#he craves the guillotine please do not ask him about this !!!!!

[altarfates]

“ dan ! heng ! ” uh oh, it’s that tone of voice again. at least this time, she doesn’t seem particularly upset, a cheerful smile stretched across her face as march approaches with steady, determined strides. in her hand, she casually swings a camera, the strap looped twice around her wrist for security. “ it’s monthly picture day, come here, don’t be a bum about it this time ! ” she halts just in front of him, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to adjust the collar of his shirt. “ you should invest in some turtlenecks if you’re going to come back from running 'personal errands' with new bruises on your neck. ” bruises, she says, but they both know what she’s referring to. “ anyway ! i have a great cream for redness. you can have it, if you smile at the camera this time. ” 

March’s jaunty strides are portentous of something that leave dan heng with an imminent sense of disquiet, for all her effervescent joy her gaze was astute, or perhaps he had not been as discreet as he had thought. There was one person who should face reprimand for that, someone who, despite his most earnest efforts, had decided the side of his throat needed to be marred by the lingering impression of his teeth. Involuntarily his hand comes to rest defensively over his throat, a barrier between her knowing expression and the dark, possessive contusions that had been engraved into his skin. It would seem circumventing this was no longer a possibility and whilst indulging an onslaught of selfies, each with a more absurd composition than the last, was not something he reveled in, there were many much worse outcomes than this. “ Personal errands aside, will you not be asking them to join us ?” the ambiguous them could be referring to mister yang, himeko or even the ever enthusiastic trailblazer. any of them would have been far more suitable than himself. although, her touch, which should have felt invasive, feels kind, considerate, adjusting the collar of his shirt to conceal the vestiges of another personal errand. dan hengs attempts to keep them clandestine had been in futility, especially when it was march’s gaze that swept over him. “ In exchange for a smile ?” it seemed like pittance for what she was offering but if it were to alleviate the arbitrary spatterings of red brazenly rising above his collar then he could be but eternally grateful. “ All you would ask for is one ?” He studies her with a steady, inscrutable gaze but it does very little to disguise that faint flush that had dusted his cheeks spreading to the tips of his elegantly pointed ears. “ …I can agree to that.” 

[duskandstarlight]

Haircut (Nessian pregnancy fic snippet - working title)

Notes: Thanks for all being so understanding today about the delay in getting the next chapter of E&L out. The pregnancy fic and chapter 30 were pretty close in votes, but I think we could all do with a little bit of pregnancy Nessian right now... 

Apologies for any typos. And I will aim to get this up in the next few weeks, but E&L takes precedence, as it does for all of my writing :)

Summary: Nesta is heavily pregnant with she and Cassian’s first child. When his brothers suggest delaying their annual trip to the cabin, Nesta encourages him to go, craving some time to herself. When he returns, she’s horrified to discover something has happened to her mate’s hair...

Cassian landed on the winding lane between the cottage gate and the paddock with his usual grace. Those eyes found hers immediately and Nesta’s breath caught in her throat, but for once the disarming grin that blossomed across his face was not the cause.

She did not hear him arrogantly ask if she had missed him. Did not hear him call her sweetheart. His voice had tuned out, a ringing sounding in her ears as Nesta turned hot and cold. She saw her mate’s eyes widen in alarm at the silver mist that sparked unwittingly at her fingertips. Saw him open his mouth to remind her that Madja had told them that under no circumstances was Nesta to expend a large amount of her power during the last months of her pregnancy.

The world tilted as a fierce anger gripped hold of her. Thunder stormed across her features for a fraction of a moment, but then she swept her expression blank. It was the sort of emptiness that always had Cassian panicking.

She took a few steps towards him. It was not as elegant as Nesta would have liked, more like a waddle than anything, but she kept her chin tilted upwards as if she were a vengeful queen rather than a heavily eight month pregnant female.

Cassian did not move away from her. Not once had he feared her magic. It was one of the things that had made her fall even deeper in love with him. He did not balk. Did not cower. Only faced her head on, even as his usually tan skin drained itself of colour.

“What,” Nesta said with the terrifying sort of calm she usually reserved for her enemies, “is that?”

Her voice was slow, deliberate and fucking dangerous. Cassian knew it, too. His amber eyes flared in alarm, but Nesta did not care, because her husband and mate’s beautiful hair—the hair she had missed winding her hands through whilst he purred against her neck—was gone.

“What is what, sweetheart?” Cassian asked lightly, tilting his head at her as if he had forgotten that he had hacked his fucking hair off. He took a hesitant step towards her when he realised she would not speak until she got an explanation, but she stepped away.

Cautiously, he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck. At the short, close cropped ebony bristles. “I lost a bet and—”

But Nesta held her hand up to stop him. For once, her husband fell silent. “You lost a bet?”

“I—well, yes, sweetheart, but—”

Nesta raised the palm that was still outstretched.

“And you allowed them to do this to you?” A wild gesticulation with the same hand in the direction of his head. “You allowed your brothers to cut your hair?”

Cassian dared to step towards her. He closed the distance and Nesta tried to push away the scent of pine resin and musk. Of the fresh air that only came from flying at height. The smell she missed more than anything now she was not allowed to fly with him in the skies.

He reached a hand to cup her cheek but she moved away from him at the last moment.

And, Nesta realised with horror, her eyes were swimming with unshed tears.

Stupid fucking pregnancy hormones, she thought angrily as she watched Cassian’s fingers curl on his outstretched hand and fall to his side. She was exhausted and swollen and so fucking pregnant and his hair was gone. The weight of it all hit her in one mighty sweep and she felt the rage build within her.

Cassian’s eyes darted to her hands… to the ethereal mist that eddied around her fingers, clinging up her wrists, until it solidified into a burning whip of fire that coiled like a serpent up her arm.

It must have taken everything in Cassian to not bark at her to calm down. She was not supposed to be letting her fury get the better of her, not whilst she was technically on bedrest. Madja’s instructions had been stern but clear: no major use of magic.

“Sweetheart, please. I missed you. I missed you both. Don’t shut me out. All I’ve wanted since I left was to be with you.”

He sent a sensation to soothe down their bond but Nesta cut it off, slamming down her shields with the viciousness of a guillotine. Cassian reeled as if she had slapped him, but she did not care as she coated their bond in the thickest of ice and for the first time since their mating, completely shut him out.

“Well, you should have thought about that before you lost another bet.”

Tags: @arinbelle @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775  @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @wishfulimaginings @trash-for-nessian @my-fan-side

[greenninjagal-blog]

The Rumor Mill Game (pt2)

You guys asked, and I have no self control at all. Have some more Intrulogical, now with Plot(tm). If you missed part one you can find it [here!]

Summary: If he thought himself a king of the office, then Logan was honored to be the guillotine. [aka When his coworker, Remus, decides to play a game, Logan is going to make sure he regrets it. Even if its the last thing he does.]

Words: 3506

Quick taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @midnightmagi @shadowjag @residentanchor

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

When Logan had first put on the ring, he hadn’t expected it to end like this.

But that was mostly his own folly: Logan should have realized that based on his (lack of) knowledge concerning the behaviors of Remus Prince, his imagined plan of action would be....upended. After all, he had barely known the man beyond the occasional sight of  him in the break room where he teetered on the edge of the counter sitting much like a king as his subjects bowed before him.

Logan was of the sound impression that absolutely everyone who had been hired for his company was of the particularly stupid brand. Often times he had imagined his boss had sat down in the interviews and hired the first person who walked in and smiled, because clearly Beatrice from Accounting did not know what she was doing and her inability to use Excel spreadsheets had led him to far too many late nights correcting her work.

It was one such night that had lead to this...this ludicrous situation: Logan had been in his office all day practically tearing his hair out over his coworkers inability to count (what did you do with the decimal point, Kyle? Where did this five come from? Why are you all so inept?) and his coffee had gone cold, and he should have been leaving an hour ago, but these pages had been due two weeks ago and Logan hated leaving things unfinished.

He had a headache brewing from staring at his screen for so long. He peeled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes until they watered before glancing at the clock in the bottom of his screen. After a quick and efficiently ruthless curse towards Janet for being so late to turn in any of her sheets, he scooted back in his chair and had left to refill in coffee mug.

The office floor had been deserted for the most part. Logan should have been grateful, because that meant less possible nonsense to distract him from his work.

But unfortunately, he was quite familiar with Jen’s hair in a loose-but-still-formal bun and Quin’s scarf that they wore like a talisman to ward off bad omens. They clutched it the second they noticed Logan approaching the two of them, as if he had been coming to deliver an upsetting diagnosis and not to use the coffee machine they were standing in front of.

And because Logan was absolutely not in the mood to talk to either of them, Jen had caught sight of him and puffed her cheeks in anger, like some sort of puffer fish. She tuned to face him fully with her arms on her hips and gave him some equivalent to a “death glare”, as Logan assumed people would call it.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I work here,” Logan said, perhaps a little snappish, “Now, might I get to the coffee machine?”

She had huffed, tapped her foot thrice, and then shuffled to the side just enough that Logan could get to the coffee machine.

Thankfully, just enough was still technically enough. He placed his mug beside the coffee maker and checked the cartridge for leftover used grinds because-- once again-- all of his coworkers were extremely disappointing when it came to using their brains.

Jen huffed again and she was close enough that absolutely all of Logan’s internal alarms started ringing. He snapped the cartridge --thankfully clean, Logan ideally wondered if maybe it was possible they were learning. Oh wouldn’t that be a miracle?-- closed and debated giving up on the coffee all together. But he could still see grid patterns when he closed his eyes, so he dug out his preferred coffee brand and set up the maker.

Quin opened their mouth and closed it again several times. It was clear from the way they shifted on their feet and and looked anywhere but at Jen or him that they were uncomfortable. Logan found himself praying to gods that he didn’t believe in that they would hold off until he had his coffee and was safely back in his office.

“I see Remus cleaned your mug.” Quin mumbled softly because the gods that Logan didn’t believe in don’t exist and he was on this planet purely to suffer.

But they had made a semi-valid point. Remus had cleaned his cup just as Logan had requested--just as was basic human politeness when using something of someone else’s possession, regardless of the fact that Remus Prince had not asked permission to use it in the first place. Logan felt his nose twitch in irritation at the memory of the other day.

“Yes,” Logan said between his gritted teeth. Had the coffee machine always been this slow? Or perhaps it was showing its age by taking longer to make his miserable coffee. He was sure that he could move some funds around to get them a new machine by Thursday if he could just make it back to his office--

“That’s all you have to say?” Jen sniped, “Just “Yes”? Unbelievable!”

“If you have an issue,” Logan said to her, “Please keep it to yourself.”

She slammed a hand on the counter, “I cannot believe you! Perfect Logan Ackroyd! You’re just like all the rest of them!”

“Curious how this sounds very much like you are not keeping your issue to yourself,” Logan commented.

“Jen--” Quin said, but she acted much like puddle of gasoline after a match dropped on it.

She got red in the face and her neat eyebrows smashed together as she stared down him with a snarl that most certainly did not belong in the workplace. She stamped her foot like some sort of child-- honestly? Logan shouldn’t have been surprised seeing how he had been able to hear the meltdown that happened after her messy breakup with Kyle. It had been so loud that Remus had even had the gall to look moderately shocked when everything had gone down.

“Where do you guys get off on taking advantage of your significant other’s trust in you?” Jen growled, “Is it fun for you? Do you not care about our feelings? Maybe we weren’t so far off when we said you were a robot, Mr. Ackroyd! You’re cold and cruel and I hope that when your affair comes to light--”

“Jennifer,” Logan hissed, “choose your next words extremely carefully, because I have spent eleven hours going over spreadsheets that have been done wrong and am not in the mood to listen to you prattle about lost love. In case you have forgotten, I very much have control over your sector and it will only take three emails to have you demoted and-or removed from this company.”

Jen’s mouth snapped shut.

Logan thought that was the first merciful thing that had happened all day. He picked up his coffee, holding it tightly in his hand despite the heat radiating off it and headed out of the breakroom.

He stopped at the door, as the dregs of the conversation spun through his brain. “Did you imply that I was having an affair?”

Quin was wringing their hands and Jen was clawing her nails into the counter. Still, they nodded.

“Who told you that?”

And really, Logan should have expected the answer. Of course it was Remus Prince, the advertising privateer who had turned the entire company into some sort of drama circus with his half truths and his lack of a mouth filter.

The Robot Extravaganza had stolen the peace and quiet of Logan’s work atmosphere and driven him up the figurative walls. That week alone had eight times more people rapping on his door frame than he had had in the entire year previously. And of course that ridiculous white board they had put up in the far wall as if Logan was incapable of reading and comprehending words. It was unprofessional and childish and Logan had barely gotten any work done when he had been constantly interrupted with mundane questions of “Logan do you need to eat?”, “Logan how do you shower without rusting?”, “Logan do you have batteries or do you plug yourself in at night?”, “Logan!”, “Logan!”, “Logan!”.

Not to mention the way that Remus had laughed the entire time as if he found the idea of Logan being harassed particularly amusing. And Logan hated that laugh. It was terrible and awful and grating, and it made Logan want to tear out his hair because it sounded so much like---

“Is that so,” Logan said absently to Jen and Quin. “Remus Prince told you I was having an affair.”

He shifted to hold his mug with both hands, his eyes slipping over to that counter where Remus had been sitting before, with that same mug between his legs daring suggestive thoughts. How many times had Logan seen him sitting there looking like he could control the whole world with a few crass comments?

It was a game to him, wasn’t it? A game that Remus loved to play because he always won.

And who better to fix that than Logan who had been craving for revenge like it was a figurative itch under his very skin?

“Ah, well then,” Logan said and then because he was very much not the type to let people misinterpret him, he added, “I hadn’t realized my husband’s antics would upset you so much, Jen. I apologize on his behalf.”

That got their attentions real quick. Quin’s neck cracked with the force of which they turned their head to look him in the eye. Jen blinked several times as if she was having trouble processing things.

“Husband?” Jen repeats, as if she hadn’t heard the term before.

Logan straightened his back, “I’ll repeat myself slower since this seems to be overwhelming for your small brain. Remus Prince and I are married.”

“You’re a real asshole!” She covered her mouth and then fluttered her hands in a bootless waste of motions. “You’re serious? Wait of course you are! How could I forget, necktie! Oh my god, you’re serious. You and Remus?”

Logan took a sip of his coffee. “I have spreadsheets to amend.”

“Wait wait wait! I want details! Logan get back, here!” Jen screeched after him.

Logan wondered vaguely if this was the reason why Remus spread these rumors so often: the short zappy thrill that had ignited his neurons was much more effective than his coffee could ever hope to be. And Jen had believed him without a hesitance-- which truly was revealing of her hot headed nature. It was, dare he say, exciting. He hadn’t felt this way since his college lab days when he had tackled the creation of experiments with unbridled vigour.

Just how much was she willing to accept just because Logan had been the one to tell her? Just how wild of an accusation could Logan offer up before she wisened up? How quickly would this get back to Remus?

Logan itched to set up an experiment to test it all out. After all he would only get one chance to do this: most certainly when Remus gathered wind of how Logan had turned his false information back on him, Remus would come clean and admit that they had never even seen each other.

It would ruin both of their reputations. Remus as someone who spread truths, and Logan as someone who could be believed in every instance.

But Remus would still choose it over allowing anyone in the work area to think they were married. Logan knew this easily, obviously, irrefutably. They were strangers, not even acquaintances.

“Janet! Janet!” Jen screeched surprisingly loud for someone of her stature. “Janet did you know that Remus and Logan are married?” 

Logan hadn’t realized Janet was still there at all, but at the accusation she flung backwards from her cubical in her rolling office chair and nearly crashed into Logan on just feet from his private office door.

“Run that by me again!” She demanded, “Remus and Logan?”

Logan opened his door and let himself in but before he could close it, Janet wedged her foot in the way.

“No way! Remus doesn’t wear a ring!”

“Allergic to metals,” Logan listed off the top of his head.

“You don’t wear a ring, either!” Janet said grabbing at his hand and nearly causing him to spill his coffee.

And well….

Quin, Jen, and Janet were all standing at his door, ready to believe whatever he said. He could have just said he was also allergic to metals too, but there was dubious gleam in Janet’s eyes, because yes, this is the sole thing she seemed to be knowledgeable about.

If Janet didn’t believe him now, then Jen would get even more upset at him than before and that would ruin the surprise for Remus tomorrow. A half baked revenge wouldn’t be nearly as good as the one he was expecting.

So he needed a ring.

His eyes slipped over his shoulder to the dinner jacket slumped on the chair in the corner of the room, crumpled and abandoned and gathering dust with the filing cabinet and the box of records that Logan had arranged his first week on the job. 

He needed a ring.

And really it was just for one night.

He could pretend.

So Logan swallowed the sudden unexpected lump in his throat and tracked the three steps to the chair to dig the silver band from the pocket. He tried to remember how long it had been there, how long he had tried shoving it from his mind, and pretending like it and the jacket and that night had never existed. 

It had been a reminder for so long now: like a flashing sign in the night had warned him that a relationship would never be worth that again, that romantic pursuits were frivolous and fleeting and meaningless.

Regardless, it felt like putting on one of his favorite ties, like slipping into his shoes that were broken in perfectly, like it was made for him.

(It hadn’t been and wasn’t that the most ridiculous part of the story?)

It was only for one night, so he let Jen and Janet and Quin ogle over it and answered their questions efficiently. He tore into Remus’s reputation as subtly as he could, making Quin flee the room and Janet fan her face and Jen cackle. He made up a story about a summer wedding, about a honeymoon he thought was just ridiculous, about late night activities he could never imagine doing with anyone.

And when they left, Logan had stared at the band engraved so delicately for another ten minutes. 

“A robot,” Logan said to himself.

Is that what he had thought, too? 

Logan shook his head to clear his mind. He tossed the ring in his pencil cup and gathered his bag and car keys.

If he allowed himself to ignore the lapse in reality, he could even pretend like using the ring in this fashion was the same as saying “Fuck you” to the man he had almost married a year ago.

It was just one night, and an hour or so tomorrow morning after all.

Logan arrived the next day earlier than normal, which was an unexpected surprise. He got to flick on the lights and watch the floor illuminate itself. His shoes made a lovely type of clack on the tiling.

It used to feel lonely, being this early to work, but Logan found himself distracted by the anticipation of the days promised events.

He finished correcting Janet's spreadsheets and sent them off for proper filing, reorganized his desk, slipped on his ring, and managed to get his coffee brewed before most of the office had come alive. 

"Holy shit," he heard Kyle whisper to Max, "Is Logan smiling?"

Curious. It seemed that he was. Logan settled himself against the wall of the break room, Remus’s preferred cup in hand, where he had an excellent view of the cubical where Remus came up with his schemes. Jen, Janet, and Beatrice were already huddling around the entrance, much like a committee of domesticated vultures preparing for a feast.

By the time that Remus showed up to the office, running three minutes late, Logan was nearly giddy. Perhaps he could understand why Remus did what he did, if this was the sort of feeling that he experienced every time he opened his mouth.

Logan had seen many beautiful things in his lifetime; one of his hobbies was visiting art museums, art galleries, movie premieres and the likes while on his mandatory three weeks of time off from work. Still nothing could quite capture the glee that was invoked directly into Logan when Remus’s eyes had widened and his jaw dropped and his face flushed with embarrassment when Quinn squeaked at the sight of him. 

Remus Prince looked like a work of art when the world dumped him on the floor and left him too shocked to speak.

If he thought himself a king of the office, then Logan was honored to be the guillotine. 

Except.

“Logie!” Remus whined, throwing his arms up, “I thought we agreed to keep it a secret!”

Logan’s smile vaporized, almost instantly, “Wait--”

“You Mischievous Mathematician, You!” Remus giggled crossing the area far quicker than a person should be able to cross that distance. Logan blinked and suddenly Remus was right in front of him, a foot, half a foot, a handful of inches. And his voice only seemed to get louder, bolder, more excited with every step. Logan had a hypothesis that all twenty eight of the workers on the floor were watching them with baited breath.

“Well I’m happy!” Remus said loudly for Kyle and Jen and Janet and Beatrice and, and, and-- “I’ve missed getting lunch together! Let’s go to the sandwich shop down the street!”

“Absolutely not--”

“Or we could do that Thai restaurant that’s your favorite!” Remus said, which tripped Logan up because Remus had noticed he preferred Thai? Logan couldn’t even remember the last time he had Thai! How could Remus have possibly known he liked Thai? 

“I’ll pay!” Remus said when Logan hadn’t responded quick enough to turn down the lunch proposal. “Oh this is going to be so much fun, Lolo!”

And Remus came in far too close, closer than anyone has been to him in a year. His eyes were brown with flecks of green dark enough to seem like a swamp at Twilight. They gleamed as he fluttered his lashes at Logan and his mouth curls into a pointed smile.

“Let’s play,” Remus said so softly that Logan himself could barely hear it. And then he pulled back, and stepped away with Logan’s coffee in his hands. He took a long sip and licked his lip afterwards. “Mmm! Just how I like it Lo! You’re so good to me!”

Logan knew for a fact that Remus did not like black coffee. He’d seen the numbers that went into buying creamer for the break room.

Just what did Remus think he was doing? Playing along with Logan’s rumor reversal? Encouraging it? 

Remus smiled at him. “Lunch it is!” He said and waved Logan goodbye with his fingers.

Of course Logan could out him right there, right then. All he had to say was that it was a lie and that he and Remus were in no way married and he had no intentions of having lunch together. But for some reason the words seemed to be figuratively jammed in his throat, leaving him with nothing more than splutterings to vocalize his frustration.

Fine. Logan inhaled through his nose, curled his lip, and twisted his watch on his left hand to center his thoughts. Remus would like to play a game?

Fine. Logan could play a game with him. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, dearest?” Logan said before Remus could get too far away.

He could see the way Remus’s eyes light up at the nickname, the twitch of his mustache where he was struggling not to laugh too boldly. “Am I?”

“I did make you coffee. Do you not tip your barista?” 

“Ah,” Remus swirled the mug, “And how does my “barista” like his tips then?”

When Logan had put on the ring, he had not expected to end up with Remus’s lips on his.

And yet.

Remus kissed like he was dying and wanted to make every second last, like he was living for the moment, like he had nothing left too lose. Logan thought it was ridiculous that he tasted like pickles this early in the morning.

“I think you’ll find I won’t fold that easily, Specs,” Remus breathed when he pulled back.

Logan replied, “May the best man win.”

And then he took his coffee back out of Remus’s hands and headed back to his office with that ring firmly on his hand. It appeared that he would need it for just a bit longer.

Part Three

[sassaetcie]

The Molten Charcoal Chapter 3 (Idia x Silver fic)

So here we go again lmao

The whole night must have been fresh and cool for all of NRC for sure, even for Twisted Wonderland, actually. The corridors were still full of darkness, and probably peacefully mixed with them until the break of dawn. Still, I could get a grasp of them until before meeting Trey and Jamil... Not after. Did... I actually meet them at all? I... couldn't have met them, right? I probably was tired... Yes, for once, I was exhausted because I had walked too much, that's all... I couldn't possibly have met them. ...But then why didn't I feel the frost again? The biting air wasn't there anymore when I had rushed into the corridors. This temperature wasn't trying to beat up the fire. The ice had disappeared. Because I ran. If my sparks were becoming arson, there was no way for the surroundings to survive, after all. Though... I wouldn't have escaped from "nothing". So... it must have happened. I... met Trey and Jamil. Why would have I to run? I didn't cultivate this aspect of my body for obvious reasons (lol), and using the runaway option was only increasing my body temperature. SO I SHOULDN'T HAVE RUN. But I may have dreamed of that part too, right? There was no way... There was no way "this" was so good... no, well-done in a dream. There was no way for "it" to be so frightening. Suffocation. Suffocation. Suffocation. SUFFOCATION. SUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFCalmdown. Calm down, everything's alright, I'm in my room, I'm just writing... SuffSuffSuff. No, it's alright. I will have a pretty cake for Silver... It will be hella good and pretty cause Trey made it, right? But I need to do... SUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFSUFFFSUFFF. FUCK FUCK FUCK. I CAN'T DO THIS. THERE'S NO WAY. I'M FUCKING GOING TO FALL OF MY BROOM. NAH, I WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO CLIMB ON IT. THAT'S... Calm down, that's alright, I still have time. I still have time. I have to meet Silver... But if I can't get the cake, that's alright... But Trey could tell Riddle about it?! No, no, no, I shouldn't think about that... I don't want the red pest to come to my door and behead me... Guillotine Man should stay in his dorm... He will stay in his dorm for sure if I don't cause any troubles... But I never... I guess Vil and Guillotine Man are somehow ashamed that I stay in my room and don't act for the school... Fuck... I don't want to go to PE... It's so boring and useless... And it's already dawn... I should take a nap... Like really... What the fuck is going on...  I need to sleep or I'm just going to collapse during the class and bring shame on Ortho and Trey's trust... But I could avoid the class this way... Why did I even accept... Suff... Suff... Suff... That's getting better...? I guess the heat went out for a moment... I should really take a nap...

[Started Recording at : 10 am : Third? Day]

An unpredictable event occurred. Actually, it was not that unpredictable. Certainly, unpredictable could have been cut in two when it comes to this "situation". Unpredictable did not possess the event neither the flow of time, as it could for sure not, but rather took place in a person nobody even expected to be unpredictable. The fact it was unexpected was not unexpected in itself, but rather unexpected because this person had been predictable so far. Thus, the cogs and gears were not going crazy so far, neither were the flames and water. Idia was not that bad a case in itself. But what could have led him to this blazing lesson? The sun was observing him more than any students, after all. His deadly brethen had not shown his face for a long time, although remembering each time Idia got outside would be a mess. The lonely star so craved by all was pouring all of his heat down to the ground. Shroud tried to grip the Hair with His hands. It only flows away all around the fingers, running away from the line they should have drawn.

-IDIAAAAAA SHROUUUUUUD! SO YOU HAVE FINALLY COME TO STRENGHTEN THIS BODY OF YOURS! YOU HAVE BEEN CHARMED BY MUSCLES, THE NEED TO HAVE MUSCLES, THE MELODY OF MUSCLES!

-I just came cause it's my responsibility as a Dorm Leader, kinda... Ortho will have less work, lol.

The sleeve barely scratched his dusty or soft or dreamy or melting cheek. Was it moving on its own...? The hand seemed to have disappeared, now. It moved before grasping the broom barely beneath his... feet, clothed in some shoes like he should have worn for such a lesson. They took some steps before the yellow, almost closed eyes, refusing to face the infinite sun and its bright, shiny sky, probably. The green, quiet grass kept on dancing under the wind regular flying, but he could not touch it. His hands swipe up some sweat already telling him to run away and seek for lakes, but he had to face this fire. For whatever reason he had... Or was Idia acting on whim "once again"? This whim was a very special one, after all. ...Or was it a forfeit for some failed raid in a MMORPG?

The broom awoke once either the boy or the blaze took it. The wood and straws gather higher than usual, and his hands barely remained hanged above the ground. They... were flying. Idia was not above neither falling down. He was simply, absolutely, definitely, hanging on. The white ash hands did not fuse with anything they grasp, if grasping could even be known to them. Yet the blue hair kept on pushing him upwards. It was... abnormal. The hues of blue, made out of burning oceanic, as hard as a ghost was, as transparent as the wood was, flickered in the sky. The blue and blue could fight one day for sure. The Shroud's flames kept on pushing away the wind even if Idia tried to climb on the ordinary yet magical broom. Yet His fingers were brushing what seemed to be a breeze, catching it before clinging on the tool like he had never done it.

-GOOOOOOD! THAT'S REALLY NOT BAD FOR SOMEONE WHO SKIPS ALL OF MY CLASSES, MR SHROUD! YOU BETTER BE PRESENT STARTING FROM TODAY!

The broom barely let him fall, this Ignihyde's leader barely fell from the broom. Both of them were yet to be hurt, and plagues and pain had no more to do with them, if they ever had. The simple, carved by times and mistakes, tool, was lying among the infinite grass field from which his semi-owner had never tried to escape. There was no escape to the neverending ground, neverending ground rejecting again and again this huge amount of fire, united before him, and divided from him. The smouldering curse was floating behind him, above his face. Even the scorching one was far from the fusing, since it hated it so much. It was the one behaving the Scorn in front of this "fusing". The "hair" could not be cut. Could not be dyed. Could not die. Could not fade. It was the one asking for others to fade and die. The boy somehow wrapped by the fire which did not burn nor die stood up again, on his legs, again.

-Hehe, Idia~ You look so dreamy and at ease today, you're so cuuuute~!

A certain light appeared and disappeared, along a noise that should have been away if reality was to be taken care of.

-...Huh, Cater, what the...

The light and its sound had hit him. He rubbed his eyes one, two, three, four times, and this number was not unknown to him while he did it. One. Two. Three. Four. And the phone had shone on him, on his body and flames, one, two, three times. His being froze on the spot, even if the burning strands kept on flowing. The yellow eyes disappeared, then appeared again. The reality they displayed certainly was not going away. Thus, should they disappear among his two hands? No one had the same hair as him. Even if his whole face were to vanish, the Shroud Crown would remain. Cater Diamond took another picture, as Ashton Vargas was looking away, even if a blue-haired student, a red-haired student, a gray-haired student, a yellow-haired student, a blue-eyed student, a red-eyed student, a gray-eyes student, a yellow-eyed student were watching, even if... Idia would not move. If he were to run away, someone would have to get really disappointed, at least.

-Mr Diamond, can you stop bullying my Big Bro, pleaaaaaase? ;v;

-But Idia is like so pretty in the daylight~~~ C'm'on let me just take another pic and I'll give you plenty of sweets, or I can take a pic of you too, cuties pies are so popular~!

-Please, Mr Diamond, I'll ask you to stop, my Big Bro isn't feeling good at all when he was succeeding in something he had never succeeded before. :(

-C'm'on, just one another and I'll put cute filters on the old piiiiics, I promise~

-I am very sorry Mr Diamond, but if you keep going like this, I might have to reach the protocole end.

-Eeeeh~ What do you mean, lil' Ortho~ Is it like making a cute face and begging for your brother's life~

-I will have to [eliminate] the problem. Laser beam can be used.

-Okaaay~ I'll stop, then, sorry lil' Ortho, I was really mean to you~

-Apologize to my Big Bro. And delete all of your pics. We may have to sue you for copyrights if you don't, and you're taking pics in the middle of a class, you're a bad student, Mr Diamond~! :D

-Idiaaa, I'm so sorry, I really hope you won't hate dummy dummy Cater~

The human made of prothesis was a shield of attached limbs. They could have been falling down. Yet he stood as a whole in front of the "brother". His fractured hair barely reached the curse of his semi-creator, but all of the blessed, electronic, lights could hide him when united. The heat was probably spreading up to this point... Or more likely, reversing itself. Ortho's feet were anchored deep in the ground. He was handling movement and kinetic so far.

-I'm really sorry Idia~ I'm really going to cry in my room uuuh~ I'm so dumb, sowwy~

-The lesson has ended, Mr Diamond, you should go back to Heartslabyul Dorm. Or should I call Mr Rosehearts...

-No~ Really, that's alright~ Sorry for the troubles~

Cater's smile went away along himself, even if his fake light and heat were not vanishing as easily. His curly orange hair following him as a fluffy fireball lacked a part of it, even if none strand could hinder his eyesight nor brain. His hands could obey a supportive mind, following them to put neverending green so far, emerald one day, around his eyes of his. He was not full of flames, though. But his flesh colored lips were both of water and fire, even if pink or magenta nails were to touch them to arrange a smile. Was this expression another set of crowns he had to wear? He was no longer here to check if it were the case or not. The others had left as well, and Vargas was probably running somewhere else, if this somewhere was still useful to describe. He probably had to run until what was known to teach aliens about the Way of Muscles if they were not that much into it.

-Are you alright, Big Bro? :(

-Y-y—yeah... Thanks for saving me... I'm just so stupid... I was... just... daydreaming... I wasn't fully awake and I just really thought it was a dream, something bad could have occurred, I'm sorry, you could have been hurt because of me and...

-No, no that's okay, Big Bro! You tried really hard to come here, right? Even if you were daydreaming, you didn't try to stay in your room during what was supposed to be your "dream", right?

-W-well... Yeah... There's a reason, though... That's not because I want to unsconciously go outside or shit like that...

-Don't worry, I wasn't about to quote Freud, Big Bro! :D

-Thanks, I would have been coerced to u-update you if you did.

Shroud tried once more to draw his sleeves out until they covered the hair which did not belong to him, however belong to him. Ortho was probably the only one witnessing the scorching waterfall, among all of the quiet universe. But that was already too much. Not enough to trigger the curse. "Not enough". Too much. Ortho and crowds were equal in a sort.  

-I... don't want to go and see Silver anymore, O-Ortho... I-I'm... sorry...

-You will go, Idia. You need to talk to him and I can't cancel it anymore, you know? :(

-Y-yes, I know but... I'm already scared of Cater talking to me only a few minutes... and a date i-i-i-isn't supposed to l-l-l-last only a few m...minutes, right?

-Yes, Big Bro. But Cater makes you uneasy because he is "fake", right? Silver is very likely not, since you were not afraid of him... or are you afraid of people knowing what they want more than behaving in a certain way, and ready to anything to get what they want?

-I... don't really know... I just feel like Silver... I just feel like I may understand him... or that he may understand me? One or the other way round...

-Then, everything will go smoothly!

-I'm just... worried... Silver may actually have forgotten about me and think I'm weird... Or maybe I'll say a bad thing without noticing and I will make him angry or sad...

The cold hands, away from the fire for a long time, touched Idia's ones. His whole system was probably facing the curse, like it has always done. His body made of white and black un-flesh could survive against the ominous glowing.

-You'll be able to defeat this one fear, Big Bro! You still have a lot of days left, and I'll be watching over you so that you can make the most of them, okay? Test a lot of stuff, nothing will happen to you, I promise. :D

-But it will slow you down in your studies and you may have to skip some lessons if I were to try... no, no, no... I will just go to the date, okay...

-If you are happy in the end, then I'd rather skip some classes and finish my full year without worrying for you!

-H-huh...

-Of course that doesn't mean I want to get rid of you, okay? I just want to answer your concern when it comes to my results. I will be alright.

-Y-Yeah, sure, so will I, then...

[Ended Recording at : 11:30 am : Third? Day]

[crowcrownprince]

Okej så massor av frågor för the writing ask meme: 4, 5, 6, 11, 17, 20, 21, 22 and 23!!

oooooh, I love getting so many!! *rubs my hands together*

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Camilla was a ghost. 

She was the ghost of Castle Krakenburg, that resided in the walls and could be heard giggling or running down through the hallway when a lonely maid found themselves all alone in the hallway. Servants whispered to each other in the corners, stealing a moment or two to chat away from the eyes of their superiors, and they talked about the crown princess that had died at a young age a hundred years ago and that still resided in the walls, looking over the court that never had become hers. Ladies in waiting tried to scare each other over tea with stories about a woman that had wrongfully been executed for a crime she hadn’t committed, the crime changing every time the story was told, and since then haunted the castle, seeking revenge on her long dead executor. The guards tried to best each other with the scariest story about the butcher’s twins that had been found dead in their room some forty years back. To the kitchen servants she was a concubine looking for her noble lover that had betrayed her, to the gardeners a noble’s unwanted bastard child, and to some… to some she was just superstition. The tales that surrounded her were endless. Camilla listened to all of them, perched in a sofa during teatime, overheard them while on her way to her next lesson, coaxed them out of the soldier in charge of overseeing the training weapons. She loved them all, loved hearing about the fear that she struck in people, and how completely off every theory was. No one seemed to connect them to the princess with purple hair. Yes, Camilla was a ghost. She was the ghost of Castle Krakenburg, everyone and no one at the same time. 

But she was also a ghost in other ways. She was a spirit that couldn’t get rest, who was condemned to tread through the same hallways, the same halls, the same days for eternity. She walked the same ways, from lesson to lesson she was supposed to attend, from library to music hall, and then down to her daily tea with Mother in the west drawing room. She was a tolerated presence, but she wasn’t much else. She was a princess, which gave her rank and status, but she was also the daughter of a court sorcerer, not a queen. She was someone and no one, a ghost caught in the world it once had inhibited but no longer had any place in. To servants she was someone to envy, her beautiful dresses and lavish dinners so far from their own world, like the dead envying the living. To nobles she was someone to scorn, her very existence a blight on the royal family, a subject to be sneered at like the living despise death. She was dead but alive. Alive but dead. A ghost with a heartbeat, a heart pumping around blood she didn’t deserve in her unworthy veins.

---

This is a bit long, I admit, but I’m very proud of it and I feel like the two paragraphs are so connected I couldn’t have one without the other. This is from my wip Inseperable about Fe Camilla’s childhood. I think she’s a very interesting character, even if canon doesn’t give her enough space or depth, and I wanted to explore how her childhood could have looked like. It’s a character study, I suppose you could say, as well as a look into how the actions and sins of others can shape your life before you have even been born. I have been working on this piece for quite a while, but it’s also progressively becoming longer and longer than I first anticipated... Heh. 

Speaking of, this ask is turning longer than I anticipated as well, so I’ll put the rest under a read more! 

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Hmn... Lawrence, I think. He’s an oc of mine, and even if he’s not my main character in the story, I believe he’s the character in the story most inspired by my own emotions and my way of viewing the world. Lawrence has to put on a pleasing facade, and his livelihood is dependent on others liking him. It’s only through writing that he is able to express what he truly thinks and feels, and even then he’s forced to do it in a subtle way or tone it down because his peices must always be entertaining as the first priority. My own situation isn’t as dire, but it’s certainly something I identify with. 

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Oh, Dominic, without a doubt!! I really love writing him, not only does his personality, struggles and his relation to both Ethan and Rayne lend themselves to very interesting scenes and a joy to write, but they also leave room for sweet moments, hilarity, and a good amount of sass if I want to~ Not to mention that he inherited my love for big buff loyal men and I can live out my romantic fantasies of being carried bridal style through him,,, 

11. What do you envy in other writers?

The ability to create a plot, no doubt. I’m rather good with one shots, but when I try to write something longer like a multichap or something I tend to get lost in the details. I’m getting a bit better on it, though, because I have learned a few ways of making drafts and outlining and such, so it’s a tad easier. But one shots are still my forte, and I want to brave out in longer stuff. 

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

Hmn... Now this sure was an interesting question... The most things I have heard about this is people being confused or surprised about the topics I decide to write about. It’s a tad darker and angstier than expected, I believe, haha. It seems blood and gore doesn’t really fit with the soft aura I have, and that surprises people. But this is what I’ve heard from friends and such, and I don’t know if that’s something that would surprise those who know me by my writing, not my personality or appearance.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Ohohohoho~ *rubs hands together* happily! 

While writing Inseperable there’s a lot of meta, actually, mostly callbacks (callforths?) to canon or building up to things that happen in canon. Canon shows that Xander has gone through many changes to mold himself into the perfect crown prince, but what I know it doesn’t talk much about how Camilla’s personality was as a child, and how she grew into what she became to be. So the most part of meta is building up to canon, like events mentioned in canon (like the concubine wars), but mostly how their personalities and bond has changed from childhood to the adults they are in canon. There I work a lot with how the past changes the present, even the past we had no control over, like who our parents are. 

In Madame Guillotine, however, the meta is a bit different. There I work a lot with circles, “what goes around comes around” and repeating history. For example, Rayne that shackles Dominic to him, and uses threats and punishments to keep Dominic in line, while remaining unknowing that that’s what his father did to his mother at the beginning of their (arranged) marriage. Or how Rayne’s father stabbed Dominic’s mother in the back and then publicly executed her without giving her the chance to defend herself and her country in battle, and then ends up meeting the same fate - betrayed, and publicly executed in front of a cheering audience, with no way of defending himself from Dominic’s revenge. It’s a bit of the characters sealing their own fates, pushing each other into craving vengeance, and then being surprised by the knife in the back it gives them. All of it is connected, everything a circle, going on and on... 

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Well to be honest with you I wish I could make Inseperable into a film or something. There are a few scenes that I think would just be better on screen, that need a motion that is much harder to capture in words with the same emotion. 

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Oh, yes, many times! It’s good to look back on old works, to find old ideas I had and see if there’s something I can recycle or, if the work is unfinished, mature into a improved version. I can also find inspiration there, older works I’m still proud over can fuel me to continue on on the projects I have. And I can always look back on them and see how much I have improved. When I read them I find myself editing the text in my head, which shows how much I’ve improved since I wrote it, and that I still am improving. It’s very refreshing to look back on older works. 

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Hmn... This one is a tricky one, because most of the ideas I have in my head are things that I have for daydreaming, and it’s few that I actually have intention of writing. The story idea I’ve had in my head for the longest would probably be what would become Insperable, I think? Ever since I learned of the concubine wars when playing the game for the first time I wanted to explore that, as well as how the nohrian sibs grew to become so close despite that. But it took time for the plot to actually grow, and for the longest time it was just a vague idea of “I wanna write on this topic”, so I don’t know if it counts... 

This was really fun! Thank you so much for asking~! 

[thewritingstar]

1-70 please 🐰

Alright after many requests, another round of questions that I will fully answer!

Yall better enjoy!

Also sorry of these are plain answers 

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?

-For the most part02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?

-My mom03: Do you regret anything?

-yeah staying up until 3 04: Are you insecure?

-yeah but im trying to be more confident 05: What is your relationship status?

-Single06: How do you want to die?

-Happy or with a guillotine 07: What did you last eat?

-A strawberry salad from Panera and three pieces of bread08: Played any sports?

-Soccer when I was like 7 and then theater when i was in middle school09: Do you bite your nails?

-hehe ye10: When was your last physical fight?

-prob when i was younger with my sis11: Do you like someone?

-...no12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?

-No but I did stay up hella late last night and regret it 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?

-ehhh no not really14: Do you miss someone?

- My friends since I haven't seen them in a while15: Have any pets?

-two dogs and one has a pink tail16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?

-sick and nasty17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

-nope18: Are you scared of spiders?

-yes very much 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

-possibly but it depends where20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?

-never21: What are your plans for this weekend?

-working and homework22: Do you want to have kids? How many?

-I want puppies as my children and maybe two23: Do you have piercings? How many?

-Just my earlobes24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?

-art and history25: Do you miss anyone from your past?

-Some friends i would like to reconnect with26: What are you craving right now?

-Strawberry Shortcake27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?

-not that I know of28: Have you ever been cheated on?

-never been in a relationship29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?

-never had one30: What’s irritating you right now?

-me being sick31: Does somebody love you?

-who doesn’t 32: What is your favourite color?

-black, blue, purple33: Do you have trust issues?

-im a little toooo trusting, but if you fuck with me then it goes away fast34: Who/what was your last dream about?

-I legit cant remember 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?

-my mirror36: Do you give out second chances too easily?

-depends, haven’t had too37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

-forget is easier but sometimes we need to forgive, unless they took your petpetpark membership38: Is this year the best year of your life?

-Ya know, it might be 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?

-hahhahaha my what?40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?

-when i was younger yeah51: Favourite food?

-Chow Mein, Pasta, Steak

52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?

-Ye53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?

-Panic and cry over my essay that i didnt even have to write54: Is cheating ever okay?

-No. I get that people fall apart but cheating is such a low and I dont understand how anyone could do that to someone55: Are you mean?

-If i need to be, but i am a very nice and sweet person56: How many people have you fist fought?

-lol none57: Do you believe in true love?

-yes58: Favourite weather?

-A nice warm day for shorts 59: Do you like the snow?

-when im inside sure60: Do you wanna get married?

-yes, i have plans for my wedding already lol61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

-endearments are always welcome62: What makes you happy?

-alot of things.63: Would you change your name?

-nope64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?

-i just gave my puppy a kiss so no

65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?

-well 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?

-yes67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?

-My friend Jared. I asked him why he put his hand on the roof of his car when he drives and he said cause hes a baller. 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?

-It wasn’t super deep but prob this morning with @flowerboyorchid69: Do you believe in soulmates?

-yes, platonic and romantic 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

-prob my friends

----

hope you enjoyed

[nekhbetkhalid]

anya/nekhbet !! h y p o t h e t i c a l i love it

also guillotine by jon bellion, makes me think of their hypothetical romance. since he’s an assassin and she’s a queen. ;3;EDIT; AHHHH I GOOFED I SAW THE EMELINE ACCOUNT AND MISREAD THAT LOL. I can redo it though give me a moment haha.DOUBLE EDIT: i figured i’d keep what else I wrote but it’s below the anya/nekhbet meme. <3ANAHBET //who is more likely to hurt the other?nekhbet, because anya is actual sunshine and nekhbet can be worlds more aggressive. that being said nekhbet is aware how good-natured the girl is and makes an effort more than he would with most people to not be as hurtful.who is emotionally stronger?anya is more aware of her emotions and in tune with others more than nekhbet is, while he knows what to key in on to manipulate people that doesn’t necessarily make him emotionally stronger. in fact he probably more self loathing deep down than anya could ever be.who is physically stronger?nekhbet, the man doesn’t just get paid to sit around, he’s constantly working out and when he’s not he’s just plain working.who is more likely to break a bone?nekhbet, his work takes a toll on him, although anya is more likely to get a cold due to being around the sick more often. she once gave nekhbet a cold she had and he complained for a week straight! that being said she did pamper and take care of him, he surely didn’t complain about that.who knows best what to say to upset the other? nekhbet, anya is too nice, too soft of a girl to say anything to hurt the vulture. him on the other hand….the first time he made her cry was also the last time, or at least he tried to make an actual effort for it to be. for nekhbet that’s good.who is most likely to apologies first after an argument? nekhbet partially because anya doesn’t start them and partially because nekhbet always comes crawling back to rearrange the pieces he’s broken with his words or actions.who treats who’s wounds more often? anya! not only is she a nurse, but nekhbet loves the attention, sometimes she thinks he comes back with so many wounds intentionally….who is in constant need of comfort? both, nekhbet is insecure at times about his worth as a man, while anya has occasional pity parties.who gets more jealous? anya, as the assassin is gone for days or weeks at a time. meanwhile nekhbet is rarely jealous when it comes to anya, for once in his life he actually found someone he trusted with his whole heart, mind, body and soul. she is someone who he truly believes is good in this world, so he doesn’t have to fret over the what if’s when it comes to her.who’s most likely to walk out on the other? neither really, even though nekhbet is often gone much to anya’s displeasure she can’t seem to tear herself away from him, he needs her after all. meanwhile nekhbet trusts her so much he couldn’t see himself ever leaving her.who will propose? nekhbet fears commitment, what he fears worse is anya leaving him when she realizes she could do better than scum like him. eventually he pushes everything aside and pops the question, she says yes. married life is often times difficult, but they are mostly happy nonetheless.who has the most difficult parents?nekhbet’s parents are dead but anya does have an adoptive mother. who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? anya, she thinks it does nekhbet some good to be more open, he protests the first time, somewhat anyway, but when he finally feels her hand curl into his, never again does he make so much as a complaining sound.who comes up for the other all the time? (what even is this…)who hogs the blankets? anya, nekhbet misses his layers when she takes all the covers, but eventually they decide to have two blankets on the bed but they always wake up under one somehow.who is better at cheering the other up? anya always cheers the assassin up, she just smiles his way once and it’s like the sun itself is beaming at him. when she skips towards him, flowers bloom in her wake and when she tries to kiss his worries away he swears his heart stops briefly, thankfully she’s a nurse so she could probably save him.who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?anya, she doesn’t believe in hitting others but she does playfully tease him often, meanwhile he finds himself scared to even touch her too roughly so he never even jokes about it.who is more streetwise?both, anya went without parents for so long that she knows how to take care of herself, meanwhile nekhbet has done the same.who is more wise?both, anya is smart enough to be a nurse, and nekhbet is smart enough not to end up dead. neither one of them are really wise by definition however.who’s the shyest? nekhbet, he’s less bubbly and open. while he may seem very open and doesn’t really hide much, to the trained eye he hides so very much. anya sees past it eventually, something not many have done.who boasts about the other more? both, they are so very proud of each other, anya especially; she really thinks that even though nekhbet has his flaws that he’s really grown since they first met.who sits on who’s lap? anya, nekhbet especially loves when she falls asleep there and he carries her quietly to bed.BONUS MEME: (because i goofed) EMEHBET //who is more likely to hurt the other?it varies, nekhbet tends to push away people with sarcasm, while emeline can have anger issues. usually nekhbet will say something mean and emeline will lash out in response. they hurt each other equally and often it’s when their both stressed. 

who is emotionally stronger?emeline, while she has a tendency to lash out she’s also more mentally there than nekhbet who isn’t the strongest emotionally. deep down he’s still angry child who just wants to be accepted by someone, so when she accepts him as he is she becomes his rock more than he her’s.who is physically stronger?nekhbet, he may not be immune to fire or have a dragon but don’t let that fool you. he’s been training all his life, overcompensating his whole life. he’d sooner rip at throats than any dragon and would feel less awful about such an act.who is more likely to break a bone?nekhbet as he uses his body to fight far more than emeline, it’s all he has and due to this he’s more at risk.who knows best what to say to upset the other? emeline cuts him deep while nekhbet just cuts. she knows where to dig in at and goes for it when he says something cruel.who is most likely to apologies first after an argument? nekhbet often seems to know just what to say as much as he knows what not to say, while he tends to be harsh with his tongue he’s also normally the first to come crawling back with an apology, despite never saying the harsher words.who treats who’s wounds more often? emeline usually has someone take care of her assassins wounds, he’s come to her a number of times with scrapes and gashes. though on occasion when the wounds were smaller she’s rather lovingly tended to them.who is in constant need of comfort? both, emeline needs to be reassured that she isn’t a bad queen, that she’s as strong and wonderful as she could be for her people and nekhbet needs to be reassured he is the man he believes himself to be and that she loves him for that.who gets more jealous? nekhbet gets stupid jealous of royalty, being petty and thinking how emeline would be better off with someone more her status. that isn’t to say that emeline doesn’t get jealous either however she can’t help but worry when her vulture leaves her for a job.who’s most likely to walk out on the other? emeline, when she realizes nekhbet is a handful, they’d probably just keep finding their way back to each other though. the dragon queen would still love him with her hands around his throat.who will propose? neither, nekhbet fears the comment he craves and emeline is a queen who needs to focus on what her people need. it’s really a ship in the night sort of romance. they keep passing each other by never really setting port together.who has the most difficult parents?their parents are dead so it’s kind of a moot point.who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? nekhbet, he’d think it was funny but of course only do it when he was sure someone wouldn’t notice because he isn’t /that/ much of an asshole.who comes up for the other all the time? (idk what this means LOL)who hogs the blankets? nekhbet, he’s naturally more used to the layers.

who gets more sad? both about different things, emeline worries over making bad decisions and nekhbet broods.who is better at cheering the other up? emeline cheers up nekhbet more easily as he’s rather easy to please, so it would be her. however nekhbet loves to bring her unusual gifts from far away places to cheer her up, as well as lavish her with complements and surprisingly soft kisses when she’s down. who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?emeline, nekhbet is more of the one to joke and likes to tease her in other ways.who is more streetwise?nekhbet, he used to live his life on the streets after his parents passed away.

who is more wise?emeline, she’s more used to playing political games then the assassin.who’s the shyest? emeline, on occasion.who boasts about the other more? nekhbet, while he tends to shy away from affection and love he does truly want it and if asked would easily boast about his lover.who sits on who’s lap? emeline sits on his lap, although that normally doesn’t last for long, nekhbet is quite the heathen. ( wink )

[joseph-kaine]

The Ultimaverse Presents: The Teal Titan #2

“But… he works with the Vigilant!”

“Yup.”

“And he hurt you?”

“Yup.”

“Why?!”

“Yup- I mean, I don’t know,” she says as she look back at him, “look, don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried about it! I’ll go fight him, right now!” He runs off to his toy chest in his room as Morgan just continues to drink her beer. After a bit, he comes out dressed in his Halloween costume that’s way to small, but he refuses to let her throw it out. The costume is of Jericho, the flagship hero of Foster City. His costume is a mostly red suit of armor with a big J on the chest, blue streaks, a full face mask with cat ears, eyes, mouth, and whiskers. Not to mention it even has a tail.

He flexes his muscles and pulls out the cheap, plastic, retractable claws.

“Where’s Lock? Take me to him right now.”

Despite his bravado and suicidal mission to take on Lock, she cracks a smile. It always makes her happy to see him in his costume.

“Well, I should clarify that Lock didn’t do all of this to me. He just made it worse.”

“So? I’ll still take him on!”

“As much as I’m sure you could’ve taken him half an hour ago, it’s bedtime, kiddo.”

He looks down, totally defeated by the realization and takes off his mask. “Okay… but can I sleep in my Jericho costume?”

“I don’t know what the point of telling you not to is, you’ll just put it on anyways after I leave the room. Yeah, keep the costume on if you want.” He giddily jumps around runs to his room and jumps in bed. Morgan walks over to him and tucks him in under his blanket covered in superhero insignias.

“Goodnight, son, I love you,” she tells him, with a beaming simper on her face. He hugs her tight, “goodnight, ma. Stay safe…”

“I’ll try.”

Morgan stands up and flips on his nightlight. She leaves, slowly closing the door behind her while trying to be as silent as a mouse.

When she turns around, she sees a woman sitting on her couch. She’s a dark skinned latina woman wearing a domino mask with black wings under her arms connected to a skintight blue jumpsuit. Morgan, not recognizing the intruder, pulls a knife behind her back and glares at her. She barks at the stranger, “Who are you?”

“There’s no need to be alarmed.”

“Oh, I’m plenty alarmed. Tell me who you are, girl, or things WILL get messy.”

The mysterious woman stands and nods, “apologies. My name is Blackbird. I know who you are and what you’re really capable of. You have powers that have yet to be tapped into.”

Morgan has to bite her tongue to hold back laughter. She clears her throat and glares at her, “okay, even if I did have powers, how the hell would you know about them.”

“My friend is an alien telepath.”

“Of course. For every ten people, there’s one goddamn privacy invading telepath. So if I have powers, why haven’t I discovered them by now?”

“You did. Once. When you were five years old.” The Titan’s glare becomes as cold as the arctic, and just as harsh and unforgiving as she pulls out her dagger. “I’m going to count to five. Then you’re gonna leave my house, Little Birdy.”

“What’s the matter, Morgan? Angry because you can’t remember your past.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t know what happened before you became ten.”

“I SAID SHUT THE HELL UP,” she screams while launching the knife at Blackbird. It barely misses her, just millimeters away from her face. She can feel the cold steel and smell the toxic poison that’s lathered all over the knife.

“Your son’s gonna be up with you screaming like that.”

“His walls are soundproof. He can’t hear anything of what we’re saying.”

She frowns, “you’re paranoid.”

“And you’re dead. You don’t know me. You don’t know a thing about me!”

“You’re not getting it, Titan. I’m here to HELP you. You’re a metahuman, and whether you want to find out if I’m telling the truth is up to you.”

Morgan mulls it over while she grips the knife strapped to the back of her pants. After almost a minute of contemplation, she lets go of the dagger and nods.

“So. If I’m a metahuman, how exactly do I use my power.”

“It needs to be activated through fear.”

“I’ve been in a lot of fear. Why haven’t my powers activated before.”

“True fear. The kind of fear that comes from personal attacks. You once were in a truly fearful situation before. You activated your powers, and you incinerated your father.”

“My father left before I was born.”

“As far as you know. What can you remember of your mother?”

“She… she was… she…”

Morgan pulls on her hair and grits her teeth, “I CAN’T REMEMBER! I can’t… can’t remember anything…”

Blackbird cocks her head and points at her side, “umm… Titan?”

“What?”

“Look at your hand.”

The vigilante looks down at her right hand, which pulsates with electricity. Her wrist is looped with a wristband of flames, and above that is a spiked vine which runs up and around her arm up to her shoulder. She looks back up with eyes as wide as a cat’s, “what is this? What’s happening?”

“Looks like trying to remember your past brings out your powers. You’re an elementalist, Titan.” Her vines slither into a hole in her forearm, which seals back up, the flames fizzle out, and the electricity travels into her fingernails. She inspects her hand very closely, totally speechless.

“The Freedom Force can help you harness your powers, Titan.”

She ignores this statement, “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. You’re in my house, you know who I am. Why do you insist on calling me by my alias?”

She smiles slightly, “because as far as I’m concerned, you’re a hero. So if you don’t mind, I’m going to continue to address you as such, Teal Titan.”

“Well, I guess do as you please. I won’t stop you, even if I’m not a hero, but to get back on topic, I work alone.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs, “but here. Take this. Just in case.” The metahuman throws her a card, with the Freedom Force symbol on it and a number. Morgan looks at it, and when she looks back up, Blackbird is flying out of her window into the night sky. The Titan grumbles and tosses the card onto her dining room table as she walks to her room.

7 AM. The next morning.

Miss. Knight gets out of bed, her back aching, arms and legs still deep in their beauty sleep, and craving even a drop of coffee. She walks out of her room to Tyrone sitting on the couch, watching cartoons.

“Hey, son,” she yawns while walking to the kitchen.

“Good morning, mommy.”

“What are you watching?”

“The Rocky cartoon.”

“... Rocky has a cartoon?”

He looks at her as she drinks down a cup of strong, black, french roast coffee. “No, not the boxer. The superhero. You know, from Generation Next?”

“Oh. I don’t remember him.”

“Hmm. Well, his cartoon is all kiddy. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t? You seem like the target demographic.”

“I don’t want to see Rocky get a pie thrown at him. Why isn’t he fighting supervillains?”

“Beats me,” she says as she finishes downing her coffee, “I need to get to work. I’m going to call Car-“

At that moment, the door unlocks and swings open, and a chipper sounding voice comes from the entrance.

“Honey. I’m home!”

The mother and son turn, Tyrone gleefully shouting, “Dad! You’re back!”

A handsome black haired, 6’ 3”, muscular man with stubble, hypnotizing silver eyes, and skin like caramel. Is smile is stunning, and he walks up to his wife, giving her a passionate kiss on the lips. Morgan’s eyes roll back as she holds him tight. Her husband slowly pulls away and he whispers, “miss me?”

She doesn’t have the words to respond so she just slowly nods. Tyrone immaturely laughs and his dad runs up, lifting him and putting him onto his shoulders. “Ahhhhh, you think that’s funny?”

“Yeah! Woah! Put me down!”

He runs around in circles with him on his shoulders, the whole time the kid screams with excitement, before he puts him back down. He pats his son’s head and looks back at Morgan. “Umm… me and your mom need to go talk. Privately. Here,” he hands him a movie case. Tyrone excitedly takes it and reads the cover. It says, “The Ant 2: Revenge of the Shadow”. The boy’s eyes grow and he excitedly kicks the floor repeatedly.

“YAY!”

“I picked that up while on my business trip. Have fun.”

As the boy runs to the dvd player and puts in the movie, Morgan puts her hand on her husband’s hip and takes him into the bedroom, the door locking behind them.

The two continue their unfinished business, but she cuts it off and puts her hand on his chest. “I-I have work today, Jerry…”

“Take the day off. It’s been three weeks since we’ve seen each other.”

“I can’t. My boss would chop my head off with a guillotine.”

Jerry nods quickly and runs his hand through her hair, “of course. You should get ready.”

“I am. We have a bit of time. How was your trip.”

“It… was good, but…” his voice is shaky and sounds anxious.

She starts to kiss his neck as she asks, “What is it?”

“Well… let’s just say, I’m going to have a lot more time to spend with our son.”

Morgan looks up at him, “what?”

“I quit.”

“I know, I know, but why?”

“Didn’t pay enough for the days they were expecting me to spend away from my growing son and beautiful wife who deserves a lot more attention from me. When they asked me to stay during my son’s birthday, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

She breathes heavily, barely able to contain herself from tackling and expressing her affection for him, and she bites her lip.

“It gets me so hot and bothered when you act so fatherly.”

He smirks and holds her hand tightly, “I know. But you have to get to work.”

“Fuck. You’re right.”

She backs away and goes to her dresser, taking out her daggers and her badge. Jerry walks out of the room and sits down next to his son. Morgan slides the daggers into her boots and goes to the front door in a hurry.

“Bye, guys. Have fun watching the movie.”

She opens the door and runs down the stairs to get to her car.