#Freight forwarding definition

[lotuscontainers]

Definition of freight forwarding | LOTUS Containers

Freight forwarding is the process of handling logistics and transportation duties to enable smooth product flow along the supply chain. Logistics service providers known as goods forwarders are in charge of containerization, paperwork, storage, shipping, and monitoring the movement of containers while they are en route. They help shippers by offering more services and knowledge along the supply chain, which enables them to convey goods quickly and affordably. Contact LOTUS Containers for more information.

[avocado-writing]

cutman

turns out I’m gonna keep being horny for hugh jackman. had a crush on him when I was 10 and I guess that hasn’t changed almost 20 years later. anyway here’s a fic where he’s in a cage fight and you’re his cutman xoxo

pairing: wolverine x reader

rating: explicit

cws: blood, injury details, smut (dirty talk, semi-public sex, rough sex)

The bell rings and Logan staggers back to you, the roar of the crowd meaning you have to get close in order to be heard. You grab ahold of his biceps and manoeuvre him into a chair. He goes without complaint, any effort to resist having to be reserved for the actual fight itself. Opposite him, the other guy goes to grab a glass of water and you are once again reminded of his sheer mass; he’s twice Logan’s size and built like a fucking freight train. He catches you watching and hits you with a greasy smile, and you turn in disgust back to your lover. 

“How you holding up, honey?” you ask Logan, quickly glancing him over, getting a grunt in reply as he tries to refocus. He looks pretty bad. Bruising is flowering on his face and there’s a nasty gash on his forehead which is bleeding freely. You know he’ll heal up quick on his own, but you still get to work - pressing the ice-cold enswell to the worst of the spreading purple and dabbing at the blood with an epinephrine-soaked cotton swab. 

You’ve been called the best cutman in the business. This is true, but the fact your primary patient can heal himself up is probably a bit of a bonus too. For Logan, you’re mostly here to soothe; soothe and observe. 

“Okay, you’ve fucking got him, Logan. He’s weak on his left. He keeps trying to lead with his right hand which isn’t his dominant, I think he’s holding back because you’ve fucked his shoulder. If you don’t let him distract you, you can finish him off. You hear me?”

He focuses up at the smell of chemicals, eyes hazily locking in on you. Silhouetted by the grimy lights of this place, his vision not quite sharp yet, you have the hazy glow of a halo around you. An angel sent for him. The closest to heaven he’ll ever be. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, a bloodied hand coming up to caress your face. You smile despite the smear of red he leaves on your cheek with his fingertips, clasping him close. You press a kiss into his palm.

“What did I say, handsome? Stay with me.”

“Don’t let him distract me. Go for his left.”

“Atta boy,” you say with a grin, one which Logan manages to mirror despite still feeling slightly concussed, your praise like a shot of adrenaline. You surge forward to kiss him and he meets you with enthusiasm. He’s drunk on the moment, on the fight, on you. You can taste the copper as your tongue slides against his, the roughness of his beard scraping your cheeks. The crowd cheers leerily but you both ignore it. You and him, that’s all there is, the pinprick of your existence in this vast world. 

“I fucking love you,” he growls against your mouth. You nip at his lower lip, catching it for a second between your teeth in a promise of what’s to come later. 

“Finish this guy off and take me home, Logan. I’ll fucking die if you’re not inside me tonight.”

When you pull back you will be wearing his blood as lipstick, warpaint; a reminder that you belong to each other. 

He snarls, half-feral, and you think he might just take you there in the cage, in front of everyone who’s come to watch him fight. But the bell goes again to signal the start of the final round, and Logan staggers back to his feet instead. 

He doesn’t even get you home. 

When the fight is won and you’re hoarse from cheering his victory, he drags you into one of the dingy little bathrooms. It’s dark and definitely not soundproofed but the two of you don’t care. You run your tongue along that delicious vein in his bicep, tasting the salt off of his hot skin, and he grips your thighs so hard you know that he will leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints. 

“Mark me up, Logan. Let everyone see who I belong to, baby.”

“Fuck, such a dirty little mouth,” he growls, but you can hear the gruff chuckle in there too. He lifts you onto the sink like you weigh nothing, tearing at your belt and jeans so that he can get proper access to you. He’s rock hard, cock straining in his hand as he pulls himself out, and you wonder if he’s been this turned on since before the last round. 

Usually you’d sink to your knees and encourage him to fuck your throat, let him bring you to tears before he made it up to you, but he has no such patience now. He needs to sheathe himself in you, find your tight heat and bury himself there again and again. He’s about to push inside when you grab his forearm. 

He looks up with a glint of worry in his eye. You know, just for a second, that he thinks he’s hurt you. He’d stop if you asked him to, sweet little puppy. Instead you give him another ferocious kiss. 

“I wanna turn around. Wanna watch you fuck me.” You nod to the dirty mirror over the sink and he makes a deep noise of agreement in the back of his throat, manhandling you so you can brace yourself on the porcelain. 

You moan as he fucks inside of you with one vicious push, throwing your head back to reflect the long line of your neck. You see mirrored the dual look of feral desire and total adoration in his face as he fucks you like he’s been challenged to make your legs stop working. Holding on the best you can, you watch his injuries from the fight heal slowly, wounds stitching closed by themselves, bruises receding from purple to brown to nothing at all. It’s that sort of regeneration that makes him beg for you to draw blood when you bite him as you fuck, just to leave the proof on his body a little longer that you’ve been there. That you’ve loved him. 

“Fucking love you, Logan,” you cry out as he slams so hard into you he threatens to break the fucking sink. He leans over and grabs you by the hair, moving your face so that he can kiss you with more teeth and tongue than lips. You love it. 

“Mine,” he chokes. You wrap your little hands round one of his, bloodied and rough. 

“Mine,” you echo back, sinking your teeth in. 

[dreamdragonkadia]

Requested by @that-choir-girl I hope you enjoy! I'm so sorry it took me a minute to get to this. p.jackson/apollo!reader

It was a stupid hope.

Thinking Luke would come to his senses. That maybe the boy who once taught you how to shoot an arrow before you'd even been claimed would look at you—really look—and remember who he used to be.

But, he didn’t.

You hadn’t told anyone what he asked of you. Not Annabeth. Not Chiron. Definitely not Percy.

The guilt sat in your stomach like a rock. You hadn’t said a word about Luke’s offer—about his plan, about Kronos. You kept it buried, hoping it would fade.

You’d always been angry at the gods. At your father for waiting so long to claim you. But this? Joining Kronos? No. That line, at least, you wouldn’t cross.

Then Luke took Percy. Lured him away like it was nothing.

You didn’t even think. Couldn't think. You just ran—Annabeth and Grover close behind—praying to any god who might listen that you weren’t already too late.

'Please, please, please.'

You found them just as the sun was bleeding into the trees, orange and gold and too beautiful for how wrong everything felt.

Percy was on his knees. Sweating, pale, barely upright. And Luke was behind him, Backbiter angled at his throat.

“Don’t move,” Luke said, eyes locking on yours.

You froze, heart hammering. Grover's breathing went nonexistent beside you. Annabeth didn’t even blink, gripping her dagger like a lifeline.

One wrong step and that cursed blade would tear through Percy like paper.

“Luke,” you said, carefully. “Let him go.”

His grip tightened. “You should’ve joined me.”

“You’re hurting people.”

“I’m making things right.”

“By poisoning him?” Annabeth snapped, stepping forward.

Luke tilted his head like it’s no big deal. Like this was another day. “He’ll last long enough.”

You barely heard him. Your eyes were locked on Percy now—on the sickly purple veins crawling up from the gash in his side. Backbiter’s poison. You can practically feel it burning through his bloodstream.

Then Percy’s eyes flick to your side.

It’s subtle. Barely a twitch. But you know him well enough to understand.

A signal.

With whatever strength he had left, Percy slammed his shoulder into Luke’s leg, knocking him off balance just enough.

It’s all you need.

Annabeth moves first—quick as lightning, dagger drawn. Grover’s right behind her, charging like a goat possessed.

And you?

You go straight to Percy.

You drop to your knees beside him, tuning out the clash of the fight behind you.

His skin was burning. His lips were pale. He blinked up at you, slow and dazed, like he was trying to figure out if you were real.

“You came,” he murmured.

“Of course I did,” you whispered, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “What, like I was gonna let you die out here?”

He gave a breathy sound that might’ve been a laugh—or a wheeze. “Not… my best day.”

You pressed your hands to the wound at his side. The magic came instinctively—warmth building in your chest and pouring into him, chasing the venom like light through smoke. Your father’s power was supposed to be sunlight and music. Right now, it felt more like fire and desperation.

Percy jerked under your hands, gasping. But he didn’t pull away.

You kept going until the poison was gone.

Behind you, there’s a grunt and a thud—then silence.

You turned to see Luke on the ground, Annabeth’s dagger at his throat, her eyes wild with fury. Grover stood nearby, panting hard, looking like he’d just headbutted a freight train.

Luke’s gaze flicked to you.

And for one second—just one—he looked like the boy you used to know. The one who showed you how to notch an arrow. The one who laughed with you by the campfire like the world was never going to end.

Then he moved.

Fast.

With a twist of his arm, an elbow to Annabeth’s ribs, and he was on his feet before anyone could stop him. She lunged after him, but he was already backing into the shadows of the trees.

“They’ll fail you again,” he warned, breath ragged. “And when they do… you’ll come looking for me.”

Then he vanished into the trees.

Percy slumped forward the moment he was gone, like his body had been held together by sheer will and now that will had snapped.

You caught him before he could hit the ground, arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him in close.

“I’ve got you,” you murmured.

He let out a shaky, warm breath against your neck. For a second, you thought he’d already passed out—until you felt his fingers curl gently into your shirt.

“Hey…” he whispered. “You’re not gonna… disappear too, right?”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean…” He swallowed hard. “Could you… maybe stay? Just for a little while? I— I don’t really wanna be alone right now. Not after everything.”

There was something so soft, so Percy in the way he said it—like he was embarrassed to ask, like needing someone made him feel guilty.

You didn’t let him finish the thought.

“Of course,” you said, tucking your hand behind his head, gently guiding it to your shoulder. “I’m here. I’m staying.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just leaned into you, heavy and warm and still trembling slightly.

The walk back to camp was slow. He pressed into your side the entire way, head tucked into the crook of your neck like it was the only place that felt safe, one arm looped around your shoulders.

At some point, his hand found yours and didn’t let go.

You didn’t make him.

And honestly… you didn’t want to.

[maroonshirt81]

if you're still doing trope requests-- carcar/soulmates/meet ugly??

maybe i took "carcar" a little too literally here.

thanks for the request! <3

___

Oscar was on his way home after an exhausting day at work when he felt it.

The unmistakable, magnetic pull.

He knew exactly what it was – had been prepared for it his entire life – but that didn’t stop it from hitting him like a freight train. One second, he was driving normally, and the next, he was swerving in the middle of the road. Fighting against it was harder than he expected, but he was pretty sure he’d managed to stay on his side of the lane divider.

Not that it mattered.

Because whoever was on the other end of this pull had clearly felt it too – and unlike Oscar, they hadn’t reacted fast enough. A second later, a car slammed into his side, metal screeching against metal, the sound sharp enough to make every hair on his body stand on end.

With a sigh, he eased his car to a stop in the middle of the road, completely ignoring the chorus of honking that erupted behind him. They could go around. It wasn’t like this was some catastrophic crash – thank rush hour traffic for that.

When the road was clear, he slipped out of his car, drawn forward by the pull like a compass needle locked onto its destination – until he came face to face with the inevitable result of this fated encounter. And while accidents like this weren’t exactly uncommon, thanks to magnetic soulmate bonds, it was just Oscar’s luck that the car he had crashed with was a stunning, bright red Ferrari F40.

And clambering out of it was a gorgeous, well-dressed man with thick, shampoo-commercial hair, who didn’t spare a single glance at Oscar – the person he must have felt the same magnetic pull toward. Instead, he was tearing at his perfect hair, muttering, “No, no, no, no, no!” over and over.

Then, as if suddenly remembering Oscar existed, he spun around, wide eyes locking onto him in pure devastation, and wailed, “Why?”

“Um…” Oscar started, but apparently, his soulmate wasn’t done yet.

“Why of all days, today? Mate, I usually drive a Golf! You could not choose any other day to crash into me? I borrowed this car! Lando is going to kill me!”

“Technically, you crashed into me,” Oscar pointed out. With a queasy feeling, he noticed a crowd gathering around them, phones out and pointed – mostly at the Ferrari, but some were definitely filming this disaster of a first meeting as well.

His soulmate let out a sort of garbled, incredulous laugh, running a hand down his face.

“Please! I drive cars for at least ten years longer than you!” the terribly gorgeous man said, gesturing at Oscar’s entire being. “How long do you have your license? Are you even old enough to drive yet? No way this is my fault!”

Accompanying the magnetic pull was now another feeling Oscar was not very familiar with: hot, seething rage.

“Mate! Are you blind or what?” he asked. “Look at the lane marking. You’re clearly over the line!”

“I hope you have good insurance!” the infuriating man continued, not even glancing at the road. “Do you have any idea how expensive this car is?”

Oscar was speechless for a moment.

This asshole could not possibly be his actual soulmate, right? He was still feeling the pull, though, so someone around here had to be. Subtly, he glanced past the dramatically wailing man, scanning the gathered crowd. Maybe it was someone behind him?

“So what is it – car insurance or soulmate insurance?”

Oscar tuned back into the conversation.

“I have both,” he said, shrugging.

“Good, at least you are not a complete idiot!” the guy huffed. He had moved on from tearing at his hair to gnawing at his nails.

The rage in the pit of Oscar’s stomach burned even hotter. He glanced at the Ferrari.

Maybe it was the car.

Maybe Oscar was an objectophile or whatever it was called, and he was soulmates with the car! It would make sense. He had always been a car guy, and this one was without a doubt a very sexy car.

Please, God, let it be the car.

“Ah!” His not-soulmate suddenly perked up as blue lights flashed behind them. A police car had pulled up, its sirens flicking off as it stopped at the scene. Someone in the crowd must have called them.

Two officers stepped out, slowly circling the Ferrari with expressions like they’d just stumbled onto a particularly bloody murder scene.

“Well, fuck,” one of them muttered when they reached not-soulmate’s side. “Damn shame, that.”

“Yes. Rookies on the road,” Oscar’s soul-enemy sighed while both policemen shook their heads as if they were gathered before an open grave.

Yep. That was it.

Oscar was going to sue fate herself.

*****

[waliminium]

Hey! I love your stories about Harvey, you write him incredibly well. Could you write one in which he is really sick but still goes to work, despite reader telling him that he deserves rest. So, at the firm, he starts getting worse and worse until mike or donna have to call you to take him home and look after him. You can add anything you wish like fever, vomiting and so on. Also, make it as long as you wish/can. Thank you for reading!

A/N: Thank you for the sweet words! Here's your request I hope you like, if you'd like any adjustments, I can always tweak things! :) Down for the Count Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader Warnings: Illness/fever, quick mention of a razor Word Count: 903

Harvey Specter was a force of nature. He didn’t slow down, didn’t take breaks, and definitely didn’t let something as trivial as a fever keep him from working.

That’s why, when he woke up feeling like he’d been hit by a freight train, he ignored it.

You, however, did not.

"Harvey, you have to stay home today," you said, arms crossed as you leaned in the doorway of the bathroom, watching him sluggishly shave. His movements lacked their usual finesse—there was hesitation in the way he dragged the blade across his jaw, and the hand bracing himself against the sink was gripping way too tight.

"Can’t," he muttered, rinsing the razor under the water. "I’ve got a meeting with a client, and I need to prep Mike for his deposition."

"Mike can handle it. And Donna exists for a reason. She can reschedule the client meeting."

Harvey let out a slow breath through his nose, shoulders visibly tensing. "I’m fine."

You stepped forward and pressed the back of your hand to his forehead before he could swat you away. His skin was burning.

"Yeah," you scoffed. "You’re totally fine. Just radiating heat like a damn furnace."

Harvey sighed, tilting his head back slightly as if it would somehow lessen his exhaustion. "I don’t have time for this."

You softened. "Harvey, listen to me," you murmured, touching his wrist. "You never take a day off. If anyone deserves to rest, it’s you."

For a second, it looked like he might give in. His jaw clenched, his shoulders sagging. But then, he shook his head.

"I’m going to work."

And that was that. He finished getting ready at half his usual speed, but still managed to leave with the same smug parting kiss to your forehead. You stood in the doorway watching him go, arms crossed, waiting for the inevitable.

Because no matter how stubborn Harvey Specter was, he was still human.

And he would crash.

By noon, Donna called.

"Your idiot is going to drop dead on the office floor if you don’t come and knock some sense into him."

You grabbed your coat immediately.

When you walked into Pearson Specter Litt, the atmosphere felt different. It wasn’t the usual buzz of high-powered attorneys running the show—it was quieter.

You didn’t even need to ask where Harvey was. You just headed straight for his office.

Mike was standing outside, arms crossed, shaking his head. "He’s bad."

"How bad?"

Mike sighed. "He can barely sit up straight. He’s all flushed, and he keeps rubbing his temples like he’s trying to force his brain to work. He’s already shut Donna out twice, which never happens."

You didn’t wait for more information. Pushing open the door, you found Harvey sitting behind his desk, head in one hand, the other gripping a pen like it was the only thing keeping him upright. The usual sharpness in his expression was dulled, replaced with pure exhaustion.

"Hey," you murmured.

His tired eyes flickered up to meet yours.

For a moment, he just stared. Then, his lips quirked into something resembling a smirk. "Took you long enough."

You raised an eyebrow. "I shouldn’t have had to come at all."

He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. "I just need—"

"You need to go home, Harvey," you interrupted softly, stepping closer. "Let me take you home."

He sighed, looking like he might argue. But as if the universe was trying to make a point, a harsh cough wracked his body, shaking his frame. His grip on his pen slackened, and his breathing grew labored.

You didn’t wait for his permission.

"Alright, that’s it." You moved beside him, placing a steadying hand on his back.

Harvey made a weak noise of protest as you coaxed him up. "Don’t—m’fine."

"Sure you are."

The second he was on his feet, his balance wavered. His usually sure footing faltered, and he swayed into you.

Mike stepped forward instinctively, but you shook your head. "I’ve got him."

Harvey let out a low breath, his forehead lightly pressing against your shoulder for just a second before he straightened.

He didn’t fight you after that.

By the time you got him home, he was running hotter than before. His skin was damp with fever sweat, and his breathing had grown uneven. You guided him straight to the couch, where he sat heavily, immediately leaning back.

You crouched in front of him, brushing a few strands of damp hair from his forehead.

"Harvey," you murmured. "How bad is it?"

His eyelids fluttered. "Bad."

You sighed, pressing the back of your hand against his cheek. His fever was climbing.

"Stay here," you said gently, standing up. "I’ll be right back."

You grabbed a cool washcloth, some medicine, and a glass of water. When you returned, Harvey had slumped further into the cushions, his head tilted back, his breathing shallow.

You knelt beside him, pressing the damp cloth to his forehead.

"Take this," you murmured, handing him the medicine and water.

He took it without argument—probably too exhausted to fight you.

You let out a quiet breath, brushing your fingers over his temple. His eyes cracked open slightly, gazing at you through fever-hazed exhaustion.

"You’re not gonna let me live this down, are you?" he muttered.

You smiled softly. "Not a chance."

His lips twitched, just barely.

"Sleep, Harvey," you whispered. "I’ve got you."

And this time, he didn’t argue.

[hayakawalove]

A Spoonful of Medicine

Summary: After recovering from a brief bout of illness, you find yourself craving sex. Of course Satoru and Suguru come to your rescue.

A/N: I would definitely try to get myself to be sick so they could take care of me. Also cause I want them to fuck me but that's not the point.

CW: Smut, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Sick, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Spit Kink, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Top Suguru, Switch Gojo, Creampie, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 4,018

Soft. 

Soft fabric greets your skin as your body rouses awake. You were certain that you were laying on clouds among the gods until your eyes open. Your room fills your vision, your eyes slowly coming into focus. 

You check the bedside clock, the time being 11:00 am. 

Fuck. 

You had slept for 13 hours. 

You turn back to look at the ceiling, slowly waking up fully. Trying to recollect memories from the previous night you find yourself coming up empty handed. The farthest you got were bits and pieces of Suguru and Satoru, their warm hands gentle as they cradled you while you drifted in and out of consciousness. While your brain tries to gather the pieces together, a soft scent floats over to you, a mix of meat and spices. 

Wait. 

You can smell? 

It had been days since your nose worked, but now it felt suddenly clear, the scents of the room overwhelming you. You were able to smell Satoru’s cologne on the tshirt you wore, along with the detergent of the sheets below you. In addition to that, you were able to smell something coming from the kitchen. 

Suguru must be cooking. 

Where was Satoru? 

You had been sick for the past four days, nearly bedridden with a cold that hit you like a freight train. The two boys had been at your beck and call the entire time. You almost felt smothered by the amount of love they poured into you. It felt good though, to be cared for. 

You sit up and throw your legs off the side of the bed while stretching them, your joints cracking as you shake off the nearly day long slumber. Turning to the nightstand, you grab the thermometer that Suguru had left. With a beep you shove the stick in your mouth, pulling it out when the time is up. 99 F. No fever. You didn't feel sick. In fact, you felt refreshed. Better than you have in a long time. 

You crumble up the front of your shirt, bringing it up to your face. Several large whiffs later you feel your head swoon. It had been days since you were able to smell him. 

He preferred to wear woody colognes, the addicting cedar scent covering you entirely. 

Satoru comes in wearing a face mask, holding medicine in his hands. 

“Wake up bunny, it’s time for your next-“ he slides in the room, looking at you. 

“You’re up.” 

“I’m up.” 

He walks over to you, inspecting your face. 

“You don’t sound like a 70 year old smoker anymore.” 

“And you still sound like an idiot.” 

Satoru chuckles at your feistiness. He missed it. He knew to start getting worried about you when you didn’t bite back. 

Satoru sets the medicine on the bedside table. Now that he was up close, you were able to get a good look at him. He looked good. He usually did. Okay, he always did. His white hair was fluffy, with bright blue eyes poking out above the mask. He was wearing a black shirt and boxers. Fuck, he looked… 

“Hello?” Satoru’s bending over, waving in front of your face. 

You get even more flustered once he’s up close. The smell of his shampoo and body wash, an intoxicating mix, over flows your senses. You weren’t freezing from a fever anymore. No, you were hot. Undoubtedly, earnestly, hot. It was almost hard to breathe under the heat of his gaze. 

He lifts up a hand and grabs your chin, long fingers splaying on the side of your face. He tilts your head side to side, inspecting something, before facing you forward again. Your stomach burns with need, fingers tingling at the close proximity. You had been so sick you almost forgot what it felt like to be anything but ill. Even if you could forget it, your body hardly did. A familiar sensation builds up between your legs as your eyes lock with Satoru’s. 

Something comes over you, and you’re ripping off his mask. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise but he doesn’t have time to ask you what you’re doing as your lips are on his in an instant. You hold his shoulders tight, your lips melding to his. If you could fuse with him, you would. Satoru hums against your lips before pulling away, looking deep into your eyes. 

“What, are you trying to infect me? That’s low, even for you.” 

“Want you.” Your voice comes out soft. 

Satoru audibly swallows, face flashing as if he’s considering it. 

He always did give in faster than Suguru. 

“You need to rest.” 

“No, I need you.” 

It’s hard to not pick up on the desperation in your voice. If it were any other time, Satoru might make fun of you. He couldn’t bring himself to make a quip this time though. Not with the way your eyes dragged across his body, your mouth twisting and turning. 

Your pussy tingles, your body finally catching up to four days without sex. Yeah sure you were hungry and thirsty, but more than that you were horny. 

Satoru wets his bottom lip, stepping closer. His lifts his knee between your legs, towering over you. He was even more beautiful up close. 

“Yeah? Careful what you wish for, bunny.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down. Lips lock and tongues dance. He tastes like cereal, sugary goodness embedded in the plush of his lips. You move backward, allowing him more space. His body inches closer to yours as he crawls on the bed, his large body covering yours. Even though there are only centimeters between you two, you make up your mind that he isn’t close enough. Satoru is pliable, body easy to move as you throw him on his back, crawling on top of him. There’s a hunger deep in his eyes as he watches you take control. Your chest heaves as you stare down at him, not knowing where to start but knowing you needed to begin somewhere. 

You smash your lips against his, anticipation pouring from you. It had been days since you touched him, days since you tasted him. The second he opens his mouth, your tongue curls against his. You groan in response to the flavor of his spit. He feels like heaven beneath you, his muscles perfectly molding against yours. You grind your hips, searching for some sort of friction and his cock begins to harden underneath you. Satoru’s hands take hold of your hips, easily gliding you back and forth over him. 

Satoru didn’t think you were sick anymore, but even if you were he wouldn’t care. 

Each time the pressure of his cock nudges your clit, you let out a moan. There were layers of fabric between you two, but it almost didn’t matter. Your entire body was overtly sensitive, your skin tingling with excitement. You buck your hips back forth over him while your tongue explores his mouth. Satoru lets out soft grunts whenever your lips parts from his. 

You don’t pay any mind to the door creaking open, much rather focusing on the man below you. 

Suguru walks in the room with a tray of food in his hands, his long hair flowing down his back. 

“Is that your way of getting her to take her medicine? I guess that makes sense for you Satoru.” 

Satoru tries to pull away to bite back a smart remark but you aren’t having it, chasing after his lips with yours. 

Suguru walks in the room, setting the tray of food on the beside table. He didn’t feel like he was interrupting anything, so he made no move to rush out. If anything he was curious. Last night you could barely get up to go to the bathroom and now you were devouring Satoru. Above all else, he wanted to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself. 

The presence of Suguru didn’t deter you at all. You only had the man below you on your mind. Lips lock as you move your hips faster, the pleasure beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. 

Suguru slowly walks around the end of the bed, choosing to sit at the edge next to Satoru’s head. 

He speaks your name in a reprimanding tone, eyes narrowed in on your head. You whimper against Satoru, refusing to part from him until Suguru says your name again. 

It forces you out of your stupor, making you raise your head up to him. He looks weary, his eyes hollow with dull hair. Suguru hadn’t been sleeping much this past week. He wanted to be awake in case you needed anything. It was so very him. A pang of tenderness shoots through your heart at the sight of your other boyfriend. They were wearing themselves thin taking care of you. But all you could focus on was taking more. Your lungs pant as you look at him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” A stupid question at best, he knows what you’re doing. 

Your teeth dig in your bottom lip while you try to move against Satoru again. 

“You’re sick.” The way he says it makes it sound like it’s the end of the conversation. 

“No I’m not, I feel okay.” Your voice catches him by surprise. 

You did sound better. 

He lifts a hand up and places it against your forehead, trying to check for any signs that you were still burning up. 

“Do you?” 

“Mhm.” You fidget beneath his watchful gaze. 

The way he was looking at you made you to feel so exposed. Like a live wire laying next to a puddle of water. 

“Alright I guess, as long as you don’t get Satoru sick too. I can’t handle two sickly babies.” 

It’s an attempt at a joke, one that would normally get you. You’re too needy to laugh, instead choosing to resume ministrations on Satoru. You press down until you feel his cock against you again. The pressure against your clit forces a moan from your throat. He felt so fucking good beneath you. You bury your face against Satoru’s neck, your breaths coming out in quick succession. Suguru places his hand on your head, stroking your hair while you rub against Satoru. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself. It was instinctual really, to keep his hands on you at all times. Satoru was the same way. Goosebumps crawl over Satoru as he feels your breaths against his skin. 

Your body moves faster, your moans sounding more salacious. Up and down. Up and down. You slide your pussy against Satoru, setting the perfect pace. Satoru’s hard cock presses against your nub, your soaked underwear clinging to you. 

More, just a little more… 

Satoru holds your waist, his long fingers digging into your tender skin as he drags you back and forth. It was almost embarrassing how fast you were able to make his cock hard. Honestly, he didn’t know how much longer he would last with the way you were going. Your whimpering floats over to his ears, immediately breaking any cogs that might have been working in his head. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re pushed over the edge, reaching a breaking point as you cum fully clothed rubbing against his cock. Your movements still while the noise dies down. 

“Did you just cum?” Suguru asks, disbelief highlighting in his tone. 

The boys know exactly what you sound like when you cum, they were just surprised as it had never happened so fast before. 

You nuzzle further into Satoru’s neck, trying to soak up his warmth. You groan against his skin, feeling the aftershocks rush through your body. 

“Felt good.” 

Your words are almost inaudible against him. Pushing yourself up on your hands you stare down at Satoru. His cheeks are flushed, eyes blown out. 

“Get on my face.” Satoru says, his words breathless and almost pained. 

You mean to question him, but there’s no room for debate, not with the way his eyes are trained on you.  

You shimmy off his body, swiping your clothes off. Even though you just came, your body was still hot, lust burning your skin as each second passed by. Suguru watches as you crawl on top of Satoru’s face, sticky cum covering your pussy. So swollen and needy, Suguru could feel his mouth start to water. Satoru sticks his tongue out and pushes it through your slit, relishing in the moan you let out. 

Suguru’s eyes are hazy when you look at him, desire pooling in the depths of his caramel gaze. Your pussy clenches when you meet his eyes. Satoru definitely noticed, as he lets out a groan into you. You look down and see Suguru’s cock beginning to harden in his pants. Fumbling with the zipper, you slide his cock out. 

Beautiful, every part of him was beautiful. 

It’s hard in your hand, drops of precum pouring from the tip. You wrap your hand around him, sliding down his cock. Suguru shudders at the motion, his abs tightening. He and Satoru didn’t get up to anything while you were sick as they were too busy doting on you. 

He didn’t realize how much he needed this until it was actually happening. 

Euphoria washes over him as your hand slides along his cock. He throws his head back with his eyes closed, enjoying how your skin feels against his. He loved Satoru’s skin and hands as well, but there was something different about the softness in your palms. He lowers his head and spits on his cock, body tensing once your hand pushes the spit down. 

“Just like that baby.” Suguru coos, lips barely parted as he stares down at your fist. 

You whimper, watching as Suguru’s spit covers his cock. It’s a filthy sight, the way his saliva spreads around. Heat rushes to your core as Satoru swipes his tongue through you. When you came in your pants, Satoru really had no other choice but to clean you up. His large fingers press into the soft skin of your thighs, leaving you no room to squirm around. His tongue grazes against your clit, forcing you back down when you try to jump away from the contact. Normally he would chuckle at your sensitivity. But he was incredibly serious right now. You started all this, so you were going to take it. 

Suguru groans softly as your hand glides against his cock, he was hard as a rock as your hand tightens around him. He really wanted you to rest all day today but fuck, he couldn’t complain with the way your fingers swiped his tip. 

You did seem better, he reminds himself. 

“Satoru, I can’t take it.” You murmur, his tongue dragging out a slew of moans from you. 

“Don’t focus on him baby, focus on me.” Suguru asks, trying to keep his composure. 

He tilts your chin to look at him, staring deep into your eyes while your hand strokes him. You had been with the two men for years, and been in love with them for even longer, so why did the intensity of Suguru’s gaze knock you off your feet every time? You dig your teeth into your bottom lip while letting out a whine, the suction on Satoru’s mouth only increasing as time passes. 

Suguru watches your face morph from pain to pleasure and back over, and he briefly thinks about asking Satoru to slow down. He doesn’t though, he would never admit it but he secretly gets off on the cruelty they show you. He likes the way you push them away, only to be begging for more moments later. 

Satoru isn’t prim and proper as he eats you out. Your room is filled with the sounds of his mouth laving your pussy, the noise embarrassing you. 

“So fucking noisy Satoru.” Suguru murmurs, reaching a thumb up to glide across your bottom lip. 

You grind your hips harder against Satoru’s tongue, letting out a moan once his lips wrap around your clit. 

“Does it feel good, baby?” Suguru speaks lowly, hypnotized with the way you were using Satoru. 

“Yes, fuck, yes.” 

Suguru hums at your answer, clenching his teeth while you rub his cock. 

“Think you’re ready for more?” 

You’re at a loss for words so all you can do is nod, very desperately. Suguru cracks a grin before deciding he can’t wait any longer, standing up and moving you off Satoru’s face. Satoru looks delirious under you, your cum smearing across his lips and cheeks. He looks like he wants to complain, but he keeps his mouth shut. Whatever Suguru says, goes, and Satoru is aware of that. 

Suguru lays you down on the bed, spreading your legs so wide it almost borders on painful. He slides in between your legs, giving you no time to catch your breath while he rubs his cock down your pussy. 

“You scared us princess.” He murmurs, pushing his cock inside you. 

Your eyes roll back in your head as you feel him stretch you out. 

Suguru’s face pinches as he bottoms out, your pussy giving him little to no room to move. You hadn’t been sick for that long, but it felt like it. His cock had begun to forget the shape of your walls. It seemed you did too, your pussy stretching far more slowly than normal. But that didn’t matter, he would mold you once more. 

Satoru pouts behind Suguru, briefly appreciating his form before scooting up beside you. He slides his clothes off and grabs your hand, guiding it towards his hard cock. 

Your body moves on impulse as you squeeze him, thoughtlessly guiding your hand up and down his cock. The both of you look like a wreck, while Suguru looks like he’s only getting started. 

Suguru watches the minuscule changes in your expression as he pulls out, before slamming himself back in. The moan you let out is pornographic. He almost blames you for how fucked you’re gonna get because honestly you gave him no choice looking and sounding like that. 

Your eyes feel droopy, but you refuse to shut them. The sight of the two men before you makes your mind run, your body already so close to cumming. 

Satoru, his head rung low, bangs obscuring his beautiful eyes as you pump his cock. His stomach tightening each time your fingers reach his tip before gliding back down. 

Suguru, whose face was the definition of sinful in the way he watched you, pressing his cock deep inside your pussy. 

It’s almost impossible to divide your attention between the two. Each time you slow down on Satoru, he lets out a begging shaking breath, but whenever you lose focus on Suguru he’s fucking into you faster. 

It’s like they were competing for your attention. 

Suguru grips your other hand and brings it to his mouth, pushing your fingers past his lips so he can suck them. The feeling only increases your sensitivity, making your moans come out louder. 

He pulls them out and you throw your head back when you notice the saliva dripping from your fingers. He was so fucking hot, and he didn’t even try. He guides them to your pussy, resting them against your clit. Your pussy was soaked already between your cum and Satoru’s spit, but that didn’t matter. You would gladly accept whatever Suguru gave you. You try to circle your clit, but you can’t. Not at the pace that would get you off. 

Suguru slams into you, tilting your hips in a way that makes his cock rub against your gspot. He notices that you’re having a hard time focusing on rubbing your clit so he slows down, pulling his cock out before pressing it back in.

Cute, he thought. Your poor little head could hardly focus on everything at once. 

Your legs trap his hips in, fingers starting to move faster. Both men have their eyes on you as you moan, body contorting as you inch closer to the high. 

Fingers skip along your clit as you feel yourself clench around Suguru. Desperate moans fall from your lips as your vision goes dark. It comes on suddenly, your body shaking beneath Suguru as you cum. They let out moans watching you, their bodies reacting to the way you sound. 

It hits Suguru harder than it hits Satoru. He can feel the way your pussy clings to him, the way your body trembles beneath his large frame. There’s no reason to take it easy on you anymore so he starts fucking into you more at a rough pace. His cock pounds inside you, teetering between pleasure and pain. Your hand flies up to grip his chest, fingers slippery from your cum. 

“Come on baby you can take it.” He finds himself saying, noticing the way you try to back off. 

“No I- it’s too much, it’s too much.” You plea, his cock penetrating you. 

He loves how pathetic you sound. 

Your pussy clings to his cock as his hips slow down, his cock jumping as he cums inside you. It almost feels like he’s suffocating with the way you grip him. He stills completely, relaxing in content. It felt like a weight was lifted off his chest when he came. 

Satoru shakes you both from your post sex bliss. He’s a mess beside you, body slick with sweat with a jutted out lip. 

“Aw, poor baby.” Suguru says, eyes glazed over as he watches Satoru. 

“Shut up.” Satoru has no bite to his tone. 

Suguru’s eyes narrow at the comment. He leans over, cock still plugging you up, and grabs Satoru’s face. 

“Watch your mouth.” 

Your pussy clenches at Suguru’s tone. His lip quirks up at your reaction before he trains it down. Your hand rubs Satoru’s cock faster now, body trembling at the idea of making him cum. The noises he lets out were a mix between hot and cute. He liked acting all tough, but you knew whenever he was in the sheets his voice betrayed him. 

Your hand tightens around his cock, brows furrowing when his hips jump to meet your hand. You were so eager to watch him fall apart in front of you. 

“F-fuck.” Satoru’s delirious as he murmurs to himself. 

His cock was so hard it hurt. From the taste of your pussy on his tongue to him watching Suguru fuck you, he could hardly take it anymore. 

“F-fuck, hah, I,” Satoru groans your name. 

Suguru watches your slippery hand tug Satoru’s cock. He did feel a little bad that Satoru hadn’t finished yet. Suguru leans down and lets his teeth dig into Satoru’s throat, sucking lightly. The mixture of sensations causes Satoru to hurl closer to the edge. He humps your fist pathetically as he grabs onto Suguru’s hair. 

“G-gonna cum.” It’s hard to hear him over the sound of his cock in your hand. 

Suguru reaches a hand down, covering yours, and starts to rub Satoru’s cock. The feeling of his palm pressing into yours makes you squeeze Satoru harder. He groans at the pressure, his stomach flexing. 

Satoru cums hard in both your hands, the white silky liquid overflowing your fingers. Suguru removes his hand first, licking his fingers as he slides out of your pussy. 

It’s hard not to complain at the feeling but you keep it in. You use a towel that Suguru provides to wipe up Satoru’s cum. Your body feels way heavier, sinking into the bed after everything. Satoru flops beside you, always extremely needy after sex. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his body. 

Suguru stares at the tray of food, his brows pinched. 

“Guess I’ll have to heat that up.”

You chuckle. Eventually you would eat, but for now all you wanted to do was lay down with the both of them. 

“You don’t need to feed me anymore, I’m feeling better.” 

“I can tell.” Suguru murmurs. 

The boys laugh at you as you all push together, fitting together like a perfect puzzle, warmth spreading between you. 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @constawrites

If you want to be added to my taglist just let me know, specify what you want to be added to if it's just my gojo and suguru posts, or all my posts

[elcrahdraws]

What I love about Smallville Lois, and Clark is that so many interpretations have Clark as this sparkly clean, open hearted, happy go lucky guy who bends backwards to win the heart of a very locked-up-tight, even jaded, Lois Lane. Smallville does it different because we have seen how complicated Clark’s love life will always be… And he is the one who is locked up so tight. He has a genuine fear of losing the person he loves and has avowed many times to embrace his destiny alone. He’s not chasing Lois, but he is just so drawn to her and genuinely wants the best for her because he sees her for who she is, even if she doesn’t. She’s absolutely a hero to him. I love that they inverse the chase and it becomes about Lois chasing him… But then it becomes a game of patience and waiting for him to mentally accept that he can’t handle this destiny alone. That he needs a loved one he can be himself with, and who accepts not just the polished hero with a hero’s calling… but with the vulnerable and flawed man. I love that she knows his secret before he thinks she knows and then waits for him to be comfortable enough to tell her. It’s so beautiful and I love that she is flawed as well and that she runs away not because she’s shutting down the possibility of them getting together, but because she needs to process; because he is THE ONE and she wants to proceed forward with the maturity that the relationship deserves… And her track record has been very self-motivated. The new take… I loved it.

Coming from the new adventures of Lois and Clark, where literally season after season it was Clark trying to win Lois, because she couldn’t see Clark for who he was or she had amnesia, this was definitely refreshing. Nothing against the older version… I love Teri and Dean.

I forever love the show Smallville and visit it frequently. He had a great chemistry with Lana… But he had her on such a high pedestal, We never knew what her real character was. And time and time again she failed the test of being able to handle his destiny; in coming out unscathed physically or emotionally. They were not meant to be. He didn’t need a pining kind of love… He needed a renewing love. And he found it, or was rather hit by it like a freight train, with Lois.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; 28

Pairing(s); LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 5,040

Themes; isekai, slow-burn, eventual smut (probably closer to the end), canon divergence

Notes; This'll probably be the last update for a while! At least, on this fic. I have so many I'm working on right now (and have no one to blame but myself) and I only write when I'm in the right headspace for it so that's why these updates are taking so long – if anyone was wondering!

This one is barely edited since my page gets all funky when my chapters get over a certain word count ;-;

prev || next

—☆— masterlist —☆—

“Sweetie?”

You blink a few times, wincing at the bright contrast of light coming from Meow’s Cafe compared to the dark and dreary interior of the throne room you were just in. Your hands were still placed firmly on the table, ready to get up and go get your order after it was called at the register. Did you even fall asleep this time?

Your brows furrow and you feel your temples throb as a warning of an up-coming migraine. You sit back down with a sigh, shaking your head. “Sylus, can you get our order, please?”

That definitely felt like it would be the last of your dreams. At least, you hoped it was. Or if there were more, you hope you’d at least be able to rest a little bit. You felt as if you hadn’t slept in weeks, so lethargic and weak. Honestly, all you want to do is go home. You don’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone. You just want to crawl under your cool bed covers and sleep for as long as you can.

A cup is suddenly placed in front of you and you take it with a groggy “thank you” aimed at Sylus as you slowly sip on the caffeinated drink. Your eyes drowsily blinking before you have to lightly slap your face to keep yourself awake.

Depression and exhaustion were hitting you like a freight train.

You needed to go home now.

You stand up, drink in hand, and motion for Sylus to follow you. “If I don’t contact you for a few days, I’m probably hibernating, so don’t break down my door.”

A soft chuckle slips from his lips as he lightly shakes his head, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then, you’re back on the motorcycle heading toward the Star-rise Apartment complex.

“Is there any way you can get me to my apartment without anyone seeing me?” You ask, rubbing your eyes after Sylus parked. “I really don’t want to run into…anyone.” As much as you’d love to let Xavier, Zayne, and even Rafayel know you’ve returned…You don’t think you can handle seeing any of them right now.

“Of course. Who do you think you’re talking to, kitten?” The tall white-haired man lifts his hand up and, with a singular finger motion, you both disappear. Then, reappear on your balcony. Reddish black energy swirls around your body before dissipating.

“Are you going to stay with me until I fall asleep?” You tease him with a raised brow after realizing he came up here with you and he has the nerve to chuckle and shoot back, “Who says we’re just sleeping?”

You feel heat creeping up from cheeks and curse under your breath, quickly turning your back to him to open your sliding glass door. He follows you inside as you suddenly hear a loud wail. A heartbreakingly, broken sound as tiny feet thumped against the hardwood floors, running toward you.

“Estelle?” A bit of panic zings through your chest, worried that something might’ve happened to her, but instead, the poor baby runs up to you and leaps at you. Your body stumbles backward as the, rather large, manecoon jumps into your arms, still crying while purring loudly. You feel Sylus’s hand against the small of your back, keeping you from falling to the ground from the cat’s weight.

“Is this…yours, kitten? I can see the resemblance.” Sylus muses, stepping over to look down at the cat before he reaches forward to scratch under her chin. “Cute and a crybaby. Just like you.”

You turn your head to glare at Sylus, hugging Estelle to your chest as you rub your cheek against her soft fur. “Maybe with her around, I can finally get some rest.” “I’m hurt, kitten. Do I mean nothing to you?” Sylus places a hand on his chest with a pained expression on his face and you shake your head with a small laugh, “Alright, alright. You can stay too, but you’d better be gone when I wake up.”

And with that, the three of you get settled in your bed.

The bed was…rather cramped. Granted, it was a big bed. It should be able to fit at least two people, but with a large cat and large man in bed…Well, you get it. With space being so small, you had to rest your head on Sylus’s shoulder with his arm propped under your neck, Estelle situated between you both. You close your eyes and feel Sylus tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Goodnight, sweetie. Hopefully you’ll get all the answers you need and more soon.”

(Ding ding ding, who would’ve guessed it. Another dream sequence ;-; I am so sorry at this point, but these are honestly necessary to the plot. I’m losing my mind at this point. I forget where I left off, what’s going on, what’s been said. Xavier’s the only one with a kiss so far and he’s not even my favourite love interest…I’m falling apart guys.)

This time, your dream feels like a dream.

As you look around in complete darkness, you know this one will be different from the rest. Finally, you’ll be able to actually sleep. You’ll finally feel well rested and -

The room you’re in is gloomy. It smells of worn books and flowers. The floors have a fancy marbled pattern, the walls are adorned with weathered dark-blue wallpaper, bookshelves lining each wall with a large open balcony in front of you. Papers are scattered all over the floor, crumpled balls of parchment and yellow pages strewn about. You hear the sound of someone scribbling on paper behind you, mumbling under their breath, and you slowly turn around.

The first thing you see is a large, ornate desk, also covered in papers and books. Sketches of some kind of machine on some papers while others are filled with words.

Then, you pause, noticing who the person behind the desk is.

It’s…you?

You take a cautious step forward, but she doesn’t react. Too busy writing more notes down. You take note of the crown atop her head, the intricate suit she’s donned, and the words that she’s saying.

“It’s me…” She murmurs, staring down at the papers in front of her with shock. “I’m the perfect sacrifice? It was me this whole time!? Then, why did Xavier even - “

After she was left behind by Xavier and the Backtrackers, Y/n decided to do her own research. With no one here to stop her, she could do anything she wanted and that included going through every single file the royal family has to offer. What she found shattered her whole view on reality.

Within the paperwork she discovered was her name. Her name was on a list. The list for the sacrifices that would be used to fuel Philos’ heart and her name was violently circled as if she were the key to everything. The more she looked into it, the more she found.

She didn’t know how the king discovered she could die and be reborn, but the answer was rather simple.

In her previous life, she knew Xavier and many people knew of her. The people of Philos live for a very long time, so those from her previous life were bound to recognize her. People who knew she died. The king took note of how close Xavier was with this specific knight, Y/n, and when he looked more into her…Many people said they knew her previously, but she had died.

At least, that’s what scholars had written in the notes Y/n was now reading. She wasn’t sure how much of it was true or not, but if it was then that would mean she was the one who gave Xavier that star-shaped charm. She was the one who Xavier loved and would give up Philos for. But she was also the one that Xavier had left behind and never came back for.

As months went by, Y/n knew Xavier went to a different timeline with her in it. She didn’t have to see it to know. She knew that was what Operation Backtracker was about. To go grab a Y/n from a different timeline and use her to power Philos. Or to go live with that Y/n.

She knew how much Xavier disliked Philos, so maybe he gave up on this planet entirely and left to go be with another version of her. Y/n wasn’t bitter about it, maybe a bit heartbroken, but if he was happy, then that’s all that mattered to her. So for the next few years, Y/n searched for a different way to save Philos. To save herself and her people, but to no avail.

No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t find a way that didn’t involve sacrificing herself.

So, instead, she continues Xavier’s research.

She found notes that he had left behind about interdimensional travel that he scrapped to instead research time travel, about how Uluru had ores that could power a portal between dimensions but he couldn’t figure out how to create it.

Today was the day she finally finished her sketch of a portal. She thought of everything she could and wrote it down, making sure to note how the wires would go and where the Uluru ores would go. All she had to do was take it to the engineers and see what they could do but, as she stood up to deliver the papers, a loud noise caught her off guard. The whole castle shakes with a violent tremor, books tumble out from her shelves, paintings fall from the walls. Y/n stumbles and catches herself on her desk before her head whips toward the balcony, spotting smoke billowing in the distance.

Was this Philos’ end?

No.

Her knights come rushing into her room to inform her of the situation.

An unidentified spaceship crash landed on Philosian soil, the first one in over 400-years.

A faint sense of hope ate at Y/n’s heart, wishing that it was Xavier returning to her, but she knew that wouldn’t be the case. Philos has been steadily dying for 15-years now. There’s no way her star would come back to her.

Even so, she still felt anxious as her and her knights made their way toward the smoking craft. Were there even any survivors?

The group approach the ship cautiously before Y/n throws her hand up and stares intensely at the ship. While the ship definitely wasn’t Xavier’s, it definitely had his and Jeremiah’s crafty work all over it. Did Xavier send someone here?

“I’ll approach alone.” Y/n says firmly, even though her Lightseekers do their best to try and dissuade her. She shakes her head and clears her throat, “As you all know, I can protect myself. I’ll take this from here.” But as she took one step closer, the horizontal hatch opens and someone steps out from the ship while coughing and waving a hand in front of their face.

Once the smoke clears, Y/n notices the person is a man. They were rather tall, they had white hair…White, not silver, Y/n, don’t get your hopes up. And when he finally looks up, she notices his eerie red eyes.

The man meets her gaze and his eyes betray him. While his facial expression remains the same, his eyes hold so much emotion ranging from anguish to guilt to surprise.

“Y/n?”

The Queen, who was more caught off guard by how deep his voice was, takes a few minutes before she blinks. How did he know her name? Did Xavier…No, there was another Y/n where Xavier went. That’s the only explanation.

Y/n’s lips press thin and she sighs, waving her hand again, “Clear out. I’ll take him in for questioning. Alone.”

While her knights were clearly concerned and confused, they break away, keeping an eye on the two of them as Y/n aids this man on their trek back to the castle.

Once back in her office, Y/n sits down with the man standing in front of her and she rubs her temples tiredly. “So I assume Xavier sent you?” She bites back the urge to ask how he’s doing. If he’s happy. “It must be important if he didn’t come himself or send Jeremiah.”

“Y/n - The other Y/n died.”

Huh?

Y/n’s brows knit together and she sits up straight in her chair, nails anxiously clacking on her hardwood desk. “She…died?” Well that surely wasn’t good, but even so…what reason did Xavier have to send this man to the future?

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” The man sighs, taking a seat in front of the desk. “The name’s Sylus. I…worked with Y/n, alongside a few other people who really cared about her. Her Aether Core was stolen - well, she gave it away, but nonetheless, she died.”

“Any more details, because, so far, I’m not really understanding why she would’ve given her heart up.” Y/n says, picking up her pen as she taps on her own chest. “I’d assume we both think the same way, so unless this was a really big threat…I doubt we’d go down without a fight.”

Sylus has a far away look in his eyes before he looks away. “Astra’s your God here, right? On Philos?” He tilts his head back as he looks up at the ceiling. “We never figured out why, but he came down from wherever and demanded her Aether Core. He said he would fix it, but then he never gave it back to her. He tricked her. I’m not exactly sure what a God needs an Aether Core for, but he didn’t ask nicely, that’s for sure. He said he’d destroy Linkon and the whole world if she didn’t hand it over.”

Y/n wasn’t exactly sure what Linkon was, but it must’ve been where they were living…but besides that, she couldn’t wrap her head around why Astra would want to destroy the world over an Aether Core. If he wanted one, why didn’t he come get hers? Y/n pauses in her writing and points her pen at him. “There’s more to the story, isn’t there? If Astra wanted an Aether Core, he could’ve came and got mine or got one from any other Y/n in the universe, but he specifically went for her. Explain.”

“I hope you can write fast, swe-” Sylus visibly winces as if it pains him to be unable to use nicknames with her and takes a deep breath. “It’s a long story.”

“Well shorten it then.”

“As you know, Xavier has ties with you twice. There’s this other guy named Zayne, he’s a doctor or whatever. I’m not really sure what’s up with him, but Astra seemed to know him. So we assume he has past ties with you as well. Rafayel talked to us about his experience with you in the past too, and I…” Sylus trails off, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just say, we’ve all had past or future lives with Y/n in them. That’s the key detail here.”

“I think the key detail is the fact that you’ve all never been present alongside her.” Y/n clicks her pen after scribbling a few sentences down. “That life was the first one where all four of you were present, so that must mean something important to Astra. From what you’ve said, he seemed panicked. As if something that shouldn’t happen, was going to.” Then, she pauses. “Wait.”

The woman stands up, her chair rolling back and hitting the wall behind her as she rushes over to her bookshelves, scanning every single spine for a specific book. Then, she finds it.

“The Tragic Tale of Ehko and Astra,” She reads aloud as she steps back over to her chair. “It’s about twin Gods who ruled over the past and the future. This is the last copy of the book, so not many people know of their story, and no one worships Ehko in Philos.” Then, her gaze dances over to her sketch, the completed artwork of her portal.

“You want to save her, right?” She asks, not looking at Sylus and without waiting for an answer, she adds, “Even if she can’t remember you?”

“Do you even need to ask me that?” The man finally cracks a smile. “If you’re looking for an answer, I’ll tell you. Without a doubt, always.”

“That’s all I needed to know.” Y/n nods her head, knowing that if she can pull this off, she would most definitely cease to exist but…That’s alright. Philos is better off not existing if that means Xavier could be happy. She clears her throat and shakes her head to clear her thoughts, “My theory is that Y/n - that we are a reincarnation of Ehko. In text, it’s said that Astra cursed Ehko and scattered the soul of her lover into four shards.The four of you were present in that life with Y/n, so now I can see why Astra was so panicked... However, I don’t see why you all couldn’t just fight him. I’m sure all five of you could take down a God, especially with my resonance Evol.”

“There was an incident.” Sylus sighs, trying his best to think back on the situation. “I wasn’t around for it, but from what Xavier told me, she got badly injured in an explosion and her Aether Core was irreversibly damaged, so while she could still resonate, it wasn’t as strong as it used to be. The biggest problem was, while she could resonate with everyone else just fine, she couldn’t with me. So, I helped her into an illegal Protocore Auction and we got her another core. It fixed the damage, but her Evol was still…weaker.” The man drums his fingers against the table, almost as if it were a nervous tick.

“So we can’t just go back in time to fix this situation, because it’ll happen no matter what we do. Astra has too much control over this universe.” Y/n takes a deep breath and pushes her sketch toward Sylus. “I made a mock-up of an interdimensional portal. I just need it built and we can do some test trials with it. If we grab a version of me that is outside of this dimension, then the laws of it won’t apply to her. At least, that’s the only theory I have so far. But if we do this, she won’t be the same Y/n.”

Sylus shakes his head. “I think Xavier would agree with me when I say this, but she’ll be the same exact woman every time.” He reaches over to gently pat her hand. “Xavier would’ve been the one here instead of me, but with the world currently ending on Earth, he had to stay behind with the others to do damage control and I’m the only other one who knew how to pilot a ship. He told me to pass on a message. He hopes you’re doing well.”

Y/n’s teeth sink into her bottom lip and she raps her knuckles onto the desk in a fit of anger, trying her best to hold back from saying anything too callous. “I don’t think most would do well in solitude, being forced to wear a crown, and yet here I am.”

The duo worked tirelessly for months on end, countless bouts of trial and error before they realized that this portal wouldn’t work on Philos. The planet was siphoning any bit of energy they put into the portal to fuel the planet’s heart. They’d have to move their testing to somewhere else and Y/n had just the place in mind.

Uluru.

Y/n and Sylus leave Philos, putting one of her trusted knights in charge as the de facto Queen, and go straight for the little planet, and Gods, it was as beautiful as Xavier said it was. The sky was painted in a myriad of pinks and purples, stars speckled across as far as the eye could see like tiny fireflies. Flowers blooming in a large open field, tall trees with unnaturally coloured leaves, and the interdimensional portal sat within the field like a direct contrast to the untouched landscape.

The two stayed in Uluru doing test after test, trial after trial, until they could finally peak into this alternative dimension.

A dimension without Evols, without Wanderers. A world completely mundane. And that’s where they saw it. They saw you with a loving grandma, playing around with an older brother.

They watched as you laughed while a girl named Tara teased you, her older brother (who Sylus claimed was Zayne) shook his head before he hit her with her rolled up report card. As your older brother came home with his purple-haired friend and you begged him to help you with your art homework. As you run into Sylus on your college campus and join his boxing class. And finally, Y/n watched with bated breath and wide eyes as Xavier came into view. The way you both teased each other and played around like old friends, how Jeremiah swung his arms over both your shoulders as he joined in on the fun.

Y/n tears her eyes away from the portal, gently tapping a button to shut it off as she looks up at the sky. A miserable feeling swirls in her gut as she wants to curse up at the sky. How dare it look so lovely while she wanted so badly to curl up in a ball and cry. To lose her strong woman facade that she’s been putting up in front of Sylus for all these months.

“Y/n…”

Y/n holds her hand up and shakes her head, she squeezes her eyes shut trying her best to hold back her unshed tears. “It’s almost…comical how all of our answers were in Uluru, you know? In the past…Xavier - “ Her voice suddenly cracks and she pauses for a brief moment before continuing, “He said we should come here and elope.” She throws her hands up with a shaky breath, biting her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

“Sweet—” Sylus catches himself before he can finish his term of endearment and clears his throat, “Y/n, we don’t have to do this.”

The woman sits down amongst the flowers and pats the grass next to her. “We’ve come this far. It’s only fair to finish what we started. After seeing that…Perhaps I’ll be happy with Xavier, with all of you, in my next life.”

And with that, they hatch up the final piece to their plan.

Y/n would take everything she learnt from Sylus, about all of their past lives and what happened in his current life, and…send out an email to your dimension as a game designer. She corresponds with a company and eventually the game releases. The names and facial features are tweaked just enough, so you don’t catch on, and they’ve got you.

Hook, line, and sinker.

It’s D-Day.

The day when Sylus’s past will be reset to before he met the Y/n of his time. The day of the explosion that changed her life. He’s obviously worried, he knows he’ll remember everything - including his time here on Philos, but he’s still anxious about this Philosian Y/n. He’s grown quite attached to her.

“Sylus, I have a surpr— Huh? Where are you?” Y/n questions as she steps into her office, giving her room a confused once-over before she spots him on the balcony. “There you are.”

Like with every Y/n, she always finds him at the right time.

“Hmm? You said you had a surprise for me, sweetie?” Sylus turns toward her with a raised brow and Y/n just laughs off the term of endearment, she’s grown used to it. She assumes she’ll miss it – if she lives long enough to. “As a celebration for what we’re about to do…I made you something.” Her arms are behind her back, so Sylus can’t exactly see what she has. But he chuckles and outstretched his hand for her, “Let me see.”

Then, he feels a sudden weight in his palm. It’s a box.

He tilts his head to the side, a teasing tone to his voice as he speaks, “You’re not proposing to me, are you?”

“Mmh…Something like that.” She shrugs, tapping her index finger against the metal box. “I wanted her to remember everything. To remember you, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne…me. Think of it as a gift, for you and for her. Just link your Evol with it and once she resonates with you, the seal on it will release.” Y/n almost seems a bit bashful, as if she were confessing her love while giving this gift. “I can see why I fell for you in every life, so…”

Sylus’s Evol tightly wraps around the box and a click can be heard before his reddish black Evol darts out to grab Y/n’s wrist, tugging her toward him as his arms envelope her into a hug. His chin rests on the crown on her head and he nuzzles his face into her hair. “This isn’t goodbye.” He says, firmly, and Y/n nods. It feels like goodbye since she won’t be with them, but it isn’t goodbye at the same time. She’ll always be with him, with them. It’ll be her, but not her and yet, Y/n has come to terms with this. She’ll cease to exist in this life, but she now knows she’ll be happy in the next and in any life that comes after that.

Now, with the memory box in hand, she sends out her first and final messages to you;

‘Will you enter the game?’

Then, darkness.

It’s like you were watching tv and suddenly the power went out.

You had so many thoughts racing through your mind. You…didn’t isekai here? All of the guys existed where you came from? You could feel your heart pounding, the heavy thump of your pulse filling your ears. You could feel the panic sinking in. These weren’t games and they were, in fact, all real?

You were brought here to fight a literal God. How no one asked if you wanted to leave your cozy, normal life. You were just thrust into this world without a care for if you wanted to do so or not. Thrown into a world where your grandma and step brother were dead immediately, when you were previously laughing with them at the dinner table.

What the fuck —

Why the fuck —

You were absolutely losing your damn mind and all you wanted to do was wake up and —

Then, once again, a bright light fills up your vision, washing away all the darkness that was previously there.

“Ah, sorry about that. I really didn’t mean to freak you out. I forgot our personalities aren’t that similar.” You feel a shiver dance down your spine and you immediately straighten your back in fear as you hear the sound of your own voice. You slowly turn to look at the person behind you, moving gradually in terror that you’d meet your own gaze. But what stood behind you was more like a hologram of yourself rather than being actually you.

“I probably should’ve mentioned it, but I left a piece of myself inside the box as well. Think of it as a way to have at least one person, besides Sylus, to remember me.” Though she appears to be rather confident, it seems like the Queenly version of yourself as anxious and scared even. She didn’t want to be forgotten. She didn’t wish to fade away into nothingness as she waited for her next life, a life where she would forget her previous life and be born anew. “I also wanted to apologize. I used you for my own selfish reasons, but you’re here now and you can’t go back. I…did save your previous memories in this box, but I decided against showing you them. I didn’t want to give you too much grief.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to get mad at her now that she was in front of you. She was just a broken girl. Just as broken as you are. Both grieving over lives you never got to experience. Two halves of the same whole.

“I understand.” You nod your head before you frown, “What’s…going to happen to you now?”

“I uh…I don’t know, actually.” While she laughs, you know she’s terrified. “But you know me, I’ll figure it out!” It takes you a few seconds before you respond, but when you finally do, you ask, “Are you still on Philos?”

The woman pauses, turning her head to look at something before she nods with a pained expression, “Yes. It’s burning down as we speak.”

You jerk your head toward the sky and shoot her a smile, “Go to Uluru. You can make it off Philos in time, right?” “Why would I…You don’t mean?” She leans closer to you with knitted brows, “You can’t be serious.”

“Go to my world.” You cross your arms over your chest. “Those idiots wouldn’t know left from right without me around, so it’s only fair that you take over from here. Go be happy, Y/n. You deserve it.”

“You know telling me that is the same as telling yourself.” It’s a little odd to watch another you smile endearingly at you, but as long as you’re happy, who cares?” “I know. Let's be happy together.”

Even though you know you’ll break down once you wake up, you might as well look strong in front of her since she’s a super smart and strong woman who went from a knight to a queen — and she’s lived for over 200 years. She’s you, but she feels so far from you at the same time.

She leaves you with one last sentence as a form of goodbye with a mischievous look on her face, “Don’t be too shocked when you wake up!”

Huh?

What does she mean by tha —

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey , @tanspostsblog , @shypotatoes013-blog , @sunsethw4 , @m00nchildwrites , @yournextdoorhousewitch , @munchychuusy

[pansy-picnics]

A vat7k related question.

What do you think is Hugo's gender identity? Cus I want to hear what you think Hugo's gender is and the story behind it.

EHEHEHE personally i think she’s genderfluid and uses he/she/they pronouns…….I think he was kind of an uncracked egg up until the trials though. like, he’s been in survival mode for so long that he’s never had the time or luxury to really think about himself or his identity….i think he’s had a lot of different disguises over his career though, and those personas are either male or female depending on what the situation calls for so he’s not a stranger to dressing femininely either.

but yeah…i think for a long time hugo just identified as male by default cuz like…what else would he be LOL. if he had any doubts at all they weren’t significantly hindering him or anything so he just buried them with all the other of the emotions he doesn’t want to feel. but like the closet is made of GLASS and this becomes especially obvious when she teams up with 3 other teenagers who are also transgender so sometimes she’ll just Say Shit and they all turn around and look at her like “…….🤨”

i have this very vivid scene in my head where varian comes out to the gang as trans and hes clearly really uneasy abt it. and hugo doesn’t know what to say so he just tries to relate by saying the first thing that comes to mind and goes “oh yeah i get it i mean. sometimes i wish i was a girl but like not all the time yk” and nuru and varian both just stop and stare at him

hugo, getting nervous: …Sorry that’s probably not the same thing forget i said anything

nuru: No i think we should talk about this?

anyways yeah….other than her traveling party giving her some weird looks nothing actually really came of these conversations bc hugo would refuse to think about herself even if you put a gun to her head

fast forward to post-trials though, and hugo’s been living in the castle with varian for about six months…it was REALLY messy for both of them while she was adjusting, but at this point shes finally started to let her guard down a little, and all of a sudden she has SO much free time and she has no idea what to do with any of it. she’s stealing collecting things, tinkering with all kinds of useless little gadgets, rapunzel is teaching her tons of little arts and crafts projects. overall shes pretty content despite everything. So anyways then the gender crisis hits them like a fucking freight train

honestly i’m like half joking when i say i think it started bc they just kept forgetting to cut their hair. like one day they looked in the mirror and they’re like “wow my hairs getting so long i kinda look like a girl lol. Wait”

AND AS FUNNY AS IT IS ITS SO. WILDLY UNFAMILIAR TO THEM. like all of a sudden theyre SO insecure for as far as they can tell, NO reason and it drives them CRAZY. i dont even think that hugo dislikes their masculine features after coming out, i think they embrace them if anything but its just like…going from 0 to 100 so fast and suddenly being so hyper aware of themselves in a way that they NEVER were before…having to realize that they’re definitely Not cis. it’s fucking TERRIFYING!!!

not to mention it hits him all at once during a time when he’s still frankly really paranoid about him and varian’s relationship, and he’s kinda walking on eggshells bc deep down he’s convinced that var’s just gonna get tired of him eventually and kick him out. its like he’s just waiting for the final nail in the coffin despite the fact that there is literally no coffin.

All that being said i think it takes him a while to work up the courage to talk to varian about it. and he knows he won’t like. hate him for being trans or anything (I sure hope he wouldn’t, at least, seeing as he is literally also trans) but varian’s already done SO much for him and helped him through literally everything already….he doesn’t want to burden him any more than he already has. he also cant comprehend that someone can just Like him, like, as a person, so he’s convinced himself that varian must see something specific in him right now and he’s afraid that if he changes himself drastically in any way then whatever varian saw in him just. won’t be there anymore. If that makes sense

as for who he actually goes to first- honestly i think it’d have to be lance. at least in my head lance was the first person hugo really started to bond with aside from varian….he didn’t start letting his guard down with rapunzel until quite a while after that. also i think he’s worried that if he tells rapunzel she’d end up accidentally spilling something to varian (which is like. Valid bc she’s a horrible liar) he’d definitely write a letter to nuru, too, but nuru is also in another kingdom, and that message takes a while to get to her, so it’s more something they talk about after the fact

when he finally does get a letter back after dumping this revelation on her it’s just like

“dearest hugo. upon reading your letter i desperately wanted to tell you that i told you so, but i realize that would be in poor taste, seeing as you are clearly struggling right now. Moreover,-“ /j

regardless of who she tells first, they obviously all support her and encourage her to talk to varian as well…And ofc varian hypes her up to no end when she finally does. i wanna say it’s a sweet emotional scene but i feel like varian was also under the assumption that she figured out the gender thing like a year ago /j

hugo: ,,,,so like. i don’t think i’m a guy

varian: . yeah?

hugo:

hugo: TFYM “YEAH”?????!!!!???

varian: D. DID WE NOT ALREADY KNOW THIS?

hugo: ,???? NO???!!???!

jokes aside though as soon as hugo does decide he wants to explore his presentation more varian immediately consults rapunzel who gets WAY too excited about it and it kind of scares hugo a little bit. /j like Do you want to cut your hair? Dye it? Do you want new piercings? TATTOOS????

they eventually just settle on getting her a few new pieces to add to her wardrobe and that works out fine. varian sees his girlfriend in a dress and loses his mind etc etc. All is right in the world

[everwhovian]

That explosion in s2 that killed one of the boat guys, and severely injured another. What if Jun-ho got swapped with one of them 😭 (you can choose which if you choose to write this)

Oooohhhhh! I think Captain Park would suffer the most! He was appointed Jun-ho’s babysitter after all!

(warnings: explosion, blood and gore)

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Jun-ho hated how still everything felt.

The sea was calm, unnaturally so. No wind, no waves – just the dull hum of the boat’s engine and the occasional click from the monitor where Nam-hyuk guided the drone through the dense forest canopy. It was the kind of quiet that made your instincts tighten.

Jun-ho stood at the edge of the deck, arms crossed over his chest, watching the drone feed flicker on the small screen. Nothing. Trees. Rocks. More trees.

And then – something.

He leaned closer to the monitor. “Slow down. Back it up.”

Nam-hyuk nodded and guided the drone with practiced fingers. The camera panned over the trees, shadows shifting with the movement of branches.

“There,” Jun-ho said, pointing. “Zoom in.”

Nam-hyuk adjusted the drone’s angle. Through the gaps in the trees, something metallic gleamed faintly beneath layers of moss and overgrowth. It was rectangular, unnatural. Definitely not just a rock.

Jun-ho pointed. “That look like a door to you?”

Mercenary Kim came up beside him, squinting at the screen. “Could be. Could be a hatch, or some kind of old bunker.”

Jun-ho turned to Kim, who was already nodding. “We’ll go check it out.”

He didn’t need to say more.

They moved quickly. Jun-ho, Kim, and four others climbed into the skiff and made for shore. The short ride to shore felt longer than it should have. Every time he looked at the treeline, it felt like the island was watching them.

Something was wrong with this place.

They landed just beyond the treeline, boots hitting damp earth. Jun-ho led them through underbrush and low-hanging branches, eyes locked on the handheld monitor as the drone continued to hover above their position.

When they reached the clearing, he spotted the hatch immediately.

Old. Rusted. Covered in thick moss. It was sunken into the earth like it had been hidden for decades.

He crouched, brushing a hand over the surface. The metal was cool, flaking with rust. But beneath the decay, it was solid.

“Definitely a door,” he muttered.

Kim stepped beside him, gaze sharp. “You want to send someone in?”

Jun-ho nodded, then started to rise – but paused.

Something in him didn’t sit right.

His gut twisted.

He looked over at Kim. “I’ll go first.”

Kim didn’t question it. Just gave a sharp nod. “I’ll cover you.”

Jun-ho approached the hatch. One of the younger men followed – a soldier named Jung, a little too eager, always trying to prove himself. Before Jun-ho could speak, Jung stepped forward, crouching beside the hatch.

“I’ve got it,” Jung said quickly.

Jun-ho started to object, but he was already crouched, slipping fingers under the rusted lip.

The metal groaned.

Jun-ho’s instincts screamed, but before he could say anything –

Boom.

The blast tore through the clearing, bright and fast and hot.

A burst of white-hot air slammed into him like a freight train. Jun-ho felt himself lifted – no, thrown – off his feet, the trees spinning above him. His body hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of his lungs, pain blooming in his side like fire.

Then came the ringing.

The world was distant and dull, muffled like he’d been plunged underwater. He tasted iron. Something warm trickled down the side of his face. His ears screamed with static. His chest heaved, but the air wasn’t coming fast enough.

Dirt rained down. Leaves. Smoke.

He blinked up at the sky, trying to move, but his limbs didn’t want to obey. His fingers twitched. Everything hurt. His side felt like it was caving in.

Through the ringing, he thought he heard shouting.

Maybe it was his name. Maybe not.

Jun-ho closed his eyes, just for a second.

Just to breathe.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

The skiff was still thirty meters out, but the dark smear along Kim’s sleeve and the frantic way the men moved told Captain Park everything he needed to know.

Something had gone wrong.

He stiffened, stepping forward, fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. The drone feed had gone black minutes earlier – static, then silence. Nam-hyuk had tried to regain the signal, but the island swallowed it whole. And then they’d heard the sound. Muffled through the trees. An explosion.

Park had known. He just hadn’t let himself believe it.

Now the skiff was closing in, the engine roaring louder, and he could make out more details. Kim was at the bow, shouting something to the men behind him. Two soldiers flanked a slumped figure between them. Their movements were rushed, uncoordinated.

Park took a step forward. Then another.

His gut was already sinking.

By the time the skiff slammed against the hull, he was at the edge, leaning over.

That’s when he saw Jun-ho.

His head lolled forward with each bounce of the skiff, blood streaking down the side of his face. His vest was half burned, part of his shirt torn and soaked through with dark red. One arm dangled uselessly at his side.

No. No, no, no.

Kim climbed up first, then turned back to haul Jun-ho up by the vest – rough, fast, desperate. One of the others scrambled up to help. Jun-ho’s body slumped between them like a puppet with cut strings. Park’s stomach dropped. He didn’t even register moving until he was grabbing the edge of the boat, helping them haul Jun-ho up and onto the deck. The weight of him – the dead weight – made Park’s lungs seize.

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. Please.

Kim’s voice was rough. “Hatch was rigged. We didn’t see it in time.”

Blood soaked through the fabric of Jun-ho’s shirt and vest, and Park couldn’t even tell where half the injuries began. His hands hovered over Jun-ho’s chest, not knowing where to touch. Everything looked wrong. Burn marks across his side, a cut on his temple still leaking blood. Shallow breaths, uneven.

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, shit.”

He pressed two fingers to Jun-ho’s neck.

A pulse.

But faint.

And that was somehow worse. He let out a breath that didn’t help. His lungs still felt tight.

Woo-seok hovered nearby. “Is he –?”

“He’s alive,” Park snapped. “Barely.”

He looked down at Jun-ho again – pale, barely breathing. Blood crusted at his temple. His lips were parted like he was trying to breathe through pain. He looked younger somehow. Vulnerable. And Park –

Park’s mind spiraled.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the call.

That day years ago, when he’d picked up the phone and heard that voice – calm, unreadable, always three steps ahead. “He’s alive?”

“Barely,” Park had said, still soaked from dragging Jun-ho’s near-lifeless body out of the water. “I got to him just in time.”

“Good. Get him to a hospital. Make sure they don’t ask questions.”

There had been a pause, heavy.

“Once he’s stable, I want you to stay close. Keep him out of trouble.”

“I’m not a damn babysitter,” Park had said. “He’s a grown man.”

“Make sure he doesn’t die. That’s an order.”

Park hadn’t asked why. He hadn’t dared.

So he did it. Fished Jun-ho out of the water, half-drowned and full of secrets. Got him stitched up, kept the paperwork clean, kept the questions quieter.

Park had almost laughed back then. He’d figured it’d be a week, two at most. Long enough for Jun-ho to get bored and quit chasing shadows. Long enough for him to realize the trail was cold. That there was no rabbit at the end of the hole.

But Jun-ho hadn’t quit. Hadn’t slowed down. If anything, he got sharper. More relentless. He asked the right questions, noticed too much, pushed too far.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Park had stopped seeing him as just the Front Man’s brother.

The kid had grit. Stubbornness. That dry, infuriating way of calling out bullshit without saying much. He was easy to like if you weren’t trying not to. Park had ended up sharing meals with him, cracking dumb jokes over coffee, covering for him when things got too close.

He’d told himself it was part of the job.

That was the lie.

And now he was watching that same kid bleed out on the floor of his boat.

Park squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

He was so screwed.

What the hell was he going to tell the Front Man? That his little brother got caught in an explosion? That he let the one person he was supposed to look out for walk right into a trap?

He could hear a soldier calling for evac in the background, could feel the boat rocking gently underfoot – but all of it faded beneath the roar in his own head.

Because if Jun-ho didn’t make it –

If he died on this deck, in Park’s arms –

The Front Man would destroy him.

He could see it now. Not yelling. Not rage.

Worse.

Stillness. Silence. That awful cold mask – not the literal one, the real one. The one behind the voice. The stare that didn’t blink. The pause that came before judgment.

Park’s pulse hammered in his ears.

Would the Front Man kill him?

Probably not right away. No, he’d do something worse. Something patient. Something cruel in its precision. The kind of punishment that made you wish for death.

Park could see himself being sent back to the mainland, quietly removed from everything he knew. A slow, quiet erasure. He’d vanish like so many others had. Name scrubbed from records. Disappeared.

Or maybe he wouldn’t be sent away.

Maybe he’d be kept close.

As a reminder.

The Front Man would make sure he felt it every day – every breath, every shift, every glance. Like ice under his skin.

Jun-ho still wasn’t moving.

Park held pressure to the wound on his side, but the blood didn’t stop. It seeped through his gloves, warm and terrifying. The medical kit rattled as the boat swayed, useless under his hands.

“If you die…” Park hissed, more to himself than anyone else, “your brother’s gonna kill me.”

And maybe that’d be easier than living with this.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t move. He just stayed there, fingers curled tight over Jun-ho’s ribs, holding on like he could keep him tethered.

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

(AN: Am I happy with this? Eh. It's fine, I guess.)

[itsnotamatterofif]

Thank you anon!!! Another character wildcard, so have some Tendersteam after a long shift feat. Grouchy Rusty and a supportive Hydra just wanting their boyfriend to get some sleep :3c

Send me some characters and a prompt and I’ll write you a Drabble!

“C’mon hon’, we’re nearly there.”

It’s late, gotta’ be nearly three or four in the morning by the time they’re back, and even Hydra’s dead on his wheels. Night shifts always manage to take it out of them, but they definitely seem to hit Rusty, who struggles with mornings at the best of times, the worst,; they’ve just deposited the other trucks back in the freight shed, and even with only two hundred yards to his own shed, Rusty’s wheels are dragging painfully through the sand.

Hydra’s never really been in a position to show his concern before - he’d mention it to Porter usually, who would shrug and explain that Rusty never let anyone help him, no matter how big the bags under his eyes were or how many times he tripped over his own toe stops getting back. Wrongfully, they’d assumed that now they were official, Rusty would at least lean on them every now and then, but here he is, pushing Hydra away like his life depended on it.

“I’m fine,” Rusty spits, barely open eyes looking anywhere but at Hydra as he bats away the arms offered to him, “we’re nearly back.”

“I know,” Hydra hums in reply, trying to keep as nonchalant as possible, “but you look like you could keel over any second now, and I’d much rather you collapsed into the bed rather than the floor - less far to drag you-“

“Hydra.” Uh oh, full name, he’s in trouble. “I’m fine, leave me alone.”

“C’mon, love,” Hydra offers again, and as he rushes to catch up with Rusty they can’t help but spot the fuel gauge on his tender hovering just above zero, “you’re wobblin’ on your feet, lean on me.”

“I’m fine,” Rusty spits, unfamiliar and determined, “I just need to get home-“

As if on cue, there’s the familiar sound of a toe stop scuffing against the ground, rubber hitting dirt as Rusty’s eyes go wide and arms windmilling as he tries to support himself on equally unsteady wheels. For a second he topples forwards, as if he’s going to go face first into the floor, and Hydra doesn’t think they’ve ever moved so fast in his life as when he reaches out to grab Rusty’s shoulders before he crumbles. Admittedly it takes a lot of effort to not immediately go over with him, but they dig their own toe stops into the dirt, standing firm as Rusty’s chest heaves with panic.

“I’ve got you,” Hydra whispers gently, relaxing back onto his wheels as Rusty stands slowly, “it’s alright, you’re okay, lean on me.”

There’s no reply from Rusty, only the gentle closing of his eyes in frustration and another deep, panicked breath as he slowly eases to Hydra’s touch.

“Get us home,” Rusty whispers, barely audible above the ambience of the night, tone laced with defeat and embarrassment, “sorry, Hy’, I-.”

“No need to apologise,” Hydra replies cheerfully, letting go of Rusty’s shoulders tentatively to scoot in front and let Rusty hold onto their couplers for dear life - it’s not often he has to pull Rusty around, and thankfully it’s only for the short distance back to the shed, but the weight on his back, this incredibly precious cargo, is without a doubt the most important thing they’ve hauled today.

Before Hydra can think too hard about it they’re back at Rusty’s shed, hauling the shutter open to allow Rusty to sleepily stumble in; he’s barely bothering to skate over the bed as Hydra gently closes the shutters behind them, collapsing onto the bed with a huff and a shudder of his shoulders finally lowering.

“Let’s get your tender off,” Hydra hums quietly, quickly unlatching their own tank and leaving it discarded by the door as Rusty groans in frustration, “and then you can sleep, I promise.”

Another groan in response, but this time quieter, an ounce more petulant - if they couldn’t already tell that Rusty was struggling to stay awake it would be obvious by the fact he’s given up on words. Thankfully, Hydra’s well practiced at this point, making short work of the various ratchets and straps keeping the heavy tender to Rusty’s back, and it comes away from Rusty with a sigh of relief before being placed gently by the bed. Skates come next, Hydra ducking down to pick apart Rusty’s complex series of knots and ties like clockwork.

“Can you stay?” He asks quietly, just as Hydra shucks off the last skate with a gentle laugh, “wanna’ hold you.”

“Aye aye,” Hydra replies happily, his own skates joining Rusty’s as they clumsily stagger over to the bed, “your wish is my command, captain-“

“Stop talkin’,” Rusty mutters, and he holds out his arms for Hydra to slot himself into, “I love you, but you’re too loud.”

“Sorry,” Hydra whispers dramatically, and the fatigue that they’ve been ignoring makes itself known as Rusty’s grip tightens around his back, pulling them close and slotting them into the crook of his neck.

A mutter, and Rusty’s face twists uncomfortably. “I’m sorry too.”

Hydra frowns slightly, apology breaking them out of the lullabye of a faintly chugging engine. “For what?”

“Snapping,” Rusty mutters forlornly, and as if to apologise further, squeezes Hydra around the middle weakly, “you were just trying to help.”

“S’alright,” Hydra replies with a grin, and twists to press a gentle kiss into Rusty’s warm jaw, “you can help further by getting some rest, alright? Wake me up if you need anything.”

Rusty’s too busy snoring to hear.

[yellowjackets96]

i owe you a black eye and two kisses / angus tully x reader

summary / after defending your best friend’s honor in a scuffle with kountze, he decides to take first aid into his own hands.

warnings / mentions of blood, bruises, and general injuries

word count / 2K even!

heyyy, baby’s first x reader fanfiction! cannot believe i have been alive nearly twenty damn years and never once did this. who crode?

You cannot seem to remember when the blood started to pour from your mouth or the moment you realized Kountze’s nose should not be pointed in that direction, but both moments hit you like a freight train when Angus grabs your arm.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims, fingers prodding at the newborn black eye on your face. “You– you– my god.”

As cooly as possible, you pop your neck to the side and smirk. “Heh. All in a day’s work.”

“You could’ve killed him,” one of Kountze’s goons says, tending to his nose. The blonde bully is shell-shocked, a state of mind you previously believed to be inherently against his nasty nature.

You scoff, shrugging at the lackey. “I’m sure his daddy can help,” you remark, spinning around on your heel and striding out of the room, with a hyped Angus in tow. He’s so energized, he could probably shoot himself off the walls like a projectile and fly back to you like a boomerang.

“I can’t believe you had that in you,” he mutters, still quite bewildered by your sucker punch. “In all my years of knowing you…I don’t think he’ll ever bother me again, now.”

You turn slightly to grin at him. “Hey, I’m glad to hear it. Guy’s a real fuckface and a half. His reign of terror has gone on far too fucking long.”

Once you get to your modest dorm room towards the end of the hall, you feel Angus reach out and touch you once again, and he gazes at you sternly, his expression mirroring a way only your mom looks at you. You roll your eyes, hands not moving from turning the key in the door. “What’s the matter, Tully?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, a deep grimace on his face. “He was shit-talking me, not you. And now you’ve got a black eye, your lip is busted, and you could’ve lost teeth, and–”

You swiftly cut him off. “So? You’re my best friend. I was simply defending your honor. Little shit shouldn’t be able to get away with mocking your familial situation. It’s not like you can control it.” Twisting the knob to the side, you gently push the door open and step into the room, eyeing him slightly. “You can come in, if you’re not planning on lecturing me.”

“Well,” Angus says, shutting the door behind him. “You can ignore my chastising to high heaven, but you’re still going to need some wound care for the black-and-blue knuckles, swollen eye, and split lip. Even if you don’t wanna ice the bruises and bumps, though, you need to keep the lip stuff from the point of possible infections.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. “Everything that could possibly hurt is just…dully throbbing. And I’m sure all the bleeding was due to how shallow the cuts were. I need nothing more than an ibuprofen and a bandaid.”

For the third time, the boy takes a grip on your arm, lanky digits wrapping around your cold skin gently enough to leave no mark, but firmly enough to stop you definitively in your tracks. “Sit down,” he states, the edge of hoarseness in his voice causing it to be barely above a whisper. “Now.”

You find his forceful tone compelling enough to follow his commands, pushing your swivel chair around until it faces forward and reluctantly take a seat. “Fine. Have it your way.”

“Thank you,” Angus says, winking at you before immediately diving headfirst into rummaging through your cabinets and drawers. “You’re gonna need the whole nine yards of first aid care here. Just be patient, okay? I know from you doing it for me that the process tends to be lengthy.”

“Whatever you say,” you murmur. “As long as you don’t break anything valuable during your expedition into my belongings.”

He turns to you with a hearty smirk, arms filled with cotton pads, alcohol wipes, hydrogen peroxide bottles, bandages, and tweezers, among multiple other things. “Oh yeah?” he says, seemingly challenging you as he places the supplies on the desk behind you. “And what would you do about it if I did?”

“Probably cut up my end of our friendship bracelets,” you reply, not missing a beat. “You don’t even wear yours, anyway.”

Angus does not even need to speak to refute your claim as he pushes his sweater sleeve past his watch, revealing the braided object in question is still on display on the part of his arm that no one can see. Your jaw goes slightly askew at the revelation. “I stand corrected.”

He chuckles, sufficiently satisfied with the exchange as he flips the cap open on one of the peroxide bottles, pressing it against a cotton pad. Once he determines it to be prepared enough for your bloodied mouth, he looks over at you, eyebrows furrowed in thought. A moment of contemplation passes – he closely scans your face up and down, down and up, enough times to be able to sketch it perfectly from memory, as he nods to himself. With a steady step forward, he places the pad between his thumb and pointer finger and goes in, forcefully dabbing it against your bottom lip. All of the miniscule amounts of warmth escapes your body as you roughly suck air in through your teeth, grabbing a fistful of the cuff of his sweater.

“Does that hurt?” Angus asks, wide brown eyes filled with an entire galaxy’s worth of concern. “Be honest with me.”

You grind your teeth, putting as much effort as humanly possible into a brave face. “It stings, that’s for sure.”

He quickly withdraws the soggy gauze from your mouth. “Good news, then, ‘cause I’m already done with it.”

“Shit!” you exclaim, hands flying up to your bottom lip. “Really?”

Snickering at your shocked face, Angus tilts his head to the side, examining your injuries again. “Yup. I think you were right about it being shallow. I’m no med student, but I don’t think it’s at risk of developing any kind of infection.

Melting back into the chair, your face is overtaken by a relaxed smile, in spite of yourself. A few seconds pass before curiosity overtakes you and you peer over your shoulder to ogle at his activity. You’re met with the completely ridiculous sight of him attempting to maneuver a bandaid into a jar of petroleum jelly. “Jesus, Angus!”

He can’t help himself from laughing at your reaction. “What? You didn’t have any ointment!”

“You said my lip’s fine!” you respond. “Unless you were trying to soften the blow of my oncoming sepsis by lying to me.”

He shakes his head emphatically. “No. I just wanted to see if I could make it hurt less for you.”

“It doesn’t,” you insist, waving him off.

“Really?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest in judgment, once again harkening back to something an authority figure in your life would do. “Then why were you tugging at my shirt like a damn seven-year-old at a grocery store?”

You scowl at him, face overtaken by a shade of red that only appears when you’re trying not to laugh at him. “I hate you.”

Angus laughs a sharp ha!, face wrinkled up in a simper as he pulls himself back up to your level, an ice pack in either hand. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have kept me around for so long if you did.” He drops the ice packs in your lap and points at your cheek. “I can’t believe you were insisting on letting these wounds take care of themselves, dude. Your cheek’s swollen as hell.”

“How bad is it?” you curiously ask, brows quirked in thought.

“Well, the verdict’s already in that you’ll survive this,” he quips, earning a laugh from you. “So that’s out of the question, but if I didn’t already know you, I’d assume you either victoriously won or pitifully lost a professional boxing match.”

You playfully smack at his shoulder as he breaks into a laughing fit. “It was a compliment!” he defensively mutters, picking up one of the ice packs. “The thing’s a bona fide war wound, I swear. You look badass.”

“You should see the other guy,” you remark, watching him intently as Angus brings a hand up to your face, softly touching the ice pack to your bruise. “Also, I can’t believe you would call me badass. You must be buttering me up for the next time you have a bone to pick with Teddy.”

“Nah,” he denies, raising the pack slightly further up. “You’ve always been badass, ever since we were old enough to speak our minds. It’s a mindset in my eyes, since you never really looked like I imagined one being.”

Your face instantly softens as you gaze at him, studying the way he intently deals with something as uneventful as a bruised cheek. “You’re just being nice because I look like hell.”

Angus pulls his attention away from the ice pack to meet your lingering eyes. “I’m as serious as a car crash. You’ve always had this self-assured attitude, no matter who you were dealing with. The way that I don’t back down from a physical fight is exactly how you are in verbal sparring matches, but you’re, just, so much cooler in terms of that, ‘cause you refuse to relent on your beliefs. I could never be so firm when I speak to people, even if I try my very fuckin’ darndest.”

“I-I had-” you stammer heavily, effectively caught off-guard by his words. “No idea you thought so highly of me. That’s so incredibly sweet.”

“Well, you deserve to hear it,” he says, taking the ice pack off of your face. “You’ve been such a constant in my life, and I seriously don’t know who or where I would be without you. Hell, you even BEGGED your parents to let you transfer to every single school I ended up in post-expellings! I can’t help but idolize you. You were born with an insatiable fighting spirit. Nothing and nobody can get to you.”

Before you can form a single coherent thought, you blurt out four words you would never even dream of saying to Angus Tully. “Can I kiss you?”

Silence falls over the two of you like a curtain as Angus gazes up at you, eyes full of wonder, mouth hanging open. Before long, his lips turn upward in one of his signature smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Lifting his hands up, he gingerly cups your cheeks with his hands and dives in, pressing your lips together in a delicate embrace. You close your eyes on impact, heart lighting up with an intensity you are not sure you have ever felt. Holy shit! Kountze must have killed you! This has to be heaven! The moments pass fleetingly before Angus finally pulls away, a genuine, natural, adorable little grin on his face as he sheepishly doesn’t face you, cheeks burning a soft, passionate pink. You must have been an idiot for never making a move all these years, but at least you finally got struck with the urge to do so.

“Y- your c-ch-” and now, like poetic justice, he is the one who’s been bitten by the stutter bug. “Your cheek looks better already. How about we get some ibuprofen in you and then we – okay, you have to step in if I embarrass myself here – step off of campus to go get some dinner?”

You’re smirking now, trying not to giggle at the unseen shy side he keeps so carefully locked away. “Angus Tully, are you asking me on a date?” He tries his very best not to avoid eye contact with you again as he nervously nods in confirmation. You reach out for his hand, interlocking your fingers together like puzzle pieces. “Well, then. I’d have to say what I’m sure you’ve been waiting to hear come out of my mouth all these years – yes.”

[onesidedradiostatic]

A trembling thought hit me like a freight train, what if the reason the crew went back on saying Al in aro is because he and Vox actually did date?

And then Vox wanted more and they broke up?

Like, I just have a nagging fear that that might come up in season 2 and I really don't know how to feel about it

Like on one hand it should make it easy to clarify that, yes, Alastor really is aro for he gave it a try and found it really wasn't for him

But on the other, what if the crew (or whoever is in charge) is all, "Well he dated once so he can't be aro, therefore he is only ace"

I've seen these kind of conspiracy theories before where people think there's some planned surprise romance plot for alastor and that's why they don't want to confirm him as aro and well.

I disagree.

for in-text, meta, and my own reasons. lemme go through it one by one.

in-text reasons

if we ignore ANY sort of word of god, statements from staff and whatnot, the only thing we have is the rosie dialogue. I've talked about it before, although she only says "ace in the hole", the context in which this is said is the idea of alastor dating charlie, this is a romantic context, and rosie says she's joking because she knows he wouldn't do it because he's an (aro)ace in the hole. the joke here is that alastor brought a girl with him and she's jokingly assuming they're dating (unless we're really thinking she jumped to joking about them fucking). so she KNOWS he wouldn't date and that's the thing, the only way I could see vox and alastor having previously dated and still have rosie say this is if them dating and alastor realising he's uninterested is specifically what got rosie to realise alastor wouldn't do that. otherwise no, it wouldn't make sense to me that alastor would've dated when rosie said this.

meta reasons

old faustisse streams. I'm not a pre-series fan but I've done my research. sure, there's info they've said before that's been deconfirmed but that's because some info from them are stuff they only say they "think" and not stuff that they 100% confirmed with vivzie, just opinions based on what they know about the characters. alastor's aroaceness is different though, faustisse was VERY forward that alastor is AROace and they SPECIFIED vivzie did not want to canonise it because of shipping wars and all that, so I'm fairly sure it's not because of some surprise alastor romance plot. faustisse may not be a 100% reliable source since this is from years ago now but I will say alastor being aroace is about as canon as husk being pansexual. both of this info is from faustisse. arguably alastor being aroace is even more canon than husk being pan because of the rosie dialogue. you can read the transcript of one of the old streams here. don't take this as a necessary reflection of my take on alastor shipping, no, I don't like reciprocated romantic alastor ships. at all. but I also definitely don't think harassment is okay. shippers will exist, and nothing you say will stop them so it's best not to waste your energy shouting at them.

my opinion

first let me say, I DEFINITELY don't like vivzie's choice to not confirm it. I understand yes people can be very aggressive in shipping wars, I understand harassment happens. but. IT IS HAPPENING REGARDLESS. ALL OF THIS IS HAPPENING REGARDLESS. it's just made WORSE by no solid statement on him being aromantic because then there's people who will argue it's not canon. confirming alastor as aromantic will not stop the shippers from shipping or having fun, this is like saying confirming angel dust as gay prevents angel dust x women shippers from having fun. they will exist regardless. confirming alastor as aromantic WILL NOT CHANGE THIS, all it will do is ASSURE aromantic people that they are being represented. all it will do is stop people from saying "alastor is ace not aro!" and acting like alastor being aro is an obstacle to their shipping.

that aside, I'll talk about my opinion on the idea of alastor having dated vox in canon. now, okay, I don't mind the idea if it's done in a very clearly aromantic way and it was just something alastor tried out but didn't like. I would even like it if it was done properly! but I also don't trust vivzie to write an aromantic character in a romantic relationship, so I'd rather it not happen in canon. and I do think vivzie is more likely to not take the risk of trying to write an aro character in a relationship anyways (and if she did I would definitely hope she does lots of research).

also it doesn't really make sense to me why he would try dating with vox instead of like. a woman. like rosie or mimzy. and I don't mean this cause of heteronormative reasons I mean this because alastor is clearly more comfortable with women, it just makes more sense to me that if he were to try out dating it would be with a woman. like... why vox? the only reason I could see it happening is vox is the only friend who tried to confess to alastor and so he decided to try it out cause he was a friend but then didn't like it. that isn't to say I wouldn't enjoy reading about this in fanfics or anything cause I probably would LMAO it's an interesting concept, but doesn't really make much sense to me and I'm not sure if I trust the allo writers to do it in canon.

that's all I have to say.

*mic drop*

[skullhorn59]

Heavenly Hell

A/N: the story inspired by a daydream, and the name by @hazelfoureyes (sorry not sorry for the tag :P), I cooked up another fic. sinners - enjoy. >:3 Tags/Warnings are added progressively, design changed/fixed with time. mostly proofread! Summary: you have always been a fan of the show Hazbin Hotel in your life - and as you are spawned in a Hell identically matching the Show, you can't believe your sheer luck. you're immediately on your way to eagerly meet the celebrities (at least they are in your world), but your arrival hadn't gone unnoticed... Pairings: Lucifer, Valentino, Adam, Alastor, Vox, Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk x Fem!Reader Tags/Warnings: self aware and insecure Reader, Spoilers for the Show

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

The moment you open your eyes, you see red. red above you, red around you, red everywhere.

Are you dreaming..?

Your other senses begin returning to you, and you groan in pain. your entire body aches as you force yourself to stand up. where were you? you sure weren't dreaming, judging by your physical pain.

Wait a damn minute. your body changed. you can feel more muscles aching, in places where none have been before. testingly moving those muscles, you are taken aback. the position of your ears changed. and you even... have a tail?

Looking around, you seem to be in a city, glamoured by a red pentagram in the red sky. lights everywhere, a familiar tower in the distance, and you can even feel the bass from the music of the clubs that are all around. wait. your eyes shoot back, and you squint at the tower in the distance. are those three V's at the front..?

Wait.

You've seen that tower before.

In one of your favorite shows.

Hazbin Hotel.

As the realization hits you like a freight train, your blood runs cold. but with more excitement than dread. did you die and spawn in the Show??? was everyone from it gonna be here, alive (well - undead rather) and kicking?? when did you spawn here? before the extermination?? after?? who was gonna be there??

You take a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. but who did you want to find first? Valentino? Vox? Lucifer? Alastor? someone entirely different?

You do think about going to the Hotel first, but judging by where you've stranded, it would be a lot quicker to go take a look for the Vee's first. and knowing good ol' Alastor, you think with a scrunch to your face, he would likely snatch up your soul right away, should he find out you've only just gotten here.

Nah - no way you are risking that.

At least for now.

And so - you have a makeshift goal. doing your best to keep your excitement at bay as you begin walking towards the Tower, you think about what kind of excuse you'll make up to be able to even see one of the Vee's upclose, let alone get away without having to sign a contract in the end.

Offering them your soul? - immediate no. suggesting to work for them? - as bad as the first, so hard no.

Glancing in between buildings from time towards the Vee's Tower to make sure you're still on the right track, you furrow your brows in thought.

Hmm.. there has to be a way.

Coming to a stop infront of your destination before you could think of something, you feel your heart flutter against your chest. a rare occurance - but all the more fitting. looking up and along the tower to the three V signs, you give your braincells another kick. and suddenly - they kick back.

Information!

Yes! that's it, you can give all of them valuable information! and in return.. ohoho. so many things you could ask for. you are definitely gonna go see Vox first. you have so much to sell him, it's almost depressing. but Val..? you don't have very much that's of use to him. maybe you can somehow convince Vox to get you a... talk... with his fellow Vee. surpressing a smirk, you look forward again, internally preparing your introverted body and mind for the upcoming social interactions.

The doors glide open quietly, as expected, and you step in, immediately being hit by a wall of cool air from an air conditioner above. it's like entering a store, you think.

With a rather fast glance around, you're greeted with a Luxurious Lobby. snuggled into the far right corner, there's a reception, with a bored looking demon behind it. a camera is seated in the corner above it, with Vox's signature line on it. you can spot another one placed in the opposite corner as your eyes search around the ceiling corners.

Red Armchairs instead of regular Chairs are generously placed in the three leftover corners of the room and a few along the left wall too, low coffee tables in between. as your gaze rises along the wall, you see lots of Voxtek advertisements as well as a few screens that almost lazily switch between even more ads. you can't help but take a step closer, your eyes flitting over each and every one of them with barely held back interest, trying to take it all in at once.

Until the sound of someone clearing their throat brings you back to where you were. oops. you turn your head to where it came from, and you see the receptionist almost glare at you over their glasses. you can't tell their gender at first glance - and you aren't gonna assume it.

So you walk over to them, your eyes somewhere near their face, but not actively looking into it, you're still exploring your surroundings a little. you start speaking, insecure from the moment they laid eyes on you. "uh, hello.. I'm uhm.. here to see.." what should you call him? best to go with the most polite one you can think of. "Mr Vox." taking a deep breath, you fiddle your hands together while you continue. "I have information for him that he's.. gonna want to hear."

The Receptionist raises an eyebrow at you, but before they can respond, you hear a noise that reminds you of electric current, and you feel a cool hand on your shoulder, sharp claws firmly placed on your thin clothing, but they aren't piercing through. and before you can process everything, you hear a very familiar voice speak. you gulp.

"Information, you say? sounds like something we should discuss in my office, privately."

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist ─❲♡❳▷Main List

[birdbrainzs]

Marcille let me know that my usual style wasn't going to cut it, and instead I resorted to colour pencils.

A rough sketch, but I enjoyed it. I don't think of myself as good with colour, but it's definitely fun to use. I have a bad habit of making colours look muddy and gross... I have banned myself from using my usual black pen on this, because I know I'll go overboard. I'm very bad at making things look soft with black ink.

Personal life below the cut.

I have a job interview on Tuesday for a receptionist role. Turns out some place kept my resume from 3 months ago, so I guess it's good to know that the hundreds of job applications I sent out aren't just going in the bin. I haven't had a single call or email back for a job since Feb, so it's exciting, but nerve-wracking. After I quit after 3 days at my freight forwarding job, I feel a bit useless. I had a commission from a friend, but obviously that doesn't mean a shiny new career as an artist has begun lol.

I'm not sure that a receptionist job will be the right fit, but I really should give it a shot. People always tell me I'm great at customer service and that I'm charismatic, but it really drains me. Hopefully, a receptionist job will be more emails and waiting around rather than constant face to face customer service. I'm really good at interviewing, but I just can't stop myself from promising too much of myself. I have a bad habit of giving 100% of my energy to a job, which is a great way of being sucked dry and burning out.

I also can't say I'd be good at just sitting around either because I always feel the need to do something if I'm working. I remember working in the bakery and my boss literally volunteering to have me for as many hours as I want and to pretend to look busy because she had an excess of hours to give to employees and refusing because I couldn't handle busywork. I'm sure I can find a balance somehow...

[lvckytwos]

hi everoyne i'm mars (any pronouns) and i'm SO excited to get connor in here!! this muse ran me over like a freight train and i'm really looking forward to getting things going with him as soon as possible!

most of what i'd put in a character intro is on his acceptance post, and you can find his profile and background on their respective pages. i'm going to put some plot ideas under the cut on this post so please take a look and send me a message if anything tickles your fancy or like this post if you'd like me to reach out to you!! i have discord available upon request too.

ok first of all... all you other hockey team members... i'm already reading over your profiles and i hope we can plot soon... i would love to get a group chat going if we're all comfy with that! honestly most of what i know about connor is his hockey career, which is very telling about this muse in itself, so i'm DEFINITELY looking forward to getting things going that way!

weight room/workout buddies... connor hates leg day (and arm day... and core day... okay really he just hates working out in general) but it's a little less terrible with company. a friendly rivalry could be nice here, pushing each other to both go a little longer, lift a little heavier, within reason of course. also y'know you're supposed to have a spotter or something so that'd be nice too!

also other athletes who have gone through injuries... connor has inevitably spent a lot of time with the athletic trainer not just for his concussions but for the myriad of other injuries picked up over hockey season... you've probably crossed paths before

we are accepting roommates for the record

can connor copy your notes... or cheat off of your test... he's notoriously terrible at academics but honestly? he doesn't care about them as much as he should. he's only going to university to play hockey... but he should probably come out of here with a degree if possible. failing out definitely isn't an option!

there's no delicate way to say this but connor is kind of a slut... he flirts easily and openly with women... while he's attracted to men, he's very deep in the closet (blame toxic masculinity that's rampant in hockey culture) so the Situation has to be just right for him to do the same with men. that said, he'd hook up with half of this campus if you let him. situationships, fwbs, and flirtationships are all on the table, past or present. as for a committed relationship... well... we'd have to plot it out because i can't promise that he'd be totally faithful </3

i think this is all i've got for now but i'm absolutely gonna add more if i can think of them... hopefully this gets things started though!!