#foc mask

[evildilf2]

I’m literally going to kill myself. I know he’s worn a dress before I’ve seen the fan cams I know it I KNOW IT.

#all my little words #I DONT WANT TO SEE THE LORD FOC MASK COLLECTION THAT CONSISTS OF 1000’s OF FACES FOR PETES SAKE!!!!!!!

[katskitoshi]

"CERTIFIED SOFT MOMENTS!" with the INAZUMANS from GENSHIN IMPACT.

synopsis: just some soft, sweet moments with some of the inazumans.

characters: ayaka, kuki, gorou, yoimiya, thoma, ayato, kazuha, and tomo (mostly separate) x gn!reader

includes: poly! kazutomo (i love them so you will too), sweet moments with some inazuma men and women!! ♡

--just watching ayaka dance. time seems to stop, the air seeming to cool around the two of you. she giggles nervously before slowly stepping into the water. drawing her fan out, she begins her angelic movements with little snowflakes and ice shards trailing her. your eyes follow her as she moves, love glazing them over. ayaka, your girlfriend, your future wife, seems so perfect in these moments that when your eyes meet, you can't draw them away -- and neither can she.

her dancing stops, but the world doesn't resume nor does the air warm. never breaking eye contact, ayaka slowly approaches you, and she takes your hand in her own. her usual ice-cold fingers feel so warm in your embrace. she leans in, then to your lips. a kiss that resumes time itself, warms the air, and sparks love once again between you.

--kuki, who rarely gets free-time from playing the gang's brain, finally finds comfort and relaxation with you. you take her to a secluded part of an inazuman forrest, where only you and her can exist. a little picnic is set up, all her favorite dishes and desserts presented before her on a soft blanket. when you show her, she's speechless, almost as if she doesn't like. perhaps you did to much? was it not enough? maybe she didn't like-

all the thoughts of what could have made her silent suddenly come to a close when her lips meet yours in a gentle moment. you hadn't even notice she'd taken off her mask. but since she did, you can see the clear smile on her face. "thank you so much for this, love. i guess you can really tell when i need a break." kuki begins to walk to the blanket, lowering herself on it before she pats the area besides her. "aren't you going to join me?"

--it's almost as if gorou is always busy or free, but never when you need him. he loves you dearly and always tries to make time for you but all his soldiers and kokomi work him like a dog. which is totally unfair! but you understand and try to help him out when you can. whether it's with his work, or a nice massage and meal when works done. he loves what you do for him, but gorou can't but feel guilty. he felt like he was the one working you! so, he decided to treat you to a nice night in the city once a festival rolls around.

each stand that catches your eye, he'll let you wander and stare as long as you want. and don't even think about pulling out your mora! gorou is sponsoring the whole night. any food or item you wish for he'll buy and carry for you. once the night is over, he'll drag you outside your little cottage and lay you down on the soft grass. you two can watch the twinkling stars, in silence or in conversation, but at some point gorou just turns to you and stares. the admiration in your eyes as he stares at the stars and the admiration in his eyes as he stares at his star.

--yoimiya who obviously brings you on dates to make, test, and watch her fireworks -- but also loves telling you stories during the process. she'll always bring you your favorite foods with a smile on her face as she drags you to some far off area from the village before gushing on about anything any everything. oh, did you see that butterfly? let her tell you a story she heard the other day about one she saw that was almost as beautiful as you!

just as you reach the mountaintop, the stars start to glimmer especially bright. yoimiya takes your hand and drags you close to the edge where she takes a seat and waits for you to accompany her. she sets the fireworks, and you two relish in the few silent moments before the loud booms start. crackles of [favorite color], red, orange, and pinks all explode against the dark sky.

your eyes focus on the fireworks, but yoimiya's eyes focus on you. she couldn't look away if she wanted too. of course the fireworks are beautiful, but your beauty alone surpasses anything she could make. yoimiya kisses your cheek and smiles before pulling your head to rest on her shoulders. the night quiets around you, the crackles and booms of the fireworks make a lovely melody in the background to aid the picture perfect moment yoimiya and you have created.

--the life of a nobleman's retainer seems to never come to a halt, but thoma will always put work to a pause for you. one day, he'll bring you out to the komore teahouse. taroumaru will greet you with loving barks before he leads you to a secluded room of the teahouse, where thoma awaits you. a shy smile is etched on his lips, and the table before him is covered in an abundance of dishes that makes your mouth water. as you take your seat across him, thoma thanks you for coming and tells you to help yourself.

as the night advances, his initial nervousness melts away. he'll start a conversation on just about anything; the weird odd jobs he's been doing, disputes he's resolved, even little secrets he's never thought to tell anyone! when he's with you, he stops being a retainer or the fixer, he just becomes thoma: your boyfriend. and he loves not having the additional weight of everything else on his shoulders.

--ayato never has free time but he'll sure as hell make some for his lover. perhaps you can join him in his office while he works for a bit? he'll let you rest your head on his lap, and if one of his hands are free, he'll even rub little shapes into your arm, or back, or whatever part of your body you'll let him. if you're not fancy to laying his head in his lap, perhaps you can sit on him instead. he won't mind. and, if that's also not to your liking, he's free to offer you to sit by him and let him rest his hand on your thigh. t

hese moments are sweet in itself, but this is just a little warm up for what he has planned later. once he's done working, he'll pick you up, and use one of his delicate gloved hands to cover your eyes as he leads you somewhere. soon enough, you're off the estate grounds and in the nearby forrest. he removes his hands from over your eyes, and behold: a tea party is set up. some sweets imported from across teyvat lay on the small table with

the finest inazuman tea already steamily brewed. off to the side there's a record player, playing some nice music the set the scene. still holding you, ayato gently places you in the seat across from his own, but does not seat himself. he notices you about to go for a pastry and dabs your hand away.

"allow me, darling." he grabbed the pastry you were going for and tilted your chin up with his other hand. "say, 'ahh~'" and you do, he places it in your mouth and you take a bite. his hand holding the pastry places it on the plate infant of you but he never lets go of your chin.

"ayato..?" "you have something right..." his pointer finger flicks a crumb off her cheek. and then he leans in and licks your lips before kissing you. ayato doesn't stop until you're nearly breathless. he chuckles as a string of saliva connects you before promptly snapping. he lets go and sits on his side on the table. "..there."

--besides for their travels, tomo and kazuha aren't ever that busy. with them, every moment is a soft moment. each mini cooking competition as the two compete for which of their dishes is best. each cuddle session, that started as a stargazing date. each time kazuha would write you a poem or make you a love letter and make tomo jealous. each time tomo would make a meal that puts master chefs and kazuha to shame, or plants and gives you flowers, or grooming and taking care of his cat, mimi. every moment was worth it with these two. even as tomo might not always be there because of each odd job he picks up. or kazuha might just take a moment to run off on his own. but at the end of the day, you all are together, and thats what matters.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genhsin x reader #kazuha x reader #ayaka x reader #gorou x reader #kuki x reader #kuki shinobu x reader #yoimiya x reader #ayato x reader #thoma x reader #tohma x reader #tomo x reader #genshin tomo x reader #kasha's friend x reader

[rylem33]

Murder Mystery Party (Part 1)

Hey everyone, this is a six part story. This entire story is now available on my blog. I'll post the parts here on Tumblr over the next few days. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 1: The Gathering

Toby and Grace's apartment, a blend of sleek modernity and artistic flair, was abuzz with anticipation. Tonight, it was more than just a home; it was the stage for "Masks and Mysteries," a murder mystery party.

Toby, 28, with his handsome, clean-cut appearance and short, neatly styled hair, adjusted the cufflinks on his tailored suit. He moved with an air of confidence, a reflection of his successful business background. As he surveyed the room, ensuring every detail was in place, the doorbell rang.

Grace, 27, moved gracefully around the room in her colorful, flowing bohemian dress, complemented by unique handmade jewelry. Her sandy blonde, wavy hair framed her soft facial features, enhancing her artistic aura. The decor of the room reflected her creativity, forming a beautiful contrast to Toby's more structured elegance. "Toby, can you get that? I just need to set these flowers right," she called out, her voice a warm, melodious expression of her excitement and empathetic nature.

Toby opened the door to welcome Sarah, 26, whose casual and quirky style stood out immediately. Her vintage clothes and unique accessories were a testament to her artistic soul. "Hey, Toby! This place looks amazing. You guys really outdid yourselves," Sarah exclaimed, her friendly, outgoing nature filling the room with energy.

"Thanks, Sarah. Grace has the magic touch," Toby replied with a smile, leading her into the living room.

Next to arrive was James, 29, the embodiment of the 'nerdy' stereotype with his glasses, casual shirts, and jeans. He exuded a mix of intelligence and introverted charm, albeit tinged with a hint of social awkwardness. "Hi, Toby, Grace. This is quite the setup," he said, adjusting his glasses nervously.

"James, glad you could make it! Don't worry, we're all going to have fun tonight," Grace reassured him, sensing his apprehension.

Leigha, 25, entered next, her stylish fashion sense and flair for dramatic makeup making her a striking presence. Her outgoing and charismatic personality shone as brightly as her trendy outfit. "Sorry I'm late, everyone! Traffic was a nightmare," she announced, her voice carrying the confidence of someone accustomed to being the center of attention.

"You're just in time, Leigha," Toby said, welcoming her in.

Finally, Mike, 34, arrived, dressed in his usual conservatively comfortable style. His practical, reliable personality was reflected in his choice of simple sweaters and slacks. "I hope I'm not too late. This is my first murder mystery party," he said, a hint of worry in his tone.

"You're just on time, Mike. It's going to be a great evening," Grace said, her voice soothing and encouraging.

With all the guests assembled, Toby and Grace, the perfect hosts, gathered everyone for the game introduction. "Welcome to 'Masks and Mysteries.' Tonight, we step into roles in the hopes of solving the mystery.," Toby began, his leadership quality shining through.

"Grace continued, her voice filled with a hint of mystery, "Each of you will receive an envelope. Inside, you'll find the character you're going to portray tonight. These came pre-sealed so even I don’t know who anyone will be!"

The group received their character envelopes with a mix of intrigue and excitement. Each envelope, sealed and mysterious, lay unopened in their hands. The anticipation was palpable as they held the key to their alternate personas for the evening.

Toby, the confident businessman, glanced at his envelope with a curious smirk. Grace, the empathetic artist, held hers gently, as if it contained a delicate secret. Sarah, with her friendly and quirky demeanor, shook hers next to her ear, wondering what role lay inside. James, usually reserved and tech-focused, eyed his envelope with a cautious optimism. Leigha, always stylish and assured, flicked her envelope with a manicured nail, her expression one of amused anticipation. And Mike, practical and reliable, turned his over in his hands, pondering the possibilities it held.

Before diving into their roles, the friends engaged in light-hearted conversation, catching up on each other's lives.

"So, Toby, how's the family business going?" Mike asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Toby leaned back, his demeanor relaxed. "It's going well, actually. We're looking at expanding into new markets soon. A lot of work, but exciting times."

Grace chimed in with a smile, "And I've just finished curating a new art exhibit. It's all about modern abstracts. You guys should come by!"

Sarah's eyes lit up. "I'd love to see that, Grace. Your exhibits always have such a unique perspective."

James, a bit more reserved, added, "I've been working on a new coding project. It's complex but really interesting. It's about optimizing data algorithms."

Leigha laughed lightly, "That sounds complicated, James. I've been busy with my social media campaigns and some modeling gigs. The life of an aspiring model is never dull!"

"And I've been buried in tax season," Mike said with a wry smile. "But, I'm planning a trip next month. A much-needed break."

The conversation flowed easily among the friends, each sharing a snippet of their life, their bond evident in the comfortable banter and shared laughter. It was moments like these, simple and unassuming, that solidified their friendship.

As the evening sun dipped below the city skyline, casting a warm glow through the windows, Toby raised his glass. "To a night of mysteries and fun with close friends!'"

Glasses clinked in agreement, and with a collective sense of curiosity and camaraderie, they prepared to open their envelopes.

#f2f transformation #personality change

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 13: Fantasy Masks

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix 

Read Swapboys | Read Fantasy Masks | AO3 Link

Prologue | Switch | Stitched | PNPT | Septicheroes Taglist: @brokentimewatch @di-diwata  

Bro is used to falling by now, and used to landing in strange places. But this is the strangest yet. It's a wide open room, filled with boxes and trunks and racks of medieval-looking clothes. The roof above is canvas, stretched over large white support beams that curve gently. This room must be large, but his vision of it is obscured because of all the stuff around. It's cool, but not winter-cold like that world with the kids.

"Hwaet!"

That's... a word? Definitely a voice. Where did it come from?

Bro pushes himself up and looks around in confusion. The fuck is he now? ... a theater maybe? Cuz those look like costumes....

"umm.. hello??" He calls out.

As Bro stands up, one of the racks of clothing is pushed to the side and he is immediately confronted with the tip of a sword. Not a fake plastic sword. Not a metal replica found at a fair or convention. This is a heavy-looking, razor-sharp, thirty-five-inch-long knightly sword.

Bro pushes back as much as he can to get away from the- sword?? A FUCKING SWORD?? "H-Holy shit-"

It's being wielded by a man wearing a waist-length red cloak and a wolf mask... and the rest of the man's clothes are similarly medieval.

"Tshais?" the man says, eyes widening behind the mask. Then he shakes his head. "Ní he, ní é thusa é."

"Dyaki?" Another voice calls, and someone else appears. A man wearing a white tunic-thing and--and the first man covers the other's face before Bro can get a good look. "Gah! Dyaki, cadé aan saolile?!"

"Caor uir tho aghaidh," the first man says. "Níl sé dó Tshais."

The second man quickly pulls on a mask shaped like an owl. "Cadatá aer sil?"

"Níl a fhiasagim! Dheial raigh sé!"

...What the fuck is going on?

Bro can barely tell what's going on as he looks between the two men, "f-fuck I... I can't tell what you're saying- ummm hi? I.. I'm Chase! can you not... point that very sharp and real sword at me please?"

The two men blink in almost comical unison. It's hard to tell what their expressions are under the masks, but it's clear they're just as confused as he is. They look at each other.

"A bhfuil an fies agatcén te anga a bían?" asks the wolf-masked one.

The owl-masked one shakes his head. "Ní aith ním aer shor aer bithé."

The wolf-masked man stares at Bro for a moment more. Then lowers the sword, but does not sheathe it.

"Tá brón yom," he says.

"Dyaki, cén f--"

"Is léir ghaer de mhuentor ann FhaoNaigh é," the wolf insists. "Caith fimid bhaifh measeil. Agus gan ainmneasha, ceimhni?"

The owl winced. "Diar mé oer ash 'Dyaki.'"

"...Foc."

Bro backs up more and keeping ping-ponging between the two men talking, though he doesn't understand anything. It kinda sounds like when his aunts would curse in irish but- also way different. It feels... older. God he wished Alt was here... maybe he knew a translation spell or something.

The wolf-masked one notices his growing confusion. "Tá brón yom," he repeats. He leans closer to the owl and murmurs something that Bro can't hear, then looks back at him. "Iss féid irlaet 'Dyaki' a laoch yom." The man gestured at himself. "'Dyaki.'"

He points at the owl-masked man. "Iss féid irlaet 'Henrik' a thabh aetaer. 'Henrik." The owl inclines his head.

"Cad Iss féid irlinn laoch oer?" The wolf points at Bro.

"Dyaki..." Bro repeats with a slow nod. Then, his eyes light up, "Oh! Henrik!" He smiles, relived. At least they found someone who he... sort of recognized.

The owl--Henrik's eyes widen.

Dyaki looks at him. "A bhfuil aithme oer? Cén shoi a bhfuil aithme aer FhaoNaigh?!"

"Níl aithme!" Henrik protests.

Oh- maybe they know sign? ... it could be worth a try.

Bro tries to sign I'm sorry, I can't understand you. Do you know sign? even if he's a bit clumsy with it.

Then Henrik’s eyes widen further as he sees Bro sign. "An labh raíon sé i láemhi?"

"Ní labh raíon i láemhi é sin a aithmím." Dyaki shakes his head. He finally sheaths his sword... and begins making gestures. It's clearly sing language of some sort, but it's not BSL.

Bro grins bashfully and holds up his hands, "ah okay.... that doesn't work either... shit- ...doesn't my phone have real time translation?” He pulls out his phone and tries to see if it even works.

Bro's phone does indeed work. But in the upper left corner where it usually provides cell bars and WiFi, it simply says No Service.

Bro tsks under his breath, "Of fucking course.. just my luck..."

"Cadé aan saolile?" Henrik steps forward, right up to Bro, and stares at his phone. He reaches out. "An féidi lom yeamháil...?"

"Henrik!" Dyaki looks stunned at the fact that Henrik is reaching for Bro's phone, as if he's committed some social faux pas.

"Féash aer," Henrik says quietly. "Táse shomh ai teash, caithfi mé iarash."

Bro looks at Henrik reaching for the phone and he looks confused but he offers it to him. "Uh- maybe you know where to get some service? Are we just in a bad spot? ... im realizing you can't understand me either but talking gives me comfort-"

Henrik takes the phone gently, like it's made of porcelain, and turns it over in his hands. He seems interested in the buttons and charging port at first, but then notices that the screen responds to touch and eagerly begins swiping back and forth between the home screens.

"Dyaki, féash aer!" he says excitedly. "Is motael aus gloena a lashonn! Aus frea raíonn sé, féash! Ní fhaka mé draíosht marse riam."

"Isé draíosht aan FhaoNaigh," Dyaki mutters. "Tabhair aisdó é."

"Tá, tá." Henrik nods and gives the phone back to Bro. "Rai moith a ghat."

Bro watches them look at his phone with increasing confusion. It’s like… they’ve never seen one before. That’s… really weird. But- technically with the kids they went into the past… What if they went even further?

Bro panics a bit at this thought and stumbles to stand up. “Uh- you all keep saying… FhaoNaigh- I don’t think.., I’m that? I- where is this?” He tries to look around more to see if he can get more hints, taking off his mask and shoving it in his pocket in the meantime. His hair fades back to his regular brown. “I’m not a FhaoNaigh- my name is Chase! I need to- god where’s alt??”

The two men step back, looking surprised and worried at Bro's distress. "FhaoNaigh?" Dyaki repeats, pointing at Bro with confusion.

Bro shakes his head at being called that again.

"Fuaimean séosil o bhfuil sé ará 'Tshais,'" Henrik mutters.

"Is cumalei ndáiríre," Dyaki emphasizes. "Ommm... Lasmuigh?" He points to the side and starts walking in that direction. "Téi lasmuigh?" He gestures for Bro to follow him.

As Dyaki points and directs Bro to follow, he slowly does, really trying to look at everything as they walk.

Henrik and Dyaki murmur to each other as they walk, allowing Bro ample time to look at the stuff. All these trunks and boxes and various containers... he doesn't see anything made of cardboard or plastic. These clothes... they're more than medieval-looking, the stitches look hand-done. And sometimes they come across weapons. They all look real. And there is not a firearm in sight.

“What the fuck….” Bro breathes, “please tell me this is just some really convincing re-enactors… or a ren faire… those are fun I like those-“

"Hwaet!"

They've reached the edge of the room. It looks like this place is a massive... dome? The white stone rafters curve down to meet the floor. Dyaki pushes aside a flap in the canvas and again gestures for Bro to follow.

Bro looks around at the dome and squints at it before following after Dyaki again.

Outside is a camp, pitched of tents. Not colorful tents with mesh and fabric. Strong, sturdy tents made of canvas. The sky above is bright blue, and the air is somehow crisper, fresher than Bro has ever breathed before. People wander past, wearing the same medieval clothing and masks as Henrik and Dyaki. There is a rising smoke from a fire in the distance. And surrounding all this are massive white stones. ... No, not stones. Bones. This camp is surrounded by the skeleton of some massive creature.

Bro’s jaw drops as he sees the camp- breathes the crisp air. Okay… this might actually be real. As soon as he registers the camp is surrounded by bones- Bro can’t take it anymore. He has to see. He leaps into the air and flies above the camp to see the skeleton in full. Not even considering what he could have done would backfire on him or scare anyone. The adhd has taken hold and he’s definitely off his medicine by now with how many jumps they’ve done.

"CADE AAN SAOLILE?!" he hears someone shout from below, followed by various cries of panic and awe.

As he goes up, up, up, the skeleton comes into view. First, the reptilian head, topped with horns. Then the extending lines of wingbones confirm it. This is a creature that does not exist in his world. A dragon.

Bro feels his breath puff out of his mouth as it falls open in awe. “That’s… that’s a fucking dragon-“ He laughs breathlessly and pushes back his hair. “Holy fucking shit…! This is the craziest place yet! What the fuck!”

By now he’s registering the sounds of panic/awe below and he curses. “Ah fuck… right- Jesus okay-“ he quickly zooms back down and makes sure he finds where Dyaki and Henrik are. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed. “S-Sorry! I got curious!”

The two of them are staring at him in utter shock. "Aan... bhfuil tú... Sinse?" Dyaki asks slowly.

Henrik shakes his head. "Fiú tá a fhies ayam go bhfuil mísheart." He takes a step forward. "...Tshais? Aan tufuil Tshais?"

"Níl sé Tshais!" Dyaki shouts. "Tshais ní fédie lais eithil!" Oh. 'Tshais.' It's the name Chase but spoken with slightly softer sounds.

“Tshais-“ Bro starts trying to say and then brightens as he realizes. “Oh Chase! That’s me, yes! I’m Chase! Chase Brody!” He points to himself and nods eagerly. As if he just forgotten that he just blew these guys’ minds.

This does not help with the blown minds. If anything, it looks like Dyaki's brain is melting. He takes a deep breath, turns to the side... and shouts, "Foc! Foc foc foc foc foc!" The meaning of that seems pretty clear.

Bro points at Jackie having a meltdown, “…well I know that word for sure-“

Henrik laughs.

He then looks at Bro thoughtfully. "Tshais mak Brodi." And he nods. "Credine thú. Ash cén... tshai?"

Bro blinks at Henrik attempting to talk to him and just politely nods.

Dyaki rejoins the other two. "Aan bhfuil a fies cá bhfuil Maerfin?" he asks Henrik.

"Aran mbhea lach." Henrik starts walking through the camp. Dyaki follows, and gestures for Bro to follow to.

Once Bro’s led to follow he does. “Man… this is really really weird…”

The three of them head through camp, the other people parting around them, not even bothering to disguise their stares.

Bro waves at some of the people before he thinks better of it and just follows behind Dyaki and Henrik.

-----------

Alt appears in a forest. It's a very lovely forest, the trees taller, wider, and bigger than he's ever seen before. The branches above are thick, and the only reason there's sunlight is because it's autumn and the vibrant leaves are thinning. Bushes and other undergrowth practically hide the forest floor beneath him. He barely has the chance to notice all this when--

Something goes whizzing right by him. If he turns around, he sees an arrow embedded in a tree, shaft and fletching vibrating.

Alt breathes for a second, confused by the air and trees when- He yelps in surprise and glitches away.

He then glitches back and pulls it out of the tree with wide confused eyes. “…a fucking arrow?? Who shot an arrow at me?!”

The forest is quiet except for the rustling of leaves. And then there is a louder rustling coming from a bush on the opposite direction of the arrow. And then there is a thunk, the sound of someone falling, and a hissed voice that says, "Dyamison!" Whatever that means.

Alt crouches down into a defensive stance, building up electricity in his hand. He carefully walks forward and then tries to glitch to where he heard the sound- hoping to get the upper hand.

The glitch is successful. He pushes aside a bush to see--a rabbit? No, it's someone wearing a rabbit mask, staring up with him with wide eyes...eyes that immediately shoot to the lingering glitch effects around him.

"Dyamison!" Suddenly another bush gets pushed aside and a man stands up, wearing a hat, a deer mask--and armed with a bow and a quiver by his side. His eyes also shoot to the lingering glitches.

"Tá brón yom, tá brón yom!" The man says, raising his hands. "Shílmé fur fiana thú, mé mionn é! Rinne mé! Dhírash--dhírash a fhákáil leis éin!" He sounds... panicked.

Alt backs up with his hands up and feels himself panicking too. “W-woah hey! You’re- you’re speaking a whole other language what the fuck…”

Strangely enough, Alt's panic seems to calm the man down slightly. He lowers his own hands, now simply wary instead of afraid. "Tá brón yom, níl a fhies aya cadatá thú ag rá."

The man in the rabbit mask stands up and steps backwards, almost tripping over some hidden roots. He looks at the other and raises his hands and--that's a sign language of some kind, definitely. But Alt doesn't recognize it.

"Cadatá igh seis aya?" The first man asks.

More sign language.

"Cén fáth nachrai tú dhírash taréis sin a rá?" The man sounds exasperated. He looks at Alt, and gives an awkward little bow. "Aan duine de FhaoNaigh thú?" he asks slowly, as if the speed was the issue and not the whole other language.

Alt looks between the two with widening eyes.

This- this was insane. God- didn’t Blaise give him a translation spell? …oh oh yes! Okay he knows this- he’s used it on Henny when he’s been really sick!

He breathes and closes his eyes. He places a hand on his temple, “thuiscint” then he places a hand on his throat, “labhairt nua.” When he’s done he opens his eyes back up and they’re glowing blue green. But- he should be able to understand them now…? Hopefully.

“Ah sorry… I didn’t understand before, could you say that again?”

Both of the men look impressed--but honestly, not as impressed as most everyday people would be when seeing magic.

"Are duine of FhaoNaigh you?" the man in the deer mask says. That makes no sense. The spell is struggling with this language. But thankfully, the man realizes something is up. "Om... say I aríse. Are being of FhaoNaigh you? Are you one of the FhaoNaigh?"

Alt knits his eyebrows together. Huh- this must be a tricky language… could it be old? Judging by these guys outfits and the fact that they tried to shoot him with a bow is very much convincing him of that.

“One of the… FhaoNaigh? Uhhh who are those?” Alt asks delicately.

"You don't know who the Fair Folk are?" the man in the deer mask says, sounding shocked. "Well, I guess that shows that you're not one of them. Where are you from, then? Why are you..." He pauses, searching for the words. "...made of... harsh light? And smell like... lightning?"

The man in the rabbit mask rolls his eyes and signs something.

"You describe it, then, Jameson!" the first man says, annoyed.

Alt’s eyebrows rise. Jameson. Okay that,.. that explains the sign. God he wished he could understand that too… feels rude to not know his side of things.

“Fair Folk… no can’t say I have… unless you’re talking about my complexion.” Alt tries to laugh. “I’m from- …really far away I’m guessing. A city called Brighton. And uh- I’m not… made of light- it’s just my magic. I can… hm- just sort of move around really fast. But with my whole body.” He glitches back and forth across the clearing before settling back in front of them. “We call it ‘glitching’ but if I’m right about this.. you wouldn’t know what that was.”

"Braiton?" The man in the deer mask shakes his head. "I've never heard of it. But I haven't traveled much. Jameson?"

Jameson shakes his head. He signs something else.

"Oh, Jameson thinks your magic is fascinating," the man in the deer mask says. "And I do too. You're right, I've never heard of... ghlishing." He pauses. "What are you doing out here, then? You appeared out of nowhere, i-it startled me. Sorry about the arrow, I thought you were a deer, I swear it."

Alt shakes his head, “it’s okay! I’m sure it was scary seeing someone appear out of nowhere. As for why I’m here… that’s a really long story I’m not sure you’d believe…”

Alt laughs, “And, uh, thanks. You guys are the ones who are fascinating to me… uh- where is this exactly?”

Strangely, the men hesitate when he asks where this is. "You're in the Dragon's Greatwoods," the man in the deer mask says slowly. "And you may as well tell us. I wouldn't believe that you showed up out of thin air if we hadn't seen it ourselves. Oh, I should introduce myself to you first. Call me Chase, son of Brody. And call him Jameson... Jameson, do you want me to...?" He waits for him to nod. "Okay. Jameson Jairsolas. What are you called?"

“Um…” Both of his names are out of place here. Guess it can’t be helped. “I’m Alt. Alt… Brody.”

He studies Chase closely. This is this world's version of his brother… he guesses he could see it? Weird to see Chase not in bright almost blinding colors.

“Okay well… I’m from- another world. One that’s like this one, but different. It’s Another world that is… probably in the future? If not just… something different entirely… not sure yet… but something feels distinctly more magical here…”

"Another world?" Chase repeats. "Oh. Okay. Nice to meet you, Alt Brody." He pauses. "That would explain the harsh light--the ghlishing. Strange to think of a world with less magic, though. You must be even more out of place at home. Sorry about that."

Alt blinks. Wow he accepted that a lot faster then he thought he would. Alt stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “It’s alright. I got my brother- he’s …magic too. Somewhat.”

Jameson signs something.

"Really?"

He repeats it insistently.

"...Fine, I guess." Chase sighs. "Jameson wants to take you back to our camp. He insists that nothing bad will happen, which--I suppose I'm more inclined to believe coming from him, but I'm still not entirely sure." Another pause. "If you're from another world, why did you come here?"

Alt tilts his head at this and then nods, “your camp… yeah that’s probably a good idea.” The glitch laughs at Chase’s last question. “We can’t really… control it at this point I guess. We’re trying to get home but… we keep picking the wrong places. We’re uh- kinda hunting down a dangerous person too.”

“Hmm.” Chase hums. “Well maybe we could help with that search. We’re very prepared to… protect people from dangerous people. I could’ve said that better, but you get what I mean.” He looks at Jameson. “If this turns out to be a bad idea you’re taking the blame.”

Jameson nods, as if he expected that.

“Alright, Alt Brody, follow us.” Chase turns and starts heading through the trees. “Anything else we should know before we get there? Like about your brother? Where is he, if not with you?”

"Hopefully close by," Alt mutters, "If not just- if you see someone is a stupidly bright orange jacket, it's probably him. ... oh or if you see anyone in the sky." He walks after them, afraid of scaring them more with his glitches. Even if it pains him.

Chase momentarily stops walking. "...In the sky? Does he have wings?"

Alt laughs, "Uh- no. That would be sick, though. His powers means he can fly. Amongst other things. And... knowing Chase- he's gonna be zipping around without much thought."

"That must be strong magic," Chase whispers. He's so in awe that he almost misses Alt mentioning his brother's name. "Wait... oh! So your brother is also called Chase. Good to know, that'll be helpful if the flying and bright orange isn't. There aren't many people named that in Glasúil. That's... where you are by the way. I'm not sure if you'd know that."

"Oh- huh, that's weird. It's a common name where we're from." Alt comments. ".. Glasúil- ... I've never heard of that. So, i guess we're not in the past past... just- somewhere... fantasy, I guess?" he shakes this head muttering, "This is the weirdest place yet..."

"Fantisey? You mean like... a story?" Chase considers that. "I suppose if your world is different enough, this one would seem like a story." He laughs. "It gets stranger. Wait until we reach camp. Which won't take too long, don't worry. Only about ten minutes. Come on, we can hurry." He starts walking again, he and Jameson picking up the pace.

Alt laughs, “Yeah… this is one crazy story.” He tries to keep pace with the others, though he looks over his shoulder quite a bit. As if worried about what could be lurking in the shadows.

-----------

As expected, the string snap as soon as Magnificent leaves the last universe. He falls for a moment, then winds up on... a wooden surface, of some kind. Like a dock for boats. He hears voices. Though he can't recognize what they're saying, they sound alarmed. When he looks around he finds himself in some place very strange indeed. It's a town of some sort but... incredibly, the whole thing is floating on water. The buildings, the wooden street, the poles that hold lanterns. But if he looks in the distance, he can see stone buildings. They must not be too far from land.

This is the most crowded landing yet. People are staring at him, all wide-eyed shock. He popped out of nowhere in the middle of a street and now there are about... twenty, thirty people staring at him--though they aren't too keen to get close, so he has a wide circle of space around himself.

Magnificent is enraged as he lands, pushing himself up with anger and looking around to see where that annoying hero and his disobedient cub are. But he pauses as he realizes he’s surrounded. He backs up, eyes wide as he takes in the look of the people. …why do they look old-timey? And not even… Henrik old-timey… these people look medieval. And so does the buildings around him on this strange floating dock,

“What the fuck-“ he whispers. He then glares and disappears from in front of them and slinks into nearby shadow.

The crowd gasps and cries out in surprise as Magnificent disappears. They look around, as if expecting him to be nearby, but of course, he is not.

Mag should probably stay out of sight until he can glean where this is… maybe he should disguise himself to fit in. Though… it could be fun to show off his magic and let these simpletons heed him as a god. Hm… maybe later. Right now, he needs more information…

Magnificent has found himself in a vast city, all clearly medieval in setting and yet impossibly incredible. The city starts on an island, where there are narrow buildings and winding streets and fenced-off gardens, all surrounding an enormous walled castle. But the city expands beyond the island as well, floating out onto the lake that surrounds it. This is where the maze of wooden walkways and houses come in. You would think that houses floating on a lake would be dangerous, but everything is remarkably sturdy. And there is something... something in the air.

"Goddess Almighty..." Magnificent breathes out in wonder. When he was human- this kind of place would have been his fantasy. And... maybe it is, still. A fantasy... so fantastical in how its structured. And even more so- he can sense something in the air. Magic? By now, he's yearning for anything. The power of the last world wasn't nearly enough...

Yes, it is indeed magic. And there is so… so… much of it. When he reaches out to detect it, it’s as if everything gives off a faint glow. In fact, he can feel this magic already sustaining him, slowly, like rain dripping into a bucket. But when he tries to reach out to take more or make it go faster, he can’t. This film of magic feels strangely distant. It will not give him more than he can hold naturally, and he cannot make it go faster.

Magnificent feels magic already in his veins and its incredible. Oh he likes this very much... but as always- he needed more.

But if he seeks magic to take, he can find it easily. There are so many magicians here. Granted, many of them have weak signatures, but in this city of thousands there are a smattering of powerhouses. The strongest of which is located in the castle in the center of the city.

Weak signatures cloud his vision but he can feel the strongest near... oh- a castle. Perfect... The dark magician grins to himself and then shifts into his cat form, slithering across the shadows to make his way towards the castle.

There is, of course, a wall around the castle, and there are, of course, guards patrolling it. But the gaps in the main portcullis are wide enough that a cat, liquid as they are, can slip through easily. And once inside the castle grounds nobody pays attention to a cat. Strays are not uncommon here. The castle is a collection of buildings, but the magic signature is within the main palace. The doors and windows are closed, but that won’t be a problem, will it? Even if Magnificent was an ordinary cat, he would simply need to wait for an opportunity.

Magnificent takes his time to study the people and this place as best as he can. When he reaches the windows he plops himself down in a place to wait... he can't draw too much attention just yet. It was already well guarded here. He can't afford to get caught. So he waits... he can be patient.

It's not long before a woman with a broom comes walking down the hallway inside, sweeping dirt into the corners. Not bothering with a dustpan. Magnificent has seen many people wearinggreen tunics like hers, it must be a uniform. She notices the cat sitting outside and her eyes light up. Discreetly, she glances to either side and then hurries over and slides the window open. It's a good thing he chose this spot, not all the windows will slide like that.

"Nash bhfuil tú gleoti?" she coos. "Teash tar, teash tar." It's a language Magnificent doesn't recognize, sounding like bastardized Irish, but judging by her tone she wants him to get close. Probably for petting.

Magnificent is quick to jump on the windowsill, letting himself be pet. But, as the woman makes contact, he floods his power into her. Attempting to decipher and learn the language while searching through her mind. And make it malleable to him as well- Could be useful...

The woman gasps. Her mind is surprisingly weak already, like a piece of cloth worn thin. She does not even try to fight against him. Deciphering the language is tricky, since it's not one Magnificent is familiar with, but he gets there eventually. And learns some about this new world.

This city is Suilthair, the capital of the island kingdom Glasúil. Glasúil is ruled by "aan Rith"--the Royal, the King. This woman is convinced the King is a good man, a kind and just ruler. But Magnificent knows the signs of manipulation when he sees them.

Magnificent shakes himself out as the information comes flooding. Ah- interesting. His eyes glow as he looks at the woman and he asks in her head. {Fair Maiden, can you direct me to where the Royal is?}

The woman smiles faintly, flattered at being called fair. She says something that Magnificent understands to mean, “He’s in the Great Hall at this time of day. Follow me.” And she stands up straight and starts down the wide hallways.

He chuckles and follows right after her. He makes sure to study the castle as the walk- this almost feels too easy. Not that he's complaining...

The palace corridors are wide and grand, but feel somewhat empty and dark, even with the many windows. The woman leads him down hall after hall until they reach a set of grand wooden doors. There are two guards on either side, but one of the doors is propped open so that kind of defeats the purpose of them, really.

"Through there," the woman says. "I'm not allowed in."

Magnificent giggles and in a quick burst of static he returns to his proper form. He pats her shoulder and strides forward, grinning wide. "Thank you, my dear. Now- run along~, I have business to attend to."

The two guards cry out when Magnificent shifts form, grabbing their pole arms while the woman calmly walks away.

Mag meets the guards' eyes and cocks his head at them, sending out a mental blast of obedience. "Excuse me gentlemen~ Let me through."

He attacks, and at once—maybe even faster than normal—the guards relax. They lower their weapons and step aside, letting Mag access the open doorway.

Magnificent chuckles and dramatically flares his cape to walk by and into the room. "Much obliged!"

The Royal... must be the most powerful person in this realm. And if all these fools kept falling so easily... either the king would be easy prey. Or... a worthy opponent. Either option had the mad magician excited.

This was going to be so much fun~

The Great Hall is indeed great, a wide open space with a peaked roof above and old tapestries hanging on the walls. There is also a fireplace with a roaring fire on the other end of the room, but its warmth doesn't reach the door. A long wooden table takes up most of the space. There's room for many people to sit but there is only one. A man sitting at the head of the table by the fireplace, drinking from a goblet and staring at one of the tapestries thoughtfully. He wears a green cape, a golden circlet sitting on his brown hair. From this distance, he almost looks like Alt. But then he looks at Magnificent and he sees that his eyes are an unnatural emerald green color.

"You wasted no time," he says, putting the goblet down and standing up.

Magnificent can't help but smirk. Clever already... and so much like his cub. "Ah, you expected me, then?"

“I felt a stranger coming ever since you entered the castle grounds.” The King clasps his hands behind him. “I’ve never seen such strange garb. A mask, but you’re not one of those rebels. Where are you from?”

"mmm incredible reach~!" Magnificent's blood is roaring in his ears, hungry for the power just a few feet from him. He laughs a bit madly and repeats the king's gesture, but tilts his head like a curious cat. "From a world beyond your comprehension~ I'm merely... visiting. Trying to see what a world like this has to offer~"

“And you think you can take my power?” The King chuckles. “You can try. Perhaps this world will have things beyond your comprehension. Magic may exist on your Earth, but do you think the magic here will be so easily taken and converted to yours? You already had trouble in the last world, I see.”

Magnificent's confidence wavers and he stumbles back just slightly. He's- unnerved. He didn't even feel a presence inside his head at all. His eyes darken and spark with power as he growls. "How the fuck did you do that?"

The King grins. “Already surprised? You may not last long here, Marvin. Strange, I knew a man with close to that name once. He escaped his fate.”

Oh- now he's done it. Magnificent roars in anger and lashes out to attack the King with his claws.

The King reacts swiftly. Mag didn’t even notice the sheathe by his side. In the second before Mag reaches him he pulls out a large knife, and Magnificent’s claws glance off the coppery metal.

“Rashness will get you killed, magician,” the King says, spinning the large knife. Lightning traces the blade.

Magnificent's eyes glow with rage and he summons green fire in his hands, "How did you get in my mind?! I didn't even detect you! What are you?!" He spits.

“I am what you seek to become.” The King smiles. “And there can only be one of us in this world. I’ll offer you mercy. You have three days to leave this world.” He raises the blade, not pointing it at Magnificent, instead tracing an outline around him. Ozone fills the air. “If you don’t, I will kill you. If you cause too much trouble, this offer is forfeit and I will kill you. Do you understand?”

"Don't patronize me!" Magnificent shrieks, "I won't stoop so low to take pity from the likes of you!" He teleports to be right in front of the King and tries to grab him by his cloak.

But as Magnificent teleports in front of him, he feels a sharp pain in his gut and hears a hissing sound. That electrified blade went right into his stomach. And the King doesn't so much as flinch.

Magnificent cries out and then moves to try to shove himself away from the blade- but the shocks have his muscles trying to spasm.

"This is not condensation, Marvin," the King says. "Nor is it pity. It's a shame to end a life so ambitious. But your anger will leave me no choice." He smiles drily. "Learn to abandon it."

The mad magician grits his teeth in rage. "You're underestimating me too quickly, Your majesty." He spits the title out like its poison.

A spiral of green and purple magic blooms behind the magician, trying to ensnare the king's senses.

The King glances at it, and... and for a moment, it feels like Mag has control. His eyes even glaze over. But he doesn't respond to commands like he should.

"You are very powerful," the King says, tilting his head like he's admiring the spirals the way someone would a work of art. "But I think you're misunderstanding this situation. This sort of trick won't work." He grabs Magnificent by the shoulders and spins him around. When he traced an outline around him earlier, when the air had smelled of ozone, a doorway had opened up in the middle of the air, edges lined with snapping green power. On the other side is somewhere lined with trees. "See if you can make your way back here to try again," the King says, and pushes Mag forward.

Magnificent gasps as he's grabbed and tries to spin around to reach for the king as he's pushed through the doorway, spitting curses. "NO!"

The King is not expecting to be grabbed--in his experience, people are usually pretty weak after being stabbed with lightning. He cries out, surprised, and the two of them tumble forward through the doorway, which abruptly disappears.

"Ageless fucking Elders!" The King curses, scrambling to his feet. He spins around, clenching his fists in frustration, then forces himself to take some deep breaths. They're now outside of the city in a completely different location. A copse of autumn trees, surrounded by fields for as far as the eye can see.

"Congratulations, Marvin, you've managed to change my mind," the King mutters. "You get to live so it'll be easier to get back to somewhere with people instead of the middle of thrice-damned nowhere."

Magnificent spits dirt out of his mouth and pushes himself up, gripping at his wound. "Oh how generous of you, your kinglyness" He spits. He looks around the landscape and bares his teeth in a snarl. "... also stop calling me that, before I claw your innards out and frame it on a wolf."

"Very creative," the King mutters. "Fine, Magnificent. You are aware you're not bleeding, right? You know what sealing a wound is, right? Unfortunately I didn't think to bring medical supplies or health potions so you'll have to live with that."

Magnificent blinks and looks down at his hand, revealing that there is, in fact, no blood. He scowls and rubs at the area and mutters, "... still hurts like a bitch." He shakes himself off, much like a cat would and observes the woods. ...what can they do now? He hasn't felt any presence of his cub or his idiot brother...

"Right, those two who have been hunting you through your travels," the King says, picking up on Magnificent wondering about those two. "I suppose if they have the talisman that lets you travel you would've needed to find them. Hmm... and if they could be anywhere in the kingdom, you might not have found them within three days. My limit was perhaps a bit unfair."

Magnificent jumps at the king just casually saying his thoughts out loud. "Jesus christ! Can you like- not?? For a second?" He hisses, bristling like a startled cat.

The King looks at him, confused. “Jesus…? Oh, one of your world’s gods, I see.”

"what? oh yeah- uh... right. I suppose he is." Mag makes a face at this.

The King pauses. “I suppose if we are forced to work together for a time I could offer you that trust.” He is clearly reluctant. “I’ll swear on my family line to not hear your thoughts until we find our way out of the wild. Happy?”

Mag studies the king's expression and then sighs and slowly nods. "Alright. And I'll try not to do the same. I have... no idea how to navigate this so... I guess a truce is in order."

The King nods slowly. "A truce." He looks around and starts carefully walking deeper into the trees, away from the fields. "It's been a while since I walked in the wilds. Especially so unprepared. We'll have to use our magics to their fullest. The first order of business is food and water. I see no water, and only small animals will run across the fields. We must look elsewhere."

Magnificent makes a face, "Fuck... i haven't gone camping in the woods since I was a boy..." He mutters. "Jackie always loved this shit- fucking- god." He nods to the king and realizes his appearance will probably scare off anything coming towards them. He grunts and then changes his appearance to fit in. Getting rid of his mask and letting his hair get long and brown and curled up in a bun. His shirt changes to a billowy sleeved tunic with dark green patches and a small capelet over his shoulder. His classy dress shoes turn to hunting boots. It feels... strange. But at least they can keep a lower profile now. After much thought he puts back on his mask though. He needs to be able to... somewhat see. Or see the magic around them. Maybe he can sense some life around here... ugh. Hunting. All this is leaving a bad taste in his mouth, reminding him of days he long since wanted to forget.

The King watches as Magnificent uses magic to change his appearance. He raises an eyebrow. "Clever," he says quietly. "May I suggest the addition of some piece of jewelry? Wizards here need a focus to channel their magic, and as you are clearly magical, it would look strange to see you without one."

"Ah would I be considered a wizard here then?" Magnificent mused, "My father always called us sorcerers."

After a moment of thought, the King also reluctantly removes the circlet from his head, stringing it along his belt. "Be discreet about it, though, too much shine will attract magpies."

Mag shrugs and tries to think of an easy focus. He looks around then finds a rock on the ground, perfectly round. He pumps it full of black magic and its shape shifts into one of a simple gold focus with a black opal in the center, though it seems cracked with various colors underneath. He smirks and puts the trinket on, letting it dangle around his neck. "I'm fairly interested in how our magic systems may differ-" He pauses and then briefly glances at the King. "Though... you know my name, but I only know your title. What exactly should I call you? or do you prefer to only be referred to in royal terms."

The King grins, looking almost mischievous. "Aodhan will work, if you must. Though it is not... hmm... common to use a monarch's first name here.”

"Well, where I'm from the monarchy is nothing more than a figure head that distracts the populace with its extravagance." Magnificent replies with clear distain. "So, Aodhan will do fine until we're around others I suppose. I'm not referring to you by title if I can help it. Though... I guess you can refer to me as... that name- if you must... or the simpletons who stalk me call me ‘Mag’. That could work too."

“As for the matter of magic, yes, wizard would be the closest thing you are, though what you just did with that rock would be more akin to sorcery, which is the manipulation of the natural world. Wizardry is other flashy magic, such as summoning things or shapeshifting... but enchantment is the magic of the mind. Out of all the options, wizardy would best explain the variety of power you have." The King continues.

Mag chuckles at the explanation of magic and shakes his head. "So limiting... the divisions here. How quaint."

"Hmm... it is quite frustrating, isn't it?" the King agrees. "I know others who would say the division is the price to pay for the abundance of power in the land. But... well, it's as you said, rather limiting, isn't it? Luckily, we don't have to abide by those limits." He smiles darkly. "We have some walking to do yet. I hope you're prepared."

Magnificent chuckles and shares that dark smile with the King. "As I'll ever be."

#swap into the crystalverse #SITCV FM #fantasy masks au #ONE OF MY FAV SECTIONS!! #not cuz i just totally fell in love with FM nooo #this one is a bit slower paced but i love it soooo much!! #exploring the language was so fun #big props to anyone who can translate it cuz i couldn't #which is why bro is an especially big himbo here cuz i was also confused ajhbak #but that really added to the feeling of how freaky this must have been for the boys! #alt anti #swap magnificent #bro fantastic #swapboys

[bohoburns]

Mark Hoffman x fOC | After Angelina's Wedding, Mark Hoffman and his partner have a celebration of their own ;)

The venue, commonly used to host weddings, was a hotel in the respectable historic district of the city. Thankfully, they hadn’t needed to catch rides back to their apartments. Instead, they had rented rooms that were a simple elevator ride away.

“1403. You?”

“1404.” 

“Guess we’re going in the same direction.”

“Yeah.” She bit her lip, withholding the drunken giggle that threatened to escape. Thankfully, a hiccup masked her sudden moment of vulnerable awkwardness and she led the way to the elevator, trying to push the sudden moody thoughts that began to tickle her. She shivered, until a very warm cloak was draped over her shoulders.

Hoffman had taken his jacket off, his bulk hugged by his shirt. Will avoided looking in his direction while they waited for the elevator to reach their level, eyes glued to the level indicator above the doors. 

They stood in silence, as they often did.

But this time, she struggled to remain cool and collected.

Being drunk didn’t help. Her heels were hurting her feet. She was off balance and this made her feel on edge.

She refused to question why. 

She knew why.

Now that their biggest barrier, Rosello, was gone, all that remained in her keeping a distance was her desperate cling to not risk ruining what they had. Their partnership was intact and functional. They understood each other. They were friends. They had a closeness that she feared intimacy would strip away and make vulnerable. 

It was all so fragile.

“Will.”

“Yeah?”

“The door’s open.”

“Oh.” She walked to the elevator, tripping on the edge of the door.

“Hey!” Hoffman caught her, saving her from face planting. “Easy.”

“Shit,” she cursed and angrily collapsed to the rough carpet of the elevator as the doors slid closed. She began unbuckling and taking off her heels, her toes thanking her for the release. 

“Are you about to get sick on me, kid?”

“Ha!” She looked up at him defiantly. “You know I can hold my liquor.”

“Then why are you on the floor,” he looked down at her, smirking. “You’re acting weird.”

The lines on his face emphasized his cheek bones. His lips looked so kissable at that moment. She shook her head, flustered. “I’m just drunk.”

“I thought you ‘hold your liquor’.”

“I meant I’m not going to puke. But I need to go to sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

The doors finally opened, Hoffman holding his hand out for her to take. She gave him her fingers and he pulled her up with ease.

Grabbing her heels, she walked towards her hotel room, digging in her clutch for her key card. She tapped her card to the door lock, waiting for it to be disengaged. 

A red light indicated it had failed.

She tapped it again.

Still, nothing. 

She tried to open the hotel door, tapping and muttering curses under her breath.

“Problem?”

“Yeah, the key’s not working. Fucking new technology. What was wrong with the standard brass key?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, embarrassed and frustrated. “Great. Now I’m going to have to go back to the lobby.”

“No. We can call down from my room. They’ll send a guy up to let you in.” Hoffman opened his room door, going inside and holding it open for her to enter.

She hesitated.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She had slept over at his place before. They had shared the same bed, in fact. So why was she suddenly feeling so shy? Wary?

She blamed the alcohol. 

She walked across the threshold and into his room.

The bed was large, king sized. She went to the phone and dialed for the concierge, requesting to be let into her room.

“I apologize, miss, our computer system is having some technical issues and it’s going to take at least an hour or two to fix.”

“Are you serious?”

“I apologize. We can provide complimentary refreshments down here while you wait? Or if you remain in the room you’re in, we’ll happily send it up.”

She looked over at Hoffman and her eyes lit up. “Fine. Please send up a bottle of champagne.”

“Right away. We appreciate your understanding.”

She returned the phone and let out a sigh. “Computer problem. Going to be stuck for at least an hour. So the champagne’s on me.”

“I knew you were good luck to keep around.”

She wrinkled her nose and let out another breath. Her dress was tight around her waist and she wanted nothing more than to take it off. “Hey. You got an extra shirt?”

“Yeah. Need a shower?”

“Badly.”

Hoffman went to his suitcase, digging through the clothes and tossing her an old oversized t-shirt that had been from the police academy. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks.” She went into the bathroom, shut the door, and ran the hot water. As the roar of the shower drowned out the sound of the TV playing outside the door, she looked herself in the mirror. Her eyeshadow had smeared. Her eyeliner was running. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and unclasped the top part of the back of her dress. When she moved to unzip, the zipper wouldn’t budget.

She narrowed her eyes and tried again, with more force. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She murmured as she spent a few minutes struggling to unzip her dress.

She looked at the door, conflicted. 

She could ask him to help her, but this seemed too personal. 

I want us to be together. 

She could simply not take a shower and remain in the dress for another hour.

But she was getting irritable with how constricted she felt.  

She shook her head. She was being ridiculous.

A part of her, the small and uncertain troublemaker that poked its shy head around the corner, was eager and hopeful. Maybe this is it.

A part of her wanted what he wanted.

No one will know. Nobody saw you enter his room.

It could be their little secret.

One final tug. Just to try and get out of this moral predicament.

She pulled as hard as she could down on her zipper while gritting her teeth.

When it didn’t give, she surrendered.

Her heart was exploding in her chest when she opened the bathroom door and let the build up of steam release out into the room. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” He was on the bed, sipping booze from the minibar, his bow tie and shirt long hanging on the nearby loveseat. He looked more relaxed and at home in a plain white tank. His shoes were off. He leaned back against the pillows, not looking at her while he watched a rerun of some old football game.

“Can you help me?” She pressed her lips together, flushed.

Hoffman turned, eyes slightly slanted from curiosity. His lip curled in dark humor. “With what?”

“My zipper.” She held her hair up and turned her back, avoiding looking at his face. She felt his eyes, like hot flames on her skin. She heard the rustle of the bedsheets as he stood up and went to her. The sudden feeling of his knuckles and fingers touching the skin of her back made her flinch and she held back the gasp when she felt the callouses brush over her, fingers digging under the seam as he tried to pull the contraption.

“It’s caught good,” he whispered, voice suddenly thick like honey.

“Yep. You think I’m stuck in this?” She wondered if Angie would forgive her if she took a pair of scissors to it. She had told her to keep it. 

The tide of claustrophobia came in like an icy wave. 

“No. I’ve got it.” She felt a tremor in his hands and the build up of energy as he tried to brute force the metal to give. She bit her lip, pressing her front to her chest, bracing for the zipper to finally slacken.

When she heard the sharp rip of fabric, the silence that followed was deafening. 

The dress was now in tatters, shredded fabric dangling from where she held the front. 

Hot, slow fingers landed on her shoulders. She felt his breath against her ear and the smell of whiskey mixed with spices made her dizzy. “I told you I got it.”

“You ripped it.” She didn’t pull away, her heart racing as she felt his other hand feel her bare back, the tips of his fingers dragging down. Her breath caught in her throat. 

“Oops.” And then she felt his lips against her neck, soft and wet.

She felt a primal desire rise from her lower stomach, making her lose all rational thought as though it had been nothing more than water evaporating off her skin. 

The sound of the water made her think of rain. “I should go take a shower.”

“Yeah?” His voice had gone gruff and short, his hand lowering until it stopped at the waistband of her panties. He continued gently kissing the side of her neck, biting into her skin gently. He squeezed her shoulder firmly. “But you’re not even dirty yet.”

She bit her lip, eyes transfixed on the door and the steam that continued to billow out. Her frozen disposition made him scoff and he lifted his mouth away until she let out a soft moan of protest. She sharply inhaled when his teeth dug deeper into her, shooting jolts of pain that broke the spell. She pulled away, turning to him with fury, pushing him while touching her neck that throbbed with the harsh reminder.

“That hurt.” Her stomach was doing cartwheels. Her breathing was hitched.

That cursed part of her that had remained in the background was now on the tips of its toes, now fully attentive and interested. 

She was losing control.

He had let her push him back towards the bed. He sat onto it, amused, elbows on his thighs as he leaned over and leered at her. “You weren’t complaining just a second ago. But I don’t want this to be one sided.” He reached forward, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to him. She felt like a fish on the hook, being reeled in against her will. “I don’t want you to treat me like-,” He stopped, knowing better.

She was grateful, understanding him. She wanted him to continue and all it would take is one word. One sign that what she was feeling was real.

Despite the familiar voices warning that this would complicate things, that creature that was taking over, growing and demanding, was slamming the door on all common sense.

“I want this, Mark.” She let go of the front of the dress, allowing her breasts to be exposed. His eyes wandered, hungrily, and she felt as if she was back to being college-aged and inexperienced. 

He had suddenly become savage as he tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her quickly to him. She stopped at the edge of the bed, between his legs, her hands catching herself against him, pressed against his full chest. She could see the five o’clock shadow on his chin. His lashes, brown wings around a blue sky. She missed the feeling of his mouth. She needed to taste him.

She decided to finally give in. She dived off the deep end and landed in his sea.

She kissed him first, hungry and willing. She let go of the fabric to her chest, opting to wrap her arms around his neck as she felt him grab a fistful of her hair to steer her head and push his tongue past her lips. 

She gasped when he spun her around and had her pinned to the bed, pulling from her lips to nip at the nape of her neck. She felt his hands grope and search her as he devoured every inch of her.

It felt wholly familiar, as if returning to a long forgotten house that she once lived in for years. 

He undid his pants, revealing a bulge pressed against his boxers. Grabbing the remaining portions of her dress that still covered her hips, he pulled them off with an almost mad energy, a man in lust and control. 

She sat up, leaning against her elbows, as he returned to kiss her. She noticed she felt clumsy and sloppy, another layer of inebriation making her miss his mouth and instead plant her tongue onto his collar. She tasted salt and soap, her hand lightly raking over his stomach as he let out a soft growl of gratification. The healing scars from the gunshots were still raw and red, breaking through the heat like an ice bath for a split second. She kissed them delicately, not wanting to bring him any more pain but to thank him for his sacrifice to her. 

He had saved her life. 

She let her other hand explore down to his boxers, feeling him thick and hard through the cotton. 

“Fuck, Will,” he was squeezing her shoulder, his grip firm but not overpowering.

She pulled the elastic of his waistband, seeing for the first time him in his full glory, and wanted to reward him with wonders that would keep him up at night from then on with heated nostalgia. He tasted of sweat, his girth burning as she took him in her mouth.

His breathing was ragged as Will moved her head back and forth, feeling him slide past her lips and over her tongue, a surge of triumph at every baritone grunt being forced out of his chest like the strike of a flint over her fuel. 

She pulled back, taking his pillar in her hand, to a protested whine from him. “I love how hard you feel in my mouth, Mark.”

He was panting over her as they shimmied further onto the bed, new lovers with lumbering urgency. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m on birth control. It’s fine,” her breathing was ragged as well, her legs splayed apart as she felt his firmness press against her and driving her insane. “Please, Mark. I need you.”

He plunged inside of her, his eyes shut tight at savoring the feeling. She arched her back, feeling him fill her to the hilt. Despite how wet and wild she was, the sharpness of being stretched from many months of lone nights brought shockwaves through her spine and she found her nails digging into his back as he gently moved inside her with clenched jaw and restraint. He enveloped her with thankful kisses and increased his speed.

He began pacing his thrusts, the wet smacking sound of their connection adding a teasing tingle through her anatomy and she tossed her head back to cry out in delight. 

This encouraged him to speed up, the feeling of his sweat an additional aphrodisiac as he roughly pushed into her with unhinged power. 

She was building up, about to be overcome, and she whimpered, “I’m so close. Don’t stop.” He ran his thumb over her nub, drawing circles around her clitoris while he slowed down his thrusts and watched her closely. The feeling was too powerful and she had to shut her eyes and simply allow the sensations to shoot through her bones and sing. She felt her limbs jerk like a marionette, Mark pulling the strings with each touch and probe. The growing heat and pressure rose from her groin and up to her crown and then the wave of ecstasy took all the intensity and turned it to sugar in her veins.

Her sudden change in pitch had been his indication to finish, returning to thrusting into her with accelerating pace until he took one final plunge and let out a satisfied bellow as he finished inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, the two of them breathing heavily as a warmth spread inside and down her thighs.

“You…” Hoffman spoke in between pants, voice thick and slow. “...okay?”

She laughed. “I’m great.” She kissed the side of his cheek. 

The phone on the nightstand began to ring.

#exerpts from my ff #mark hoffman #saw #smut #lemon

[pinsandbustedbuttons]

Thinking abt writing a charthur fic, like possibly a big one, and I got some ideas, some shit still has spoilers for in game so you've been warned

So Strauss gets sick from talking with Downes, he dies in early chap 3 (rdr2 story not foc chaps), tb alongside the bullet wound after that one mission in Strawberry without professional medical help is enough to kill him off.

So no more debts to fulfill, until chapter 6 where Dutch forces Arthur to go find debts and shark to get as much money as they can no matter the cost. Dutch is still gonna take off the mask of sane and a good person in the fic but later, after Molly leaves and gives him a verbal ass whupping, soon after that Hosea is going to join her and try to take whoever will come with them. It'll take a while but for the most part a lot of the gang goes with Hosea, only leaving Dutch with Javier and Bill, in the epilogue of the fic they'll come across Javier again and let him live on the ranch with the rest of them after he tells the story of what happened after they all split up. Second to last epilogue chapter will have Dutch knocking on Hoseas door trying to get forgiveness and trying to be a better person. Dutch doesn't leave them alone even after Hosea slams the door in his face, Dutch just spends all of his time working on the ranch working himself to the bone without rest until Hosea finally accepts him back into the family. The last chapter is finally all of them being one big happy family where Dutch is a better person, almost everyone isn't dead, gay cowboys.

OR Hosea still dies like in game and how Dutch further derails because of his death, like I believe Dutch was a bad person for the most part but he just wanted people to think he was a good person, when things became more painful and desperate he let the mask slip to scare people into obeying him and well I don't think he had much of a choice in hiding it or not anymore. In the fic I'm gonna have him somewhat still be like that but make him redeemable by showing more about him through Javiers story in the first ending idea, or not make him redeemable at all in the second ending idea by having him completely go off the rails without Micah or Hosea to influence him, but hoseas death making his grief affect his thinking a lot more, on top of all the threats of death from pinkertons and o'driscolls and the like. He just becomes more self serving because what's the point in lying anymore? There will be more drama/angst alongside the charthur shit but there would also be more scene with John after Hoseas death, maybe Sadie and Abigail as well, the ending of the fic would end sorta how the game ended before the epilogue but it would be a fight with Dutch and Arthur over Arthur helping the Native Americans and Dutch finally snaps over Arthur being "unfaithful and disobedient, a traitor" etc etc. Arthur ends up killing him because he's had enough but he didn't mean to kill him, he just wanted to save John, to save his family. The epilogue would be Arthur trying to live with his guilt and grief of his family being torn apart but being glad they're all still alive, as separated as they may be. He and Charles have a moment together to make it a hurt/COMFORT instead of just angst, then the next chapter is Arthur and Charles seeing John in Blackwater and going to visit him and the family on their ranch. One more happy chapter after that of just charthur fluff and domestic shit to recover from prev chapters.

Also Micah dies in Strawberry. You can't convince me to do anything else. (Alright maybe let him live a little longer just to influence Dutch more depending on which ending I choose)

I also wanna edit or alter missions a bit, maybe switch out characters or make whole new missions with characters because we didn't get enough Sean and Lenny content, nor Dutch Hosea and Arthur, or Hosea Arthur and John, or Arthur and Sadie being good friends because even with almost 100 missions in that game there still wasn't enough.

Anyway lmk what you think if anyone reads this, maybe ideas you'd wanna see in the fic if I end up doing this big ass project

#rdr2 #rdr2 spoilers #rdr2 fic #arthur morgan #charles smith #charthur #dutch vanderlinde #hosea matthews #john marston #sadie adler

[homeoclinic82]

Effective Homeopathic Treatment for Disc Problems at Dr. Khurana Homeo Clinic in India

Welcome to Dr. Khurana Homeo Clinic, where we specialize in providing effective homeopathic treatment for disc problems in India. Disc problems, such as herniated discs or bulging discs, can cause debilitating pain and discomfort, affecting your daily life and activities. However, with our holistic approach to homeopathy, we offer natural and gentle solutions to alleviate your disc problems and promote overall wellness.

Understanding Disc Problems:

Disc problems occur when the soft, gel-like discs between the vertebrae in the spine become damaged or displaced. This can result in symptoms such as back pain, neck pain, numbness, tingling, and weakness in the affected area. Conventional treatments often involve medication, injections, or surgery, which may come with risks and side effects. At Dr. Khurana Homeo Clinic, we believe in treating the root cause of the problem rather than just masking the symptoms.

Homeopathic Approach to Disc Problems:

Homeopathy represents a comprehensive approach to medicine, striving to activate the body's inherent capacity for self-healing. It treats each individual as a whole and addresses the underlying imbalances that contribute to disc problems. Our experienced homeopathic doctors at Dr. Khurana Homeo Clinic will conduct a thorough evaluation of your symptoms, medical history, and lifestyle factors to tailor a personalized treatment plan for you.

Why Choose Dr. Khurana Homeo Clinic?

Expertise: Our team of experienced homeopathic doctors has successfully treated numerous patients with disc problems, delivering positive outcomes and improved quality of life.

Personalized Care: We understand that every individual is unique, and we take the time to listen to your concerns and tailor a treatment plan that meets your specific needs.

Natural Healing: Our homeopathic remedies are derived from natural sources and are free from artificial chemicals, making them safe and gentle for long-term use.

Comprehensive Approach: In addition to treating disc problems, we also focus on promoting overall health and well-being through lifestyle modifications, dietary recommendations, and stress management techniques.

The Benefits of Homeopathy for Disc Problems

Gentle and Natural Healing: Homeopathy utilizes highly diluted natural substances, such as plants and minerals, to stimulate the body's innate healing processes. Unlike conventional treatments that may come with side effects or risks, homeopathic remedies are gentle, non-invasive, and free from harmful chemicals. These remedies are appropriate for people of every age group, from children to seniors.

Individualized Treatment Approach: One of the key principles of homeopathy is treating the individual as a whole, rather than just focusing on the symptoms. Homeopathic doctors at clinics like Dr. Khurana Homeo Clinic conduct thorough evaluations to understand the unique symptoms, medical history, and lifestyle factors of each patient. This personalized approach allows for tailored treatment plans that address the underlying imbalances contributing to disc problems.

Symptom Relief and Long-Term Results: Homeopathic remedies for disc problems aim to alleviate symptoms such as back pain, neck pain, numbness, and tingling while addressing the underlying cause of the condition. By targeting the root cause of the problem, homeopathy offers not only symptomatic relief but also long-term results. Patients often report improvements in mobility, reduced inflammation, and overall well-being with continued homeopathic treatment.

The Role of Homeopathy:

Homeopathy operates on the principle of "like cures like," aiming to stimulate the body's innate healing mechanisms. By administering highly diluted natural substances that mimic the symptoms of the ailment, homeopathy seeks to rebalance the body and alleviate the underlying causes of the condition. Unlike conventional medicine, homeopathy focuses on treating the individual as a whole, addressing not just the physical symptoms but also the mental and emotional aspects contributing to the ailment.

Conclusion:

Homeopathy offers a holistic and effective approach to treating disc problems, providing relief from pain and restoring mobility without the need for invasive procedures or harmful medications. Dr. Khurana Homeo Clinic emerges as a beacon of hope for individuals seeking safe, natural, and long-lasting solutions to their disc-related woes. With its unwavering commitment to excellence and patient-centric care, the clinic continues to transform lives and set new benchmarks in the realm of homeopathic healthcare in India.

Source by- https://articlescad.com/effective-homeopathic-treatment-for-disc-problems-at-dr-khurana-homeo-clinic-in-india-59064.html

#homeopathytreatment #discproblemtreatment

[conquesthqs]

+04 wanted connections have been added!

argella baratheon (laura berlin) is searching for their husband/ruling lord lefford. they are 32+, and could be portrayed by ryan corr, bradley freegard, calahan skogman, cengiz coşkun, daniel nuta, david oakes, eric bana, james norton or utp. married for over a decade, this was not a love match but rather the political manipulations of the queen to remove argella from court - he would have had as much say in the as she did. safe to say it was an awkward beginning and argella’s displeasure at the match would have been quite obvious. nevertheless, they soon had a son and daughter followed a few years later and she has tried to be a good wife. this is a complicated relationship formed on duty and essentially argella believes she has this character wrapped around her finger and is just another cog in her overarching plan, however, i don’t want it to be that straight forward for them. she is, at her core, very anti-lannister and even if she tries to mask it, she’s not the greatest actress and it could cause some issues for this character. you may / don’t have to contact them at @dvnastics.

defne yronwood (hazal filiz küçükköse) is searching for their husband/ruling lord yronwood. they are 36+, and could be portrayed by cengin coşkun, oscar isaacs, pedro pascal, burak ozvicit, chiwetel ejiofor, devon terrell, kivanç tatlituğ or any male foc. it would be easy to blame defne’s sisterly betrayal on defne alone, however, it take two to tango and lord yronwood was ultimately the one to propose marriage. they are similar in many ways, kindred spirits some might say but they don’t bring out the best in one another. the marriage is open to other paramours but they do have a deep love for one another. they have not been blessed with children and it is an extremely sore point in their marriage, especially since her sister gave him a child and he is welcome to have more by others. you may / don’t have to contact them at @dvnastics.

defne yronwood (hazal filiz küçükköse) is searching for their twin sister. they are 36, and could be portrayed by hande doğandemir, merve boluğur, leyla feray or any turkish female. adopted as babes into house uller, they were raised as true born children and came to embody all that the house stood for and it has called their sanity into question. they were likely close when they were younger, but grew into their rivalries that drove a stubborn wedge between the sisters. in short, they were horrible to one another yet defne committed the greatest ‘sin’ by marrying lord yronwood, who her sister had begun a relationship (you can read more about this on my blog). despite this, she gave birth to lord yronwoods child and presented them to the married couple with a smug smile on her lips. what she has been doing since is completely utp, she can be married and have grown her family further but most of all I am looking to develop this incredibly chaotic relationship between the sisters. you may / don’t have to contact them at @dvnastics. 

#new rp #asoiaf rp #got rp #oc rp #conquest.wc

[lingua-persona]

Love is a decision and it is inclusive. Kaya happy ako to spend Valentines day (pwede na rin week) with this relationship I hold dear: community. To my younger self, your decision to choose community is the best ever. This is a form of love in itself, dear. 💙 Thank you, my Blooming AG for being my Valentines datesssss nung Feb 14 (kahit may onting urgent teaching matter na sumabay), and Ligaya CDD & Lingkod QC brothers sa inyong mga gifts for us sisters. Really keeping the rose (pressed na siya) and taking care of the rosemary plant & mask holder-rosary. Next stop, Feast of the Covenant and more on the receiving end through formation. Happy FOC, mga Ligaya kapatids. 😊 https://www.instagram.com/p/CozhKo6vwf-nASNHTO0LTo6WLYfvcAl3t5QuRU0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[fernandobmvk142]

A Step-by-Step Guide to Pest Control in Meadows Place

Java, Script appears to be disabled on this computer. Please click on this link to see any active informs.

Prevent depending on advertising for info about the company's track record. Consider calling the Bbb or the state pesticide regulative office for info on current infractions, problems, or unresolved issues (bed bugs). Ask the company for customer references. Value Can the company offer a quote for services in writing? Numerous offer totally free estimates.

Does the business need you to sign up for a long-lasting contract? If so, what are the long-lasting expenses? Is the business able to offer a warranty for their work? What are the terms? Customer care Do the staff members listen to your concerns and address them with care and regard? Can the workers determine the pest, explain the level of the infestation, and provide information about the pest and its behavior? Are they ready to talk about item choice and other details of the treatment? Security Are they going to talk about low-toxicity options and lowering environmental threats? Do they have insurance coverage to cover you, your residential or commercial property, and their employees? Are they accountable about wearing protective devices when required? What procedures will they require to avoid unneeded direct exposures and accidents? As you get in touch with and interview the companies, don't hesitate to ask questions.

Record Important Info Once you have selected a pest control business, keep in mind of the following products: The contact information for the company The names of staff members who are performing the work The time and date of the inspections/treatments The names of the items they will use and their EPA registration numbers The formulation of each product and where that product will be utilized.

These scores range from A+ to F, and represent how a service is most likely to engage with its clients. You may also discover complaints filed by unhappy clients, which can be a signal to move on to the next candidate. It's a good idea to seek individual connections as well.

If they don't, you must ask for one. pest control service in Meadows Place, TX. However, beware of business supplying totally free inspections. An in-depth bug evaluation and analysis needs both experience and time when done right. If you desire an accurate and reputable evaluation, anticipate an affordable cost for this service. After the inspection, ask your insect control company to discuss your treatment alternatives with you.

They need to also be able to supply a list of pesticides they will utilize (if any) and the health threats of such pesticides. The pest control business may be able to provide a list of non-pesticide choices, depending on the type and scope of your pest issue. Ask if they use an Integrated Pest Management approach, concentrating on the least invasive treatment integrated with avoidance.

Will there be a post-treatment inspection? What actions can you take yourself to prevent reoccurrence of the bug issue? Any top-notch insect control company will more than happy to supply answers to this concern. There are two elements associated with liability: insurance and bonding. The former safeguards the bug business, and the latter safeguards your residential or commercial property; both indirectly secure you.

You need to likewise ask if their staff members are bonded, suggesting that the company will reimburse you for any property damage their employees inadvertently cause. In addition to pesticide safety, you need to also think about COVID-19 security when selecting a company. Ask to ensure they have a security plan in place and are compliant with all state policies concerning COVID-19 avoidance.

If an inspector appears with a mask that doesn't cover his or her nose and doesn't sanitize his/her hands, you can wager the business will be equally careless with insect control. MMPC is among the highest-rated pest control business in New York City and the Tri-State Location, focusing on ants, bed bugs, carpet beetles, cockroaches, rodents, and termites.

Nearly every property owner has actually faced an insect issue at least as soon as. From termites to cockroaches and bed bugs to rodents, bugs can trigger countless dollars in residential or commercial property damage in addition to spread disease and infection. If your home has a pest problem, you can start with DIY bug control techniques, but if they prove to be ineffective, then you may require to think about working with a Terminix in Texas insect control professional to recognize and eliminate the origin of your problem. licensed pest control companies.

Request for the Business's Permits If you are looking for a pest control business, it is always a good idea to search for one that is registered in order to guarantee that you just deal with a genuine service company. The business needs to have the pertinent licenses from the federal government to run - pest control in Meadows Place.

[gamerartist]

here another oc a friend of mine wanted to draw as a human, I like how she turned out

icey-wicey-1517 on DA owns this character

#art #digital #digital art #Digital Illustration #Digital Media #digital drawing #kitsune #fox #girl #woman #kimono #blue #fox tail #brown hair #fire #foc mask #kitsune mask #gold #clouds #cute #sexy cute

[gryffindors-weasley]

Ivory Kisses

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: A moment together leads to close encounters.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: mild angst, anxiety, fluff, kissing

The piano.

It was a gorgeously sleek and utterly elegant instrument, producing an equally beautiful melody each and every time it’s played. It is an instrument that Draco has come to know very well over the span of his life, one he’s come to seek solace in. He can play a myriad of songs, whether they’re classics on paper or ones he had thought of himself; he could play them with a well practiced ease after years of perfecting the very talent ever since he had been a small boy.

His mother had made him begin to take lessons at the age of six years old; it was customary that he was musically talented amongst many other assets and strengths most of which he hadn’t really enjoyed. But, as of late, it became more than just a hobby that he’d once pushed to the very back of his mind. Much to many’s surprise it’d quickly become a habit he’d made when his mind would wander to more undesirable places when others would be sleeping peacefully. He found that to be the case more often than not anymore, though most of his sleepless nights are routinely spoken for each and every time you’re there.

The piano is what you’d heard softly as you navigated the familiar darkened corridor, illuminated only by the soft yet broken beams of moonlight streaming through the old latticed windows. You really ought not be there, and you remind yourself of that very fact every time you’d apparate to the manor. You weren’t exactly cared for by Lucius Malfoy, actually, you knew you weren’t. It was abundantly clear that you had been quite the opposite of him and that simply wasn’t acceptable in his perception of who is right and wrong for his son. He considered you a threat to the proper continuation of the Malfoy name and he was determined to make that known with each passing day should he sense Draco still thinks about you. It did not matter that you loved his son, it would never matter. But you didn’t let that pull you apart.

Each press of the keys had become less faint and more distinct than the last the closer you had gotten to the room you knew quite well in that grand estate, and it was only a matter of moments before you found yourself standing outside of the library. You stood there only briefly as you looked over your shoulder once more, the long hallway remaining as empty as you’d hoped it to be, as empty as you could possibly see in the night. Your lingering glance then shifted ahead of you as you twisted the metal doorknob and slipped into the grand room through one of the mahogany double doors. It closed with a creak not quite loud enough to be concerned about.

The library at Malfoy Manor was almost one to rival the one at Hogwarts; matching mahogany shelves took up residence in the large space, housed with dusty books of varying sizes on all things magic though they had remained untouched for the most part. You will admit, you had seen a collection of romance novels that Draco had mentioned were his mother’s. A small stone statue sat at the end of every other shelf, the moon bringing forth their every contour and curve—every crack and chip as they age with everything else. The smell of the aged books and the distant scent of the old and unlit cinnamon candle was constant in the room. Draco had bought it at Hogsmeade in fifth year for no other reason than to enjoy it for himself, he was the only person who frequented this part of the manor after all.

Even amongst all of the grand and alluring scenery the most noticeable thing was the grand piano seated in the far corner of the space and the mess of icy blonde hair belonging to the boy that sat before it. The song he’d been playing was rather familiar to you, and had slowed and quieted as he sat up a bit straighter. He knew it was you, he always knew.

To him, it seems as though everything shifts when you enter a room whether you realize that very fact or not. It’s as if everything becomes lighter, becomes far better than when you are gone. He’s always drawn to you and perhaps that’s why.

“It’s like you’re looking for trouble,” he says, turning his head.

You’re quiet for a moment, a grin tugging at your lips as you roll your eyes and he begins to wonder if you’re really there. “Do you know me to be any different?”

The nerves in his stomach settle just as quickly as they arise at the sound of your voice and you walk over to him. The blazer of his suit is in a crumpled heap on the window sill, his tie loosened considerably and the top two buttons of his matching black dress shirt have been undone. He looks at you then, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards immediately in the softest of smiles reserved only for you.

“As much as I’d wish to say otherwise, no I don’t, love,” he says with a quiet laugh.

It was true though, he really wished sometimes that you hadn’t been quite as bold as you were. He supposes he desires to have the kind of confidence that you hold, he knows he does but he knows it just isn’t so. It is something he loves about you and hates all the same, for such a trait gives with it the opportunity to run into a trouble he longs for you to stay away from. His father.

He takes your hand and tugs you to sit on the black velvet bench with him, a kiss press tenderly to your cheek first. He brings his other to settle just above your jaw, his fingers splaying across your rapidly flushing skin as his lips press on yours. Each and every kiss had sent a swirl of butterflies to flutter around in your stomach as if it were the very first time, and you were beginning to think that would be the case every time after that. Draco just had that effect, not that you’d ever make him aware of it.

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips, taking the opportunity to kiss you once more. “I missed you.”

You were still partially in a daze from his kiss, from the warmth of his breath against your lips and the brush of his hair against your forehead. Or even the cold of his ring against your cheek that sent a shiver through you. You were distracted, almost too much to hear his words.

But you had, and the way the corner of your mouth tugs up is indicative of the quip sitting on the very tip of your tongue. “You always miss me, Draco.”

He rolls his eyes then, his hand falling to his lap as he pulls away from you and tries valiantly to hide his smile with a frown. It was an effort that proved to be futile the moment he looked at you again, and he couldn’t refrain from kissing you lightly once more.

“Must you always tease me when I’m being sincere?” He asks, his grin in his words.

“Yes, I must,” you say, reaching up to brush the hair out his eyes. It was clear he’d run his hands through it more than a few times, very telling of the fact that his mind was busy with something. Something you didn’t know.

You were right in your assumptions even if you weren’t fully aware of it; his mind was indeed full with thoughts of the same thing over and over. Thoughts of you. He wished that he could say they were entirely pleasant, that they were daydreams of good things and not at all bad, but he knows that they’re not. He knows of his fathers strong disliking of you and he doesn’t know how to handle that as of yet.

As seventh year rapidly works towards its ending, the worry only builds in his mind of what will happen. Of what will be his future with you, if there will be a future. He’s far too aware of the fact that his father will stop at next to nothing to secure his good graces with the Dark Lord, to remain in good standing in the society Draco has come to want to be distant from. He knows that once spring break is over things will be all the more difficult, but he refuses to tell you for your sake. Refuses to give you another reason to be bolder than your own good. He would rather stuff it down and pretend as though he’s just fine if it meant you didn’t worry. He’s used to masking his emotions after all.

“Can you teach me to play?” You ask softly, pulling his attention to you as your smirk returns. “If I recall correctly, you are quite good.”

He shakes his head as he looks away and smiles, fortunate that it’s far too dimly lit for you to see the pale crimson that’s burning in his cheeks. You’re the only person that can draw a blush from him and he’s determined to keep that knowledge from you. But, he only sighs with a lingering grin as he nods.

He scoots closer to you then, flipping the page of the sheet music perched just above the keys to a simpler song you presume. His hands soon settle over yours, his fingers entwining with your own slightly as the hover over the keys. His eyes flicker only briefly to the page in front of him, already well versed in the song that’s printed on the paper as he presses your fingers against the keys.

You look to him fleetingly, at the way his hair dips out of its usual pristine place and over his forehead. At the way his brows furrow slightly, or the way he’s ever so gentle as he teaches you something you aren’t entirely paying attention to at that moment. But as you focus your eyes back in your joined hands his head soon rests against yours, the cold metal of his ring pressing against your knuckles.

“Are you paying attention?” He murmurs after a minute or two, looking at you.

You simply nod, and you’re becoming increasingly aware that he knew you had been far too distracted for your answer to be remotely true. Could tell by the way you stifled your yawn.

“No you’re not, darling,” he chuckles, shaking his head fondly as he smiles, kissing your cheek. “Go in then, try it.”

You look at him then, eyes widened a fraction as you bite the inside of your cheek. He nods towards the piano as he lifts his hands from yours, a more teasing grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. Your stare lingers on him as you squint, your smile becoming increasingly more evident as was the burn in your cheeks. It was obvious that you’d been far more focused on him than the very song you’d barely even half heard. And you were sure that even if you had given it your full attention, you’d still sound absolutely pitiful compared to what he had just taught you a minute before.

But you had still tried.

You rest your hands over ivory keys, off by two or three or four and he knew it immediately but chose to sit back and watch it happen. Even in your distraction you knew, the moment you pressed them yourself that time you knew it’d been far off tune. You knew it most certainly did not sound how it should have.

But you went with it.

You went with it as you played a song so distant to the original it was comical, though at times you were beginning to think you were totally getting the hang of it. At times you were certain that the string of notes you’d produced had actually sounded something close to that of a melody. It may not have been the one expected, but it still was one, and you counted that as an achievement in and of itself.

He couldn’t help but let his gaze fall upon you as you sat with him, admiring you with a certain love in his heart that scared him as you pressed miscellaneous ivory keys in a melody that doesn’t quite work. The way your brows furrowed in concentration, and the way you smiled softly when you think you finally got it down. You hadn’t.

He takes in the way the moonlight casts softly on your skin, glowing lightly across your cheeks and the curve of your nose. The shadows of your lashes splaying across your skin and sparking in your eyes each and every time you look at him with a look so fond he doesn’t feel he deserves it. You were radiant with no effort, kind without second thought. You were everything he’d hoped to be, but he’d settle for admiring in that very moment.

He reached over and placed his hands over yours, effective in stopping you from playing. Your attention is pulled to him at the action, a curious smile on your face that only widens at the sight of his.

“What is it?” The corner of his mouth quirks up at the question, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

“I suppose I was wrong,” he starts, your brows furrowing as he squeezes your hand. “You’re not good at everything after all.”

Your eyes narrow immediately and your nose scrunches at his words, a scoff soon to follow as you lay a swat on his shoulder lightly. But before you could protest any further at his very true counter his hand enveloped yours once more and pulled you close, your frown still on your lips.

“Must you always tease me?” You ask, repeating his earlier words as his nose bumps against yours.

“Yes, love, I must.”

His lips are on yours in an instant, his smile pressing against your own as his thumb swiped across your cheek in a brief yet tender action. The ever familiar butterflies return to wreak their havoc within you as you bask in the moment. No matter if it was your first kiss or your millionth, the first time he’d held your hand and touched foreheads or the billionth. Each and every single moment seemed to spark within you in a way that would never get old, not even with each passing day or minute or second. It was absolutely heart melting, something both thrilling and terrifying all the same to feel so strongly for someone.

Though you knew all was far too well, knew it as you heard the distinct click distantly behind you.

A distracted kiss was pressed to the corner of your mouth before you stilled to listen closer, the clear tap of his fathers dreaded walking stick having sounded once more. Your eyes widen as Draco swallows thickly, and he’s quick to grasp your hand and tug you with him behind a shelf of dusty leather bound books, gold lettering on their spines. You’d nearly tripped over your own feet as your heart pounded at the sudden thrill, Draco’s finger over his lips and his brows furrowed upon seeing your pitiful attempt at stifling your laughter.

His hand had tightened around your own when the door had creaked open, and through the gaps in the bookshelves he could see the icy stare of his father as he peered into the vast room. A crease sat between his brows and a lip curled up in a look of displeasure that Draco had known all too well. He’d tugged you closer as his gaze was fixed forward as yours rested upon him.

Lucius had given the room a once over from his spot in the doorway, hesitancy in his actions before he had backed out with a huff, the door closing behind him with a click. His eyes lingered on the door for a few fleeting moments afterward, his attention returning to you at the soft sound of the laugh leaving your lips. He bit the inside of his cheek in his own effort to keep from doing so, but he could help the laughter that puffed out through his nose.

“What?” You ask, curious as you tip your head back and look up at him. He shook his head, his smile showing through.

“You,” he said, his forehead soon resting on your own as your noses touch. “It must have been your terrible piano skills.”

A gasp left your lips followed by a scoff, and before you could counter his words with your argument he’d already pressed his lips on yours once more. You rapidly began to forget just why it was that you were so terribly offended in that moment as he did so, his other hand enveloping over yours.

It was then that he pressed a kiss to the very corner of your mouth, moving his tender affections to your cheek twice more. They ghosted over the line of your jaw sweetly and to the very corner before pressing just under your ear. A shiver ran down your spine as his quiet laughter had swept across your skin, pressing permanently against your neck with another gentle kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers, nearly too soft to have heard it but nearly too loud to be heard by others all the same.

His words are accentuated by the kiss that’s placed upon your cheek, his eyes fluttering closed.

“And I love you,” you murmur softly, almost too much in a daze to remember his teasing words spoken not even two minutes prior. Almost, but not completely. “But who’s to say it wasn’t you?”

He pulls back to look at you with a grin, his hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear before falling back to entwine with yours again. He looks at you for a moment, his cheeks flushed a pale scarlet and his lips kiss swollen pink. Draco finds he can’t stray too far from you, however, leaning mere centimeters from you.

“That,” he starts, eyes falling closed and smile softening. “Is entirely untrue.”

With that, he releases your hands in favor of encircling his arms around your waist and yours settle around his waist. Before he knows it he’s kissing you again, in the light of the moon and the dark of the night. Behind old mahogany shelves filled with dusty, unread books. Your valiant attempt at the ivory keys may have created a close encounter, but now, in that very moment, he doesn’t find it in himself to care.

It’s you.

—

Tags: @gxtitobxby @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @lunalovecroft @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @lilypad-55449

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco x you #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 23

[ TRIGGER WARNINGS: murder, torture, kidnapping, mentions of past sexual assault/abuse and general physical and emotional abuse of a child. also kind of transphobia? Garrett refers to his younger self as a girl ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

It wasn’t long before Garrett’s mother did exactly what he thought she would. He had just been deeply hoping that she would do this at work. At the very least, he had the support of the precinct.

He almost immediately hid behind Mark when he caught sight of his mother, feeling Mark tense up in front of him when he noticed her too. “Get her out of here,” he hissed to one of his coworkers, gesturing aggressively at the woman.

“What? Is she a criminal?” they replied, clearly confused as to why Mark would be having such a volatile reaction to a stranger.

“According to the records? No. According to Dr. Whitlock’s therapist though…” Garrett didn’t have a therapist anymore, but he supposed they didn’t have to know that. The other officer paused to process that, before letting out a soft “oh” of realization and made their way right over to her.

Taking the distraction, Mark grabbed Garrett’s arm and quickly pulled him towards his office, hearing the woman’s voice call out behind them but simply pretending they hadn’t.

“I don’t like it when you say my last name,” Garrett said the second they were in Mark’s office, which made him pause. “Just- just call me Garrett. I don’t like my last name.”

It was easy to figure out why. Garrett had tolerated his last name over the years because he didn’t have to interact with the woman who gave it to him but now… now he couldn’t stand it again.

It was his mother’s maiden name. It wasn’t his.

Garrett let out a huff of breath as he collapsed into one of the chairs in front of Mark’s desk, immediately putting his face in his hands. “At least we know where she is,” it was a dry joke, but Mark still gave a soft chuckle, knowing his boyfriend appreciated when he laughed at his jokes.

“Do you want to go home?”

“I want to kidnap that bitch and kill her, Mark.”

“.... We can do that too.”

---

It wasn’t hard to follow her. She wasn’t trying to hide, which was odd considering she looked exactly like Garrett and he and Mark were currently all over the news. She was bound to get bombarded by the press.

At first Garrett assumed she would like that, and then he remembered that he was trapped twice and killed the man she was married to in the first one, so they would probably pry into her, and she wouldn’t want that.

Garrett wasn’t allowed to drive while they followed her to her temporary house, presumably a rental, because he was simply fidgeting too much. Not that he minded, he’d hate to crash the car he’d put so much love and work into.

Or injure his boyfriend, that too.

“Do you-?”

“Don’t even think about going in,” Garrett cut the question off before Mark could even get through it. “My demon, my fight. I’ll get her. Besides, I know her better. I know how to beat her at her own game.”

Mark looked like he wanted to argue for all of three seconds before sighing and conceding.

They parked behind the house. Garrett grabbed his pig mask and pulled on his gloves before getting out, patting his jacket pocket to ensure he had the syringe.

“I’ll be back,” he told Mark, pulling up his mask and leaning in to give him a kiss, before pulling the mask back down and closing the car door. He made his way over to the backdoor, relieved to find it unlocked. She always was dumb as hell.

She didn’t put up much of a fight- or maybe Garrett was just stronger than her. He subdued her quickly and had to stop himself from killing her on the spot. He was Jigsaw, not a regular murderer.

He didn’t even try to be gentle as he threw her in the trunk, pulling his mask off as he slid back into the passenger’s seat.

“Let’s go.”

---

It took all of Garrett’s willpower to once again allow his mother to live for the time being when he dumped her at the start of the maze. To distract himself, he turned his focus to the can of spray paint in his hand and began to spray arrows in the right directions onto the walls.

He was only doing this so she would end up in the right room and he wouldn’t have to worry about her taking too long.

Mark had agreed to stay in the camera room to monitor her progress and keep him updated.

Garrett himself was going to be waiting out in the room that contained the rack, which he reached rather quickly, even with the consistent pauses to spray the arrows and an occasional “this way”.

Knowing his mother, she would be too panicked to ignore the guidance.

He wrote “here” in big letters on the door to the room, popping the lid back on the can as he pushed the door open. Then he put on his mask, turned off the lights, and took his seat in the chair in the corner.

Now all he had to do was wait.

It was awful, just sitting there as he waited for his mother to show up, but he knew it would be worth it- especially when he heard her screaming for help. The maze echoed, he heard every sound she made.

Mark still texted him to let him know she was awake, which he did appreciate. He was glad he had decided to block off the other hallways in case she didn’t want to listen to him, because he could hear her banging on the blockades.

There was only one way for her to go, and if she didn’t hurry up, Garrett was going to hunt her for sport.

Luckily for her, she stumbled around for a few more minutes before finally accepting that she would have to follow the arrows.

It wasn’t much longer before the door creaked open. He could hear her slapping around for the lightswitch and took the chance to stand up and quietly make his way over to her, standing directly in front of her.

She didn’t even get the chance to scream when the light clicked on, because Garrett immediately brought his fist down on her head.

He was honestly rather surprised that one hit took her out, but gave her a few good kicks to the stomach just for fun.

Then he dragged her over to the rack and strapped her in, making sure it was nice and tight so there was no possibility of escape.

He did record a tape for her, but wasn’t going to play it. He found it to be more poetic if he just spoke to her directly. She needed to know exactly where she went wrong, and he wanted to tell her himself.

The tape was just for the cops, so it looked like a normal Jigsaw murder instead of an unrelated murder.

She was stirring now, and Garrett was vaguely impressed that she woke up so fast. However, he hated her, so he wouldn’t give her the pleasure of being impressive.

He was still wearing the mask when she spotted him, which made her freak out, but there was no recognition. “Hello, Veronica. The device you’re strapped to is known as the rack. It’s a medieval torture device that will slowly roll your limbs outwards until your torso snaps in the middle.”

She opened her mouth to scream, but he shushed her, pulling off his mask. “Screaming isn’t ladylike, remember?” he told her, a wide grin crossing his face. “Do you remember, mother? You should. I cried every time and every time you just told me to suck it up. Big girls don’t cry, or scream. Big girls take it.”

He laughed at the terrified look on her face, taking in a sharp breath and running a hand over his face. “Ohh, how I have longed for this day. First, your paramour~ I ripped his throat out with my teeth, you know. It tasted so much better than his disgusting little dick,” he spat, turning the crank on the side of the device three times, so she could feel the strain.

“I considered doing the same to you, but then this beautiful device of mine would go to waste,” he continued, turning it one more time before letting go. “Besides, it was quick. You don’t deserve that. After years of sitting there and watching, you DESERVE this death. You DESERVE a slow, PAINFUL death.”

Admittedly, he was starting to feel a little hysterical. But he was allowed to be hysterical after what she did to him. “The worst part is that… is that watching and doing nothing wasn’t even all you did.”

He returned to the crank, turning it for emphasis as he spoke. “You watched, and then you yelled, and yelled, and YELLED. And then the hitting began, and I still can’t believe that you only stopped when you BROKE. MY. HIP.”

His mother let out a scream, blood dripping from her wrists because of the strain. He wasn’t sure how many times he’d turned the crank, but it was enough that she was sobbing now.

“Weren’t you listening? Big girls don’t cry. I’ll give you something to cry about.”

He didn’t stop this time, when he started turning the crank. He couldn’t hear her screams anymore. He could hardly even breathe.

He did, however, hear the tearing of muscle and snapping of bone and then- suddenly- the sounds were gone. And there was silence.

Garrett looked at the corpse of his mother, torn in half, a now permanent look of fear on her face. He stared for a few seconds, and then he couldn’t look anymore. He didn’t regret a damn thing, it was just…

He really did take after his mother.

‘I can’t carve the piece. I just can’t,’ he texted Mark, immediately leaving the room once it had been sent. He sat outside the room until Mark showed up, giving him a kiss on the head before heading into the room.

It wasn’t long before he exited again, quietly grabbing Garrett’s hand and pulling him out of the maze.

“Do you have somewhere you want to move her body?” Mark finally asked once they were in the car, not liking the blank look on Garrett’s face.

“Yeah. The mausoleum. With the dead, where she belongs.”

Decidedly, they’d do that later.

#story tag: listen closer #self ship fic #self shipping #self insert #jack.writing #jack.ships #s/i: garrett whitlock #mark hoffman #lawrence gordon #peter strahm #romantic: 🦿🩺 #romantic: ⛓🕵️‍♂️ #romantic: 🖊💧 #(poly) romantic: ⛓🩺🖊 #tws in post #chapter 23

[letsbenditlikebennett]

Encounters of the Strange Kind || Ariana & Frank

TIMING: Before the last full moon during the nightmares POTW PARTIES: @frankmulloy & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Ariana goes to watch a soccer match and bug her favorite bartender, Frank. Some nightmares brought to life make for a strange afternoon. 

It wasn’t often lately that Ariana found herself with a free afternoon and as much had been preferred. Just when she felt like she was finally beginning to move forward again, Winn had to go and die on her, too. If she let herself sit in all those feelings for too long, she was almost certain she wouldn’t be able to find it in her to get up again. Moving was easier. At least that’s what she had kept telling herself, but now the erratic weather meant soccer practice was cancelled which means she wouldn’t spend the rest of her day coaching. She was far ahead on all of her projects for school and she didn’t want to bother Blanche or Grace yet again. The weather also meant a run with her dog was out of the question so she opted to drink beer and watch some soccer matches at Perfect Pint. It wasn’t the world’s best distraction, but bugging the bartender had always proven to be a good time. While the USWNT wasn’t playing, she threw on the Rapinoe jersey Athena had gotten her anyway. Something about channeling Rapinoe had always left her feeling a little tougher. Which was saying a lot because most days, she considered herself to be pretty badass.

Considering it was a weekday afternoon, Ariana found the bar wasn’t overly crowded, so she grabbed a seat in front of the women’s Olympique Lyons team’s match. While they weren’t her team, she remembered Kaden was a Lyons fan. It gave her some sort of deeper attachment to the game which meant it’d be more likely to hold her attention. She waved at Frank as she settled into her seat and gave him a wide smile. Confidence was key to no one questioning her fake ID. “How are you doing today,” she asked brightly before adding, “I’ll take a Guinness when you get a chance.” She hadn’t liked it at first, but it grew on her. She admittedly just said the first thing she looked at the first time she came here and just kept going with it. 

Frank had always considered Perfect Pint a lesser form of Soul. Less sticky, less sleazy, less were the chance of someone kicking someone else’s teeth in—or maybe that was just his shift. Maybe in his absence the patrons that gathered at the latter establishment were perfectly pleasant, either way, the Irish bar was a welcomed breath of civility before the shit-storm the evening would no doubt bring. The presence of another gancanagh added to the ease of simply being as the pub owner exercised a control over his ability that even after all these years Frank had never fully mastered. His pheromones fluctuated to a rhythm of its own make, a song Frank was not privy to and struggled still to understand. But the shadow of a smile that threatened to break his mask of perpetual indifference came at the hands of one that, legally, shouldn’t even be allowed at the bar. They both knew this— that no matter what her ID said, Ariana was not 21, not the fact that he silently enjoyed her company. No drink was strong enough to make him admit anything so personal. But more than that, if he admitted it, then it must be true, and if that was true then so was the very real possibility that she was only hanging around him because of the reason that most people were. The same reason he slid people their drinks across the bar, why he was always so generous with his distance, why he didn’t smile when he turned to meet Ariana but rather regarded that she was there—of course she was wearing a fucking Rapinoe jersey—another body to warm the bar’s seat.

“Do you have an ID for that Guinness?” Frank said, with perhaps a little too much enjoyment, after the glass was already in his hand. “I get the pub is Irish but you know that American laws still apply right?”

Something about the chatter around the bar was much more comforting than the near silence of her apartment. Ariana was glad this place was close to her new apartment and that her fake ID never seemed to be extensively questioned even though it seemed fairly obvious Frank knew she wasn’t 21 yet. Plus, they always played the soccer matches so it always gave her something engaging to do even if she didn’t have someone joining her. As Frank asked for her ID, she pouted and dramatically pulled her wallet out of one of the pockets in her cargo pants. “You know, you keep not remembering me and my very iconic blue hair, I’m gonna stop tipping… okay, that’s a lie,” she responded with a small laugh as she slid her ID across to him. She gave him a pointed look as she waited for him to set her beer down. The urge to do a triumph fist pump was resisted. Instead, she motioned her glass up in a cheers motion and took a sip before commenting, “You never told me how you were doing. You haven’t seen any weird fish lately, have you?” She’d seen a few of them floating around along with some other strange things. Still felt like a good idea to check in and make sure everyone was staying safe amidst the crazy that was White Crest. 

The threat of no tip was met with a slight upward lean to the corner of Frank’s mouth, which was more of a smile than most could say they’ve ever received from the infamously stoic bartender. The Guinness had already slid across the bar’s top to her awaiting hand before she had even pulled the ID out; the presence of the little card vaguely acknowledged though not such attention was paid to its content. “Fine,” he said, and he was fine, and was happy to leave it at fine, but of course, Ariana had a talent for catching his attention when he least expected it. Like, say, a remark about weird fishes. “This whole fucking town is weird.” Frank would be remiss to say that the amount of fog that blanketed the town was a common occurrence, not to mention the pair of bright glowing lights that peered eerily behind them. Logically, he’d sooner owe it to a pair of headlights, than anything stranger, which was rich coming from a guy with giant wings sticking out of his back. Logically, he also knew that no vehicle or trunk had lights that large, that moved so silently, seamlessly-- there was nothing mechanical about these lights. “Why? What have you seen?” A pause. The temptation was to close the distance between them, but alas (at least this time) habit dug down its heel, and so did Frank. “What have you been up to kid?”

Of course he hadn’t actually bothered to look at her ID which made Ariana laugh a bit. While Frank was never the overly talkative type, she did enjoy his mostly quiet company. It gave her something else to focus on when the game wasn’t enough to keep her thoughts from drifting somewhere darker. He was a bit of mystery though and fine almost never meant fine. She knew better than anyone because she’d put that brave face on every day for the kids and a little bit for herself. “I hate that word,” she stated plainly, “90% of the time it’s bullshit, but I’ll give you that one.” At least his response to the question about fish led her to believe he wasn’t completely clueless to the ways of this town. That made it easier for him to stay safe. “You know, you’re not wrong,” she agreed, “Some of it is good weird though, like the dog toys falling from the sky. My dog had a field day with that one. Still, probably a good idea to avoid the giant floating fish if you can.” For a moment, she could almost detect a hint of concern in his voice though he still kept his distance. She didn’t want to alarm him, so she shrugged and answered, “Honestly, I’ve seen a lot, but more recently it’s been the floating fish. Thankfully, they seem to mostly just kind of float by if you don’t bother them. I may be tough, but I’m not exactly eager to see if I can take on an oversized flying fish.” The answer to his next question was decidedly nothing good outside of school and work. Between ghost hunting, avoiding sleep, and her plans to turn Ace into a werewolf like her, she was decidedly not staying out of trouble. Not even a little bit. “Oh, you know-- work, class, typical young we-- people things. I opened up an Etsy shop, so if you need any custom woodwork or repairs, I’m your girl,” she responded hoping her answer sufficed even if she definitely left big bits of the truth out. She shifted in her seat slightly and a puzzled look crossed her face as all the TV screens in the bar went fuzzy. That was weird. It was a perfectly sunny day out so she couldn’t think of any good reason for the television picture to just go out. 

For reasons too complicated, and probably too depressing, to dissect without the supervision of his therapist, Frank had somehow convinced himself of being able to care for little else beyond that which directly affected him. Now Frank was a great many things but never the uncaring type, and while he was a talented wordsmith (when he had the energy to be) he was, as was the nature of his species, a poor liar. Even to himself. So when “fine” was met with a reaction that was far from it, his heart—he was frequently surprised to learn, or be reminded, of its existence—reared its head, and fixed a tender gaze on the younger girl. He said nothing however, feeling that it was the wrong time to press, but he would remember the minor outburst, and keep it close to heart. While Frank himself was still challenged with admitting to the existence of the strange and unnatural, despite himself being one of those strange and unnatural things, to have Ariana confess to it so readily, and so casually at that, made it concrete, and real. No, the lights were not in fact a truck in the foggy distance, it was indeed a giant floating fish. That was normal now. He was part of that normal. So what happened then when a normal person has spent his entire life believing he was not? How does he come to terms with that? The answer: he doesn’t. He instead focused his attention on anything else, on anyone else. “Right, so that sounded decidedly unconvincing. Your fake ID is more convincing than…whatever that was.” He waited for a characteristically snappy response, but when she looked up at him—no, past him, her brows knitted together at whatever the TV was showing. “What are you…?” Nothing, the TV was showing nothing, and yet she seemed entranced, or at least concerned enough to be curious. This made him concerned, and by the way the few patrons that were in the bar were whispering and mumbling to themselves and each other, it was going around.

“Jesus H,” the dish rag draped over his shoulder, Frank sought for the remote and tried to turn it off, but the battery was either flat or the TV refused to obey. Logic supported the former, and logic made him reach up to press the button on the monitor itself. That was when water started leaking from the screen. Logic offered no sound explanation for that. Somewhere within the bar came a yelp as the water from one of the leaking TVs (was he seriously admitting to that?) short-circuited the juke box. No, Frank thought decidedly, it had been two weeks since he last fed and he was too fucking tired for this shit. “Yeah, I’m not cleaning that shit up.” He tossed the towel aside, stuck his head into the kitchen and announced his early finish. “No offence but I don’t think your game is playing kid,” he said and ducked out from behind the bar. Something wasn’t right, and frankly he felt no great desire to stick around, and owed to some strange endearment he’s found in Ariana, he didn’t want her to stick around either. “I’m heading out. Finish your Guinness. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

Normally, she would have been quick to comment on the fake ID remark. Ariana wasn’t sure just how serious he was, because would he really be serving her if he thought her ID was fake? Maybe he just didn’t give a crap which actually checked out to a degree. The water leaking from the TVs was far more pressing though. She was pretty sure electronics and water didn’t mix, so she took a step back. “TVs,” she answered as she pointed upward. How were they even doing that? She doubted there was any satisfying answer, but slowly scooted away from any electronics. After all she’d been through, she wasn’t about to go out by electrocution of all things. She took a big gulp from her glass of beer because frankly it  was warranted with the current level of insanity. So much for having a nice escape from White Crest reality. It hadn’t been all that surprise to see Frank ditch the bar. She laughed a bit and commented, “I don’t blame you. Probably dangerous back there right now anyway.” The jukebox seemed to agree with her so she was glad he was seemingly away from any spots that may cause electrical shock. 

While the TV situation was still concerning, Ariana figured she didn’t have much of a reason to stick around with both the game off and Frank gone. Beer alone wasn’t going to be enough to distract her from the whirlwind of emotions she currently didn’t feel like acknowledging. His offer to walk her home was unexpected though. She looked up to him and said, “Yeah, thanks, I’d appreciate that even if I am probably a lot tougher than you think I am.” She jokingly sized him up, but agreed her beer was worth finishing. “For sure gonna finish this bad boy. Can’t be out here wasting a perfectly good beer!” She was quick to polish off her beer. She refrained from burping as she set the glass down because as Celeste taught her growing up, it wasn’t proper table manners. Not that she truly understood why table manners were a thing humans cared about, but for the sake of blending in, she did her best to follow some sort of norm. “So we adding bodyguard to your business card now,” she joked as they left the now nightmarish scene behind. Thankfully, everyone else had also been quick to bolt, so she wasn’t too concerned for their safety. Every so often, a creepy face would flash on the screen and she muttered, “Wow, I fucking hate that.” She pointed down the block and said, “I live this way, not too far away and surprisingly decent rent. Not sure if you know the area well or not, but it really is a steal.” 

“I am sure that you are.” Frank’s lips twitched as a genesis of a smile began to take shape across his mouth, one that came very close to becoming fully formed, until he too saw the ghostly face that haunted the TV screens. Fuck. That. Many of the pub’s patrons shared the same sentiment and a steady stream of people trickled out behind them, and for the first time (and hopefully the last) Frank was glad that he had the evening shift at Soul that day. A snort escaped his guard, harsh and full, a gleam of something mirthful reflected in his eyes as he turned them toward Ariana. “Depends on how much you’re willing to pay me,” he said and was only half joking. Bartending doesn’t pay a great deal, and there were many artefacts in his piece of crap apartment, including the piece of crap apartment itself, that would attest to this. The Bend wasn’t exactly known for its New England style living, but then again, neither was Frank.

“It’s nice.” He mused, quietly observing the shops that lined the streets and the plants and bushes that trimmed the sidewalks. Frank spied what looked like a stray dog toy tangled in the leaves of one of the passing bushes. Raining dog toys. That was normal too. Another thing he had to come to terms with getting used to. Not the fact that that particular thing happened, but the possibility of something similar, and equally strange and outlandish happening again. “I never really took the time to take in the streets. I mostly just come in for work, and then go to Soul and then go home. But this street, this place, I can see you living in it.” In the same weird way that you can somehow just sense that someone does not belong in a certain place, you can also sense when someone else belonged exactly where they were-- the latter was usually a lot more pleasant to observe. Walking next to Ariana, in the street she lived, Frank came to the conclusion that she looked like she was exactly where she needed to be; a place bustling with life, and events, and possibilities...even if it was a little strange. “It’s nice.”

Ariana noted the almost smile that Frank made though she didn’t comment on it. He was seemingly gruff, but she was pretty sure he enjoyed her company. Well, at least more so than the rest of the bar’s patrons. Which was fair, she was way cooler and far more adorable. As they walked, she laughed a bit at the mention of paying him. “Thankfully, I don’t need my own bodyguard, not that I could afford one. As it turns out, coaching kids’ soccer a few times a week doesn’t pay enough for a glamorous lifestyle. Not that I want one, but building a cabin one day would still be nice. If my woodworking really takes off, I may have a job for you.” They rounded a corner and something about the sky felt off. She ignored it and added, “I should warn, I’m good at finding trouble.” To be fair to herself, trouble often found her based on her species alone, but she definitely had a knack for following her nose right into some sort of White Crest nonsense. 

It surprised Ariana that Frank hadn’t done much exploring the streets yet. While the more populated parts of town weren’t necessarily her thing, she did know the woods like the back of her hand. Or paw, depending on the day of the month. “Yeah, there’s a lot of good shops and restaurants down here. It’s a good area, I prefer the woods, but it’s nice living across the hall from one of my best friends. So thanks.” She was almost wistful for that cabin in the woods she was supposed to build with Celeste one day. Hell, she even missed the place she helped Ulfric build, but there was a sense of pride that came with having a place of her own. Plus, hiking with her school projects that were often bigger than her was a bit much. She’d been smiling softly when a strange smell hit her nose. She paused in the middle of the sidewalk and looked in the direction her nose was picking up a more animalistic smell. Before it could even register fully in her mind, a raging moose was charging them. “Shit,” she yelled out and pushed Frank out of the way as she barely dodged getting impaled by a fucking antler. “What the fuck,” she grumbled as she regained her balance and stared the moose down, letting out a low growl. 

“Me too.” Frank’s smile hiked a little higher, and there was something knowing about it, like sharing in a secret that they both had, even if it was from each other. Though he did not necessarily indulge in the more cursed aspects of his existence, he always found that it was better to take it with good humour lest he drowns himself in self-pity; the latter being a significantly worse reality.

Frank spent the rest of their walk quietly observing the younger girl, his eyes squinted in a mixture of easy amusement and sharp curiosity. She spoke, a lot, and he listened, filing away pieces of information that he found useful or interesting: her relationship with the woods, her best friend, woodwork, how the three worked together to form an idyllic picture of the life Ariana wanted for herself. The pieces of information that went untold, fueled by a detailed history, alive and well as evidence in how she spoke. It made him wistful for a future that he never imagined for himself (he never tried to), and wanted dearly for her to have—her sudden stop elicited the same reaction in him, though it was obvious that she was sensing something that he wasn’t. Something he couldn’t. He heard the rumbling of hooves on pavement before he saw it, and even then he saw very little as a force, and a very impressive one at that, pushed him out of harm’s way, very nearly knocking him off his feet were it not for the swift sweep of his wings slowing gravity just enough for him to recover his balance—the product of instinct rather than any great skill. And then a low growl, unmistakably animal, and too near for comfort. First the ghost child TV, then the moose, now if he was about to get mauled by a fucking wolf Frank was going to lose his shit. Alas, there was just Ariana, and a very angry moose carving its way through the street before disappearing around the corner. No wolves to be seen…and yet. “Ariana, are you okay?” Concern coloured his words and made his touch more gentle as he reached out to examine her for any obvious injury. “Are you hurt?” And then finally, inevitably, “only in this fucking town.”

As she reoriented herself she swore she saw a flicker of wings on Frank. Ariana blinked slowly a few times and realized it must have been a trick of the light. Not that wings would be totally off base in this town, but the rest of their surroundings still felt surreal enough that she wrote it off. There was still a small lingering suspicion that maybe Frank wasn’t quite so human either. She’d have to observe him more carefully. She brushed herself off and answered, “Yeah, I’m fine. More startled than anything.” The moose kept running and rounded a corner. Maybe she should have been more concerned, but she simply didn’t have the energy to chase a moose right now. Not in this form. She figured she could shoot Kaden a text and let animal control deal with the seemingly pissed off moose. She stood still for a moment as he looked her over and kept her demeanor calm despite the internal ‘what the fuck just happened’ vibes she had going on. “I’m not hurt. Did only narrowly dodge becoming a moose kebab, but it be like that I guess,” she said with a slight laugh. “Yeah, that was super on brand for White Crest, but hey, neither of us turned into moose-pops today, so I’ll call it a win.” She was dying to ask about the wings, but she still wasn’t entirely sure of what she saw, so she’d file that one away for later. “To be safe, let’s keep moving in case he decides to come back for round 2.” She paused briefly as she started leading the way to her apartment before she finally caved and noted, “So… you were pretty good at catching your balance there.”

Ariana’s note was like a plunged blade, spearing through the glamour that he has tried so hard to maintain. Did it fall? Did she see? She couldn’t have. Frank’s wings were not little plastic accessories that you found hanging off some rack at some halloween store. They were huge, and not something that usually elicited such a casual response...not that he’s had many experiences to draw from. Yet at her remark, he prompted his face to smooth over any evidence of emotion, trying his best to manufacture the closest imitation to nonchalance. “Oh yeah? Thanks kid,” he said before allowing an edge of gentle humor pushed into the timber of his voice, “I mean I’d be a pretty shoddy bodyguard if I’m tripping over my own damn feet.” This made sense--even if Frank’s history of fighting recorded more losses than wins. “Maybe you should consider getting into the bodyguard business. That’s some arm you’ve got.” Needless to say, had it not been for Ariana’s quick reaction, his day would have gone in a very different, most likely more painful, direction. The reminder beckoned curiosity’s head to surface through the crack’s of his apathy, and despite the strangeness of the TV, the moose, he could not erase from his memory the distinct sound of a dog’s growl.

Curiosity also prompted him to vocalise his next words, but Frank was careful with them, lest he risked sounding insane in a town known for its strangeness. “After that moose, did you, I don’t know, hear anything weird? Like a growl?” Was he suggesting that he heard the moose...growl? Perhaps. But what was the more likely event: the moose growling or Ariana growling? Then again, little ghost girls were crawling out of leaky TVs and only moments ago they were almost ran over by a rampant moose and Frank himself had a literal silver tongue and giant wings stuck to his back, Ariana growling was hardly the strangest thing that happened in that afternoon alone.

“Fair point,” Ariana responded with a laugh. A clumsy bodyguard seemed like more of a hazard than protection. At the mention of having a strong arm, she shrugged. The full moon was quickly approaching so her strength was peaking though even during the new moon she liked to think her athleticism afforded her  a bit more in the way of strength. “What can I say? My natural athletic prowess surprises yet again,” she answered with a laugh. It wasn’t entirely a lie and she was tempted to just throw out the fact she was a werewolf. She was almost positive she had seen the briefest glimpse of giant ass wings on his back when he stumbled from her push. It was unlikely he’d have anything against werewolves. She was trying to have a little bit more in the way of tact regarding this kind of thing, but was pretty much failing at that. Would there really be much harm in telling him? As stoic as he was, he seemed to have a soft spot for her. Not that she could blame him. She was adorable and she knew it. 

As Ariana started to lead the way toward her apartment again, Frank mentioned the growl and she stopped in her tracks. Of course he heard that. Sometimes her instincts were stronger than her common fucking sense. If she was being honest, it was probably more than sometimes. She sighed and explained, “That wasn’t the moose. You did hear a growl. That was me.” She was already most of the way there to telling him, might as well go for it. “I’m a werewolf, that happens sometimes.” And there it was. Did this give her the ground to ask if she saw wings or would he just think she was crazy? She could probably chalk it up to weird teenaged Twilight daydreams if anything else. She watched Frank carefully, looking for any sign of how he was taking that little bomb. 

In summation: little ghost girls were crawling out of leaking TVs, they were almost ran over by a raging moose, flying fishes were a thing, and so was raining dog toys apparently, and Ariana was a werewolf. The truth settled over Frank like a blanket and he was unpanicked and strangely unperturbed, though either would have seemed a more conventional reaction to the news. In fairness, that tends to happen when you have a tongue that is literally silver and giant wings sticking out of your back. She could have told him that she was Irish (considering how often she was at the Irish pub), and his reaction would not have differed greatly from that he had on now: raised brows, mouth slightly parted as if wanting to say something but unsure of what, and a pensiveness had settled over his eyes as he digested this new discovery. “You are…a werewolf.” 

The first time Patrick told Frank that he was a fae, and that Frank was one too, he laughed (and then punched him again, but that could also be accredited to several other factors), and though the reality of his situation seemed entirely too impossible to be logical, his father’s explanation was the only one that made sense. Frank didn’t laugh this time, but was instead preoccupied with another thought: why was she volunteering this information? He was suddenly very acutely aware of his wings, and the effort he exerted to keep them hidden—like one who was suddenly very cognizant of their own breathing, and the mechanics of that unconscious process. She did see his wings, was the first thought, followed by a question of whether he minded that she did? Was he comfortable enough to let her know of what he was, as she apparently was with her secret? Was it ever a secret? It wasn’t as if the subject came up in a lot of their conversations to begin with. “A werewolf like…Michael J. Fox, werewolf?” 

The news of her being a werewolf didn’t seem to come across as too much of a shock and Ariana was grateful for that. There was definitely some processing happening, but as much was to be expected. At least he wasn’t looking at her like she had five heads or something which meant he most likely believed her. “Yes, I’m a werewolf,” she said quietly. It wasn’t a secret, but shouting it from the rooftops would likely attract hunters that weren’t as understanding as the ones she knew. If she could help it, she’d rather not be a trophy on some asshole’s wall. She wanted to follow that statement with ‘you have wings’ because she was pretty sure she’d gotten a glimpse of them, but if she was wrong, he’d really think she was insane.  At the mention of being a Michael J. Fox werewolf, her features contorted in confusion and she paused for a moment. “Wait, what?” Her head tilted as she looked at him in earnest and said, “I have no idea what that means or who Michael J. Fox is. The gist of it is I become wolfy around the full moon, have a good sense of smell and strength, and really like red meat. Oh, and I guess I growl sometimes.” 

Well, fuck. There’s nothing quite like making an aged reference to remind you exactly of how old you are. “Michael J. Fox...like, Teen Wolf nineteen-eighty—you know what, don’t worry about it.” Although Ariana’s general description seemed to follow, more or less, the general formula of the werewolf myth Frank was familiar with, the strangest part of all of this was not that she was a werewolf but that he felt no distance between them since the discovery. No unease, or distrust; she was still exactly the Ariana he had come to know. The same Ariana who knew exactly which buttons of his to press, and the right words to say to coax a grin or a chuckle out of him, especially when he least expected it. In fact what he did feel was something more akin to relief. She wasn’t a fae but she wasn’t entirely human either—like him. A small part of Frank was almost envious of her. She was so comfortable with herself, she knew exactly what she was, and unapologetically so. She listed her traits with the familiarity and ease of a cook listing the ingredients of a well-known dish: no judgement, no prejudice, just simple facts. The same could not be said of himself. The subject of his fae heritage had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. One Frank washed down with cheap cigarettes and even cheaper alcohol, finished with a  serving of good old fashioned denial. You know, healthy things. “You didn’t have to tell me that you know,” he said, “why did you?”

No one had ever really asked Ariana that question before and it left her a bit curious. Frank definitely did not seemed bothered by her revelation or afraid of her in any way which was good. It wasn’t like she’d ever hurt him. Still, she supposed other people were a bit more tight lipped about their species than she was. The fact of the matter was that she liked Frank and she didn’t believe he’d ever do anything to hurt her. She shrugged as they rounded the corner toward her building and she answered, “I don’t know, it’s not like a big secret or anything. I mean, I don’t like broadcast it for the world to know, but given everything today, I didn’t think you’d be too shocked. Plus, pretty sure you’re not a hunter… not that hunters are automatically bad. I’m friends with a few, but still.” It dawned on her she was growing more curious about what he was so she added, “Plus, you don’t seem too shocked. Do you have like some sort of background with this stuff?” 

Frank kept his eyes forward, his expression betrayed little of his thoughts, but he could not deny the sliver of ice that slid down his spine at the mention of the word. Hunters. He didn’t know why that was. He also didn’t know why he started thinking about his father. Didn’t know why the word triggered the image of him to come to the forefront of his mind, and the fear that he saw in his eyes, or perhaps most frightening: the resignation in them. Most faes were immune to things that otherwise proved fatal to humans; difficult to kill if you didn’t know what you were doing, entirely possible if you did. Hunters would. Was that what happened to Patrick? Frank had never cared to ask, and thought little of that night since, until now. Not that hunters were automatically bad, Ariana had assured him. Frank offered her a smile (it looked off, but then again, it was Frank), though he wasn’t particularly eager to go out and test that theory either. He turned his gaze back down, and for a moment their eyes met. She knows. He lets out a sigh, his fingers raked through the side of his beard, unsure of how to put together the words he struggled to say even to himself in front of a mirror. “Er…yeah, you could say something like that. I mean not werewolves, obviously, you’d be the first, but other things.”

While it was still a mystery of how Frank knew all of this, he seemed to take it relatively with stride. At least, he wasn’t any more or less stoic than he normally was. Ariana was still curious to know if her hunch was correct, but he could tell her in his own time. She knew not everyone was as comfortable sharing their species as she was. Or maybe he was human and just didn’t try to make excuses for everything weird that happened in this town. She’d sworn she saw wings for a second there, but with everything else that happened, it was hard to tell. Either way, she offered him a warm smile as they neared her building. “Well, whoever said save the best for last was wrong then,” she joked with a smirk present on her face. She took on a more serious tone and added, “I know a lot of people here who have a bit of something extra, so if you ever find yourself in trouble or anything, let me know. Even if it’s not something you can throw a werewolf at, I usually know who to ask for help.” She stopped outside the front of her building and turned to Frank. With a small gesture, she said, “This is my stop. Keep an eye out for angry moose and let me know you make it home safe, alright?” 

The invitation was a door and Ariana had so graciously held it open for him. All warm smiles and not even a glimpse of a shadow to hint judgement or malice or a well to use the knowledge of what he was against him. But Frank’s history shackled his feet and he didn’t move but looked at her with feigned ignorance. He’d as good as closed the door himself and every part of him wondered why. Simply, it was not Ariana he wanted to hide the truth from but himself. So he could play grumpy bartender a little bit longer, supplying banter and alcohol to underage werewolves and deny the responsibility of his supernatural inheritance. It was fucking pathetic, he knew it, and he swallowed the truth with a smile as Ariana was delivered safely to her front door. Although that was perhaps more her doing than his. “I’m not going to ask who or how you know said persons, but I will keep that in mind. Personally, I hope that it never comes to that.” He mirrored the gesture back to her, a reluctant grin cracked across his face in a way only Ariana could force out of him, “yes ma’am. You stay out of trouble kiddo.” Somehow he knew, as soon as he said it, trouble and Ariana were never too far away from each other.

#wickedswriting #encounters of the strange kind #frank #// this was so fun and i love their dynamic #JT also sent me with that last line

[yandere-daydreams]

If I don’t get to date at least *one* supernatural entity, then what’s even the point?

The first time you two met, it’d been an accident.

Only on rare occasions did he have to collect souls himself. There were countless reapers, psychopomps, collectors, call them what you will, guiding spirits down to the underworld, where they would be judged, assorted, etc. All the official nonsense got tiring, after a few dozen millennia. But, today’d been particularly… busy. An all-hands-on-deck situation, one that required everyone to do their part. And he was nothing if not happy to visit his oh-so-cherished humans.

He’d been in a hospital, when it happened, a recently-passed patient laying on the cot in front of him. It was a slow, time-consuming process, coaxing the spirit out of its body. One that required his complete, unwavering, undisturbed foc-

“(Y/n)!”

Reflexively, the man twisted around, one hand still resting on the cadaver in front of him. A young child, no more than ten, stood in the doorway, hands clenched into fists and eyes wide, unblinking. It was a normal reaction for a mortal. But, your eyes weren’t looking at the bed, or even the increasingly annoying monitors.

No, you were staring at him.

Immediately, he was confused. You couldn’t have been able to see him. The dying were the only ones who were close enough to his domain to do so, and even then, you shouldn't have been able to see him clearly. But here you were, undeniably staring into his eyes. Of course, he did the only thing he could think to do, smiling down at your smaller form, waving with the hand that wasn’t currently resting on a dead man’s shoulder. That did little to comfort you, though. He could see your shoulders grow more tense as you opened your mouth, only to be cut off by an older woman grabbing your shoulders, covering your eyes as soon as she saw the flatline.

Still, you were undeterred, pulling at her hand as you spoke. “Who’s that?”

“Oliver,” She answered, starting to drag you away. “And yes, sweetheart, he lives here.”

At this, you smiled. You stopped resisting your guardian, letting her take your hand and lead you away without another argument. Still, you waved as you left, your tone almost giddy. “Bye, Oliver!”

He watched the doorway silently, only going back to his work when he couldn’t hear your footsteps. But, a grin was still tugging at his lips, a subconscious gesture that wasn’t completely unpleasant.

Oliver. He liked that. It sounded sweet, almost endearing.

Oliver. 

~

The second time you met was less coincidental. 

He hadn’t been watching you, but he had thought to keep an eye on the child who endeared him so. Every few years, he’d think back to your small encounter, sending one of his underlings to ‘check in’ on you, taking solace in the small report they’d bring back. He liked seeing you grow, examining the fine young adult you became.

But, it still took seven years before he could visit you personally.

This time, he was the one loitering in a doorway, peering into the morgue curiously. You worked at a funeral home, now, much to his satisfaction. And listening to you hum quietly, working on the woman currently lying on your metal table wich such care… it filled him with an odd, warm feeling. More tangible than the interest you sparked as a child, and so much more... vivid. 

He wanted to stand there, watching you, observing you, enjoying you, for as long as he could get away with. But, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. It hadn’t been for months.

“Looking for the mortician?” You called, causing him to glance around, looking for who you might’ve been talking to. Luckily, it only took him a moment to remember why you’d caught his eye in the first place, the shock washing over him in shallow, anxiety-filled waves. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, as you continued despite his silence. “He’s on break, but I can take a message, mister…”

“Oliver,” He finished, hoping you didn’t hear the crack in his voice. He had to force himself to take another step forward, then another, until he almost standing at your side. “Don’t… don’t worry about it, I’d prefer to wait. You’re still an apprentice?”

“For another six months,” You chuckled, still not looking away from your work. Your voice was slightly muffled, a facemask covering everything but your eyes. But, he wasn’t disappointed. You did have such lovely eyes, after all. “Or, until I learn how to apply eye-shadow, as my instructor would love to tell you.”

At this, he wanted to laugh. Jokes were uncommon in his domain. Everyone he encountered was overcome with existential terror, understandably, which made for a rather poor sense of humor. But, there was something… wrong about you. There were dark circles under your eyes, ones that looked smaller in pictures, a slight tremble to your hand and a small bottle of pills sticking out of the pocket of your scrubs. Signs that something wasn’t as right as it should’ve been. 

All he could do was say the first thing that came to his mind.

“You’re dying.”

Instantly, your eyes snapped over to him. With a sigh, you gently pulled down your face mask, straightening your back and crossing your arms. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave my cooler. You can wait in the parlor, or leave your number. I don't care.”

“You are.” The betrayal came on suddenly, unexplainably. You didn’t know him, and he barely knew you, but… why hadn’t you told him? Did he do something wrong? Did you not trust him? “You’re dying, and you didn’t tell me!”

You took a deep breath, fighting to keep your composure. “Sir, I met you minutes ago. My personal health does not concern you, and moreover, I’m asking you to leave.”

Oliver wasn’t sure why your coldness filled him with such a strong, unfathomable anger, but that didn’t stop him from gritting his teeth, shutting his eyes in an effort not to just end your life right now and get this over this. It would’ve been easy, too easy, all he had to do was touch you. And yet, he contained himself. You were something he treasured, even if he was only allowed to fixate on you in his spare time. And he was determined to show you that. “Tell me what it is,” He snapped, so loudly that you had to take a step back. “I can help you, just tell me.”

“Look,” You explained, your tone just as venomous as his. “I have a very rare, very incurable terminal illness. I’ve had it since I was born, I’ve lived with it, and one day, it’ll kill me! So, whatever snake oil you’re trying to sell isn’t going to fucking work, and I don’t want to try! You can either leave me alone, or I can call the police.”

It wouldn’t have mattered, but you didn’t know that. No, you were willing to call the authorities, to possibly incriminate someone who cared about you. Oliver pulled back, turning around and heading back towards the door he’d come from. He could disappear, leaving you with the impression that your morgue was haunted or something equally ridiculous, but punishing you for being so inconsiderate could wait.

He could wait.

~

The third time you met, Oliver was no-less than elated.

It took five years. Five long, long years, each one dragging on worse than the last. He wouldn’t let himself visit you again, but god, even that took more self-restraint that it should’ve. Now, one of his underlings was positioned to constantly watch you, waiting to alert him the moment you were on your deathbed before bringing directly to his throne room. Reports became daily, pictures of anything and everything he might find interesting included. He wasn’t just ‘curious’ anymore, no, it was so much more than that.

He loved you, Oliver had realized that. He loved you so, so much.

It was a blessing when his informant finally returned, bowing coldly before leaving you scared and alone in front of him. Oliver was quick to act, already standing and clutching your hand as your eyes darted around the room, your shoulders shaking visibly. This time, you didn’t try to pull away, much to Oliver’s relief.

“I… I’m supposed to be dead,” You choked out, tears starting to form in the corner of your eyes. Oliver was quick to pull you into his chest, hushing you as you began to sob into his shirt. “I’m supposed to be dead, but I’m here, and so are you, and I don’t know where we are-”

You were cut off by another cry, the sound quickly stifled as Oliver pulled you closer. He was hushing you now, but still wearing that toothy, wide smile of his. “You are, (Y/n). Dead as one person can be.” He could feel you go tense, your confusion only growing, but he wasn’t going to let you go again. Not when he finally got to touch you.

“I never got to introduce myself properly, did I?” He asked, keeping his voice soft. With a slight whimper, you shook your head. Oliver had to smother a laugh at the meek gesture. “Your try people call me by many names. Hades, Osiris, Erlik…I am Death, love. King of the Underworld” He paused, pressing a light, lingering kiss into your forehead. “And you’re going to be my consort.”

#yandere #Yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenerio #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere prompt #yandere oc #yandere fantasy #yandere mythos #yandere god #yanderecore #yandere headcanons #yandere love letter #yandere oc x reader #possessive #obsessive #obsesion #jealousy

[cottontail20]

Children Of Iron, Chapter 11: More Human Than Him

Summary: Vision and Peter share a sweet conversation before the battle with the Fire Elemental begins.

Ao3 link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323687/chapters/53388034

Wanda and Vision made love for hours, not wanting to waste the time they had together.

Most of the following day was spent repeatedly going over the plan (minus Peter who had to keep up appearances by remaining with his class), making sure everybody knew what they had to do. Beck put on what seemed to Wanda like a very grand performance, reminding them all how serious the threat they were facing was. How dangerous the Fire Elemental was going to be.

While she didn't trust Quentin Beck one bit, Wanda did believe that there was a threat, that something was coming. She could sense it, could feel the scarlet energy crackling just beneath her skin in anticipation of a fight. What she wasn't sure of was whether Beck was really there to stop the threat, or help it.

Wanda could have read Beck's mind, but this was an ability that she had not tapped into for quite sometime, mostly due to a crippling guilt over the terrible events she had contributed to the last time she had used it. Now, Wanda thought she was a little too rusty with that particular power to trust anything she might see.

Unfortunately, this meant that neither she nor Vision had any evidence to take to Fury and Hill to support their suspicions, so the only option they really had was to keep their eyes open. Hope for the best, but always be ready for the worst. --

Tension grew in the air as evening approached. So far, it seemed like everything was going to plan.. Apart from the large festival going on in the streets bringing a risk of civilian casualties. Again, all they could really do was hope for the best, try and keep the beast contained, and limit damage. At least, as far as they knew, all of Peter's classmates had been ushered back to the safety of their Hotel.

All that was left to do was for everyone to get into position, and wait for the Fire Elemental to make it's appearance.

"Wanda.." Vision grabbed his fiancee's hand one last time before they were forced to part. He was buzzing with nervous energy. "Please, be careful."

"You too, Vizh" She pulled him in for a quick kiss. "I know you're worried, but stick to the plan. Stay back unless we really need you. You and I have a Wedding to stay alive for."

"And Morgan" Vision added. "We promised her."

"And Morgan" Wanda agreed, kissing him again. "I love you, Vision."

"I love you too, Wanda..

"Now let's go beat this Monstru de foc."

"Yes, let's go." --

A short while later, everyone had taken their positions. Vision was in a tower with Peter, keeping watch over the festival goers below, all oblivious to the approaching danger. He knew Wanda was somewhere in the crowd, undercover, while Harley's droids, cloaked from view, circled the area at a safe distance.

Peter squirmed slightly in his new 'Stealth' suit. Vision glanced at him, concerned.

"Are you alright, Peter?" He asked.

"Yeah, just this new suit. It's a little tight around the old web-shooter, you know?" Peter mumbled. "Do you know? I mean, do you even have a.. Sorry, I guess that's kind of a personal question.."

"It's alright" Vision chuckled. "And to answer your question, yes, I do have a.. you know."

"Oh, okay.. That explains some things.."

"Like what?"

"Nothing.."

"Peter.." Vision frowned. He wanted to be someone the boy could talk to, freely. "If you have questions, it is okay to ask them."

"Well.." Peter pushed his mask-up, revealing that his cheeks were blushing bright pink, "I was kinda wondering how you and Wanda.. But what you just said, that explains it."

"Oh.." Vision's own face turned a slightly deeper shade of red.

"Sorry.."

"It's alright. I understand why my relationship would be a source of curiosity. I'm not exactly human.."

"Huh? Of course you are."

"You think so?" Vision felt a spark of warmth in his synthetic heart.

"Sure." Remembering the job at hand, Peter pulled his mask back on and hopped up to crouch in the window for a better view of the goings-on below. "Once, Mr. Stark told me that he thought you were more human than he was, most of the time."

A small smile tugged at Vision's lips.

"Thank you for telling me that, Peter."

"No problem.." Peter began, before Fury's voice crackled through their comms. --

"Energy spiking.." He said, eye on their monitoring equipment.

"There's seismic activity.." added Hill.

Harley briefly looked up from the Legion's controls to glance between their stern faces.

"Here we go.." He gulped. --

Wanda got a front row seat to the beginning of the show. Saw the water in the fountain bubble and steam, the ground cracking from the heat of the molten-hot magma that made-up the Fire Elemental's body as it rose from beneath the ground.

As the festival-goers began to scream and run from the beast, Wanda ditched the extra coat she'd been wearing to blend in with the crowd, and threw up her hands, creating a scarlet shield in an effort to protect the civilians as they fled. Something about the Creature's appearance seemed strange.. intangible, despite the destruction it was already causing. In the corner of her eye, she saw Beck land nearby, saw Peter swinging into action. Then, she became slightly distracted by a voice behind her.

"You're the Scarlet Witch.."

Wanda vaguely recognised the person to whom the voice belonged, a girl from Peter's class. Why did dumb teenagers always have to sneak out to find trouble at the worst possible time?

"You are supposed to be safe in your Hotel" She replied through gritted teeth. "Run!"

To her credit, the girl ran without further prompting. --

Vision hovered above the scene of the battle, waiting for his moment. Despite their best efforts, Peter and Beck had been unable to stop the Elemental from absorbing the carousel, even when Wanda had joined in properly after steering the civilians to safety.

Focusing, and hoping, Vision took aim, and fired, what was now a red beam rather than the former gold, in what seemed like a direct hit. At first, Vision was pleased with the realisation that he had retained this power, but the beam did not seem to have had any effect at all.. --

Meanwhile, Harley was strapped into the back seat of a a car, zooming along with Fury and Hill to the site of the battle. He felt rather useless. For all the work he'd put into his droids, they were not at all useful right now, against a beast that consumed metal.

If only he could have stepped up. Been ready for a suit of his own. Then he truly could have helped.. --

Back at the sight of the battle, things seemed to be improving as the combatants hurled non-metal debris at the Fire Elemental, and Vision continued to shoot from a distance, all to keep the monster from reaching the Ferris Wheel.

It was then that Wanda spotted them. The Teenagers on the Wheel, yelling 'Night Monkey', for reasons she did not understand. It didn't matter, she had to help them.

"There are kids on the Ferris wheel!" She yelled. Unfortunately, as she flew up to get them, Beck 'accidentally' struck her with another piece of debris, knocking her out and sending her flying into the distance.

Vision screamed.

"Wanda!"

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