#and taking it back can symbolize... well. taking that back for himself

[captain-spooks-ahoy]

Shooting star (sylus x reader)

(Part two)

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Summary; when you wish upon a shooting star, often times you go about life forgetting about it. However once in a millennia, a wish will be granted. The shooting star will land, then transform into the wish. So why is it, when a dark prince wished upon a shooting star, his wish came true and it landed in the grassy lands behind the palace?

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Pairings; Prince!sylus x Star!reader

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A/n; we are recapping on the first Drabble (the whole things gonna be on this post) so it’ll be interesting to see how this works out on tumblr and ao3 since i write in my notes app on my free time ;-;. Anyways enjoy my jellyfishes!!

-🦈

Ps. This is not edited nor proof read bc if I proofread I psych myself out of posting :P

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To recap;

It was stupid, childish even. Wishing upon a shooting star? How dumb must you be to believe in wishes? Then again the prince couldn’t complain, as he himself stood at his windowsill wishing upon a shooting star. It was an idiotic wish “give me a companion” the ruby eyed prince didn’t expect anything. Even if his wish were to become reality, he’d assume it would take form of a dog or animal. “I’ve stood here too long.. I shall go to bed..” the prince thinks to himself, taking himself to bed as it is what he originally intended to do.

In the fields behind the palace and its gates. A shake could be felt for miles around, a “meteor” hitting the ground. In the midst of smoke and small sprinkles of rain the “meteor” transformed. The light radiating red, then into a soft yellow, then white. As the smoke cleared, a woman sat on her legs. Not a soul in sight, yet this woman felt no fear, she knew she’d never be alone so long as the moon and other stars in the night sky kept watch.

The prince had awoken, it was late perhaps a few hours before sunrise. He had felt a shake, what could it have been? An attack? Or perhaps a falling star? Nevertheless it meant nothing as the prince felt he couldn’t fall back to sleep. He prepared to take a walk, well that was before he looked out his window. He took a double take, seeing the smoke coming from a hole in the ground, had a star fallen? A meteor maybe? Curiosity surged through the princes bones as he felt himself compelled to investigate. Surprisingly no maids were awake, nor his parents. The only people awake were the guards at the gates and their stations. “Prince Sylus! How may we assist you?” A guard asks, giving a curt salute. Sylus, the Prince, simply hummed. “I want to investigate that smoke and hole, just that ways of the palace. I shall go alone, however if I shan’t return in a timely manner you can come to assist me” with that the prince walked off. The grassy lands filled with florals that seemed unaffected by the landing of a star. As sylus got closer, the smoke dissipated. He could see a figure when walking closer, at the edge of the knee deep hole he found himself at a loss for words.

There sat a woman, whom wore a white and pale yellow dress, it was silky looking and seemed to have star like symbols across the chest. She was looking to the sky, a dreamy look on her face before seeing him. Her eyes glistened with curiosity, the prince was stock still. He watched as she tried to stand, failing miserably a few times before sylus felt himself compelled towards her. “Are you.. hurt?” Sylus finds the words come out with an uncomfortable softness to them. The woman turns her head at him, similar to a confused animal. She brought a hand up to feel his face was a look of awe. “What have I gotten myself into..” he mumbled before helping her out the hole. No shoes, luckily no injuries, and what seemed to be a head full of curiosity. Sylus was in deep, and he had no idea how to get out.

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Part two;

It was odd, she had only just woken up. She could remember the spacial winds that would brush on her as she would fly through space. Remembering the warmth from her fellow stars, planets, and the moon. So feeling the ground under her hands and.. legs? Odd she never knew she could take a form like this. Looking at the night sky she wondered what ever could have happened that lead her to this moment. Only moments ago she was simply a shooting star, now she sat on the ground with a human body.

“Are you.. hurt?” She looked in the direction of whatever that may have been. Curiosity bubbling up in her, a foreign but welcomed feeling. It was like her new body knew what to do.. she just couldn’t control it yet. She failed multiple times to stand, huffing in frustration. That was before this human walked towards her, he helped her stand while speaking in a tone that was soft on her ears. “Careful now” she looked at him with a fluffy feeling bubbling in her abdomen. It was like her new hands had a mind of their own as she held his face. ‘Soft..’ she thinks to herself. Her head turning as she looked at him closely. Ruby eyes that feined cruelness, but she could see a hurt and softness hidden deep within them. His hair was on the longer side and a soft white-ish silver color. She felt herself swooned by him, a feeling foreign to her. The man helped her walk, hoisting her out the hole created by her impact. He mumbled to himself “what have I gotten myself into..” it seemed he must be doing something wrong? She hadn’t a clue, simply enjoying this man’s company as he held her hand.

The walk was wonderfully quiet and calm, well while it lasted of course. As soon as Sylus stepped foot inside the palace walls with this woman, maids rushed around quickly. “Oh my- your highness should we take her away from you? She must be a bother-“ the head maid goes to grab the woman only for Sylus to pull her away. “no, she is not a bother.. could you gather her some clean clothes and get her cleaned up? She will be staying here.” Sylus carefully chose his next words “not a word of this gets outside the palace or I will have your heads.” He spoke in a whisper, as to not frighten the woman who simply was entranced by the floral arrangements in the hall. The head maid and other maids shared a look before the head maid leaned in. “Just a wash and some clean clothes?” Sylus rolled his eyes lightly “yes. I should not have to repeat myself.. bring her down for breakfast afterwards.” Sylus watched as the maids ushered the woman away. She looked at them with a confused look as she looked back to Sylus. He simply faired a small smile before turning to go to his own quarters to ready for the day.

It was quite funny, sylus had been walking down the hall when he heard the head maids voice. “Miss! Get back here! You cannot run around like that it is unlady like- UGH!!” He watched down the hall as the woman ran around in all but a towel, her hair wet and leaving a trail of water drops behind her as she looked out the window at the light of day. He watched as the maids grabbed her, pulling her back into the bathing room.

Moments later the head maid peeked her head out to see Sylus. The woman let out a clearly tired and aggravated sigh. “Your highness.. where ever did you.. come across such a.. woman?” She seemed to choose her words carefully while wiping the water from her brows and fixing her uniform. Sylus gave a small smirk, “I found a fallen star, she was behind the palace within the fields.” In this world, such things weren’t unheard of. Though rare, the world often seemed to breach the line between real and fantasy. “I see.. well she is.. quite a unique character” the maid spoke with a hard look. Sylus simply shrugged “I tend to attract the odd ones.. I expect to see her for breakfast soon”. As Sylus walked away he could hear the head maid arguing with the woman again, telling her to stay still. This would surely be interesting.

At breakfast it was… Odd to say the least. While the queen and king sat eating their breakfast in peace. This woman their son had “found” sitting at their table looking at her plate of meticulously prepared food with curiosity. “Ehem.. son. Who might this be?” Sylus’ mother spoke softly. Sylus hummed while watching the woman across from him “my new companion.” Was all he said, he took a bite of his own food. Realizing she had no clue what to do, he waited for her to look at him to eat a bite. She mimicked him, her eyes glistened with something similar to joy as she chewed the sweet fluffy food. She hummed with a softness, practically melting. The king and queen watched, despite their initial worry they were rather glad their son wasn’t hurting anyone or anything. They actually felt relaxed as they didn’t need to hear about how their son killed anyone this morning. They silently hoped this change would be permanent, and that he truly is going to change for the better.

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The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions sylus hasn’t ever felt before. He couldn’t help but keep his star within arms length. But it seemed he didn’t need to keep her on a leash seeing as she followed him around like a lost dog. “Sylus!” She would say with a big smile when she wanted his attention. He had taught her his name after she had said “your…highness!” In attempts to gain his attention from the book he was reading.

“Sylus!” She whispered within the library, Sylus looked up to see her. She was wearing another soft looking dress, this one had soft blue and yellow. Sylus believed she’d look better in red if he was honest with himself. “Yes star?” He smiled sitting his book down. She held her behind her back, and just before getting close to him she pulled out a handful of tulips with a big smile. “Love!” She whispered as if she was telling a secret. Sylus felt his cheeks dust pink, love? Tulips mean love of course.. but what could his star mean by this? “Are these for me?” Sylus spoke with a small smile. She nodded quickly motioning for him to take them, her smile still sitting on her lips. Sylus stood up, taking the flowers into one hand he held his other hand out to her after sitting his book down on the table. “Hold my hand” he spoke with softness, a softness he became comfortable only sharing with her. She placed her hand gently in his, Sylus quietly lead her away.

Within minutes they were both standing infront of a teacher. “I’d like for you to teach her to speak, read, and write.” Sylus explained to the teacher. His eyes followed her around as she explored the room. The teacher spoke “ehem.. I see.. i will get to work!” And like that the teacher was already talking to her. She simply turned her head at the teacher but seemed to be interested and listening. Sylus had to admit, he had a growing fondness of her. It was hard to want to hurt people when his time was taken up by the very thing he wished for. Not that he had it in him to complain, he was rather comfortable with the idea. For sylus was simply happy he had something- someone. Who is his and only his.

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Within the time span of weeks that stretched into months. Sylus found himself utterly infatuated with her. She spoke elegantly, had such good manners now, and was overall a normal “person”. But she held her curiosity nature close to her heart, reading and exploring all around. Of course she still stuck to Sylus like glue, like right now. She was looking out the windows of the library, “Sylus! Look! There’s another bird!” She whispered loudly to him, he was only a few feet away from her reading a book. “You seem rather interested in birds sweetie” the pet name rolled off his tongue, something he never imagined he’d ever do. “Mhm! I’ve never gotten to experience human life before! I want to see everything!” She turned to look at him with a smile. Sylus looked up, he felt a smile pull at his lips. “Really? So you truly are a star?” She didn’t hesitate to nod, “mhm!! I don’t know.. how I ended up a human but I remember flying through space for forever and then I woke up here!” She walked over to plop a seat next to him, she leaned over to look at the book in his hands. Sylus watched her closely, “what if I were to tell you that you’re human because of me? Would you still love me if I’m the one who wished you human?” He watched her smile fade for a moment as she thought, she bit at the inside of her lip as she squinted before a soft smile settled her lips. “I would still love you! If you’d be the reason I can experience all of this I’d be quite grateful! …Especially since you’re so very kind to me” her cheeks dusted a soft pink as her eyes flicked away from sylus’. Sylus felt a bit flushed himself, he’d never heard her say she loved him. Even in the round about way it was said, the meaning was still there which made sylus’ brain short circuit for a split second. She spoke in a half whisper “Sylus.. what is that thing that your mother and father do sometimes in the morning? Where they press their faces together?” She didn’t dare look at him, Sylus felt his cheeks defy him and turn a bright red. He was at a loss, she was asking him about kissing? It was almost adorable how she didn’t have a clue as to what it was, but she caked to him asking about it. How cute. “It is called kissing sweetie.. why do you ask?” She quickly looked at sylus, leaning closer “is that what humans do when they love each other?” A concentrated look on her face. Sylus felt a smirk pull at his lips “it is.. do you want to kiss me? Sweetie?” He watched as her eyes widened, she quickly looked away “…yeah..” she whispered almost too low for him to hear, Sylus found himself amused by how curious yet flustered she could get. “well.. I believe it’s time we go for a walk..” Sylus stood up, walking towards her before he softly tilted her head up to give her a peck on her cheek. Her face flushed red while they went on a walk to the garden. Sylus was in no hurry to rush things, as he knew he would have her for the rest of his life.

He had finally found his princess, a princess made of stars and wishes. Just as she’d found the prince of her dreams she hadn’t known existed.

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(Okay how was that????!!?? I don’t know how I feel about it since I didn’t know how to end it. I wanted it to be cute and fluffy? I wanted to give like.. little mermaid vibes? Girl who’s never human’d before and boy who is just infatuated?? Sylus is a tad bit out of character but I mean he’s a love bug deep down yk? Anyways I hope you enjoyed my jellyfishes -🦈)

[fishyaudio]

Raz, who's been your favourite design you've made for your anthro au? I have a feeling it's Saint lol

Your feeling is not wrong, she's a favourite to draw!

But if I had to choose one, favourite design ever out of the ten, it would be the one for Shine (aka Monk, I really need to start using the names I gave them all for the AU here as well, gahh)

It's a surprising choice for me, because when it came to in-game depiction + popular fandom interpretations of Monk, I never really liked the guy (not disliked, just didn't think about the character a lot and found others more interesting). I don't usually dig the "peaceful, kind, happy" archetype characters in media in general, it's just not my thing, and most "fanmade character extensions" of Monk I've seen just expanded on that alone. It's not that they're anyhow wrong! They're just really not my thing and it always itches me to introduce more contrast or flavor in personalities of that sort. It's suprisingly hard to write a character who is mainly just really pure and avoids conflict, at least for me. Unhinged beasts with weird morals are sometimes just easier to grasp bwahaha

And with that, since it's "character design" and not just "design" - that initially made me feel like designing and creating the anthro AU equivalent for Monk would be a neccessary struggle and when I'm done, I won't ever pay much attention to a character I'd consider a bit more flat in comparison to what I had planned for others. But the longer I sketched, more "what ifs" came to mind and I ended up with Shine - still the younger sibling, just taller and bigger than the scrawny, troublemaking, older one. Took advantage of Share (Gourmand) being his parent, so he takes after him in size and personality a bit more. That opened a really fun path to explore with him.

I've decided to link his pacifist mentality and kindness not to being childish and bit unwise, but to idealism, stronger sense of justice and an overall aspiration to be reliable and responsible. He's still young and naive, but it doesn't come from being childish and having a "kill them with kindness, no other options allowed" mentality, but rather from being an inexperienced, future leader with a lot of potential. One that's often being very harsh on himself when his mistakes or faulty judgement causes a slip-up or a situation escalated in a way he couldn't predict. Sometimes, things just happen and there was no way to foresee the consequences or avoid confrontation, despite how hard everyone tried, and that's also a part of life - that's something Shine would struggle to accept. He's naive, but not dumb. Even with that - it doesn't stop him from being a very trustworthy and quick-thinking individual. I like that about him!

And this is also what's reflected in the design - he's on the taller side, with a more blocky build. Flowy, loose clothes both make him look really comfortable and chill, visually suggesting that he's more laid-back, not active, not used to fights and messy situations, while also pushing the silhouette to be a one, sturdy shape even more. That just yells "you can approach and trust this guy easily" by looks alone. From smaller details - he has the monk symbol in a visible place on his belt -> wants to signal to others that he's not a threat and is always willing to talk things out or settle for a compromise. He doesn't have much more accessories -> doesn't like showing off and isn't desperate for attention. The only striking, busy pattern he has on him is the striped sleeve to match his sib - he values Ways (Survivor) a lot!

From other designs for the AU - March, Ways and Steps (Spearmaster, Survivor and Rivulet) are also my favourites for various reasons, but this post is already a yap session. Maybe next time, if anyone's curious.

Thanks for the ask! Gave me an excuse to draw them more!!

AU tag here!

[art-from-within]

(This is the longest hc i did I kind of digressed half way through)

My latest Rykard hc is that he is the eldest child and 'parent' between the 3 carian demigods. Everything bearing his name exudes this kind of ‘posh' 'sophisticated’ 'I will have you know-' sass you’d expect from an inquisitor-coded demigod of noble blood/one who, mind you, lives in a manor perched atop a live . f u c k i n g . VOLCANO with a crazy snake god in basement (What's with the lands between and weird basements?), I feel safe in asserting that this symbolically reflected his day-to-day persona as well: profanely hot, rich, powerful but nauseatingly prideful blonde male always a second away from hissing lava at 'haters'. He veils his barely concealed madness with an educated taste that screams refinement, if only to drown out the tortured Albinaurics screaming from his torture dungeons (or 'interrogation chambers' to the more sensibly inclined). He also seems like the type to be overbearing (his job is literally being a medieval glorified fantasy cop) and I find it difficult to imagine that some of that pride and sass didn't seep into his family dynamics.

But still, it is evident that he is a man who deeply cares for his family. Radahn's portrait nicely hung (aw), offering Tanith dementia in a bottle so she can forget her soon to be big back snake husband(aw), plotting with Ranni to kill Godwyn (aw)( common close siblings activity).

Mix love for family with his love of power, his love of prestige , of ambition. Spice up his lore with absentee divorced mother, absentee divorced TRAITOR AND ASSHOLE father and the deep turbulent hatred he simmers within himself...you get, the eldest child with fried brain matter

Close enough

I haven't forgotten the war automatons he created and named 'Abductor Virgins' Definitely cooked in the head but...some of them are found in raya lucaria 🥺 and in caelid 🥺

Being the “I fuck my retainers” bisexual is just the cherry on top.

I mean look at this guy 💀 Too much doesn't exist in his vocabulary lmao also y tf does he have chandeliers in his boss room 😭talk about being extra for the sake of it (Banger Villain staple)

Before we conclude this earth-shattering and momentous piece of scientific inquiry, it is only fitting that we take a moment to review the distinguished list of intimate companions he deigned to keep in close company. As the old adage goes: birds of a feather flock together. Let us now examine those whom he permitted to remain by his side, each a mirror in some fashion, of the man himself.

Tanith:

Consort's robe.

Fine robe of white silk worn by Tanith, Lady of the Volcano Manor. Long ago, when Rykard first set eyes on Tanith, she was working as a dancer in a foreign land. Soon, he made her his consort. She was the only human to remain by his side when he became the serpent of blasphemy.

In that moment, Tanith was truly charmed by him.

Daedicar(retconned to being Rya's mother) now Ghiza

Daedicar's woe(Version 1.00):

Disturbing likeness of an old noble whose skin was flayed. He smiles with a serene tenderness. Increases damage taken.

This soft-featured man's name was Daedicar, and he was one of Captain Rykard's paramours, as well an attendant in his Inquisition.

He would test new methods of torture first upon himself, making a gift of his pain and first-hand knowledge to the one he loved.

Also Serpent Eigley (????)(snake babies???)

Let Eigley eat him (verbatim no exaggeration)

Must I say more?

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In retrospect, Morgott's beef with him makes so much sense. Not just a clash of ideologies but also character.

Morgott: Loyal to erdtree and order, Humble, tree slave bound by shame and sense of duty, trying to maintain the status quo, weighed by grief twisted into self loathing, extinguishes flames of ambition

Rykard: not loyal to erdtree and order, not very humble, Aspiring slave not bound by any sense of shame or duty, trying to usurp the status quo, weighed by grief twisted into world loathing, Giant snake man

Tldr: hc is that Rykard is a snarky eldest sibling who had to fill in the gaps for TWO absent parents . (This is what having Mommy AND Daddy issues does to a man 🙏Pray for this individual). He needs therapy. But in the lands between...who doesn't?

[katyspersonal]

I also wanted to add a few things to this post!

For one, it is possible that Godrick at first was driven out of Leyendell, and then returned with the army to try to take back what was his!

Maybe people who held enough power to push out even a descendant of Golden Lineage, or even his more "liked" relatives kicked him out! Maybe Godefroy too? If he was seen as a disgrace to his great ancestors, I could imagine eventually his part of the family was betrayed it some way!

^^^ So, Godrick returned later, when he accumulated enough soldiers to do so! If he was able to disguise himself as a woman, it means he was not even doing the grafting yet, but it is implied that Godefroy did since he got imprisoned and is very much grafted (yeah he is reused asset but the implication is obvious)!

It means Godefroy must be older. Older brother? Father? Uncle? But basically, the idea of grafting to compensate for lacking physical strength was already a "tradition" in his part of the family, and Godrick inherited it! They had a trauma of being condemned and denied their rightful living place due to being "disgrace" as genetically weaker bloodline, so they made sure to "fix" it. Now, Godrick himself grafts himself the body parts of the strongest warriors he can get to, anticipating the time when he feels strong enough to attempt another attack on Leyendell. Perhaps, a day that will never come? @swallowtail-ageha once pointed out that maybe cut content "WE should be there, not rank and malformed twins of whatever" line was not Godrick's invention, but rather a sentiment passed down in his bloodline, and eventually reaching him! I honestly believe this idea.

Another thing: Godrick's Rune is soaked in acidic green glean! All things considered, I feel like it could reflect his stagnation!

For one, the Elder Lions, relatives of the Divine Beasts worshipped by Hornsent dancers, have similar yellowish glean in their eyes. They have been captured and humiliated, reduced to basically dogs, and going astray from their otherwise greatness might be reflected by that.

Then, we have Rakshasa! The "is eye clouding meant to create full eye color or is a lore hint" varies from case to case, but since she is from the Land of Reeds, the blue eyes are her real eye color and she is an albino Eastern Asian! Philosophy of Rakshasa is to never relent, similarly to how "a warrior should remain ever-drifting", yet she is dead. I feel like her being buried in the places where water always runs very wild is symbolic, to give her the 'drive' she had lost for one reason or another at least in death. It gave her eyes the 'stagnation' hue.

Stagnation of spirit and stagnation of water resulting in "human dregs" is one of the beloved metaphors and lore bits of Fromsoft, and I think it returned in Elden Ring as well! We have three cases of this same acidic green color, and all cases are thematically similar. So, Godrick's "stagnated", both spiritually and in terms of never taking action already, being all bark and no bite already, and this is why his Rune is so green.

At last, I love the environmental storytelling of how Stormveil, that is supposed to be way more of a functional fort, is now decorated all-over with gold that conflicts with its true intention and function. I am not opposed to the idea that Godrick himself decorated it so much, to surround himself with the gold he is not deserving of in the eyes of others (and maybe even his own, although he won't admit it)

Sympathy for the Grafted

I think, personally, that Godrick has one of the better “buildups” when it comes to his character — but I won’t really go into that. I also love him for what he represents: this kind of rot, or slow degradation, that once was the glory of his golden clan.

Godrick, as we know, is a member of the Golden Lineage — those born from and descended of Queen Marika and the Elden Lord Godfrey. Godrick’s generational distance is also quite notable, as he’s barely regarded as a demigod — a decrepit, old, ugly, and grotesque man.

A detail that isn’t often brought up about Godrick is that he was born a weakling child. That isn’t to say being born closer in stature to mortals makes someone weak, but rather, there was something inherently wrong with him — something that made him physically weaker than most others. Sickly born, I suppose.

Now, take into consideration the factors that culminated in Godrick as a person:

The citizens of Leyndell — members of the nobility, royalty, and their servants — are largely isolated. They lived in a small city that is twice fortified by near-impenetrable walls. This land is their right, as the grave-given denizens of the Erdtree. So naturally, not only is material wealth taken into consideration, but also physical traits. If you were graceless — some flavor of beast or demihuman, or both — you’d better be far away, enslaved, run through the machine of war, or killed. The world has no place for impurities.

This culminates in a genetic and spiritual enclave of highland supremacists who undermine anyone beyond their way of life or understanding. Godrick echoes this — a snobby, classist racist, naturally. He’s the byproduct of his circumstances. The chosen, worthy people — a golden people under the great tree.

Godrick’s clan is also one marked by bravery, heroism, and selflessness. Godfrey was a man known for his conquering reign and his ability to face down any challenge with either his axe or bare hands. Godwyn the Golden was a fearsome warrior who fought prehistoric dragons that conjured storms, and he was hailed as a beloved peacemaker.

Where does that leave Godrick? Physically, he is no more impressive than some commoners — not at all a tall, muscular man brandishing a weapon with cascading blond hair, but a sickly man brought up at the end of an era, when the glory of his people began to fade after the banishment of their clan’s forefather.

Godrick has a radically misunderstood image of Godfrey in his mind — mostly because Hoarah Loux’s identity as Godfrey is his legacy. The battle axe, the tree, the lion — these are symbols of Godfrey that Godrick dons. You may notice how neither Godfrey nor Godwyn dress at all like Godrick, his fellow weakling kin, or their banners or armies. Godfrey and Godwyn wear a lot of blue with floral-aquatic golden embroidery, generally adorned with silver or gold ornaments. Godrick and his affiliates wear orange and green, accented with yellow, with the symbols of Godfrey woven throughout — symbols of home, strength, and wisdom.

Godrick is a man who likes to wear, feature, and speak on ideals of strength and faith, but in no way could he actually be emblematic of them. He wasn’t Godfrey — not like that. He was the sickly-born child of a great legacy, whose forebears no longer preside over the continent. Godrick was a man who likely just wanted some small amount of notoriety as a golden clansman during the brief and tenuous period following Godwyn’s death and during Morgott’s fragile attempt at a peaceful coalition with his fellow Shardbearers. But Godrick the Golden was always the little one.

Not to mention, he’s a thieving coward — stealing family treasures, attempting a siege upon Leyndell (which, to be fair, was an understandable move when an Omen of all things claims he possesses more legitimacy than you), hiding himself among the womenfolk, hiding within Stormveil, insulting Malenia only to be defeated, wherein she spared him as he groveled to the ground to quite literally kiss her unalloyed feet. He’s so goddamn pathetic. Everything he’s ever had, he either stole from others or inherited because he’s all that’s left in any relevant capacity.

Even in Morgott’s coalition — imagine: you have the Carian royalty and the malformed twins, all children of the man who displaced your ancestor. The only apparent representative of your kin is a foolish Omen claiming kingship. Yet Godrick had no physical prowess, and so he survived by being a pathetic coward, slipping through the cracks whenever it suited him.

I can definitely see him as a self-loathing man. How unfair it must feel to be born in such a way, when you’re surrounded by grandeur. Sadly, he chose the villainous route — but then again, they’re all just warring aristocrats in the end. All the demigods.

[mymarifae]

i'll be honest op, my main issue with calling aventurine kakavasha is that hoyo heavily used romani culture and history when creating his character and literally made up a name out of romani's festival (kakava) yet refused to give him any melanin romani people have...i would rather not abide by such a crude use of actual existing culture of a strongly discriminated group. so uh. that's why hcing him leaving that name behind is picked by people, in my personal moment bc i don't like how hoyo treats cultures. no offence or aggression to you, of course /gen

hmmm. i see what you mean but, anon, that's... just whitewashing him further, ultimately. because 100% appropriately handled or not, that's what the significance of jade telling him the name kakavasha deserves to be buried in the dirt was. detaching him from his culture and the ties to his family and making him a more palatable part of the ipc's white-based status quo.

like, idk, you are aware that aventurine is rroma, right? he's not white, and simply dropping these parts of his character and treating him like he is isn't... this isn't doing anything. listen, hoyo's bullshit is never-ending so of course he's white-passing, and i'm just as frustrated as everyone else because dark-skinned rroma never get their representation; they're always depicted as pale, and while that's how some rroma people look, it doesn't fairly encompass them as a whole. but the response can't be to just chuck the representation out the window entirely and perpetuate the cycle of whitewashing him..??

[jackass-jones]

Yeah the mouthwash game is pretty good

[apatheticsunday]

Single Dad Dead on Main

AKA "Danny is the ghost-equivalent of a foster parent for de-aged Dani and Dan. Jason's just wondering who the hell these two feral meta children are." prompt idea!

Danny thinks he's doing an okay job at being a single dad of two. They're living in a quaint two bedroom apartment in Park Row, he's managing his Ghost King money well, and the kids haven't died (again). (He's definitely not getting a "World's Greatest Dad" mug anytime soon, but, hey, at least the house hasn't burned down yet!)

...Until he wakes up from his nap to an eerily silent apartment.

If there's one thing he's learned over the last few months, it's that silence is not good. He's scrambling off the couch fast enough to give himself a headache, practically flying down the hallway so he can get to the kids' room. Ellie is wedged halfway under her bunk bed. Dan's also squished under the bed but quickly squirms out when he realizes Danny's standing in the door way. He's holding... a socket wrench??

"...do I want to know what you two are doing?" Danny deadpans.

Ellie scrambles out as well, smears of something oily on her cheek. For a seven and eight year old, they have surprisingly convincing I'm innocent! expressions.

"I dunno," Ellie singsongs while Dan simultaneously barks, "Nothing!"

Danny squints. The kids squint back. Yeah, there's definitely something under the bed that's not supposed to be there. Since Dan's holding a wrench (and where the hell did he get that?? Danny doesn't even own any tools aside from maybe a little rubber mallet he found in the hallway closet), Danny hopes thinks it's not an animal.

It takes a minute of arguing in which Danny promises not to be mad, let them eat ice cream, and let them stay up an hour later than curfew for the kids to even let him near the bed without biting him. (Jokes on them, the ice cream is sugar free and Danny's going to reset the clocks to an hour before. Check and mate, bitch! Parenting is so easy.)

And then Danny pulls out... a tire. No, a rim. Two tire rims. Oh, Ancients. Engraved on the tire rim is a red Bat symbol. His stomach nearly drops to the floor; everybody in Crime Alley knows what the Red Hood's symbol looks like. "Eight Heads in a Duffle Bag," Crime Prince of Gotham with a gang big enough to take over all of Park Row. And yeah, Danny could easily beat the guy, but that doesn't mean he wants to. He doesn't want to uproot Dan and Ellie from their schools, move cities, run from yet another organization that wants them dead.

"How did you get this?" Danny asks, utterly dumbfounded.

"I dunno," Ellie says, just as Dan's saying, "Nowhere."

(Danny takes it back. Parenting is definitely not easy.)

"Danielle. Daniel. Where did you get these tire rims?" Danny asks again, more stern this time, to which he only gets shrugs. And that's when he notices the window is open and the screen his missing. "You're kidding me. Did you climb out the window? We're on the third floor!"

"We flew, duh." Ellie rolls her eyes, only shooting a wide-eyed, guilty look to Dan when he elbows her with a vicious shuddup!

"I-okay. Here's what we're going to do. We'll... just return the rims. It's not like the Red Hood saw you two steal them-," Danny stops when Ellie and Dan give each other a side-eye. He knows that look. It's the same look he and Jazz used to give each other when they had a silent agreement about something. Oh, no. No, no, no.

"...he didn't see you, did he?"

Another side-eye look. Oh, Ancients. At least there's no way the Red Hood knows where they are, right?

(Jason stares at the kids playing with his bike. He's not stupid enough to think they couldn't have been paid to sabotage it, but the way the little girl hikes herself up onto the seat and pretends to rev the engine makes him think otherwise. It's cute. The boy mostly seems interested in the engraved bat symbol on his tire rims, scraping at it like it's a 3D decal.

"I wanna be a bicycle-rider when I get bigger. I'll wear the jacket and everything!" The little girl laughs, deepening her voice before saying, "I'm a bicycle-rider! I'll beat you up!"

Jason snorts. He's leaning against the fire escape balcony overhead and it's dark enough for them not to see him, but they both freeze at the soft sound. When nothing happens, the kids relax again.

"It's a motorist, stupid. C'mon, help me take this off and I'll build you one."

"You wanna take the tire? Why?"

"'Cus of the symbol! It's the Batman symbol, do you know how scared people are of 'em? Show 'em this and nobody'll mess with us."

The kid's got a point. Crime Alley knows Red Hood's symbol like the back of their hand, but somehow Jason doesn't think rolling around a tire rim is going to have the same effect. Jason's about to step in when the kid bends the fucking metal with his bare hand. His fucking bike. It looks like the kid barely broke a sweat, too; just wiped his hands on his jeans and started prying apart front of his motorcycle.

Jason's voice is more biting than he means for it to when he shouts, "Hey!" He swings over the fire escape, landing with a heavy thud, before hauling ass towards the kids. Almost immediately the boy yanks the girl behind him and snarls... and his eyes go Lazarus-green. Jason stops abruptly. His voice is softer, gentler, when he tries again.

"Hey, kid. Don't you know not to go tearing apart people's bikes? C'mon, at least do it the right way."

That makes the boy pause, looking momentarily baffled and the green turning into bright blue. Jason takes that as an in and says, "Y'know, it's a lot faster when you use tools. I've got a wrench in my bag. If you use it like this..."

Jason spends the next thirty-five minutes helping the kids steal his own damn rims. He shouldn't. But he's curious about who these meta kids are and they're almost painfully easy to talk with, they just blabber like they've never heard of keeping a secret before in their lives. They talk about their dad, school, their favorite tv show. And then they talk about "the bad men" and Jason's stomach drops. "The bad men" who drive white vans, capture people, and experiment on them. And that sounds an awful lot like a meta-trafficking ring in his city, dead set on coming after the kids and their dad.

Then he's very, very grateful he's letting the kids take his rims home. After all, what Bat doesn't put GPS trackers in their symbols?)

[savanir]

The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him! 

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps” 

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

[aviawrites]

wait for me (sinners)

!s: smoke x female!oc

summary: Rue has worked for years to forget Elijah Moore and what he left her with before he ran to Chicago. But when she sees his ambitious twin in the square, all of their history comes rushing back. (3.1k)

a/n: it has been so long, but Sinners is truly a movie in its own category. i also need to preface that i am black for this story. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: swearing, n word use (by smoke and stack), mentions of child loss, abortion, sex, racism

in this story, our characters name is: Rue

Elijah Moore and I never had a complicated relationship. Hell, Smoke might even say we had none at all. But for years after he ravaged me in that car outside of the bar, I thought about him every night. We were together, I’d say — Boyfriend and girlfriend for as long as his grief consumed him. But the moment Annie found out, Smoke disappeared from my arms and was at her feet, begging for forgiveness. I don’t blame her, not in the slightest — I can only imagine that those were some of their darkest times.

Elias, on the other hand, him and I had a complicated relationship. When I found out that Smoke left a piece of himself in me, there was no way I could tell him, not after what he’d just been through. So I went to the closest thing to him, Stack. And although what we had is never to be considered romantic, there was something there — Familial, even. He knew it, Mary knew it, and for that very reason I was never allowed within an 100 foot radius of the twins until the day they left, not if I wanted to feel welcome.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

📍 Train Station || 12:00pm

The feelings from all those years ago bubble up inside me and form a twist in my gut when I see that all-too-recognizable burgundy top hat. My feet move before my mind can stop them, and in no time I’m approaching my old friend.

Stack flashes a gold toothed smile. “I’ll be damned.”

I return the nicety, pulling him in for a warm hug.

“Word spreads fast,” I nod. “Y’all still got the same appeal you had all them years ago.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, darling. I know it.” His cocky smile takes me back, the only thing differentiating him from his brother being his energy.

“Do I even want to know why you came back?”

“You heard it as good as I did." He gestures toward little Preacher Boy and the old man. “We’re opening a Juke Joint tonight, right there down at the old mill.”

“Y’all never could stay still. Chicago wasn’t change enough for you?”

He shrugs. “Figured we should deal with a devil we know. Besides, we miss the tricking.”

“Mmm,” I hum. “Well if Miss Pearline back there is singing, I might just pay this Joint a visit.”

Stack looks past me and at the polka dottted woman walking away from Preacher Boy. 

“Shit, if that’s what it takes for you to come, it’s done.”

Always so charming.

He ogles me, his eyes scanning up and down my exposed arms.

“What’s this?” Stack rubs his fingers over the dark ink lining my skin — Art ranging from numbers to symbols to simple symmetric images. 

“You know I’m an artist, boy.” I pull my arm back, scoffing. “Figured I’d get a few permanent ones to remember a few things.”

“And you talking about we couldn’t stay still. I’ll be visiting to get a look at those paintings of yours one of these days.” Stack’s grin begins to fade as he looks over my shoulder. 

Preacher Boy walks up and nears his cousin. “This white woman’s been staring at you—“

“Yea, I see her…”

He shoos Sammie away and tries to walk me off, but I’m already well aware of what shark is in the water — I can hear her heels clicking behind me.

“Now is this Smoke? Or is that Stack?”

I turn my head. “Hi, Mary.”

No response. Only a rough shoulder check as she stands in front of me and nears Stack.

He looks over her head and at me. “I’ll holler at you, Rue—“

Mary interrupts. “No, you’re not talking to fucking Rue right now. You’re talking to me.”

Stack huffs, looking back down at the woman dressed in pink. I give him a ‘have fun dealing with that’ look before turning and catching my train. 

Of all the women wrapped around the twins’ fingers, Mary has got to be the most spiteful of them all. For no good reason, though. Contrary to her belief, I never once slept with Stack, never even thought of it. But as far as she knows, I kissed him all the way to where the sun don’t shine, and then some.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

📍 Juke Joint || 10:00pm

This old mill has lit up under the construction of the twins. People hoot and holler as Pearline ignites the stage, turning into the musical beast I knew she would the minute she started singing. Having no dance partner, I simply clap along, moving my body to the beat alone. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the same damn burgundy hat that I saw only hours ago.

I can feel Annie’s eyes burning holes into my skull as I sit at the bar, Stack walking up to me.

“Now who the hell did y’all rob to afford this place? Ain’t this being sold from the Klan?” I shout across the bar, my voice being drowned out by Pearline’s Pale, Pale Moon.

Stack shakes his head. “Not Klan, just crackers. You know we got money, girl. Don’t do that.”

“Yea, well blood money don’t count. So how much you got now?”

He pulls his pockets inside out, amusing me.

I chuckle, placing my money on the bar. “Y’all have blackberry bourbon smash?”

“I don’t know if I can do that for you…” 

His fake frown quickly turns into a grin as he takes the money, relaying my order to Grace.

“Fancy motherfuckers,” I mumble.

“What was that?” Stack eggs me on.

My eyes scan the bar, but all I can focus on is that hateful scowl on Annie’s face.

“I said all these women hate me.” 

Stack scoffs. “Only those particular women.”

That’s more than enough for me I think.

He leans in, his lips grazing my ear.

“You know none of these girls got shit on you, Rue. They ain’t half as strong either.”

A small smile grows on my face, matching Stacks. He goes to hand me back my cash, but I slide it back to him.

“I don’t need it,” I front.

“Yea? Well me neither. So you gon’ fucking take it.”

I roll my eyes, pocketing the change and standing with my drink. I’ve barely made it away from the bar when cigarette smoke cascades from over my head. Instinctively looking up, I finally see him. 

Smoke stares down at me from the balcony with that hard expression he always wears. It’s so strange, seeing that rock solid glare. When we first met in a dingy bar on the side of a dirt Mississippi road, he hung his head low and seemed to always have glossy eyes. I didn’t believe him when he told me he was Smoke. When he fucked me that night, and many a nights after that, it was slowly — With passion, and often tears followed the act. But now his eyes are as dry as a dessert and they pierce a hole through mine. 

He takes another blow of his cigarette before turning his back to me, retreating into a room. I have no choice but to follow him, even if it’s just to get yelled at to go away as he did the last time we met. I take my time, downing my glass of bourbon as I walk up the stairs. I can’t pinpoint exactly why, but my heart thumps in my chest just before I open the door, all of the thoughts of what we could’ve had rushing back to my mind like they did eight years ago.

I enter the dimly lit room, closing the door behind me and leaning on it.

“Hi, Smoke,” I say lowly, unable to read his face.

“Why you here, Rue?” he grumbles, a roughness to his voice. “I’m already stressed the fuck out with this opening shit. Stack ain’t helping.”

“I don’t want no trouble. Just came for the music.”

“You being here is plenty trouble enough.” He scans my body the same as his brother, blowing his cigarette again. “You can’t find music no place else?”

“You want me to leave?” I ask honestly.

“Yea, I want you to leave. You think those women down there want you to leave too or are we acting stupid tonight?”

“They never even tried to like me, Smoke,” I sigh, my legs bringing me closer to him. I place my hand on his bicep, like I did all those years ago. “They got no idea what we had.”

He puts his hand on mine, pulling it off. “That was a moment of weakness, Rue. Whatever you think we had is gone now." 

I blink to avoid tears from forming. My first ever love, my first ever relationship being chalked up to a moment of weakness chips away at my heart. If it’s what he has to tell himself to dig out of the deep guilt he feels, so be it. But he won’t sit in front of me and act like what we had wasn’t real — Like it isn’t still there.

“So you're saying if the Juke was going good and Annie wasn't watching you like a hawk that you wouldn't entertain me? Wouldn’t consider us?"

Smoke shakes his head. “No, I really wouldn’t.” His brows furrow as he looks at me, seeming to remember a detail that he had previously forgotten. “And your cheating ass can take your business elsewhere.”

I can’t act surprised, not anymore. We allowed him to believe my infidelity as truth, Stack and I. Letting him think I went after his brother was easier than letting him know what Stack was really helping me do…At least it was in the moment. But as he stands in front of me now, I want nothing more than to ease his pain, calm his anger, and tell him the truth — Even if solely to stop him from loathing me so greatly.

“I didn’t cheat on you, Smoke.”

“Bullshit,” he stops me. 

“No, listen.” I step toward him. “I respected what you and Annie had, Smoke. I really did. And I understood that the loss of your baby caused you to make decisions that you might regret, even if that decision was being with me. So when you told me to leave you alone, I did. But I didn’t know if that still stood when I found out that we had a baby…”

The words feel odd coming out of my mouth. I tried so hard at the time to disconnect myself from it, calling the baby a thing inside my stomach rather than what it was: Mine and Smoke’s child.

His brows have smoothened out now and he’s actively listening, his eyes flashing from my face to my stomach and back to my face.

I continue. “I didn’t visit Stack all those nights to get at him. Smoke, I never wanted anybody but you. But God put it on my heart to give you and Annie peace, so we went at it alone. No one knew. He paid a few women to make the drink without telling them who it was for. It only took a few hours for the bleeding to start…”

My voice trails out. I’m unable to finish as flashbacks to that night replay in my head. My mama held me tighter that night than she ever had before…I hated Smoke that night more than I ever had before.

Tears line his eyes now.

He chokes on his words, his voice now much lower. “Don’t you lie to me, Rue…” 

“I wouldn’t lie, baby,” I assure him.

I hold my arm out for him, revealing the tiny footprint tattooed on my wrist, a small E underneath it. 

“We couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling it was a boy. Ezra, I was thinking. Stack hated the name but…” I shrug. 

Smoke runs his thumb over the tattoo, holding my hand in his. He attempts to discreetly wipe his tears, but I see them all the same. Looking up at him, his face can only be compared to the face he made when we spoke about his late baby, which wasn’t often at all. A mix of anger, sorrow, and fear. 

Perhaps he’s considering what could have been, just like I used to — Just like I still do. I used to curse God for putting me in such a position. A second chance for Smoke to be a father, but at the worst of times. I’d have dreams of talking to a clone of myself, telling her that she owed it to Smoke to tell him about the baby. It’s only now that I really see the consequences of my decision.

Smoke looks at me, and then at the door. It’s as if a switch has flipped and he’s forced all of those emotions to turn into one…anger. He reaches for the door, but I lean against it.

“Smoke, it’s already done,” I tell him, holding my hand against his chest. “I just couldn’t take you hating me no more.”

“Move out the way, Rue,” he says, not hearing a word I say.

“I don’t want to cause a scene. Please.”

“You think I give a fuck about causing a scene? Move out of the fucking way.”

“Smoke, it hurts enough as it is—“

“You’ve got one more time, woman.”

“There’s nothing we can do now!”

He wraps a hand around my arm, yanking me just enough to pull me away from the door and swinging it open. I run out behind him, but he’s already looking down the overlook.

“STACK!” he shouts down, the name echoing through the building. 

Everybody looks up, including Mary and Annie. Stack stares up at us, blowing smoke through his nose, before turning back to the crowd. He tells them to resume, nudging Sammie to keep playing. After a moment of silence and a few stray whispers, the music begins again and Pearline starts her singing. Mary holds Stack close, asking him not to go — But as always, the twins do what they want when they want. As Stack rounds the corner, I retreat back into the room, unprepared for what reaction he might have.

He’s barely entered before Smoke pins him against the wall, his forearm over Stack’s chest.

“The fuck?”

“Is it true?” Smoke demands, maintaning his cig in his pinning hand.

I close the door, shouting over the music. “Smoke, stop!”

He ignores me, continuing to press his brother. “Un-uh, I asked you a question, nigga. Did you know she had my baby?”

Stack’s eyes shoot from Smoke to me. I can only nod, giving him permission to tell the full truth as I just did. Stack relaxes, putting his hands up.

“I only did it to protect you, mane.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“You gon’ let me go so I can explain?” 

Smoke lingers before reluctantly letting his brother go with a shove. He puts a hand in his pocket, staring Stack down.

He gestures his cig at his brother. “Talk.” 

Stack smoothens his suit, lighting one of his own. “You know I don’t like that shit, Smoke—”

“Talk.”

He sighs, putting on a smile once more as he tries to explain calmly. 

“When y’all two broke shit off we didn't know we were even going to Chicago, Smoke. Shit, I still thought you and Annie were gonna get married and buy you a house. Rue said you told her to stay away to make that happen, so I helped her stay away. Now we both know she’d never forgive you if you had a baby with another woman.”

“But my baby is none of your fucking business.”

“I was trying to give you a life, nigga,” Stack urges. “Annie is where that life was at. Fuck I look like throwing Rue back at you when you didn’t want her?”

“My baby, Stack.”

Guilt boils inside of me. I never allowed myself to entertain the idea of keeping the baby. There was no way I’d bring him into this world without a father, and Smoke had Annie, so I thought I had no choice. But seeing him blink back his tears now makes me second guess every moment that the baby was inside of me.

Stack thinks carefully about his next words, his smile having faded as he sees how serious his brother is taking this.

“I’m sorry, man,” he shrugs, his tone softer now. “I did what I thought was safest for all y'all, you hear me?” 

Smoke is about to speak when a hard knock pounds the door. 

“Stack?” Mary’s familiar voice rings out from the other side.

“Now I gotta get back to the Joint.”

I hold my head low. “Bye, Stack.”

He heads toward the door, but not before turning to his brother one more time.

“We good?”

Smoke looks from me to Stack, giving him a small nod.

“Get out of here ‘fore I say no.”

Stack only smiles, swinging the door open. I stand beside him, greeting Mary.

“Oh my— Not this trifling bitch again, Stack.” She rolls her eyes.

“Come on. Lay off, Mary.”

“I think you owe her a goddamn apology,” Smoke intervenes, standing behind me.

I mumble, “it’s fine, Smoke.”

Mary scoffs. “For the fuck what?”

“For how you been treating her all these years.”

“How I’ve been treating her? You’re the one who fucked her for a month before running back to Annie.”

“You best watch your mouth, Mary.” He blows smoke toward her. “It’s not too late to pay one of them bitches downstairs to drag your ass out.”

“I’d like to see you try, Smoke—“

“Alright,” Stack interrupts. “Let’s go.” 

He pushes Mary away before closing the door behind him. I assume my previous position, leaning against the door — a much thicker tension in the air now.

“If you hate me even more after this, I understand.” I break the silence. “I don’t blame you. I just couldn’t let the truth belong to me and him alone anymore.”

Smoke stares at his feet, deep in thought. It’s become increasingly harder to tell what this man is thinking. He drops his cigarette, stepping on it.

“Now why would you do that on these new floors-“

His lips are on mine before I can finish, his hungry hands pulling up my dress. It’s automatic, the way my arm wraps around his neck, my hand nearing his crotch. He begins kissing down my neck, but I pull away. He stares at me, eyes wide.

“This isn’t a moment of weakness, is it?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t need a moment of weakness to do what I’m about to do to you.”

I smile, bringing his lips to mine once more. 

Annie will hate me if she finds out, she might hate Smoke even more. But like I told him before, she has no idea what we have. And if I want to fuck my sinner one last time in this Juke Joint, that’s exactly what I’ll do. 

[ddejavvu]

Could you do a criminal minds x reader where reader is viewed as super sweet and dresses brighter and stuff like Penelope but one day they have to come in like super late/by surprise so everyone is in their normal clothes and the bau sees that reader has a big ass, super cool tattoo? And they’re all surprised and stuff

You're looking less-than professional in your backless halter top when you take your seat at the round table, but no one bats an eye until you stand from the chair to leave. Hotch's call of 'Wheels up in 20' means that the room clears as everyone hunts for their gobags, and the second you turn your back to your coworkers a litany of reactions fill the space.

Of course, the most dramatic is from Garcia, but you hear enough to count all of your coworkers, except one. Hotch's brows are raised when you turn back to see them, though - apparently he's not above being startled.

"Woah, hot stuff," Prentiss calls, a grin spreading over her face, "You've got some nice ink back there!"

"I didn't know you had tattoos," JJ muses, staring at you with curious amusement like she's recalculating your image in her mind, "That's really intricate. I like it."

"Oh, it's-" You reach a hand up to stroke awkwardly over the inked skin, "I kind of forgot you'd never seen it before."

"Turn around again!" Garcia gushes, "I wanna look at it."

You spin on command, and Hotch and Rossi are kind enough not to gawp with the others, passing you on their way to the door.

"You've got guts, kid," Rossi grimaces, "I've been in a lot of pain before, but I don't know if I'd willingly sit there for all of that."

"I wouldn't," Hotch shakes his head with a good-natured smile, "Haley and I got small, matching ones in college, and I had a hard time with that one."

"Is that based off of Norse mythology?" Spencer pokes his head around your shoulder to stare bright-eyed at you, "Some of the symbols remind me of-"

"It's just a sick-ass tattoo, Reid." Morgan shoves at his shoulder. peering avidly at the art, "Don't ruin this for everyone."

Reid takes the shove like a champion, smiling kindly, albeit awkwardly at you as he moves for the door himself, "I like it."

"Thanks, Reid," You call, flinching slightly as a hand traces one of the symbols on your back.

"Ooh! Sorry, pumpkin," Garcia calls, the hand drawn away in a flash, "I got too grabby. I just think it's really cool," she takes your hand, leading you towards the door while the others follow to continue staring at your tattoo, "I'd show you my own body art, but it's not really in a spot that I can display in the workplace."

"Well this I've gotta see," Morgan teases, "Let's all huddle in the bathroom on the jet, babygirl, and see what you're hiding."

"It is not for your eyes, Derek Morgan," She huffs, though she's grinning at his attempt. The look in her eyes suggests that the tattoo is not for his eyes because it's something to do with him, and you're eager to giggle over whatever part of her body she's tatted 'babygirl' over later.

For now, though, you rifle through your gobag and shrug on a cardigan, effectively covering your back and its ink.

"It is a crying shame to cover up that artwork," Prentiss laments, "I bet it looks awesome peeking over tank tops."

"You'll see it again at the hotel," You laugh, "I have plans to use the jacuzzi before we leave."

"A jacuzzi sounds fantastic," JJ sighs, "But let's all of us agree that Morgan isn't invited - I wanna see Garcia's tattoo."

[kissbyoon]

⠀𖼥ৎ⠀“wedding ring” ₍ svt ₎

───── ABOUT how svt would react to you removing and leaving your wedding ring before heading to shower.

⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, humour, married au, headcannons ⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: husband!svt x gn!reader ⋆ 𝒄𝒘: mentions of skinship, kissing, petnames ⋆ 𝒘𝒄: 0.6k in total

A/N: all thanks to @wonkierideul for helping me out♡ ily oomfie

 ⑅ Jeonghan, Woozi, Minghao, Vernon, Wonwoo

I feel like for these five, it really won't be a big deal. Because as far as they can remember, he didn't do something that would upset you. They are also aware of the fact that—no matter how mad you are, you would never take your ring off. But if you ever did, their heart will stop beating and it's not even a joke. They would often tell you how the ring is a symbol of your marriage that is filled with love and happiness, and it means alot to them. So there's no way you would never do that to their poor heart.

But one plus point for Jeonghan—this man would definitely be like “Phew, I thought you were mad at me for eating the last piece of the cake…” then get on his knees to beg for forgiveness when you actually get mad.

 ⑅ Joshua, Junhui, Dokyeom, Chan

These four wouldn't be a big problem, but they would definitely be a bit worried. I feel like they would ask you “Why did you take your ring off? Did I do something wrong?” As soon as you step out of the bathroom. Especially Chan and Dokyeom—this man would be worried. He is thinking of all the things he did the whole day and is ready to fall to his knees as soon as you step out of the shower. But once you reassure them with the real reason why you left it there, they would be relieved and happy again. (OUGHHH CHANNIE MY BABYYY)

 ⑅ Seungcheol, Hoshi, Mingyu, Seungkwan

Now I present to you… the most dramatic group of men. You definitely weren't thinking of it much when you left the ring there, but now, you better be prepared to face the most pouty hubby ever. And it's only fair I give you an idea of how the four of them would be dramatic in their own special ways.

Especially Seungkwan—he is throwing a tantrum. “This is torture to our 5 years of marriage… it's heartbreaking, I'm heartbroken!” Better shower him kisses because he is just waiting for that before throwing a kick in the air with happiness.

And we have Mingyu—the six feet man with all the buffiness becomes a puddle of sadness when you walk out of the shower and see him curled up on the bed, staring at the ring in front of him with a frown. No matter how much you reassure him, he is clinging to you and mumbling apologies for nothing. (STOP OMG I HAD TO COVER MY FACE WITH A GIGGLE IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING THIS)

Well, now. Hoshi. Oh my god this horanghae guy is a menace. He looks at you with the most adorable sad puppy eyes ever when you walk out of the shower. And when I say the most adorable, I mean the most adorable sad puppy eyes. “Just say you hate me,” he would pout his heart out. But when you tell him, “Okay, my big baby, put the ring back in my finger yourself,” he would JUMP back up with the biggest grin ever that made his eyes close and kick the air with his feet at the petname. You shall call him ‘my baby’ everyday now. He accepts it more than ‘horangi’!

Sighs. Now, the worst of all—Seungcheol. This man’s hotness and buffiness is all wasted in front of you. He doesn't give a damn if he's looking like the biggest loser right now, but he would whine and pout about this the whole day. He would try to refuse physical touch throughout the day, but would eventually give up and come running to you himself. “Please hug me,” he would say while suffocating you in a hug.

KISSBYOON 2025. all rights reserved. @kstrucknet

[monsterfuckerpillowprincess]

Every year, your village sacrifices a young woman to the orc tribe so they won’t raid them like they’ve done to so many other surrounding villages. To some, it’s a great honor to be chosen to ensure the safety of the village, but most go kicking and screaming. Nobody knows what happens to the young women because they are never seen again. Still, rumors persist. Some say the orcs slice them open and eat them right there on the altar. Others say they force them to become servants in the homes of the higher-ups. A few even whisper that they impregnate them.

That last one is what intrigues you, so while the village elders bicker among themselves over who to choose, you slip away into the forest and make your way to the sacrificial altar. It’s a large stone table with runes carved into the sides and shackles at the four corners for the hands and feet. You strip down and lay yourself willingly upon it and wait.

Soon, you hear rustling. Your heart pounds in your chest. A moment later, orcs begin to emerge from the surrounding woods. Ten, twenty of them, all with green skin covering their bulky frames. Tusks protrude from their jaws. Their long black hair is pulled back into braids and ponytails. Some of them are shirtless and have tattoos inked into their skin, status symbols from their conquests, you’re sure.

They form a solid wall around you, and the biggest one with the most tattoos stands at your feet. He wears nothing but a loin cloth over his bulging crotch. He surveys you thoughtfully for a moment.

“They have not retrained you?” he asks.

“I came by myself. They didn’t force me,” you tell him.

He tilts his head curiously. “No one from your village has ever offered themselves to us willingly.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“No, no, little one,” he chuckles, running his large, calloused hand over your body from your breasts down to your thighs. “We’ve got something special in mind for you.”

He presses the heel of his other hand into his crotch, giving his bulge of firm squeeze, then he pulls his massive cock out and strokes himself to full hardness. You’ve never seen one so big before, much less taken one. With hands that completely encircle each leg, he pulls you closer to the edge of the altar and pushes them apart. He lets out a low growl when he sees that you’re already wet.

“Such an eager little human,” he says as he strokes his thumb through your wetness, up to your clit, and back down again. You gasp when the thick digit slips inside you.

All around you, the others growl and paw at their crotches, leaning in for a better look, their hot breath on your face like a herd of bulls gearing up to charge. They can’t wait to get their chance with you, but this one, who appears to be the leader, gets to go first.

You are completely unprepared for the size of him as he forces your legs further apart and plunges his massive cock inside you. A cry rips its way from your lungs as he relentlessly fucks you, reaching depths you never thought possible.

“That’s it, little one, let them all know how good it feels. Show them how well you can take it.”

It hurts a bit at first, but your body adjusts and soon, you are arching up into him, clawing at his thick biceps and broad shoulders. His body is easily twice the width of yours. He makes you come faster than you ever have before, but he doesn’t let up.

“She’s such a sensitive little thing,” one of the others laughs.

“I bet she’s never tasted orc cock before.”

“I’ve got something she can taste.” You look towards the voice and see one of them with his cock out, slowly stroking it as he watches.

It isn’t long before the leader lets out a roar as he empties himself inside you. After he pulls out, the orc to his right yanks you over to him and plunges into you before any of his come has a chance to escape.

They pass you in circle around the altar like a toy, each one taking their turn with you. Cock after huge cock filling you up, firm hands pinning you down, although there’s hardly any need for it. Some of them toy with your clit just to watch the way you squirm and whimper. You lose track of how many times you come. Before long, you’re weak and trembling with oversensitivity, but you have no choice but to lay there and take it. You get pumped full of so much come that it drips down your thighs and some gets splattered across your stomach.

Once they’ve each had their turn, the leader takes a smooth stone from his pack. “You wouldn’t mind holding this for me, would you?” he says before shoving it inside you. You gasp softly. “Stay here.”

As your breathing evens out, you watch them set up a fire a few feet away and the smell of roasting meat soon reaches your nostrils.

Just as your stomach is starting to rumble, one of the orcs gets up and comes over to you and holds his hand out between your legs. “Give me the stone,” he says. You obey and push it out, and it is immediately replaced by his cock.

Your cries of pleasure mix with cheers from the campfire.

“Give it to her good!”

“Just leave some for me.”

Several of them come back for seconds. For hours it seems like, it goes on like this. For hours, they feast and fuck, and in between rounds, they stuff the stone back inside you to keep their come from seeping out.

Finally, the leader gets up and comes back over, but instead of asking for the stone, he helps you up and wraps you in a blanket and carries you over to the fire, where he sits cross-legged and perches you in his lap. He passes you a leg from whatever beast they’re roasting, and you chew into it ravenously.

“You see, she has a good appetite, too. That bodes well for bearing our young,” he says proudly.

“She’s a pretty one, too, isn’t she?” asks another one of them.

“She is. Very pretty,” says the leader, stroking your hair. “I think I’ll keep her.”

[murderofravens]

THIEF

pairing: the salesman x fem!reader

summary: he looked harmless enough. you should've known you were stealing from the wrong man.

warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON CON ELEMENTS but no actual smut, father issues, talks of abusive past (reader ran away from home) physical and verbal abuse, slapping, hitting and all that. age gap because of course, its my fic afterall. he's fucked up. that's it. read at your own risk.

A/N: shoutout to @muntitled for her incredible salesman fics and for inspiring me to start writing again. you're awesome.

prequel to VIOLATE

MASTERLIST

the station seems colder today. your eyes twitch as you look around, analysing the people waiting for their next train. a woman sitting on a bench, reading. a few college students who probably are in more debt than you. a homeless man mumbling incoherently to himself while trying to light a match. a group of teenage boys laughing at something on their phone— you make a mental note to stay away from that side, for the sake of your own safety. the lightbulb flickers as you take a seat on the dirty floor, contemplating your options. that woman looks a good enough target— but with the layers of clothes she's got on, you don't believe you'll have any luck with her.

you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. you don't look up, merely focusing your gaze on the floor and pretending to be lost in thought. you've learned it's much easier to get away with pickpocketing if you don't immediately look at the person you're stealing from. something about not looking suspicious. a pair of shiny dress shoes stand by the train tracks— and you allow your gaze to trail up, up, up. this man has some long legs, you think to yourself. a crisp, stoney gray suit, and broad shoulders. a briefcase in hand and a seemingly innocent gaze looking around.

someone financially stable, judging by the expensive watch on his wrist. on first glance, you decide he looks like the kind of man who would be too tired or bored to run after you if he caught you in the act.

he'll be paying for your dinners for atleast a week.

as you stand up casually, you spot your target put on a charming smile and walk over to where the homeless man is warming his hands. you can't hear the conversation because the man's back is turned to you, but you can tell he is trying to advertise something to him. he opens his briefcase, and you catch sight of bundles of cash in it. you feel your heartbeat immediately picking up. your body feels warmer now; imagining a bright future for yourself if you managed to get a hand on the briefcase.

you don't bother eavesdropping in the conversation, you have other priorities. luckily, the woman on the bench was reading with her legs spread forward. you take the opportunity and stumble over her feet, losing your footing and falling forward with a loud cry— crashing right into your target who stumbles forward onto the homeless guy who lets out a string of curses.

"watch where you're fucking going!" he yells, and you're sure the woman behind you called you a fucking nutjob as well.

apologizing profusely, you put on your best sheepish expression and pat your target's back, helping him up. he looks at you strangely, giving you a tight lipped smile, and when you slip out his wallet from his back pocket, he doesn't seem to notice. before you can get a hand on the briefcase, he tugs it back and guides it towards the homeless man, engaging in another conversation with him. you're quick to walk away without another glance, swearing to yourself on your missed opportunity. but you suppose a wallet is better than nothing.

the first thing you do is run out and aim towards a crowded area you can disappear into. you open the wallet and pull out some cash— no identification, no credit cards. just a simple paper card with some symbols on it. it makes you wince. you thought with atleast an address or a name, you could've robbed him, but the universe seems to fucking hate you.

you eat some noodles from a street vendor. it's one of your favourites. in moments like these, you miss home. but you figure that having to steal and feed yourself is better than always having to walk on eggshells around your father— wondering when the next hit might come. or what other aspect of you would he decide to fixate on till you start hating yourself. you were tired of that life. this is okay, you'll deal with it.

it's when you're walking back to that rusty apartment you've started calling home that you feel a strange, prickling sensation on your back. so far, you always wondered if what people said was true— that you can tell when you're being watched. right now, you can feel it— this strange, unsettling fear that something is following you. you abruptly look behind, but there's no one there. you consider taking a short cut— but decide it's the stupidest thing you could do, so you just run home as fast as you can and hope whoever it is, doesn't catch you.

you feel victorious as you open the door to your place. as you step inside, something kicks you in the back of your knees and you yelp before falling forward, right on your face.

"what the fuck!?" you shriek breathlessly, scared out of your mind as you lean on your elbows and try to sit up. there's a haunting shadow blocking your doorway, and you can feel your heart begin to pound nervously as you spot the man from the station.

"you look at home down there," he says calmly, accent heavy in his voice. "rightful place for a thief like you."

your voice is stuck in your throat— eyes wide as you let out sharp, heavy breaths. does he know? how long has he been following you? did he involve the police? what is he going to do?

"listen, man." you start shakily, sitting up, "i don't know what you're talking about—"

as you try to stand again, his foot comes up and collides with your shoulder, sending you to the floor again, "fuck!—"

he doesn't let you up as you lay against the floor, his shoe painfully digging into your collarbone, "not only did you sabotage my job tonight, but you also stole from me. i don't like thieves—"

"i hadn't eaten in days!" you cry out, a hand coming up to grab onto his leg, eyes pleading with him to have some sympathy. you really try. "i'll— i can pay you back—"

"by stealing from someone else?" he asks, amused.

"no! god—" you let out a choked breath. you're scared out of your damn mind, it's obvious, but more so because the violence and humiliation you're facing now is what you ran away from home to avoid. you don't want this man to violate you. you're tired of being scared. "i can— i can do a job! anything! ill work for you or- or— i'm sorry, please—"

the man takes joy in your cries, it's obvious in the amusement in his eyes. he's enjoying the way you stumble over your words and make a fool of yourself. but after a moment of begging, he pulls his leg back and gives you a moment to breathe. you sit up, choking on heavy breaths, holding onto your shoulder.

"let's play a game."

you look up at him with bloodshot eyes— barely holding back tears. his hand twitches.

you're shaking. this man just had his foot on your shoulder, and he wants to play a game?

when he doesn't get a response from you, he continues, "it's called ddakji. if you win, i'll give you cash." he opens the briefcase, smiles sinisterly as your eyes land on the object of your desires. "i saw you watching it, back at the station. such a shame your little plan didn't work, no?"

you grit your teeth, looking away from his taunting eyes. "and if i lose?"

"then i get to slap you."

your head snaps up— breathing getting heavy again. is this really what your life has come to? is it really worth it? you're back to square one— perhaps, you could leave your home, but the violence will always follow. the realization of your fate has a tear rolling down your cheek. you really try to sound tough when you gather the courage to speak again. "and why would i do that?"

"because you're desperate," he says calmly, leaning forward to brush the tear away with his thumb. the action has your heart fluttering for just a moment— many men have made you cry, but not one of them have ever wiped the tears. it's stupid. he quirks an eyebrow, settling you with a blank stare that shakes you to your core. "what have you got to lose, anyway?"

he's right, you think. would you rather take a few slaps and then live your life independently? or would you choose to live in fear about when you'd be on the receiving end of your father's wrath again?

you choose the former.

he explains the concept of the game and you get to choose the color of your tile— you pick the red one because it's your favourite color. with as much strength as you can, you try to flip his tile, but it merely jumps and then lands back like it was. it sends your heart plummeting down your stomach.

you know well what's coming next— it's all you've ever known your whole life. you flinch as his hand raises, but he stops midway. you tremble violently, eyeing his palm nervously. he eyes you curiously for a while, before another twisted smile appears on his face.

"you ever get hit before?" he asks, voice taunting. you swallow hard. "boyfriend?" he pushes his hand closer, making you flinch again. "ah, i know�� father."

before you can snap at him, his hand collides with your cheek, making you let out a sharp cry. your face twists to the side and you take a deep breath— try to console yourself. it's just a game. he's not doing it out of malice. false promises.

you bite down on your lower lip to avoid calling him a fucking dickhead and telling him to rot.

he just smiles as he goes next. you pray to the gods he doesn't flip your tile— and thankfully, he doesn't. it makes you sigh in relief as he tosses a bundle of cash at your feet. you bend down to pick it up, "oh my god, thank you, thank you—"

he tsks, shaking his head, "game isn't over."

you go another round, and you win. you cheer heartily as you get another bundle of the cash tossed at your feet— and he sighs to himself. suddenly this game seems better.

you try to use your previous technique to flip his tile, and it doesn't work. it earns you another slap. it doesn't get better— you get as many slaps as you do cash. tears roll down your sore cheeks— they're heated and they hurt. you feel faint. only you know how much strength it takes to keep standing. you're sure your face will bruise tomorrow. he doesn't stop until you have half the cash from his briefcase. you can't hold back your sobs— you don't know what you're crying for. the cash, or the slaps? both, perhaps.

"you did good," he says, stepping forward and invading your personal space. his hands are warm as he cups your cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears. you try to pull your face away, but one warning glare from him has you frozen in place. "look on the bright side, you decided to steal from me today and you earned some money. even if it came with a little beating. but you took it like a good girl, didn't you?"

his words should have you convulsing. you should be kicking him in the balls and hitting him with the nearest object you can find— but you're hypnotized— caught in a trance by his words of praise. against your better judgement, you nod, before shamefully averting your gaze.

he smiles tightly and steps away. adjusts the buttons of his suit jacket and looks around before going to the couch and sitting down. "why don't you go fetch me a glass of water?" he stretches his arms, shoots a provocative smile your way. "all this exercise has me feeling thirsty."

you want to tell him to shove his exercise up your ass and leave, but you decide to do as he said. you're in no position to threaten him. he's much stronger than you, and judging by everything else, much older as well. men like him are not easy to fool. and you really don't want to get hit again.

as you pour him a glass of water, you eye his briefcase again. if you could somehow manage to perhaps weaken him for just a moment— you could get all the cash and maybe run away. you would spike his water but you don't have any drugs. you have to do this the hard way. you pocket a fork and then head back to deliver him his water.

as he drinks, you kneel by his feet, gathering your cash. carefully, you pull out the fork, and with as much strength as you can, slam it down onto the side of his foot.

"you little bitch—" he groans loudly, wincing and throwing his head back and clenching his jaw before splashing the water from the glass on your face. it makes you squeal. before you can attack again, he pulls the fork out and tosses it to the side. your eyes widen and you rush to get it, but he sticks his leg out and you trip and fall on your face again.

a crunchy sound emerges as he steps on your wrist, his shoe digging into the delicate appendage. you let out a shrill cry.

"the one thing i hate more than thieves—" he snickers, looking down at you like you're an insect. he scoffs, twisting his shoe harder, making you choke on a sob, "is a little girl who thinks she's smarter than me."

"fuck you!" you sob, squirming on the ground, "let me go!"

"watch your language with me." he hisses back, narrowing his eyes. he glares before releasing a breathy chuckle, "you are the stupidest girl i have ever met. you were doing so well too. did you really think you could overpower me?"

"you hit me—" you sniffle, groaning in pain as you attempts to yank your hand back, "you hit me and you—"

he interrupts with a taunt, "maybe if you tried acting so smartly with your father, you wouldn't have had to run away from home."

you gasp before letting out another pained whimper, "how did you—"

"it's written on your face." he sighs, exasperated. like he's dealing with a toddler, not a girl who stabbed his leg. "if i let go of your hand, do you promise not to get hostile again?"

you glare at him silently through teary eyes.

"do i have your word?" he says louder, twisting his foot again.

"yes, yes—" you yelp, and with careful thought, he steps back. before you can make a move, he leans down to grab your hair and yanks you up. it makes you hiss in pain. he shoves you towards the couch.

"all this fighting has made me excited," he remarks with a chuckle, crowding you in. your eyes widen and you crawl away from him to the farthest end of the couch. he follows you like a predator, palming the front of his pants, and the realization of whats to follow makes you shake your head, "no- no, please, god—"

"shut the fuck up," he snaps strictly, voice eerily composed. he grabs your head, looks down at you with those black, empty eyes, his free hand carelessly unbuckling his belt. "you didn't think i'd let your little stunt go unpunished, did you?"

"you can do anything else—" you choke out, shaking her head. he yanks your face forward, makes your cheek press against the tent in his pants. you can smell him. you desperately try to latch onto any semblance of comfort you can find. "anything— anything but this, you can even slap me again—"

"hitting you is no fun if you're asking for it," he replies boredly, tugging your head back just enough so your teary eyes blink up at him pathetically. "i want to really rub it in this time. what happens when you mess with men like me."

you want to fight more— you wish you could. you desperately want to, but you feel frozen with shock. this day has turned into a nightmare you couldn't imagine even in the worst possible time. it's like everything you have done till now to avoid horrible, violent men, is laughing at your failure. you blink a few times, as if trying to wake yourself up.

"i've never done this before," your voice cracks as you voice your last attempt at begging for mercy— does he not have a heart?

he pauses and eyes you for a moment, and for a millisecond you think he'll reconsider. but then his mouth twitches, and your heart breaks as soon he pulls his pants down.

"even better."

A/N: this was more psychological and self indulgent that i expected, lol. i'm still not very well versed with smut, so i thought i might put this out before i try. feedback is always appreciated. i love him so much even though he's horrible. i guess that's what them father issues do.

[marsmaximoff]

🦑 hwang jun-ho; headcanons 〇△□

content warning: gn!reader. fluff. mentions of death, coma and jealousy. pet names. no season 2 spoilers. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 941

author’s note: well, my man is back, and i had to write some headcanons for him. the OBSESSION that i had back in 2021 needs to be studied, omg. anyway, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, english is my third language, so i apologize for any mistakes. in case i don’t post anything else this year, happy 2025 everybody!! enjoy! 🩷

divider by @k1ssyoursister

〇 pre-games

best. boyfriend. ever.

that’s it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

🙃🙃🙃

his love languages are:

1) quality time

he may be a police detective, but he ALWAYS tries to make time for you 

and see you every day, and if he can’t, he’ll save some minutes to call you

loves to hear about your day

big on communication, that’s key on your relationship 

type of boyfriend that picks you up after work, or anything really

he just wants to see your cute face :3

takes you out on cool dates

to the park, to eat, to cute animal cafés

he’s okay with staying in too, just cuddling, talking, watching something….

and 2) acts of service 

will drive you anywhere you need

you get ‘good morning/night’ texts every single day you’re not together

makes you breakfast 

and has no problem with cooking for you

opens doors for you 

pulls out the chair at the restaurant ☝🏻

he’ll simply do anything you need

loves coming home to you, it doesn't matter how shitty or overwhelming his day was, you just put a smile on his face

his favorite thing to do with you is eating

it may sound boring, but he loves to see you taking care of yourself, well-fed and happy

takes you to meet his family

his mom loves you

even his brother likes you

he’s a tease and enjoys seeing you all flustered

i feel like he’d be the type to have many pics of you on his phone that he goes back to whenever he misses you

you’re probably his wallpaper, perhaps even on his wallet too 🤭

some pet names like: “honey”, “love”, “beautiful”, “cutie”

would never cheat

a guard dog

not super jealous -a bit tho- but won't hesitate to step up if someone acts stupid 

(picture that one scene in season 2 when that man mocked him and didn’t believe he was an actual police detective hehe)

shows you off 🤩

checks you out :p

his hand is on you in some way when you’re out

has good emotional intelligence

big spoon

reminds you to take your make up off before bed if you wear any -he may even do it himself if you're too tired

or to take meds

he is just really caring and supportive

doesn't like seeing you worried or anxious because of his job

absolutely hates to see you suffer

doesn’t mind that you may be struggling financially, it won’t change what he feels

will help you with whatever it is

just don’t hide it, he hates secrets and lies

i hate doing it, but there always has to be some 🚩 

he’s the first one that would do it (lying and hiding stuff) to ensure you’re okay and don’t get worried

on a particularly overwhelming day, he will raise his voice at you

can get really overprotective 

some days you may not hear from him, or at least not much

will sometimes struggle to open up about his issues or what’s upsetting him

△ during the games

after your sudden disappearance, worry and fear ate him up

while checking your house he found a weird card

and once he discovered the exact same one at his brother’s, he knew something was going on

heard gi-hun at the police station rambling about some weird symbols and immediately recognized the design

interrogated him about you, desperate to know about your whereabouts 

as soon as he successfully infiltrated the games, he began your search

almost had a heart attack when he spotted you

had to make the effort of his life to stay calm and not run to you

would somehow manage to get you two alone so he can get you out of there (i wrote about this)

almost gets caught

feels betrayed you didn’t tell him and quite angry you’d risk your own life like this

but mostly relieved you’re okay (and still alive)

watches you like a hawk from the distance, ensuring your safety

constantly around, you continuously sense his presence close by 

□ post-games (you died)

had to see your death and practically went numb

blurry vision, ringing in his ears, shortness of breath, sting in his throat

the worst thing tho, was finding out his brother had been behind everything

how could he have done this to you? you trusted him! 

feels completely disgusted

after his coma, he blames himself for everything

your name was his first word after waking up

dreams about you 

gets you a cenotaph given that your body will forever remain strayed

nevertheless, he still talks to you like you’re there

tells you about his recovery and his progress finding the island

you are his strongest motivation

he’s doing this for you, to provide the love of his life a much deserving peaceful rest

gets you new flowers every few days

he’ll never stop feeling guilty

〇 post-games (you survived)

has nightmares he failed and left you to meet your demise on those cursed games

always there when you have them, and so is his shoulder if you need to cry

reassurance king

hides the identity of his attacker from you

becomes even more overprotective

shared location on at all times

gets paranoid if you don’t text him all day

he swore to never miss a single detail of your possible struggles. not again

you can still tell he holds himself responsible for your time on that island

stays awake at night just watching you sleep safe and sound (will never say it tho)

babies you

bigger spoon

doesn’t let you go out on your own if it’s late, afraid that something may happen and those psychopaths will reach you again

[ghouljams]

Okay… I hope this isn’t weird but I really do love cannibal kinks and the symbolism of giving oneself to the other for them to live but also… I like it when they’re deranged as hell.

I remember you talking about Ghost and how he’d definitely survive the apocalypse by going to cannibalism when food runs out and you’re so, so right.

I want to say he doesn't even wait for food to run out but that would be a lie, the man is utilitarian to his core. He stockpiles dry food, canned goods, he butchers the cow and deer he buys from farmers outside the city, stores them in his deep freeze (the one with its own generator). He has meat for months, rations for years, and yet as soon as shit hits the fan his shitty apartment in the city doesn't cut it the way he thought it would. There are too many people, too much noise, too much chaos. Not the sort he relishes in, the kind that crashes into buildings like a wave, attempting to shake their foundations like the horns of Jericho. It's a chaos he knows, the kind that always follows political upheaval, the kind that makes leaving the city feel less risky than sticking around.

So he packs what he can into his car, and to be fair he can pack quite a bit in there, and he gets the fuck out of the city. Takes the back roads, avoids highways and the city center. He pats himself on the back for getting something suited to rough terrain, remembers Soap complaining that he was bringing the military home with him. He finds a cabin out in the middle of the woods, remembers seeing a listing for it on some bnb website while the internet was still up, and hopes no one else had the same idea.

He avoids opening the freezer he managed to stuff in the back seat, digs a cup into a sack of beans, eats them just barely cooked while he checks the ropes on the generator strapped to the top of his car. He chews on jerky while he drives, tries to remember the farms in the area, reasons over whether or not he could nab a cow even just for the milk. Considers setting rabbit traps, nearly grabs a duck from a pond he drives past for the eggs, thinks better of it when he has the poor creature by the neck and isn't sure where he's supposed to put it in his crammed car.

All this to say he's fucking exhausted by the time he reaches the dark little cabin. Somehow all that sleep deprived insanity reaches a peak spotting your little sedan sitting between the trees, the flutter of someone peeking through the curtains... he hardly waits to unload his own vehicle before breaking the door down to see what a suddenly merciful God has granted him. Toys, he thinks to himself as you spit and kick and scream for someone to help, knew I forgot something.

The skin around his eye is starting to darken by the time he gets dinner on the table. Most of the fight went out of you at the promise of food, and you'd even been kind enough to help him get the freezer inside once he'd gotten the generator running. He'd have to get some of the trees around the place limbed up so the solar can keep it running, but he'll worry about that tomorrow.

"What's this," You sniff at the meat sitting nicely charred on your plate.

"Don't remember 'is name." Ghost smiles, the scars around his lips tugging the skin twisted. You grimace and push the plate away, your lip starting to wobble for a second time. "Eat," He tell you, "or it'll be you next."

You give him a long searching look, likely trying to see if he's serious. You must not like what you find, because you drag the plate close and start to pick at the meat. You do your best to hide the gag that nearly slips past your lips, choking down distinctly inhuman meat. Oh well, Ghost thinks, be easier to get you to eat it later.

[asha-mage]

The costuming of each of Rand's ancestors is ALSO insane, each iteration of the cadin'sor a step forward towards the one we recognize on Janduin and the modern Aiel, and each reflecting the moment that ancestor lived in:

Charn has simple but well made work clothes that reflect his upbringing as someone form a culture that still practices agrarian farming in a sci fi utopia. It's simple brown that looks more rough and rustic standing in contrast to Miren's sleek white lab outfit, but still contains the hints of modern amenity: his over the shoulder cape, the buttons on his coat and shirt. This is someone who lives in a society where he could be wearing something more clearly modern, but deliberately choose something humble and simple.

Then you have Rhodric in a much sleeker and darker version: the rustic agrarian element has been traded for a straight lines. Everything is imminently practical, from the thick soled work boots, to the leather vest with it's own clip and zippers, to the trousers that allow for range of motion. Rhodric was living through a time of war and now apocalypse. Even his people, sworn to peace, have been altered by the realities of the world they live in, and what their role as servants to Aes Sedai, leaders in that war, demanded.

Centuries later, the cadin'sor has been entirely lost, and Jonai is in what we can recognize now as Tuatha'an style clothing, which makes sense since this is where the two cultures split. Gone are the sleek uniform lines Rhodric was wearing but the deliberate rustic vibe Charn had has not returned. Instead everything is clearly (and messily) hand made. Threads are hanging off a poncho that is clearly hard used. Everything is ill fitting- on Jonai and every one else in this scene. Adan's shirt hangs askew because it's to large while Sulwin's skirt drags in the skirt because it's to long. Their are all these efforts at bright colors and patterning- but their irregular and imperfect. The breaking is taking it's hold and exacting it's price.

Two generations later, Jonai's great grandson, Lewin and his fellows have something that that is first step towards modern Aiel cadin'sor. Everyone has adopted browns and grey, brighter color has been dramatically scaled back, and while stuff still isn't fitting great, it's fitting better. Practicality is back as the main focus, and we see sharp lines return as well. Lewin is the ancestor that most resembles Rhodric, because like with Rhodric he has had to make concessions in himself for the realities of a violent world. The veil appears for the first time, and the colors are now locked in: brown and grey, to match their desert environment.

Jumping forward centuries again to the pre-Clan Aiel, we get Mandein, a sept chief from right before the Aiel cultural identity starts to codify. He is wearing a leather cuirass over a simple linen shirt- the colors are consistent now. and everything is well fitted. The biggest difference is how his rank as a chief is conveyed: he is slathered status symbols, from his cloak, to his sea shell necklace, to his spear with special inlay- all things that demonstrate his singular importance in a society grappling with scarcity. Their is also no uniformity when we see the other sept chiefs during the meeting- everyone is styled differently, draped in different kinds of status symbols. The modern Aiel as a culture now exists, but a common cultural identity is still in the process of forming and getting locked in.

And then finally Janduin- post that cultural identity being codified for two thousand years. He and all the other Aiel warriors are uniform with a clear vision- and being influenced by aesthetic sensibilities that incorporate every step backwards through time. A curiass that seems heavily based on the vest of Rhodric and the others during the war period but with the clear underpinning of being real armor like what Mandein wore, a metal buckler strapped to his back right where the Aiel work hats used to hang during Charn's day, and of course, Lewin's veil but also his same basic silhouette and linens. The only one not represented here is Jonai- which makes sense since that is the lowest point in the Aiel's history, reduced to refugees being preyed upon without anything but their oath and each other to sustain them. Most strikingly to me is the complete absence of any status symbol- Janduin leads many many more people then Mandein but his spears are the same as his soldiers, and nothing marks him out as their leader even in the thick of combat...because such symbols are unnecessary. His right to lead, we know, is carved into his arm.