled Passion for her Craft alongside being passionate for the city. And the specs are no longer anywhere to be seen. Mayhaps her sunglasses mimicing her eyes show how she’s trying to either block, hide herself, or shield herself from her old past with Rock...? - *sigh* Kliff Notice how blank his eyes are? You could just about compare them to Sayu’s own blank eyes. Save Sayu’s turquoise eyes are at least heartshaped. Kliff doesn’t really have eyes for anyone here. Also notice how he is designed like somebody from the real world walked into this game, he doesn’t share the fantastical aesthetic. Meaning that nobody else is designed for him either.

#no straight roads #nsr #mayday #zuke #eve (nsr)#nsr taitana #nsr yinu #neon j #dj subatomic supernova #nsr kliff

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keeper0fthestars · 4 years

Text

Fear and Trust

francisco (frankie) morales x fem reader

2K words

warnings: two idiots in love, language, fluff, so much fluff, cheesy intimate moments, Frankie is husband material

summary: There is only one thing in this world that scares you and that thing is heights

a/n: based on this trope

I am so blown away by everyone who reblogs my erratic little scribblings and sends me comments, you fuel me more than you will ever know. And as always i would love to know what you think.

In search of your shoes, you walk down the hall in your bare feet, hands occupied with the zipper of your sundress. Rounding the corner into the living room, you find Frankie on the couch tidying the mess books and papers on the coffee table. Focused the space in front of him, he pulls a pair of sandals from under the coffee table, letting them dangle on two fingers.

“Looking for thes-,”

And that’s when he sees you.

He doesn't drop the shoes in your outstretched hand as you expect; instead, they fall onto the couch and he takes your hand, pulling you up to him, knees knocking with his. His gaze is glued to your dress, the way it matches your eyes and fits you in all the right places and flares just above your knees, leaving just enough bare skin for his eyes to latch onto. He doesn't even need to say anything, your skin is already tingling under the weight of his eyes and you forget why you walked into the living room in the first place. His eyes finally drag back up to yours, his throat bobs and-

“Tell me something, babe,” leaning back on the couch soaking up the sight of you. "How the fuck am I supposed to wanna go anywhere with you dressed like this?"

You let him tug you down on top of him, content knowing that the effect you have on him is equally disarming, “Hey, this was your idea, remember?”

Sinking into the worn leather of the couch, you brace yourself on his shoulders, knees hugging him on either side, your dress bunching over your thighs. His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down, blowing a hot breath out of his mouth when he catches a glimpse of the dark lace between your legs. He looks weak and starved all at once, running his hands up your thighs, curving around your ass, giving you an appreciative squeeze.

“Mmhm...” he hums, hooking an index finger under the one strap, sliding it off your shoulder, he sits up, his mouth focused on the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your bare skin. “I've got more ideas and all of them include this dress on the floor right now.”

“How am I supposed to resist that?” Sinking your fingers into his hair, you guide his mouth to yours.

His hands slide underneath your dress. “I hope you can’t.”

///

It’s taken all damn day and three caramel apples but he’s finally got you standing in line with him, sharing popcorn and more junk food, and every few minutes when the line advances, his hand finds the small of your back, tracing soothing circles, and you think maybe it’s the way he’s just licked cotton candy off your thumb, or maybe it’s the fact that he could not seem to keep his hands off you all day, but whatever he’s doing is working because the nervous flutter in your chest isn’t so bad anymore.

From across the pier, it didn’t seem that big, but now that you’re standing directly under it, this is by far the worst ride in the entire park and you blame the sugar high for letting him talk you into this. He senses your jitters again and he tucks you into his side, pressing his lips softly to your temple. Your free hand slides into his back pocket and the brim of his ball cap skims the top of your head, he is warm and solid and more of your tension bleeds away. The next empty bucket that jerks to a halt is for you.

“You owe me for this, Morales.”

“I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer; he just laces his fingers with yours, that dimple in his cheek melting the rest of your resolve and fuck, it’s kinda hard to deny him anything when he smiles like that. He leads the way up the ramp and into the open metal carriage with the narrow bench big enough for two.

Everything from your elbows down is hidden from sight inside the swaying bucket. The sturdy bar positioned across your lap looks like it was painted blue at some point but had long since been overtaken by rust. You resist the urge to look up.

The ride operator steps up, reaches inside and jostles the restraint over your lap, testing its latch before shutting the half-door with a clink. Without warning your bucket is yanked backwards a few feet and your stomach lurches, knuckles turning white on the rusted bar. The bucket then jolts to a stop to let the next people in line a chance to get on.

Yep. Worst idea ever.

“Oh god,” Taking a shuddering breath, you would give anything to be as relaxed as he looks, knees splaying, back slouched, “I cannot believe you talked me into this.”

He pulls you into the circle of his arms, his calming, “Breathe, baby, I’ve got you,” is the only thing that makes the next few jolts bearable as you climb higher. He reaches across your lap and gently tugs your knees together pulling them snug to his side.

Turning your face into his shoulder, you wait for him to tell you this is nonsense and that you have nothing to worry about.

But he won’t because that’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that.

“Hey,” he coaxes into your ear, “you’re okay, I’m not letting go of you.”

Forcing yourself to breathe, you relax your grip on the bar in front of you just as another jerk propels you backwards again, then another, and another and now you’re halfway up the back of the massive wheel. Squeezing your eyes shut, your heart is beating inside your throat now and you’re fairly certain your stomach is lying somewhere on the ground below. Frankie has to pry your hand off his thigh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me lose my shit over the damn Ferris Wheel.”

“But you’re doing it,” with his nose, he nudges your face up, pressing his lips to yours, “even though you’re afraid.”

The truth was, you wouldn’t be doing it if he weren’t with you. And he knew that.

When he’d learned there was only one thing you were scared of, he found it hard to believe at first and also adorable as hell, but he never bugged you about it; he knew what it was like to be teased about something you can’t control. The irony is not lost on you that your boyfriend happens to be a pilot. The only thing he'd said at the time was, only idiots are not afraid of anything.

Jerking to a halt again, you’re above the trees and now it’s the unobstructed view that captures your attention and steals your breath. It's spectacular, all glowing neon and twinkling lights. The sun is sinking, turning the sky into breathtaking orange and pink, matching the sprawling scene below.

“Oh," you breathe, "this is gorgeous.”

"Yeah," he lets go of your shoulder to drag his thumb down your neck, placing his mouth just below your ear. “It is.”

Your shiver is accompanied by a familiar surge of warmth under the softness of his voice because he's not talking about the sunset.

Deep down, Frankie knows there would never come a day that his heart would not trip over itself and spill butterflies into his stomach whenever you’d enter a room.

There used to be a time he'd thought he’d never be enough, but you’d put those deep-seated fears of his to rest a long time ago. You’d been the unshakable and constant stability in his life that left no room for any doubt. Not that he’d had any qualms or cold feet about spending the rest of his life with you; it was quite the opposite. The purple velvet box at the bottom of his pocket induced enough butterflies to fill his truck bed if that was any indication of how strongly he felt about you. The rush he'd felt in his insides during his very first simulation at the academy was nothing compared to the glow he felt today and he had to keep hiding his smile against your shoulder to try and rein it in.

The ride starts to glide smoothly and okay; all things considered, this wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. Dusk is beginning to settle and Frankie’s arm rests warm and heavy across your shoulders. The wind on your face feels fantastic and you’re not quite sure when your nervous energy changes into something else but every time you feel the downward pull on your body, your face splits into a grin and if you weren't so damn happy, you'd be rolling your eyes right now wondering when your life turned into a fucking rom-com.

When he faces you, the sun leaves dazzling flecks of deep gold in his eyes, making them shine like bronze. His crooked smile pulls softly at the corner of his eye, a smile that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking, a smile that makes your heart lose its balance. It’s the same look he’d had when you came out of the bedroom this afternoon; the same look you’d pretended not to notice all day, wandering the pier together. Your heart is suddenly fluttering again and it has nothing to do with being three hundred feet off the ground.

“Okay Frankie, what’s going on? This all part of some plan of yours?”

He takes off his ball cap and then replaces it in the same spot on his head, clearing his throat. “What plan.”

“Getting me on the biggest ride here, winning me over with… with enough sugar to last a year and all your sweet talk and... listen, it's gonna take a lot more than a few well-placed kisses to get me into your co-pilot seat.”

You feel his chest beginning to shake with laughter, “Baby, my chopper is much safer than this fuckin rust bucket. The-,”

Your mouth gapes. “Oh fuck you.

Just when you were starting to relax.

He blocks your loose fist with a gentle grip before it hits his shoulder, uses it to pull you in, your affronted gasp cut off when his lazy grin bumps with your open mouth. You had a dozen comebacks for the way he just teased you, but they all melt before they have a chance to materialize. His eyes glitter with amusement and something else but he doesn't give you a chance to examine it.

“Lemme kiss you properly and then you can think about fucking me, ok.”

It's a little hard to be irritated; it’s a little hard to think straight at all when his fingers start dancing up the inside of your knee. The rush in your stomach now has nothing to do with the way gravity is forcing you down into the seat. Damn this guy and his ability to silence every single thought in your head.

The ride is nearing the end, and you find yourself disappointed remembering how nervous you’d felt about it at the start. It slows and eases to a stop, suspending the two of you at the highest point in the rotation.

The sun half gone now, the clouds are washed with purple and dark orange, the leaves in the treetops kissing each other in the breeze. It’s peaceful up here, hanging above the world and you understand why Frankie loves it. And your heart just might shatter right now because for the first time you realize that’s why he wanted to share it with you.

Your throat clogs up and you don't trust yourself to speak but you don't need to because he shifts slightly, angling you so he can slip his arms around your waist from behind, tucking his chin into your shoulder. He's the one steady hand in your life. You fall asleep at night and wake up knowing that he's never going to be anywhere but beside you.

“You're right,” you manage, "this was worth it."

The edges of his heart twinge at the lightness in your voice, he soaks it up, knowing he’s the one responsible for it, knowing all the things he wants to promise you, knowing he’s the one you lean on, the one you call in the middle of the day just to say hi, the one you trust, the one you’ve said countless times you want to grow old with so why the fuck was he so nervous.

That’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that.

A fragment of a forgotten conversation echoes in his head, something he’d told you a long time ago: Only complete idiots are not afraid of anything.

He ignores the trembling in his fingers and reaches into his pocket.

taglist: @opheliaelysia @oldstuffnewstuff @pedropascalito @sistasarah-sallysaidso @pascalispedro @wickedfrsgrl @fromthedeskoftheraven @givemethatgold @domino-oh-damn @cinewhore @hiscyarika @oloreaa @buckstaposition @fleetwoodmactshirt

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#frankie morales #francisco morales #pedro pascal #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fic #fluff #help #i'm so smitten #i cannot handle all these soft feelings #*c.txt #*mine: writing #my frankie feels are gonna be the end of me

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twilightprince101 · 3 years

Text

Mafia!Wiggle AU

So yeah, I came up with the idea of Wiggle being a mob boss a few days ago and I succumbed to the brain rot. Wrote an entire fic for this idea, introducing her and what she's like.

I got flustered myself writing the tall crime lady. Enjoy!

Mafia Boss Wiggle

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF’A ME YOU MEATHEADS!!” A lanky, roughed up grumpus struggles in the beefy arms of two well-dressed goons. They grip his arms tight with their paws, dragging his body along behind it like an afterthought. “You have any idea what my family will do when-?!”

“Shut your trap already,” the purple goon groaned. They adjust their ornate mask, brushing the sunset and emerald colored feathers out of their eyes. “Honestly, you’re lucky we caught you before openin’ hours, else we’d have to knock your teeth in to keep you from disturbin’ the patrons.”

“Don’t act like yer better than me!” The red grump kicks over a velvet chair from a nearby table as they pass. It clatters against the polished wood floor, echoing through the well-lit nightclub. A bartender--wearing a similar feathered and jeweled mask to the goons--gets up from polishing glasses to set it right. “Don’t you know who I am?! I’m from the Turnpipe family!! My boys’ll storm this place once they hear what you’se done to me! They’ll roast you all over open flames until every last strand of your fur is singed to the flesh!! You’ll be nothing but a naked mole rat for the rest of your lives!!!”

“Heya Cold-Brew, how was your kid’s party last night?” The blue goon holding Turnpipe’s other paw waves to the bartender as he sets the chair upright.

“Went okay. Park got rained out midway through the picnic, so we went to Slaker’s for ‘shakes.”

“Ah, shame. Need any help after I’m done here?” He gestures to their victim as if it were a sack of potatos. The red grump wiggles and yells while scuffing the floor they’re dragged across.

“Nah, should be good here, thanks ‘Stein. Fifteen until the doors open.” Cold-Brew waves back to the goons as he returns to his station, both wave back and smile.

“I SAID LET ME GO YOU INVERTEBRATES!!!!”

“Ugh, honestly why can’t you all say anything original?” The purple grump shakes their head. “Always just ‘let me go,’ ‘I’m with this family,’ ‘You’ll pay for this,’ if you’re gonna keep yappin’ at least say something interesting.”

“I’LL TEAR YOU LIMB FROM LIMB!!!”

“Hehey, he tells jokes!”

The nightclub’s attendants laugh together under the neon spotlights as the intruder’s yells fall on uncaring ears. Past the bar lined with high class alcohol and the grand stage lined with spotlights and the band pit, the three grumps make their way to a door labeled “BACKSTAGE: EMPLOYEE’S ONLY.” With a quick knock and faint response from the other side, the two gently push open the door and leave the main area behind.

“Heya boss,” the purple goon speaks, his voice much more formal. “Found this one tryin’ to bash the front lock open with a brick. Got him before any major damage was done, don’t worry.”

Both grumps lift the intruder up by the shoulders, leaving his legs kicking in the air. It takes the Turnpipe a moment to adjust to the dimmer lighting and he coughs from the lingering cigarette smoke in the air.

“Thank ya’ darlings,” a sultry voice speaks, facing away from the three. The grump thinks that the boss is some shade of pink, but poking above the large mass of pink fluff a sort of golden orange pokes out. Despite being held in the air, the orange grumpus sitting at the table in front of them reaches just below the Turnpipe’s height. “Wouldn’t want him making a mess before our loyal customers come in.”

“Are you these goons’ boss?!” The Turnpipe screams, pointing at the grumpus. “You fucked up now! When the Turnpipes hear of this-”

“They’ll tear us limb from limb, yes hun I know.” The boss speaks calmly, comfortably while applying purple eyeliner via pocket mirror. “I could hear you all the way backstage, making me consider sound proofing.”

The red grumpus blinks. Despite the goons disregarding his threats earlier, for some reason his mind expected her to take him seriously. He takes a moment to look around the employee’s area, finding various other grumps of size and stature. Some more fancily-dressed grumps put on makeup and practice vocal exercises in large vanity mirrors, while toned tux-wearing grumps check their suits before walking out to the main club area. All of them are wearing the same mask and haven’t given him so much as a glance.

“Now tell me darling,” the boss angles the pocket mirror to address her intruder. Her ice blue iris gives off a sharp, cold gaze that clashes with the warm and comforting atmosphere before. “Why were you trying to break into our lovely establishment? Just couldn’t wait to have some fun, wanted to steal some of our booze perhaps?”

“Wh-no I’m, I don’t care about your stupid club!!” The Turnpipe yells, finding his fury again. “One’a your meatheads shook down my brother! They were on my family’s turf, and I don’t take these insults lyin’ down!”

“I can see that. So you’d rather take it in the air instead?”

Some of the other staff members chuckle as they check themselves for the third time over.

“Du-buh?!” Did you even hear what I said?!” The turnpipe explodes, his enemy’s eyes narrowing in the mirror. “YOUR goons-”

“I heard you clearly.”

The CLICK of the pocket mirror cuts through the smoky air. She places it on the table alongside the bills, fan letters and knives and begins spinning her chair around. It swivels as she sweeps her long legs along with the momentum, poking out of her dark emerald dress. The dark emerald dress’s frills flutter from the sudden movement, draping the boss from her knees to the straps on her shoulders, hidden under her flowing pink mane. With a CLACK of her deep purple heels on stone she sets her crossed legs down and stops the chair in place. Her previous playful gaze is now replaced with one of annoyance, both her icy and greyed eyes narrowed in contempt.

With her clean scar sweeping across her right eye, the boss of the Gilded Dahlias, Wiggle Wigglebottom, sits up fully and rests a paw on her chin while gazing down at her prey.

“I’m just curious as to how you thought you could barge in here and get revenge against my boys, my gang, even me, all by yourself. You certainly don’t have the physique or firepower to do the job, so my first guess is that you’re either full of yourself, or just plain dumb.”

The performers all “ooooooooh~” between them, like a class of 8th graders hearing their fellow classmate called up to the principal’s office.

“I mean-well, I…” The red grumpus searches the floor for the right words, then balls his fists and puffs out his chest. “I’d assume YOU would pay us with respect! Us Turnpipe’s been around longer than you newbies have, so we outrank you!”

“It’s stupidity folks!!” Wiggle cheers and flicks up a paw to announce the results. A few goons groan and dig into their jacket pockets, handing their smiling associates a fat wad of bills. Turnpipe’s hot air dissipates and he deflates once more.

“Damn, third in a row… I’ll treat you to a drink later Wiggle.” A brown-furred performer in a glittery red dress crosses her arms.

“Maybe a milkshake,” The boss peeks over her shoulder, “I overheard Brew talking about Slakers and my sweet tooth’s been acting up lately! Them icy sweets are ‘Callin my naaaame~’.” She sings in a wide vocal range with complete ease, giving her paw a flourish and leaning back as she hums.

“You… You know, just because you’re new it doesn’t mean you’re better than us! Don’t act like you’re a hotshot just because you did a few successful heists!”

“A few? Oohohoho!!” Wiggle peers back, sitting up straight once again. “Goodness darlin’, you are not helping your case right now. Tell me, how many bank heists has your little family done in the past year?”

“Uh… twenty five?”

A tuxed grumpus snorts as he walks out.

“Oh darling…” Wiggle places a palm against her cheek with a pitiful smile. “That’s not even cute, it’s just... sad.”

“Yeah?! Well, I’d like to see you-”

“Fifty three.” Wiggle interrupts. “In the past three months.”

“...wha-”

“Around… how much was it Abra?” Wiggle calls behind her.

“Passed the million mark just last week!” A green grumpus, wearing more casual clothing, peeks out from around a corner leading to an employee hallway.

“Got so much excess profits that even after giving everyone a bonus, I got to turn the rest to my own personal bed!” She waves a paw in the air. “Certainly wasn’t the comfiest experience, but I at least got to check it off my bucket list!”

“I… I don’t…” The Turnpipe’s words do their best to try and search for any rage or anger to grasp onto, but any attempt to feel above her hasn’t worked, not helped by the fact he’s still being held up by the shoulders like a small child. After around ten seconds of stammering, Wiggle sighs and shakes her head.

“You don’t gotta try and act tough anymore darlin’, I think I get what you’re about now…” The sunset grumpus uncrosses her legs and lets her other heel clack on the floor. The Turnpipe’s gaze goes from eye level to slowly upwards, and upwards, and upwards; the boss’s body obscuring the light from one of the vanities. She wraps one of her paws around the grip of a knife lodged into the table and yanks it out. Her prey freezes up in the arms of her trap.

“You didn’t come here so you could avenge your brother or any sappy nonsense like that.” Wiggle circles around the Turnpipe, her heels echoing their clicks with each step while fiddling with the knife in her paws. “You came here so you could try and make yourself feel big and stwong, flaunting your family name as if it were a gun in of itself.”

“I…” Clack. Clack. Clack. It becomes hard to think as each step feels like a hammer and chisel against his brain. Wiggle looks the red grump up and down, drawing invisible lines up and down his torso.

“Since you came in you’ve been talking about your little gang as if you ran it. ‘My boys,’ ‘My gang,’ ‘My my my my my.’ But all that time, being caught up in your own head? It just made your skull more dense. All you are is just some lowly lackey that probably joined, say…” She plants an elbow on the Turnpipe’s head, checking her makeup one last time in the reflection of her knife. “A month ago? Maybe less?”

The frog in her armrest’s throat nearly leaps out of his mouth. His head shrinking down is the only confirmation Wiggle needs.

“You’ve been so caught up in that little bubble of yours, thinking you’re the hottest grump on the block, just because you’re part of a gang. Think just because you have a name to flaunt around and access to guns it makes you powerful. But I’m gonna let you in on a secret little man.” The Turnpipe’s body clenches as Wiggle stands back up and Clacks her way back to his front, eyeing the knife she paws in her hands as intensely as possible.

“Having a name to flaunt around doesn’t bring you power.”

Clack.

“Having guns and knives to hold against people’s throats doesn’t bring you power.”

Clack.

“Having enough money to buy out all of Grump Vegas doesn’t bring you power.”

Clack.’

“But you know what does?”

Wiggle towers above the Turnpipe, patting her razor-sharp knife in her paw. All different rays of light are obscured by her roaring mane, leaving the grump to cower in the arms of her two goons. She Clacks forward, and her goons take a step back. Not out of fear or trepidation though; a quick glance to both of their faces shows the same devilish smile that their boss wears. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack. Every single step is like a jolt of ice to his heart, dragging every last little step for an eternity as his entire being trembles in the arms of the two goons. Just the slight bump of the wall on his back knocks out every bit of air in his lungs and he fights to just inhale as his natural predator CLACKS just inches away from him, casting a toothy, ecstatic smile. Her single, silver iris seems to glow in the limited light.

Wiggle grips the knife in a reverse grip in her left hand and begins to raise it. The grumpus tries to close his eyes and look away but she grabs his chin with her other paw and forces his gaze back to her. His attempts to shake his head in a desperate plea are pointless, her paw digging into his fur and keeping him from moving even a centimeter out of place. The glinted metal shines as it finally reaches the zenith of its arc, hungry to tear through red grumpus fur. With nothing left to do all the Turnpipe can do is let tears stream down his face.

With the speed of a bullet and barely giving the Turnpipe a moment to flinch, Wiggle swings down the dagger. Her victim closes his eyes and blurts out a whimper and-

THUNK!!!

…

He’s not dead. His eyes are still fuzed shut but he’s still not dead, he can hear the sounds of the backstage area around him. The Turnpipe forces an eye open to peek at the knife and his skeleton nearly leaps out and books it at the sight. The knife is only a hair’s length away from his cheek embedded into the wood beam he’s pressed against. A sting in his cheek and the running of a warm liquid helps him fill in the gap of what happened. But just a little bit away, the Turnpipe finds something else that makes his body completely shut down

It’s Wigglebottom’s face, just as close to his as the knife.

Her icy and greyed eyes peer into the Turnpipe’s irises, flickering around while high on adrenaline and terror. Her gaze looks past his false-bravado exterior and reaches further, deeper inside him into a dark pit he had tried so desperately to hide. A black, slimy, jittering piece of disgust comes out. Letting the grip on his chin go she traces his chin and speaks in a tone fitting of her now-sultry gaze. Wiggle leans in close, so close that the Turnpipe can smell her rich floral perfume, and whispers into his ear.

“Fear~”

“...”

The Turnpipe’s mind has gone blank. Despite the pounding jackhammer in his chest, the final whisper and breath of hot air from the Gilded Dahlia boss erases his mind, leaving him a whimpering and stuttering mess. A few of the remaining employees from backstage snicker and point at her latest victim, though he isn’t able to process the fact that he’s being mocked. Seeing that the usual routine has worked yet again, Wiggle leaves the knife implanted in the wall and pulls back with a satisfied smile.

“Boys,” she snaps a finger in the air, her tone returning to the playful nature it was before, “drop our newest employee. He won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, should be good to leave him back here for the day.”

Both goons do as they’re told without question, letting the grumpus slump to the floor, his knees having completely given out. He continues to stare at the ground and shake his head, crying as he trembles from the terror just inflicted.

“So what’re you gonna make this one boss?” The purple grumpus asks with a playful smile. “Waiter? Bartender?”

“Nah.” She shrugs with little effort. “He doesn’t really have the looks for either of those. Probably’ll make him our new janitor, been needing a new one after our last one squealed. Feel free to give him the old guy’s uniform, I feel it should fit pretty well.”

The purple goon nods and takes out a sketchpad, writing “Find old janitor’s uniform” at the bottom of the list as they walk past and out towards the main area.

“Alright everyone, hopefully this little show of mine was able to help you get fired up! We got five minutes ‘till the doors open, get those finishing touches done!” The boss claps her hands in the air to her employees, resuming business as usual. “If we’re able to double our profits today I’ll treat everyone to Slakers at the end of our shift tonight! Let’s make tonight a good one darlin’s!”

The warm and familiar chatter of the backstage area continues once more. As every last well-dressed employee strolls out to prepare for the afternoon they pass by their new coworker, neither giving the other a glance. As the front door opens and the excited clamoring of a new audience begins to fill the club, Wiggle peers down at her latest victim, slumped up the hole-ridden wood post on his back. She smirks and gives a content sigh.

“Maybe one day you’ll all surprise me… but until then, I suppose this is just as fun~”

Wiggle ruffles the head of the former Turnpipe like an affectionate puppy, and then walks back to her main office, her heels Clacking and echoing throughout backstage and the red grumpus’s empty mind.

#Bugsnax #wiggle wigglebottom #bugsnax wiggle #young horses #bugsnax AU #my writing #my writings #twi talks #Mafia!Wiggle #Mafia!Wiggle AU #((I... have a thing for tall and intimidating crime lady's #So yeah #*voice crack* eNJoY!!!))

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courage-a-word-of-justice · 3 years

Text

Cyberpunk!HypMic

This is an extension of the cyberpunk outfits from this AU.

Originally, these outfits did not have their own universe to exist in - they were just made to fit a theme - but it just so happens HypMic already has a lot of the components required for cyberpunk...(but yikes, this is the densest AU - in terms of worldbuilding - I've had yet...)

TDD, MCD, Kuujaku Posse and NB existed in the past, but not in the context of the DRB - they were just groups of unlikely friends with differing reputations that retroactively came to be known under popular monikers and they ended up accepting those names over time. After WW3 and Chuohku's take over, technology rapidly advanced but society as a whole was wrecked.

As a reminder, the base outfit in this world is a silver body suit which only exposes the head, hands and feet, with black combat boots and a black belt.

In this world, this outfit is typically issued by Chuohku via people like Ramuda, although as you can tell by the outfits given in the magical boy AU, what you put on top of the base outfit can vary wildly. The boots and the belt can be swapped with something else without any trouble - the only thing that can get you into trouble with the authorities is ditching the suit. The body suit is able to purify polluted air within a short distance of itself, but only for the user.

All suit users have an accent colour, typically found on places like the top edge of the boots and on buttons, and the accents glow faintly in the dark. The colours have been adjusted slightly from the magical boy AU to create better glow effects.

...For the outfits that aren't specified, known from the magical boy AU or the same as canon in cases where the character does not rely on the suit, I'll leave them to your imagination, dear readers.

BB:

A team of brothers and odd jobs workers who navigate the digital and the real world to help those in need.

Ichiro: The owner of Odd Jobs Yamada. Prone to poking around with the latest in virtual reality, as well as illegal or semi-legal cybernetics. Resents Samatoki because he interferes with the Yamadas' business often enough to be a nuisance. Accent colour: Bright red.

Jiro: A delinquent and the more physical member of Odd Jobs Yamada (i.e. instead of trying to shut down bad guys using digital trickery, he's more likely to punch them instead). Was going to high school before circumstances shut schools down. Accent colour: Bright (royal) blue.

Saburo: A genius hacker. Was going to middle school before circumstances shut schools down. Accent colour: Bright yellow.

MTC:

An ad hoc crew who, in this world, have much weaker relationships than they do in canon.

Samatoki: A yakuza second-in-command, currently in possession of a strange black cybernetic glove which covers his right arm from the hand up to the elbow. The glove is able to control the air purification feature of the suits, so it's a particularly nasty bit of contraband. Resents Ichiro because Ichiro made a prototype of the glove and that was the last chance Samatoki had of convincing Nemu not to join Chuohku, but she joined them anyway. Also came into possession of an humanoid mecha, via Riou, which became the base of the new Yotsutsuji. Wears his TDD jacket over his shoulders. Accent colour: Indigo.

(Nemu: Currently with Chuohku to improve the world from within the government. Sent the completed glove to her brother because she knew he would keep it safe. Accent colour: Magenta (aka "Chuohku pink").)

Jyuto: A corrupt cop, currently investigating the glove in Samatoki's possession. More overworked than his canon counterpart...Even his trademark glasses have been digitised - they have a small antenna on the left side and can display information on the lenses when Jyuto gives them a mental signal (the display is in his accent colour). Accent colour: Maroon.

Riou: A former navyman who lives in nature, despite it being irreparably wrecked, and would rather not deal with the digital world, considering he's a cyborg (this is how he gets around not having the suit - he was experimented on in Chuohku's pursuit of creating a new supersoldier). Gave Samatoki an ancient industrial military-grade humanoid mecha which is about as tall as he (Samatoki) is.

FP:

Gentaro doesn't know Ramuda and Dice in this world.

Ramuda: A fashion designer who hands out government-mandated suits (for a small fee) while trying to ask out as many ladies as possible. Also sells other items to go with the suits, as would be expected of a typical fashion designer. His allegiance to Chuohku is a lot clearer in this world, but he's not a clone in this - just a normal human with hair dyed pink. Accent colour: Light orange (as per the magical boy AU).

Gentaro: A writer who makes his stories "real" via virtual reality and partnerships with others, such as Odd Jobs Yamada. Has material in some of his stories which he can use to blackmail Chuohku with. Hides his suit under traditional Japanese clothes. Accent colour: Bright purple.

Dice: Officially, he's a gambler who gambles with digital money and can't afford the suit. (Ramuda is not only something like a debt collector to him, he's also Dice's minder and enabler of sorts.) Unofficially, he's the son of Otome, the leader of Chuohku, who, when he was disowned by his family, lost access to the suits. As a result, he occasionally struggles to breathe and has to be helped by someone every so often. (Maybe if Hitoya or Jakurai met him in this world, Dice would be properly saved...?)

MTR:

Jakurai: A doctor, albeit one who prefers to use old-fashioned (that's "modern" to us) methods where possible. Chuohku believes gathering data from his brainwaves is necessary for the progress of developing new medical technology (or so they say...), so he wears a strange device which loops around the back half of his head and sits over his hair, attached to his head by two round (glowing) suction cups just above his ears. Wears his doctor's coat over the suit. Acts as Doppo and Hifumi's therapist and/or meditates in his spare time. Accent colour: Cyan.

Yotsutsuji: Currently in a coma after Chuohku's experiments for new supersoldiers. With the help of the former TDD, Jakurai has placed what could be salvaged of Yotsutsuji's consciousness into a humanoid mecha.

Hifumi: The no. 1 host of Fragrance. Uses virtual reality, projection mapping and other technologies to create entertainment for his clients. Afraid of women, but rather than his jacket, in this world he uses the same technology that aids him in his work to escape them. Accent colour: Neon green.

Doppo: A salaryman with appallingly low pay, no matter how hard he works, due to the fact technology is advanced enough in this world to give him a run for his money...He's lucky he has Jakurai and Hifumi to keep him sane... Accent colour: Teal.

DH:

Rei knows about Sasara and Rosho in this world, but they don't know about him.

Sasara: A comedian, currently under the heel of Chuohku. To this end, there are only certain kinds of jokes he's allowed to say while performing in public, although Sasara tries to get around this as much as he can when he can and secretly wishes to tear down the system with the former TDD + MCD so he can say what he likes again. Remotely communicates with Rosho via a visor and wears a leather jacket similar to Samatoki's TDD jacket in memory of MCD. Accent colour: Bright pink (as per the magical boy AU).

Rosho: A teacher, who lost his job when the school system broke down. He relies on Sasara to provide his basic necessities, but also takes occasional jobs to teach children in small groups or one-on-one, even teaching them comedy skills if he deems it necessary for them to survive in this wartorn world. Remotely communicates with Sasara via a display built into his glasses (which he otherwise wears purely for cosmetic reasons). Accent colour: Purple.

Rei: The creator of various technologies and creations prior to the war, most notably the ubiquitous suits. Currently gathering Jakurai's brainwave data for his own purposes. Has a strange relationship with the upper management of Chuohku, particularly Otome. Instead of sunglasses, he wears a (purely cosmetic) sniper's monocle over his left eye. Accent colour: Orange.

BAT:

Kuko: Back to being a delinquent, after people stopped believing in religion in exchange for technology. However, he still holds on to his beliefs, with the idea that one day, he can bring Buddhism back to a world that needs something to believe in. To this end, he uses virtual reality to recreate the pre-war world as he remembers it. Wears a teal happi coat over his suit and his prayer beads dangle out of his pocket. Accent colour: Mint green. Also known to commonly ditch the government-mandated suit for a particular respirator system created by Hitoya, which has a mess of wires going from the back of his head and going to either his neck or his shoulders (it looks similar to how the robot from the cover art of In My Mind's Axwell Mix has it) - this is due to the fact it looks intimidating and cool, yet it can be a pain to move around with at times.

Jyushi: A visual kei musician who enhances his shows with virtual reality, projection mapping and so on. People get confused when they involve Amanda "coming to life", but they roll with it anyway. Accent colour: Gold (essentially, a darker yellow than Saburo's).

Hitoya: A former lawyer, whose services are no longer needed now that the rules of society the law should operate in do not apply. This freed up his time to pursue his own interests, including creating portable respirator technology which Kuko and Jyushi try out for him (he does this with some help from some connections in the medical field, including Jakurai).

#Hypnosis Mic #alternate universe #HypMic

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secret-engima · 4 years

Note

Look look, I know you've implied that Sasuke!Nyx is the only FFXV reincarnation in the Naruto 'verse, but - just. I had a sudden mental image. Of /Libertus/ as a Maito - as in, a close relative of Maito 'Konoha's Glorious Green Beast' Gai. ("YOUTH!") Perhaps a younger sibling or cousin or something? Because. Because the /mental images/ of the /rest/ of the non-uchiha-Compound family /reacting/ to an Uchiha being Best Friends with a Maito - Kakashi would despair. Gai would weep - in JOY.

I was not on board with this plan until you said Uchiha being Best Friends with the relative of Might Guy and now I’m dying.

... FINE.

One exception. JUST THIS ONE.

And also Crowe. Because I’m a sucker but SHHHHHH.

Because of course Libertus and Crowe would bully their way through the afterlife and timeline to follow their Ulric. Of course they would.

Hmmmmmmmmm *cracks knuckles* ficlet ramble time!

-Jun will forever be grateful that his mother was the one to name him and not- well- his father.

-Of course he only knew to be grateful AFTER meeting the man his mother had had a teenage fling with, but his point stands. Which was after that wildfire swept through and burned down most of his little village and the trauma of nearly burning made him Remember. Remember another life, another time, another way of life.

-Made him remember Nyx and how Libertus, after finally passing away of old age, had found no Nyx waiting for him, had gone and picked a fight with ... he thinks it might have been Ramuh? Or possibly Bahamut himself, and demanded to be taken to his best friend RIGHT NOW. No he didn’t care if Nyx had wandered off to become a Walked Twice. You think Libertus isn’t stubborn enough to qualify? TRY HIM YOU OVERGROWN LIZARD.

-Not his most sparkling moment of intelligence to be sure.

-But that means ... Nyx has to be here. Somewhere. Surely.

-But there is no Nyx in the village, and the village is struggling to cope, especially his mother, considering both their home and her workplace had been reduced to rubble.

-They end up leaving the village. They had never treated Libertus’s mother too well after he had been born, so it was no real emotional loss. Libertus is physically five when this happens, and he tries his hardest to help his mother and make her smile. She’s the only Clan he’s got after all.

-They wander from village to village before settling down in one where his mother finds work as a seamstress. Libertus, now eight, makes a few yen running packages and messages around town, his brown braids with the little blue beads he’d managed to get bouncing against his temple.

-It’s on one of his runs when he’s around nine that he rounds a corner too fast and smacks right into someone’s leg. He lets himself fall, tucks and rolls back to his feet with the flexibility of a child and the skill of a glaive, an apology already on his lips.

-The leg turns out to be owned by a NINJA. Wonderful.

-The ninja is staring at him, a little metal toothpick hanging from his mouth so loosely that if he gapes a little harder it’s gonna fall out. Libertus has a bad feeling about this. He yells an apology that is possibly too loud and energetic (an odd side effect of this new body, he tends to get ... loud and enthusiastic when nervous) and books it. He wants nothing to do with ninja, he just wants to grow up enough to travel so he can go find his idiot.

-The ninja doesn’t follow him.

-Nope. The ninja turns up again two weeks after Libertus had successfully forgotten about the incident with ANOTHER NINJA. This one is wearing some kind of awful, AWFUL jump suit of eye-searing green (watch out indeed), a red belt (oh dear), and the world’s shiniest bowl cut.

-Weren’t ninja supposed to be STEALTHY?

-The living neon warning sign is looking around with fervor as the two enter Libertus’s mother’s workplace (how did the ninja know she worked here), and his mother gasps. But not out of horror at the truly awful outfit, but out of ... recognition?

-“H-hello again,” she murmurs with a mix of fear and memory that makes Libertus’s hackles rise and him discreetly snatch one of her spare scissors off the shelf in the back room.

-The green ninja gives a booming, smiling greeting, then ... sobers. Quietly asks if she’s ... doing well.

-If she has a son.

-That’s about the minute Libertus notices that the man has caterpillar eyebrows. Caterpillar eyebrows just like Libertus’s, who did NOT inherit those from his mother thank you. He got her soft chestnut hair and hazel eyes.

-Libertus dives out of the back of the store and tries to stab the ninja in the femoral artery with the scissors because PYRE NO is he gonna be taken away from his mom by ninja for being some kind of wayward blood child.

-He doesn’t manage to get the artery, the ninja is too fast, but via the advantage of surprise and glaive memory, he DOES manage to bury the scissors into the man’s leg.

-It’s really not fair that all the man does is hold him up by his scruff and laugh about it. He has a bleeding leg. SHOW SOME PAIN.

-There’s talking after that while his mother fusses in terror and the toothpick chewing ninja pulls out a roll of bandages with a sigh (if it hadn’t been for the current situation, Libertus would have sympathized, he knew what that Sigh meant, he too had an idiot to look after).

-Surprisingly, the green ninja (Might Guy! He announces with a smile that literally sparkles what the pyre) does not insist on taking “Jun” away from his mother.

-Nope. He takes his mother WITH them back to the village. For a wedding. Libertus is honestly stunned. Weren’t ninja supposed to be sneaky and without honor? He has literally no obligation to marry the woman he had a fling with as llike- a FOURTEEN year old just because a kid came out of it. But apparently nope. Libertus’s father is the one ninja with a sense of chivalry because he signs a marriage certificate within hours of getting back to the ninja village of Konoha with mother and Libertus in tow.

-And just like that, Libertus’s name is Might Jun.

-What.

-What is going on.

-No he doesn’t want to be a ninja buzz off.

-Libertus takes to exploring their new home, partly to avoid his new ... father and partly to look for Nyx because who knows, maybe he’ll get lucky for once.

-He’s passing the ninja academy when he hears laughter and footsteps. He sidesteps, but isn’t fast enough to keep from getting run over by a screaming blur of orange. While trying to catch his breath from being trampled by the screaming orange blur (who has yet to notice the impact), a hand appears in his vision. He follows the hand up a pale arm and to a concerned face with black hair and black eyes, “Hey, you okay? Sorry about Naruto, someone let him have ... caffeine...” the boy’s breath stops. He’s staring at the side of Libertus’s head.

-No. His head. His temple.

-His braids.

-And Libertus, on an old instinct from another life, tilts his head as he sits up, looking for braids.

-He sees the purple bead and cord, the simple twist braid partly tucked behind the boy’s ear and hope burns through him like liquid fire. No way. No way. What were the chances of finding Nyx HERE.

-Check that, it’s a child soldier death academy. Why wouldn’t he find Nyx here.

-If it’s really Nyx.

-He swallows his fear and whispers, “For Hearth and Home.”

-Hope flares in the other boy’s eyes, his lips twisting before he rasps, “Libertus.”

-And the next moment Libertus is on the ground again, pinned down in the middle of the street by a sobbing Nyx, but that’s okay, because Libertus is sobbing too. A second after that and he’s hauled to his feet and dragged off by Nyx to a too-empty compound that still stinks of old blood and bleach and bundled into one of the houses so they can sob in privacy.

-Libertus spends a good ten minutes screaming himself hoarse at Nyx for dying. For being a self-sacrificing heroic idiot. Nyx screams back that what was Libertus doing here then huh?

-“I died of old age you idiot! Like you should have!”

-Nyx pauses “...Oh.” A blink, a flicker of red in black eyes and Nyx whispers, “What happened ... after?”

-And Libertus tells him. He tells him everything as they lie on Nyx’s futon, tangled around each other in a puppyish pile like they did when they were children. He tells him about Insomnia’s fall, and Princess insisting on separating, on going to Galahd and waiting until the Long Night fell and he returned to the glaive. How he was the Captain and hated every second of it, hating having to choose which brothers and sisters would take the suicide missions, hated losing more and more people as the night kept going.

-He spoke of the young king who returned ten years later with age and wisdom in his every line. How they followed him to Insomnia to take back the dawn. How the king died purifying the scourge and giving them a chance. How he had gone back to Galahd with the survivors and rebuilt their homes until Libertus was old and grey and couldn’t really walk because of the ache in the hip a daemon shattered during the Long Night that no one had had an elixir for.

-Then he speaks of waking up here as Jun, of his mother and his ... new father. Of being taken here and exploring and finding Nyx.

-Then Nyx huddles closer, and tell him his story in return. In waking up his memories in a massacre. All of his Clan. Gone. Again. Murdered by a kinslayer, a former BROTHER and Libertus keens for his friend. Nyx whispers of putting himself back together and training, and it is only now Libertus registers the pink and purple ribbon woven into a tiny braid in his hair, a declaration of revenge.

-Nyx also tells him of Naruto, the boy he’s adopted, of little Hinata and her flinches and how she blossoms like a flower in the sun with just a little bit of kindness and praise. He talks about his Anbu, the masked ninja that leaves potted plants on his window sill and is secretly addicted to Nyx’s cooking, terrible as it is, and how even though the man will not speak and won’t give his name, Nyx has adopted him too.

-Libertus hugs Nyx as tight as he can and swears that it will be alright.

-He comes home late that evening, dragging Nyx behind him by the wrist, looks his new father in the eyes and says he wants to become a ninja.

-The promise of training, of becoming strong enough in this world to protect Nyx, is worth the manly tears and illusionary sunsets his declaration gets.

-Of course, dragging Nyx home only causes more manly tears when he announces that this is his new best friend (what kind of name is Sasuke anyway, Nyx is much better, but they keep their old life names to themselves). And they get ... a lot of odd looks after that as they run around, attached at the hip just like when they were kids the first time around. Might Guy, his father, has a lot of Feelings about this friendship. Mostly Manly Tears and booming declarations of Youth. Libertus smacks Nyx over the head the one time Nyx grins and says Lib’s new dad is fun.

-Meanwhile the rest of the village watches in horror at the budding friendship of the Last Uchiha and Might Guy’s newfound son. Because MIGHT GUY’S SON. AND THE LAST UCHIHA.

-Kakashi feels a creeping sense of Doom™ in his future.

I’ll cover the reunion with Crowe in another ramble sometime, and more reactions on the Might/Uchiha friendship but for now this has already gotten long enough so I’ll leave it there. XD

#SE asks #hamelin-born asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Calling for Rain verse #long post #libertus #might guy #*cackles*

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sanders-sides-fic · 4 years

Text

A cautionary horror story about deathworlders

This is basically the prologue to a new AU that I wanna try. It’s a deathworlder AU, which I got inspired to write by the WIBAR story by delimeful (awesome writer. If you don’t follow, please consider doing so now), even though this is so far out of my comfort zone XD. Well, here’s hoping you enjoy it nonetheless…

AU-Masterpost: here

He had been nothing like they expected a deathworlder to be like. He hadn’t attacked any of them, had been complying from the very start. They didn’t even have to use drugs on him. Not even once. He had always seemed to be calm, though some of the crew noted how extremely unnerving that was. One or two had even mentioned they’d rather be attacked than be watched in such a clam manor. The deathworlder did bare his teeth every so often and had the corners of his mouth quirked upwards almost the entire time. Why he did this they did not know. At first they had thought that they had been threat displays, but not attack followed. Not even when they came closer or touched him or even gave him diverse drug samples. So it couldn’t have been a threat. Or, if it was, it had been an obviously empty one.

It had been because of this almost pleasant and always calm behaviour of his, that the smugglers of the iperile emnyama decided not to sell him off right away. He was ideal to get detailed information about deathworlders, which a lot of people would pay even more for on the black market than on the deathworlder himself. Over the cause of a year they wrote notes in four different books: One about the deathworlder’s behaviour and gestures, one about the effects of venoms and other toxins, one about the things he ate and - later, when he had surprised them with picking up some of the language and deepened his linguistic knowledge for their purposes - even one that translated some of his language into common.

The deathworlder had been on the iperile emnyama for 4,986 querlip, which would be about 8,976 hours in his native time measurement. They had learned that on his deathworld „earth", it would have been equivalent to 378 rotations, so called „days“, which were nine more than it took for the earth to circle the star in it’s solar system. The deathworlder had called it „sun“. They had gathered that it must have been quite a lone time for the deathworlder. And it was then that the chain of events unfolded that lead to this becoming the most known story there is in the entire quadrant.

The crew had made the mistake of abducting another deathworlder, you see. And because they believed him to be friendly, they had put him in there to sooth their new product into submission as well. This one was a lot more feisty. It spat words at them that they didn’t know, hissed and tried to fight whoever went in there with them. It wasn’t any different when the calm deathworlder was put in there either. But after a few querlip the second one started to calm down. And they talked in their unknown deathworlder language. They used sword that the smugglers did not know, and it is said that they had used synonymes to the known words on purpose. They communicated a lot, doing some unknown rituals. But throughout all of it the first deathworlder remained as calm as ever. There had been no cause of suspicion at all. The most exciting thing had been when the new deathworlder asked for the translation notes to learn common as well. However, only 76 querlip later, they had a plan and followed through.

Not much is known about what happened. It’s all just screams on security records and a few distorted pictures of the two deathworlders covered in blood with feral expressions and manic eyes. But when the police force found that smuggler’s ship, it was barely even recognizable. Multiple explosions had happened, everything was trashed and they say that the very view of the remains that used to be corpses were horrifying enough to drive a good part of the police force crazy.

The deathworlders themselves vanished, together with that fourth notebook. We only know about it at all because of the records, even. So we learned about them that they drink caffeine on purpose, that they have a habit of eating corpses, and that serotonin isn’t dangerous to them - but we also learned that they are sly and good at pretending. So good, that they can fool even experienced smugglers like the crew of iperile emnyama. So, if you see them, run. Even if they seem to be harmless, they are not. That’s all they really know about them. That, and their names: Janus Viper and Virgil Feline.“

The elder looked at the younger sylemn meaningfully. Every single one had their wings flattened in alarm. Some had even unknowingly raised the spikes at the ends of said wings, trying to defend themselves from the uncertain feeling of threat around them.

In the far back stood a hooded figure, looming in the shadows but yet in plain sight. The black cloak covered its entire body, even dragged along the floor a little. There were holes for the upper limps in the fabric, where you could barely see the dark purple garment that was covering them. Or was it short fur? Its right hand, though, was in plain sight as it held on to a closed, white notebook. It was covered in shining, black, leathery skin, five joints at the end of it. You could almost have mistaken it for a deathworlder’s hand, a teenager thought to himself, if it wasn’t for the color and the lack of those ever growing, transparent-ish claws their hands were so infamous for.

The hooded creature himself had noticed the look and silently prayed to whatever was listening that the young would just mistake him for a large bohver. Those tended to wear cloaks all the time, after all, as their star had quite little ultra violet radiation and therefor took damage easily on other planets with stronger stars close by. They also tended to be cold a lot, so the thick material would be explainable. And it seemed he was lucky tonight, as the sylemn just turned away without so much as a second glance or an alarmed movement of the spikes on those pretty, orange wings.

The hooded stranger then hoped that it one of the young sylemn would ask the hopefully inevitable question he had been dying to know the answer to as soon as the elder has sat down to tell the tale. However, they all stayed silent. If you didn’t count the uneasy whispers. Maybe he would have to ask himself. Maybe, just maybe, he would be lucky even after the attention would have shifted to him.

„But… Where are they now? I mean, they can’t just disappear into thin air! Or… Can deathworlders even do that?!“, a sylemn with blinding neon pink wings exclaimed scared and confused. The hooded figure thanked the stars for the second time today, while the elder wrinkled his nose in the sylemn version of a smirk.

„Well, they say that they got seperated from each other a while back. And not even far from here. Just over at XY-3. Rumor has it that Janus Viper, the deathworlder that pretended to be friendly, got lost in a smoke storm. Virgil Feline apparently comes around this solar system every so often to try and find his former partner again. Any he might just find him. After all, some said they heard a deathworlder’s scream on ZH-8, and it is about time for the deathworlder to come back looking. That’s why there are so many patrols around here lately.“, he explained in a whisper. Then he leaned back, though and gave a little laugh. “All idiocy, if you ask me. No deathworlder would ever try to find something they feel merciful for. They aren’t loyal like that, don’t ever forget about that! No, if that deathworlder really searches for the other one, than it has to be for some kind of revenge. Maybe for leaving, maybe for something else. Who knows what kind of thoughts a creature that vile has…“

The cloaked creature smirked in the shadow of his hood. Perfekt. Not the patrol part, but… He turned around, walking back towards the small ship he owned. He wasn’t a good pilot, but good enough to make due. Besides, he finally had a clue.

In the dim light of the stars the hooded figure looked down onto the worn, white notebook. It had blood on it and mud and the pages had gone bad from the water in the air on XY-3, but it was still important. After all, it had been the first gift his best friend had given him. A clue was all he needed, even if it lead him into the Bermuda Triangle of this solar system. It was worth the risk, would always be worth any risk.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #deathworld #deathworlder #deathworlder au #tell me if you wanna be tagged

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faerune · 3 years

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personality for Vera! (either all or whichever you feel like answering, don't want to overwhelm you!) :D

thank you so much ryley you’re the best 🧡 also asked by @solasan who is a bitch and needs to get out of my ask box (jk mol ilu)

alignment Chaotic neutral! Veers toward chaotic good most often much to some teasing from Judy who told her she expected Vera to be this big mean merc and how wrong she was.

MBTI Originally, I thought she was an ESFP but I think ESTP fits her far better — bold, original, direct, sociable, impatient, risk-prone, defiant.

tarot card The Sun — warmth, positivity, vitality, success, overly optimistic - for her life up until the end of Act 1.

And then the Wheel of Fortune — destiny, a turning point, breaking cycles, resistance to change, good or bad luck, karma - for everything after!

zodiac Baby’s a Leo!

enneagram The Enthusiast — spontaneous, distractible, versatile, scattered

element Fire is absolutely her element and also matches her being a Leo!

color(s) you associate with them Bright orange, neon pink, the color of a sunset where it’s pastel pink, purple, orange and yellow, black.

theme song sushi for breakfast by BAYLI has been my Vera jam for a week now.

five positive traits

charismatic

confident

bold

loyal

clever

five negative traits

materialistic

stubborn

calloused

impulsive

tunnel-visioned

what heavenly virtue would you assign them? Diligence!

what deadly sin would you assign them? Greed or Pride!

what is their biggest fear? Poor thing just wants to matter. To be important. She saw so much death and anonymity of it that it terrified her. Kid in Heywood die early, get fucked up young, fall into debt with the big sharks of the city or sell their souls to a corp. She doesn’t want to end up like everybody else.

Vera ultimately fears dying a nobody, just some Jane Doe in the morgue whose ashes they scatter into the Pacific without a thought. Mostly, because it confirms that nasty, heavy, sharp voice in her head that has told her since she was a child (one that sounds suspiciously paternal) — Night City doesn’t give a shit about you. Nobody gives a shit about you. That she has a choice of dying in the gutter or dying in a blaze of glory.

what is their biggest weakness? Prior to the game, she’s a little...too trustful of people from Heywood and those she admires. It’s why she gets involved with Dex because she’s so excited and starstruck that she doesn’t stop and think to consider the potential he’d fuck them over.

Other than that, she’s too impulsive and stubborn like I said in another ask. Bitch can’t sit still and think something through for 2 seconds because she’s so far up her own ass with “Well, something bad happened to [x] but I’m smarter and can handle this.”

do they care about their appearance? do they like it? Vera cares about her appearance a lot! The Valentinos strike me as a gang that really cares about their appearance (the aesthetic...chef kiss) and growing up in Heywood they were and influential part of what Vera wanted to grow up to be. She learned early that the way you present yourself affects the way people treat you and most important to her — how much attention they give you and make you remembered.

She really likes her appearance and puts time into it! Even clothes she wears to jobs - usually a jacket, a plain black croptop and highwaisted jeans - is carefully considered. Vera puts on a front in all aspects and fashion is of course no exception.

Also, if anyone fucked up her nails they are dead. Because she pays good money for those every two weeks. It’s kind of goofy but when she wakes up from being shot, her nails are all broken off and jagged and raw and because appearance is such an important thing to her it’s like...a thing she focuses all her upset on? Like she was dehumanized and dropped off in a dump just like she always feared she would be as a nobody Heywood kid.

are they confident in their abilities? Yes! Too confident that it often borders dangerously cocky but she does have the skills to back all her talk up. People aren’t afraid of facing her in a shooting competition for nothing. Or rather people aren’t afraid of her in general for nothing. Her papa crafted her to survive those streets and that’s about the only good thing he gave her.

what is their opinion on cybernetics? Vera thinks it’s normal and that it’s weird when someone is completely ‘ganic. She sees it as leveling the playing field or rather playing at the level everyone else is at with implants since Heywood is chock full of them with the Valentinos about. Vera takes whatever advantage she can get!

Cyberpsychos and Maelstrom admittedly...scare her shitless because it’s another thing she has to watch out for both them physically and the possibility of that happening to herself.

do they have a good sense of humor? I’d say so! It’s a little dark at times (not as dark as say Johnny’s but she grew up around some real fucked up stuff that became normalized) but she’s a master of knowing how to tune it to the people she’s around. Little manipulator (even though she doesn’t see it that way).

how do they laugh? Fairly loud and very cute! She’s got a great smile and it’s admittedly easy to make her laugh if you know what gets her. It’s infectious and disarming - admittedly, she’s good at faking laughing too and uses it to her advantage because she knows that. That laugh is just a little bit more toned back and controlled - anyone who heard her real belly-laugh where she’s got tears in her eyes would be able to spot it.

do they smoke? Vera started up pretty young, maybe around 13, but she’d quit just after her mother’s funeral (~22 years old) and was in the years she was in Atlanta. Until Johnny’s engram rubbed off on her and she gave in and started smoking. She was under a lot of stress and the pressure caused her to pick it back up.

do they drink? Yeah! It’s pretty much the only vice she starts with at the start of the game. Vera grew up around in Heywood too. Deals were done over drinks and when she was a teenager everyone would sneak whatever they could from their own houses and they’d head up onto one of the roofs. Just drink and shoot the shit while the sun set. She loves going out and clubbing. It’s kind of just part of the culture. Vera only really starts drinking “by herself” during the game.

what kind of drunk are they? Fun loving drunk! Very flirty, loves to dance, the life of the party. It’s like Vera dialed up to 11. Her general habit of making bad decisions becomes very prominent when she’s drunk because the very reasoning and her cleverness flies out the window.

do they take any drugs? Noooo. Definitely not. She stays away from anything except w*ed on the rare occasion. Her mother struggled her whole life with addiction and Vera does not want to repeat her mistakes.

#elmshore #solasan #PHEW this is long under the cut fair warning #oc: vera

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nazyalenskyy-archive · 4 years

Text

mini big bang!

written for the grishaverse mini big bang, run by @grishaversebigbang

Thanks to my other gang member’s @punchsomeoneforme-willyou and @6crowgang for their amazing art!! (x) (x)

also known as i try to write crack. i also don’t know how to dye things or what the slat is like or what the van eck manor is like or if they have the word goth in grishaverse. I also don’t care. AND I don’t know how to put cuts in tumblr posts i’m very sorry.

At the time, letting Nina give out the dares had felt like a good idea. Now Jesper wasn’t sure he wanted to do any dare remotely involved with Kaz. She would have been better off getting Inej to do it, frankly. He was more suited to being a distraction – it was the charming personality no one could resist – and she was more suited to climbing into windows and sneaking around the slat. They’d been playing truth or dare and Nina’s idea – and it was brilliant – had been to dye the entirety of Kaz’s wardrobe a vibrant lime green. It would have their names written all over it of course, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be fun.

The lime green dye, that Inej had flatly refused to tell him where she procured, was carefully balanced in his outside pockets. Due to the colour of said jacket, spilling it was hardly a catastrophe, but it might ruin the prank. With some flimsy excuses and much avoidance Jesper finally reached the room where Kaz slept. The wardrobe, he discovered as he opened it, was full of Kaz’s typical black clothing. Saints, this would be hilarious. He frowned and pulled out a jacket of Kaz’s and tossed it onto the bed. It wasn’t exactly something you were ever taught – how to put dye onto clothing. Kaz’s whole wardrobe consisted of the black tailored suits he insisted on wearing ironically to spite mercher’s or whatever. It was terribly boring in Jesper’s opinion.

He sighed and glanced at the jacket on the bed. According to Inej, you had to get a bucket of water (prepared by the Wraith herself), squirt the dye in and then the clothes followed. Inej hadn’t sounded particularly sure. Eh, there wasn’t much to lose. Pulling the dye from his pocket and unscrewing the lid, he somewhat carelessly emptied it into the bucket in front of him. The green of the dye fused seamlessly into the water, it looked like magic. Maybe it was. He hoped Inej could keep Kaz distracted for long enough, and dropped the first piece of clothing in. At this point he was stuck, again. Did you just leave the clothing in there? Take it out instantly? Who could say? Staring at it was unfortunately not going to yield him any answers.

He was pretty sure he’d heard somewhere you were supposed to stir it too, but there wasn’t exactly anything to use. In the end, deciding he’d get the job done a bit quicker if he did three garments at a time, he just left each in for ten minutes. The first set didn’t look all too bad. Aside from the fact they were soaking (Jesper had hung them up on hangers in various places on the top floor of the slat which was still mercifully quiet), they definitely looked like some form of green. After an hour of somewhat boring dyeing of clothes Jesper was satisfied Kaz had nothing left in his wardrobe that wasn’t at least a little bit green. The boredom would be worth it for the look on his face, which Jesper would be preferably seeing from a distance.

Grinning, he made to leave but instantly stopped in his tracks. There were footsteps. Kaz. Followed by laughter. Not Kaz. He breathed a sigh of relief and popped his head around the door.

“Inej?” He frowned as she and Nina reached the top of the stairs and slid past him into the room holding arms full of red and purple dye. “Nina?”

“We thought we should help,” Inej said, casting a pitying look at Kaz’s room. “But it looks like you have it covered.” Her eyes caught onto one of Kaz’s suits, which was now drying and proving to be a very neon shade of green, and she burst out laughing. “He’s going to me so mad.” Jesper and Nina both snorted.

“I would have liked to see him in a pink suit too,” Jesper mused, eyeing the dye Nina was holding. He scanned the room for something else to dye and found the stack of paper on Kaz’s desk. Nina grinned.

“Anyone know how to dye paper?” she queried and went over to the stack. They did not, but the concept of Kaz sending all his letters and memos and doing his paperwork on bright pink paper was far too much of an opportunity to pass up. So they could at least try.

Nina tried squirting the dye on the paper. It didn’t go well. Inej just dropped it straight in the bucket. That didn’t yield much either. It was finally Jesper who tried using the sink and slowly dipping the paper into the dye. It truly was vibrant pink. Brilliant.

“Pink paper is the only proper way to send threatening correspondence,” Nina remarked approvingly. Jesper turned to Inej, but she was gone. All that was left were a set of purple footprints where she’d been.

“Oh saints, Nina,” He pointed to them, and for a moment considered being concerned. But honestly, it just added to the joke. With a glance at his own shoes he realised they were coated in the garish green paint he’d begun with.

“You know,” She said slowly, eyebrow raised, “This, this could definitely be exploited.” Both red and pink dye was very abundantly on the side of Nina’s boots. They were not experts in cautiousness, clearly. She ran out the room and back in, leaving reddish footprints in her wake. The wooden floor of the slat was in dire need of a spruce up.

The two of them followed Inej’s purple footprints down the trailing stairs, and Jesper couldn’t help but wonder why she’d left. Then it hit him.

“If you and Inej are here, who’s distracting Kaz?” He frowned, Nina looked a little guilty.

“We didn’t want to miss all the fun.” She admitted.

“It's hardly fun! I was not especially good at that dying business. It's more complicated than it looks. And it took me ages.” He grumbled.

“Sorry,” She muttered. “But that’s a good point. No one is distracting Kaz.”

“Brilliant.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Jesper couldn’t resist a glance back at the stairs, now coated in gaudy dyes. Anika was leaning against the wall ahead of them, a very confused look on her face. Jesper merely grinned, and Nina put a finger to her lips. Jesper barely had time to blink, before Inej slid soundless around the corner and stood in front of them.

“Kaz is on his way back. Closet.” She said quickly. Then glanced at the floor. “Actually, run around a bit first.”

So, looking undoubtably extremely stupid, they began do run in circles around the floor. It was coated in multicolour by the time Inej finally usher them towards the closet that Jesper wasn’t entirely sure was supposed to be there.

“Go on! He’ll be here soon. It will be boring if he sees us before the rest of it.”

Jesper looked warily at the closet. It didn’t look like all three of them would fit.

“Please just get in the closet.”

“Oh not again,” He muttered before he could stop himself. Inej pulled the door shut from the inside, somehow, and Jesper had been right. It was a little left of comfort. Not that he would have wanted to be anywhere else the moment Kaz walked through that door. The look on his face, which Jesper could just about see between the doors of the closet, was priceless.

“What the fuck?” Kaz spluttered. It was all Jesper could do to not burst out laughing. Kaz began to angrily head towards the stairs, and by the time he was halfway up, Inej, Jesper and Nina had slipped away into Ketterdam.

***

They’d been out for waffles, as a celebration for their hard work. None of them could be bothered to go back to the Van Eck Manor straight away, and well, this was fun.

“Maybe we should have painted the bedsheets in the shape of a waffle,” Nina mused, as she finished second plate. Inej glanced at the various plates that had once had waffles on them scattered across the table.

“Maybe, but I think eating them is more fun.” Nina nodded in agreement.

“What do you think he’ll do?” Jesper mused.

“He’ll either not speak to us for a week, or Inej’s boat and your house will be bright orange by the time we get back. It’s a toss up.” Nina shrugged.

“I could live with the house being orange. Not sure what Wylan would think…”

“I could build a brand out of an orange boat,” Inej added.

“Not exactly scary though is it. Not instilling fear into the hearts of your enemies. Oh dear god, here comes the fearsome captain Inej Ghafa and her orange boat.” Jesper snorted.

“Hey!” Inej protested, snatching a waffle from his plate. “I’m plenty scary enough myself.”

“You sure are, that was my waffle!”

“Care to steal it back?” She smirked, taking a bit. He did not.

They probably kept the waffle place open past the closing time, and by the time they trudged back to manor sometime that evening, Nina’s predictions were almost true.

Wylan stood outside the manor, arms folded and a sceptical look on his face. He looked quite cute if you asked Jesper, if a little annoyed. The manor looked fine from the outside. Same as it always was.

“Did you think it would be funny to provoke Kaz so much that I return home to an entirely different coloured house?” He grumbled as they approached.

“I feel like I’m being berated by a puppy,” Nina remarked and Wylan glared at her.

“Oh come on merchling, it can’t be that bad?” Jesper raised an eyebrow, but the look on Wylan’s face suggested otherwise. To be fair, he’d made a similar face when Jesper had been trailing green around the house that morning.

“Kaz has Gothified the house,” Wylan retorted, pushing open the door. Jesper blinked incredulously. The entire thing was a strange shade of black grey that completely sucked the colour out of it. Again trailing green footprints around the place, he dashed through the house. Room after room was the same. Hell, even the food was dyed. Or painted. Whatever this was.

It would have been funny, if it wouldn’t be so bloody hard to undo.

“How did he manage this?” Nina was saying incredulously as he returned. “We were only gone a few hours.” Inej looked smug.

“What did you do Wraith?” Jesper asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her.

“A magician never reveals their secrets. Kaz won’t, and nor will I,” She retorted smugly. Behind him, he heard Wylan snort.

“You complained when I put a few footprints in the house this morning,” Jesper protested. “Now the whole house is painted.”

“Well, you could put them in now. It might add character.” Even Jesper had to snort at that. He glanced at the black bucket of dye left outside the door, and he could have sworn he’d heard a click of Kaz’s cane in the distance.

“Very subtle,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“This is insane,” Nina said pointedly to Inej.

“Maybe so,” The smaller girl said, but she was grinning.

Behind them, Jesper heard a muttered “Demjin.”

He didn’t know where Matthias had come from, but maybe this time he was right.

#gvbb #grishaverse mini bang #grishaverse #soc #six of crows #my writing #soc fic #my fic

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am-imagines · 4 years

Text

And the Favorite is...- USWNT Imagine.

I got this ask: Hey I read your fic with R being Krashlyn's kid and it was pretty good. Can you do another one? Where R always shows up in someone's insta story like dancing with Sonnet, scaring someone with Kelly, going out for breakfast with Press or playing some kind of games with Tobin? Like how she interacts with her crazy and overprotective aunts. And I ran with it. I hope you like it, dear anon!

You can find the first part here.

I am totally biased, I hope you don’t mind.

The Olympics inauguration is only a couple of days away. It’s the time when nerves grow before disappearing at the ceremony, but your time is filled with so much activity that you don’t even have time to be nervous.

Your team is great and practice is always fun although you can’t wait for the first game. The excitement grows, the pressure builds, and you’re actually ready for your first Olympics.

In order to keep you distracted, your parents have found a thousand games for you to try. Your family isn’t exactly conventional, and those games are far from being board ones. You have to experience a new city in the company of the USWNT while getting information, playing pranks or doing certain things with them to win the game.

You don’t mind it one bit. You love all your crazy aunts. Hanging out with them is a fun way to discover the magic of a new country. They don’t keep you from getting lost. They just get lost with you. Thank God technology is a thing and the GPS has saved your life.

“Here’s another one!” Ash exclaims. “Who gives the best hugs?”

Currently, you’re sitting in bed between your parents while they livestream. Their fans are happy to see how you interact with them, and they don’t miss the chance to ask you stuff about them and the Krashlyn adventures in Tokyo.

“Ma,” you say pointing at Ali. “Her hugs are warm and soft. But mom’s are great too; rib-wrecking and yet can’t say no to them.”

A chuckle escapes your lips when both of them hug you at the same time. Ash kinda proves your point; making you grunt when she squeezes a little too tight. The smile never leaves your lips; much less when they decide to kiss your cheeks at the same time.

It’s embarrassing, but you do nothing to stop them.

Finally, they settle down and you shake your head in amusement.

They’re supposed to be the parents.

“Oh! I gotta go,” you announce mostly to the camera. “Pinoe must be waiting for me. Please, don’t embarrass yourselves or me more than you’ve done.”

“Can’t promise that, kiddo.“

Maybe it would be easier to leave if your parents didn’t cling to you like koalas while remind you to take care and call them if you need anything. You struggle for another minute before they finally relent. Then, they go back to their livestream while you put on your shoes.

“Here’s another one!” You hear Ash through the door, but don’t stay long enough to discover what is the next question.

Pinoe is waiting for you, and you find her with ease thanks to the pink hair.

Sonny and the others like to tease her about it, but you like her style. Not everyone can rock it like she does, but you’re gonna try to challenge the odds with a crazy hair color as well. Not pink, but probably just as outstanding. Blue, purple, orange, silver...you haven’t decided yet.

However, this day is all about make-overs, courtesy of Megan Rapinoe.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say when you make it to her side,

“I thought those two would keep you forever.”

She shows you her phone where you can see your parents throwing their teammates’ names around to answer God knows what question. You don’t have enough time to figure it out before Pinoe puts her phone in her pocket and offers you a pair of shades.

People assume she isn’t the most affectionate person; usually more compossed than the rest of the USWNT, but that’s not the case. Maybe she’s not as open with physical displays, but she expresses herself in other ways. Spending time around the city always means she spoils you like crazy. And no, that’s not the reason you love spending time with her.

Ash loves her for a reason, and you can see exactly why.

Being around Pinoe means not thinking about the Olympics for a bit, even when you can’t understand a single neon sign around you. It’s all about fashion in ways other than clothes. Your hair ends up in a crazy color that looks amazing on you. It won’t be that visible under the helmet while you play, but you feel empowered by it.

Then, Pinoe gets you the perfect clears for your first game in a couple of days. You can’t wait to show them off, so both of you take a picture in front of the mirror in true Pinoe style.

A few hours later, when you’re back on your room, the pic comes up on your Instagram with a simple comment: #FavoriteAunt.

It makes you chuckle, but you like the post anyway.

***

“Y/n, Y/n! Come here. Hurry!”

You comply without thinking when Kelley motions for you to hide next to a trash can. She’s already recording, and that can only mean one thing.

“Who’s our victim?”

She’s about to prank someone and you’re always up for it. Mischief is clear on your eyes when you look at her behind the camera.

“Allie is about to come up.”

Of course. It had to be Allie of all people.

You’ve scared her over a hundred times, but it’s always fun to make her jump. Thinking about it, camp wouldn’t be the same without Kelley scaring the ever-loving socks off Allie Long, or any other poor soul she has as a target.

“You want to do it?” She asks although she knows the answer already.

“Hell yeah!”

“Language, kid!” She admonishes just for the show while beaming at you.

It takes barely ten seconds for Allie to walk down the corridor. She’s focused on her phone; giving you the perfect opportunity to strike.

You wait just for another second; letting her get closer before jumping and screaming as loud as you can. She screams back at you in total panic; her phone almost thrown at your face in a defensive reflex. It’s a good thing you have her a new phone case that actually protects her phone or it would be down for the count by now.

Kelley is laughing like crazy behind you, and so are you.

That doesn’t stop you from retrieving the launched phone, handing it over to Allie and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Love you,” you say smugly.

“You’re lucky I love you too or I would get you back for this,” she answers while pulling you in for a hug. “Now you, O’Hara, are a different story.”

“You don’t love me?” She asks Allie with that big mocking grin. “I’m the favorite aunt!”

“No, you’re not.” The blonde argues. “I’m the favorite.”

Kelley is still recording, and you’re sure she won’t be able to post all of that at once.

But you don’t know what started the whole favorite aunt debate and by now, you’re afraid to ask. So, while they’re still arguing over it, you make a silent escape.

However, when you see the whole thing posted all over social media later, you can’t help but like it and post a heart emoji directed at both of them. They don’t ask about it directly, so you don’t give an answer either.

The fans are going crazy when the entire soccer National Team jumps into the conversation. Everyone wants to know your answer, but you like to see them fight over that. It’s never too serious, so there’s no shame in enjoying the show.

You don’t make further comments, and all they can do is settle for the night.

It’s a good thing because you have a game to win the next day.

***

Your first victory is exhilarating, but your celebration is quite reserved. You’re on there to win just a game, and although it’s a great feeling to do so, you’re aiming for the gold.

Your nerves were gone as soon as you stepped up to the plate for your first at-bat. Your parents were right about it, and having the entire USWNT cheering for you brought the best out of the entire softball team. The greatest team is there for you; the next generation of golden athletes, and you’re ready to play the part.

After celebrating with ice cold Gatorade, you hang out on your parents’ room.

Playing Smash Bros on your switch with some of your teammates seems like the perfect way to unwind. After a few rounds, you opt to play Mario Kart instead, and you know exactly who would love to join the party.

Tobin calls you after accepting the invite. It’s not that she has a lot to say but because you love hearing her ramble and fight the game when things don’t go her way.

You send a blue shell after her and laugh when she groans in defeat. You don’t have to be in the same room to have a great time with Tobin. She’s amazing.

“You want to have dinner with Chris and me?”

“You getting me ice cream?”

“Fried ice cream if you hurry up.”

“On my way!”

You’d feel bad about ditching your parents, but they have plans with the rest of the team. They’d love it if you’d join them, but there’s no guarantee to make it back before curfew if you go with them. So, after letting them know you’re joining Press and Tobes for dinner, you’re on your merry way.

Dinner is spectacular and Christen smiles the entire time.

It’s not a surprise that the entire world is in love with her. She lets you try from her plate and shares your excitement over dessert while Tobin snaps a thousand pictures of the moment. It’s the perfect way to end the day; with an extra selfie where the three of you smile at the camera.

That’s the picture you post to thank them for an amazing night.

***

The Olympics advance and you try to follow as many events as you can while still being focused on your discipline.

It seems like forever before the USWNT faces their first match.

Your coach gives you permission to go to the match, and the world is ready to see if you’re wearing the jersey of your favorite aunt. You’re not sure why there’s so much expectation considering your parents are also part of the team. In your mind, wearing one of their jerseys is the way to go. And you make your way into the stands wearing the Krieger one.

You wear Ash’s number with your team, and well...you’re Harris too. So, you decided to switch for once. Watching Ali beam makes you happy, and you cheer them on with all your heart. The shouting never stops until your throat is sore and they come on top with their first victory. The atmosphere in the stadium is crazy, and you love every second of it.

It’s hard to tell what happened after that, but you make it to the Olympic Village on JJ’s arms. She’s stronger than anyone could imagine, and it’s shocking when she throws you over to A.D. as if you weighed nothing.

Speaking of strong women…

Every few feet you are in the arms of someone different until you make your way to Naeher. You can see the hint of a smirk on her lips and that makes you smile.

“Thanks for the save,” you say. “Pun totally intended. You were amazing out there.”

A nod is your answer before someone is calling for your attention.

“So,” Mal starts and you know the question before it leaves her lips. “Who’s the favorite aunt?”

“Not you, sorry.” You reply playfully while sticking your tongue out to her. “You’re too young, Rose and T. are the same. You’re more like my cousins.”

Everyone thinks of you as the kids even if you’re not an official part of the team. You’re okay with that, even when they’re overprotective most of the time.

“How did this whole thing start?”

“Livestream,” all of them reply at the same time.

The roll of your eyes is a given. Of course a fan question caused havoc among the USWNT. This has been fun, but they can keep going for ages, and it’s time to stop.

“If it started like that, then maybe it should end with another livestream.”

A deep silence settles over the entire team, and you realize that your inner thoughts were said out loud. It’s too late to backtrack because Kelley, Pinoe and Ash exchange a look before storming out.

“Mom, wait!” You call after Ash, but they’re already gone. “Oh no.”

Alyssa puts you down in case you want to follow them. There’s no real point. You won’t be able to convince them of not doing the livestream right at that moment. Instead, you allow Sonny to guide you through the corridors until you make it to your room.

To no one’s surprise, they already have half the things ready.

With a huff, you take your place in the middle of your bed while every single aunt takes a place wherever they can. Sam ends up on the floor next to Rose. Ali pats your shoulder and takes a seat in the other bed so you can deal with this madness.

Once everyone is seated, Kelley starts the broadcast with: “You know what we’re here for.”

“First of all,” you interrupt before she can say more. “I don’t know who you are, or where are you from, but for the person asking that, you have no idea of the utter chaos you provoked.”

With a glare to the camera, you return your attention to Kelley who only laughs at your words. She’s so damn crazy, and that’s one of the many reasons you love her.

“Come on, Y/n! You’re killing us.” Pinoe says from the corner. “Who’s the favorite aunt?”

“And the favorite aunt is...”

You pause for dramatic effect while you scan the room trying to find her. Then, the moment prolongs because you can’t find her between all the familiar faces.

“Wait, where is she?”

Everyone turns; counting heads and thinking about who is missing. Confusion grows until the door opens and the missing piece enters with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

“I knew it!” Kelley exclaims with a triumphant air fistbump.

“Of course you did. I told you before,” Alex says in the most nonchalant tone she can muster. “Y/n said it at her birthday party, remember? You got there late because your plane was delayed, but everyone else was there.”

“I thought it was just because she got you cake!” Sonny exclaims.

“The cake was just a bonus.”

“Why are you late anyway?” JJ asks Alex while the blonde holds you and refuses to let anyone else close to you.

“Well, I went for a blue one.”

“Swap?” You asks excitedly and Alex nods.

You can’t move when JJ holds you so tightly, but that’s okay. Alex takes the empty space between your legs while she puts her jersey over you. Blue is the kit you like the most, and Alex made sure to sign it for you.

In all honesty, you love them all.

They’re your family, weird as they are.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #Krashlyn kid imagine #reader insert #requested #fulfilled prompt

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some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years

Note

Little One Prompt 41 with Kacchako plz!

I knew what I wanted to do with this one almost immediately!!! Also, a bit more of a Bakugo-centric fic but I think it’s still a fun little read!

Also, mentioned of KiriMina in this because that ship is super cute and I wanted to.

It was all Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes’ fault, as far as he was concerned.

He’d come home from a hard day of patrolling to find the two settled in the living room with Ochako, the two women sipping on tea and chatting animatedly while Eijirou was stretched out on the ground playing with the kids, Yoichi and Tsubaki. He scowled as his wife’s attention remained on something the other woman was showing her, releasing these excitedly little coos, instead of at least acknowledging that he was home. Suddenly, a little blonde head snapped over and an excited shout of “Dada here!” filled the room. In a matter of seconds, his two-year-old daughter had darted to him, jumping from foot to foot in front of him with her little arms held up expectantly.

Despite being tired, he leaned down and picked her up. His kid was the cutest little shit in the world so who was he to deny her?

Ochako lifted her head and grinned at him brightly. “Oh, Katsuki! Come here, come here!” she said eagerly, motioning him over. He huffed slightly as he approached, carefully adjusting Tsubaki in his arms as the tot squirmed to snuggle up against him. Mina preened up at him as she turned her phone to face him, revealing what they’d been fawning over. He came face to face with a picture of little Yoichi, dressed to the nines, in a dark red shirt and little black vest. Paired with it, was a very loud and off-putting neon pink leopard printed tie and his black hair was slicked back with a headband to match it. He was all smiles, showing off his sharp teeth, and his little black and yellow eyes were gleaming excitedly.

“Doesn’t he look adorable?” Mina crooned giddily.

Katsuki had some opinions about the outfit, but opted to keep them to himself, because he had promised to try being nicer since Tsubaki was born. "Huh, it's… interesting," he trailed instead, adjusting his daughter so she was more comfortably perched in his arms.

"I can't wait to see what you two decide on putting like Baki-Boots in!" she cooed.

"Don't call my daughter by that nickname! It sounds stupid!" he barked out, eyes narrowing before he looked down at the sound of a little giggle. Big brown puppy dog eyes stared back up at him, so full of excitement and glee just over him being there. He forced himself to relax a bit, flashing her a small smile, before looking back up at his wife and friend. "And what's that mean?"

Ochako frowned slightly. "Katsuki, we talked about this in the group chat the other day! Don't you remember?" she asked. Oh, yeah, he forgot about that thing since he'd muted it. A couple weeks back, Dunce Face had spammed the chat with pictures of his kid while Tsubaki was trying to nap. The constant chime of his phone had woken her up and sent her into an absolute fit, so he’d muted the whole chat. Seeming to read his blank expression for what it was, she let out a small sigh and shook her head.

"Since the class reunion is going to be held at a fancy resort hotel in a few weeks, we all decided to go all out. And, since we're all bringing our kids and we already know the press is gonna be swarming the place, we're gonna dress them up in our colors!" Mina explained happily, bouncing a bit in his seat.

He stared for a moment, the conversation briefly popping back up in his head. He remembered Ochako telling him they'd be doing formal attire for the event - and remembered thinking that was really fucking stupid, since it wasn't like he had anything to prove to these nimrods - as well as her excitement at getting to find something for Tsubaki to wear. "Oh, that," he said simply before turning to head to the kitchen. On his way, he swiped a flowery purple sippy cup off the floor.

"You could put a little bit of enthusiasm into it, you know!" Mina called after him, sounding slightly offended.

He shrugged as he set Tsubaki down on the counter and opened the fridge door. "She had water in the sippy cup before, so you can keep using that one if you want to give her something else," Ochako called out to him. He called back a thanks while their daughter kicked her little feet happily as she waited. He pulled a water bottle out for himself, then poured some milk into her sippy cup.

Kirishima wandered in, Yoichi in his arms and a Crimson Riot themed sippy cup in one hand. "Mind if I get some of that for the little man here?" he asked with a huge grin.

"Knock yourself out," he said, setting the carton of milk down just out of Tsubaki's reach and screwing the lid back on to hers.

Her eyes lit up as she took it from him. "Tanks, Dada!" she squeaked before eagerly taking a huge swig.

Bakugo let out an amused snort as he opened his water bottle and took a sip of his own. He side-eyed the other man as he filled his own kid's cup and handed it over, both kids plopped on the counter and sipping their drinks happily. "So, whose bright idea was the matching outfit thing?" he asked.

The other grinned wide. "Yaomomo suggested it! Honestly, though, I'm kinda pumped for it!" he said excitedly. Katsuki didn't bother prompting what for since he knew the other well enough to know he'd say it anyway. "I mean, me and Yoi are going to be dressed identically, since I found a matching headband in my size. And Mina's gonna have a dress that matches the headbands, but also found some red ribbon and heels to go with her outfit! How awesome is that? We're all gonna be representing!" he beamed.

Katsuki's eyes hurt just thinking about what a loud amalgamation of mismatching colors and patterns their family was going to make for. "It'll certainly be something," he said mildly. That was a nice way to imply they'd look fucking ridiculous, right?

"Aw, thanks, dude!" Apparently he'd been too nice, or maybe Shitty Hair was just choosing to ignore the implication of his words. The other grinned at the two tots babbling at each other. "Any ideas what colors you two are gonna put Tsubaki in?"

He shrugged before reaching to pick her up, the other man following suit. "I really don't care. I mean, you can see her. She'll look adorable in whatever the heck we put her in," he scoffed. The two headed back to the front room, settling on the couch and watching the toddlers as they scooped some of their toys up to scamper around and play excitedly. They chatted mostly about workout sessions and on-the -job bullshit.

The visit, though, was the catalyst for the next three weeks of frustration.

Ochako decided to go with pink and orange for the colors on her outfit. On her days off - and even on a handful of his own - they started on the hunt to find a dress for Tsubaki. They'd found a few dresses that were close to what they were looking for, but they were never in her size. And the dresses that were in her size were never in the right colors. They’d tried going to department stores as well as actual boutiques. At the boutiques, they’d anticipated having to pay a bit more for customization, but the boutiques wouldn’t even consider taking the job in the first place. The Hero's Gala was slated for a few weeks after the class reunion, so all alteration appointments were booked solid.

Katsuki had seen how each rejection had hurt his wife. Even if he didn’t really get why it was such a big deal that they get a specific dress for Tsubaki, he could tell it meant a lot to her. “Maybe we can find something in just one of the colors, then?” she relented sadly, two weeks before the reunion. She had another store’s inventory pulled up on her phone, browsing through it while Tsubaki dozed off in her arms, little head slumped against her shoulder.

He scowled before walking over. “Was there any specific dress that you liked?” he asked while peering over the edge of her phone screen. She had another webpage pulled up, shifting though, before perking up. She scrolled down and selected one, holding it up to show him. He nodded. “Send me the link. I’ll get it figured out.”

“But this one’s out of stock in every color,” she said worriedly. Against her shoulder, their daughter whined and shifted, rubbing her little face against her before going slack again.

He settled down in the seat beside her on the couch before holding his hand out for her phone. “Like I said, I’ll figure it out. Just trust me,” he said evenly. He sent himself the link and then handed her phone back over to her. While she went and tucked Tsubaki into her crib, he sent out an email to see about setting up an appointment.

Which was how he ended up sitting in a lobby of a grand building a few days later, his daughter settled in his lap, with his phone pulled up to some animated video for babies to keep her calm. He hadn’t wanted to have to come when they did, as it cut close to her usual naptime, but it was the only time that he could get the favor applied to. She squirmed in his lap and let out a small huff, pressing one hand to his phone and pushing it away.

He scrambled to keep a grip on it, nearly fumbling it to the floor, then glared down at her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, pout complete with closed eyes in place, and turned her head to the side. “‘Ey! Who do you think you are?” he growled lowly.

She said nothing in response. Instead, she merely released another little harrump and turned her head in the other direction, little blonde pigtails bouncing with the force she did it with. He snorted a bit at the sheer audacity of this small child. He wasn’t sure where she got this level of sass from or how she managed to keep it contained inside given how small she was.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re just a lil’ brat, aren’t ya’?” he scoffed, turning off the video and stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

That seemed to set Tsubaki off as she whipped around to face him, standing with her little feet on his thighs and her hands gripping at the lapels of his jacket, hoisting herself upright so that she could look him right in the eye. “I no brat! I cute!” she declared.

He smirked at that. “Yeah, you are cute. A very cute little brat,” he drawled.

Her cheeks puffed out and flushed, looking so much like her mother whenever Katsuki teased her. “Oh, no way, Dada!” she declared back.

He threw his head back and laughed before reaching out to pull her close against him and start tickling her. “Oh, really? Do you know who you’re talking back to right now?”

She squealed and shrieked in delight. “No, Dada!” she giggled, little hands slapping at his wrists to try and make him stop.

“My, you really have grown up, haven’t you?” a new voice mused, causing him to stop and his head to snap up. He hadn’t even heard the damned door open, which was embarassing. He was supposed to be a fucking Pro Hero! He shouldn’t be getting distracted like that! "Sorry if I interrupted the conversation you two were having. I take it this is your child?"

He stood up, adjusting Tsubaki in his arms to face the older man standing a few feet from him. Even with the splotches of grey in the other's blonde hair, those green eyes were still hyper-focused on him with an acuteness that made him feel like he was being seen through. Even all these years later and settling comfortably into retired life, that same strict and authoritative aura seemed to roll off of him. If not for the weight of his daughter settled on his hip, he might mistake himself for being 15 years old and preparing for his first internship again. "Yeah, this is Tsubaki," he said, lightly bouncing her.

At being addressed, she looked from the old man to her father, before ducking her head into Katsuki’s shoulder shyly. That earned an amused smile from Jeanist. “Ah, she becomes so bashful all of a sudden,” he mused lightly.

“She’s a bit shy when it comes to new faces,” Katsuki said, flashing a small, reassuring smile at her. She peeked up at him briefly before nuzzling back down against him. He reached up and gently stroked her back before clearing his throat. “Anyway, let’s get this going. She’s got a nap to take and she gets really feisty if she gets kept up to late.”

Best Jeanist hummed and nodded, pushing open the door behind him and allowing them back. “Of course. My own children tended to get rather unruly if they were not allowed their rest at that age,” he commented. Once Bakugo was past him, he started leading him down a long corridor to a room at the end of it. “Now, this shouldn’t be a terribly long appointment. I had the chance to look over the dress in the link you sent. I will not recreate that dress perfectly, but will instead use it as a reference for what style you are looking to put your daughter in. Are there any specific other details or specifications you’ll be needing?” he asked as he opened the door and allowed Katsuki inside.

“As long as it’s the same style as the one I sent, and it’s got a pink and orange color scheme going, it should be fine. I trust you aren’t going to put my kid in something gaudy,” he scoffed. Inside the room was a small platform, a lounging couch, Jeanist’s desk, and shelves covered in various fabrics.

“Something gaudy?” he asked with a raised brow, heading over to his desk and rummaging through a drawer.

“Some morons I know are putting themselves and their kid in bright red and pink leopard print,” he said flatly.

Jeanist paused in his search to blink slowly. “That’s certainly… unique,” he trailed hesitantly as he finished pulling out the items he was looking for. He walked over with some measuring tape and a clipboard. “Now, if you can just get her to stand still long enough for me to get her measurements, this shouldn’t take too long.”

In the end, Tsubaki only ended up wandering away while trying to get her measurements taken three times. Once that was done, Jeanist drafted up a rough draft design of what he had in mind, they discussed accessories, finalized fabric and color choices, and Katsuki was out with a relatively composed toddler in his arms. Once they got home and she was settled down for her nap, he called Ochako to let her know he had gotten the dress situation figured out and it would be ready for pick up the afternoon of the event. Ochako had been stunned but tickled pink, excitedly gushing to him about how great he was.

And if that put an extra pep in his step leading up to the event? Well, that was his fucking business and no one else’s.

He had to be careful in how he proceeded that day, wanting to keep the whole ensemble a surprise from his wife. He’d taken an earlier shift so he could get off in time to pick the dress up himself and then pick Tsubaki up from the Uraraka’s. When he got home, he took a nap with her but made sure to get up in time to be alert and awake before Ochako got home. He was just finishing up in the bath when she got home.

“Oh! Look at you two, getting all nice and clean!” she giggled, reaching out to lightly pinch their daughter’s cheeks from where she sat on the counter as Katsuki toweled down her hair.

The little girl perked up and beamed at her mother. “Mama here!” she squeaked excitedly. She then looked at her father, bouncing in her seat. “Dada, Mama here!”

He snorted at her. “Yeah, Mama here. Now sit still,” he said lightly, setting aside the towel he’d been using on her hair to bundle her back up in her towel. “Can you hold her while I get dressed really fast? I’ll take her and get her ready so you can take the chance to get yourself put together.”

“Of course! But, I wouldn’t mind getting her dressed for you real fast,” she offered, scooping her up off the counter and leaning down to press kisses to her cheeks. Tsubaki squealed and giggled at the attention, little hands curling into her cotton t-shirt. He watched them from the corner of his eye as he moved past them to the bedroom, unable to resist a small smile. Ochako was just a few steps behind him as she started to get himself put together. “I’m dying to see what her dress looks like! I still can’t believe you managed to find it!” she said excitedly.

“I want you to see her once she’s all put together. Get the full effect,” he chuckled as he buttoned up his slacks. She pouted at him before he offered a small smirk, leaning over to gently rest his forehead against hers. “I can tell you that you’re going to love it, though.”

“Now you’re just making me want to see it more!” she whined, puffing up her cheeks at him. He laughed lightly as she fluttered her lashes at him. “Please, Katsuki? Just a little peek?”

“You can have all the peeks you want once she’s all decked out,” he hummed, stepping back to finish getting himself dressed. He made sure to be quick to keep her from sneaking a peek. As he finished getting his shirt and vest on, she headed to Tsubaki’s room to at least get her in a diaper for her. When he headed back out, she had their daughter in a diaper and was working on brushing her little teeth. This was no easy feat, since she had a bad tendency to try and lick the toothpaste off the brush. Once she was done, she handed her back over to him and headed off to take a shower of her own.

He set Tsubaki back on her changing table before heading over to her closet, pulling out the hanging garment bag and heading back over to the table. He got her in her little stockings first before opening the garment bag and pulling the items out. Getting her in the dress itself was easy enough, but then it was getting her to stand still so he could loop the decorative belt around her waist. The promise of Baby Shark was enough to get her to stand still and let him get that, as well as the gloves, on her. Next, he put her in the little mary janes he’d gotten her and settled her in his lap in the rocking chair. He put on the promised toddler video and set to combing through her hair, being mindful of combing through the little tangles and knots. Having her hair pulled too hard was one of the few things that could trigger her into an absolutely ferocious temper tantrum.

Just as he finished getting her hair all finished and her headband put into place, Ochako appeared in the doorway. “How are things going in-! Oh!” she gasped, eyes wide with delight as he set Tsubaki down.

The little tot immediately surged forward, giving a little twirl. “I cute Mama?” she asked happily. In the end, he and Jeanist had agreed that softer colors would be a good choice for Tsubaki. The dress itself was a peach color, as it would give the orange tint they were looking for without being too loud, with sleeves that only covered her shoulders and a skirt that reached to her knees. The skirt portion itself was poofy with several tiers of a transparent lace overlay with a flower embroidery along the very edges. Around her waist was a pastel pink belt that cinched into a bow at her left hip with four little pearl beads sewn along the edges of the little bow portion. The last two items to complete the look was a pair of opera gloves and a little headband with a camellia flower on it, both items in the same hue as the belt. He had settled the headband so that the flower would be on the right side of her head as a nice little compliment to the bow being on the left.

Ochako walked in and scooped her up, eyes glossy with happy tears. “Oh, you look absolutely adorable, sweetie!” she crooned, voice cracking a bit as she tried to keep the tears at bay. He blinked and tilted his head a bit, suddenly understanding why the dress had been so important to her, as he watched she and Tsubaki. His heart swelled at seeing the two of them in the light orange and pink hued dresses they were sporting, the colors popping on Tsubaki and seeming to highlight the parts of her that she had inherited. It wasn’t about the colors, he realized, but showing the world that they were family, that they all belonged to one another. She looked up at him, eyes still watery. “This is amazing, Katsuki.”

“Well, I called in a favor. Had to make sure we stepped out and showed up all those losers we went to school with,” he scoffed, walking over and adjusting the necklace she was wearing so the hook wasn’t visible. It was a simple heart made with pink diamonds that he’d gotten her for their first wedding anniversary. “And stiffen up that lower lip and keep the waterworks from starting. You’re gonna smear your make-up if you don’t.”

#crumbles grumbles #KacChako #my fics #Bakugo would be an incredibly Soft Dad #Still prickly to everyone else but that man will *melt* for his children and partner #You can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands

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eisiramdeus-a · 4 years

Text

→ COYOTEFACED, in his LETTERS TO THE CAP'N: charring meat. a line of dusky purple out along the horizon that turns the sky an ugly, bruised color, the very shade of a rough night out on the town. perhaps only for the likes of them, though. town sat fifty miles north, and consisted of maybe a gas station, if they were lucky. a bar, should Lady Luck be that much kinder. but no safety lay in the neon lights of civilization, not right now, perhaps not for a while. just salvation in what little glow they can make themselves between the god-monuments that broke the skyline. he flicks the meat off the fire with his knife. “ you should eat, too” if you can. if you want to.

✯ OH, THIS IS RATHER SWEET, ACTUALLY, IN THESE CHILLING WINDS OF AN ARIZONA EXPANSE HERE AS THE DAY DUSKS GRACEFULLY WITH THAT SHADE OF PURPLE YOU CALL A BRUISE BUT FOR I, A LIGHTLESS WRETCH FROM THE COLDEST DEPTHS OF THE HOUSE OF JUDECA, EVEN THIS LIGHT IS A BLESSING FROM GOD. YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE THE COLD AND THE DARK BENEATH FROM THE PLACES I’VE BEEN TO THE PLACES I WILL RETURN A PRISONER AND ALSO IT’S REVOLUTIONARY LIBERATOR. BUT FOR A FEW MOMENTS LIKE THIS, around the campfire inside this quiet hideout cave retreat we make, roasting bison getting dirty and greasy with our hands but it’s not so bad, because here in our arid, rugged, rocky shore it’s just you, and I.

AND JESSE BREAKS THE GOLDEN silence that was otherwise washed, bruised, and battered by the incessant crackling of wood as it burns to cinders, Lord, this heavenly sound by campfire that some city folk just never live to hear. He hears a viper rattle some many yards due West, and the thought of a diamondback makes him smile. He’s distracted, distant, sitting away from the fire, perched on a rocky protruding formation that allows him to peer at the cave’s entrance like a stalwart sentry. Or perhaps that is too glorious and dutiful for this outlaw refuge, think more of a shifty lookout, perhaps, ready to move out when they see the law riding out this way. THE KNIGHT AND THE GUNSLINGER, it’s a rather romantic tale, I think. In no other time, in no other life could you hope to find a niche romance that caters to warrior priests and gangsters alike. Nicholas Spark, I have you beat.

YOU SHOULD EAT TOO, he says. And his head turns to Jesse immediately, his own deep thoughts pierced, broken, and shattered by the suggestion. You should eat, he says. I HADN’T CONSIDERED IT, really. It’s such an intrusive, disruptive thought that the realization makes him uncomfortable. You’ve unsettled the man now, but it makes him chuckle, shoulders relaxing, jumping with the laugh, softening expression as his eyes veer off the horizon where he patrolled for miles off like an eagle, and narrow down in what is just beyond him, this thing he loves. He tilts his head, enamored. It lets him know you care.

❝...❞ his most famous line. THE THUNDERER descends off his rocky throne, one foot landing at a time like an angel before you, but no loud thumping upon the cave flooring could be heard. Now that’s unsettling; perhaps he truly is Gabriel upon thee, Mary. But with Gabriels like this [...]

❝Sure. Could use a bite. What kinda man don’t reap the bounty he’s put on the table, ain’t it? Amen.❞ THERE WAS NO TABLE SO TO SPEAK OF but then again, there is no amen so to speak of. The graces fall upon deaf ears. Saint Alexander approaches and sits besides him by the fire, the soft glow and tints of orange upon his tanning complexion. It’s good to be out here in the sun, in this scorching Arizona days to give a little life to his visage that had been so sickly pale and neglected and shunned away from God’s own light. BARE HANDS INTO THE FIRE, pulling a piece from the rather large chunk of the roast hung over their fire, he takes a serrated blade and rips himself a large, albeit still bitesize piece. Inspects it with great care, pondering the implication of what he’s about to do, this sinful, heinous crime. To eat like the common man. There’s that greasy, small, thick cube of buffalo upon his hands, it still bleeds lightly pink when he squeezes it. God, it’s just fucking right. He looks into Jesse’s eyes to ensure he’s paying very close attention to what he’s about to witness, smug, playful look of mischief. You may never see him do this again, with him, every small thing is a matter of discovery and reformulating world views contrary to what the madres at the abbey or the orphanage taught you. For these answers you seek would never be found at home.

❝It’s a lil’ raw, I reckon.❞ The pinkish grease sliding down his wrist and not much further, but with eyes still locked on his, St. Alexander sucks the dancing tips of the flame into his lungs, these reactive, combusting gasses still lit and, with a lot of dexterity, blows it directly upon the raw face of his meat cut, searing it shut. A bit of smoke rising out of his nostrils as he exhales. He can’t keep a straight face, breaking into laughter, eyes close, face shying away but that bright smile he tried to conceal. This playfulness, the magic tricks, the silly eyes and the wanting to entertain another: it hadn’t felt like him for a while. ❝Perfect now. My compliments to the chef, yeah?❞ And he slipped it up his tongue as though catching a popcorn with his mouth in the movies. And he remembers when Raiders of the Lost Ark was on screen.

@coyotefaced

#✯ ❝ to them; the wrath of god ❞ [ ic ]#✯ ❝ you were sayin’? ❞ [ answered ]#v; ow #coyotefaced #long post /#wow this is gay

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