#I Suppose I Had Limited My Thoughts To Those With Two Legs

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[eupheme]

— sharing is caring

[part ii of come on and show me | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 4k

tags: MMF threesome, jealous!reader, reader is wade's girl, mutual pining/crushes all around, dirty talk, open relationship, eiffel tower, oral sex, piv, shared blow job, one affectionate use of the word slutty, reader has her hair tugged, light wade degradation, come sharing/swapping, praise kink

It’s stupid how much a crush can affect you after everything, but Logan has a way of turning both of you into schoolgirls.

You’ve each had the flickers of feelings before, but it’s never been like the express train that is one Logan Howlett, unexpectedly crashing into your station. Neither one of you had stood a chance.

(or - you’re both eager to spend time with Logan again)

The party is in full-swing. Plastic cups full of NOS and liquor - a crumpled up, passed around piece of paper, filled with scribbled-down drinking games.

It’s week two of Wade’s ‘Friday Night Yikes: an Analysis of Films Unfairly Nominated for the Razzies’ - or, movie night, to keep it simple.

A buzz of conversation during the intermission between the third and the fourth Fast & Furious movies, as you worked your way to Fast X.

It’s your first time being back at the apartment since your shared morning together. A busy past couple days - work schedules always just out of sync.

Wade coming to you one of those nights after you got off late - quiet, midnight murmurings filled with interest and hope, a conclusion that both of you on the same page.

Leaving you to wonder if he would be, as well.

You’ve felt the weight of Logan’s gaze throughout the night. Dropping when you glance his way, busying himself with his drink, passing around the bowl of chips or popcorn.

Trapped between Colossus and Peter - the seating in the small apartment is already limited. You've been perched on Wade's lap for the last hour, legs kicked over the side of an armchair as your head rests against his shoulder. A smile, with the rumble of laughter under your ear. The fingers that curl around your waist, fingers brushing.

But you know his gaze drifts across the room as well.

Catching the tail end of a conversation, Logan's beer tipped back as Piotr swipes through a phone that looks toy-sized in his hand.

"-be lonely in an apartment like this. I could help you find a nice girl."

It's not the first time this conversation has risen, but it's the first time it's made you go tense in Wade's arms.

"You don't want this hunk of metal helping you," Wade jumps in, "I got just the guy. Hope you like scars, because good news-"

Even as your elbow digs into his ribs, he doesn't budge.

“Right.” Logan scoffs, interrupting, “As if I was into loud-ass, scar-covered, bald assholes. You wish, Wilson.”

It doesn’t hold the same animosity it would’ve a week ago. There’s a muffled “fuck” breathed in your ear, the tilt of hips that lift beneath you.

“Nothing wrong with a bald asshole. Preferable, sometimes.” Wade smirks with a wink, “Come on Logi Bear, we can’t let a handsome young man like you become a spinster. What’s your type?”

Only now do Logan's eyes meet yours, holding your gaze as he answers.

"Don't have one."

It makes you inhale a breath, a little jolt in your belly.

'You have already got a girl, Wade. That is my point," Piotr frowns. A hum of interest as he shows Logan his phone, "What about Domino? You remember her, right?"

Peter leans from the other side, "Wade, you were supposed to give her my number."

"She has it." Piotr brushes him off, as Peter looks crushed. There’s a ping from Logan’s pocket - the information sent over.

Always getting lucky. You like Domino, quite a bit actually, but the thought sends a fresh wave of oozing green jealousy washing over you.

Logan huffs, a shift as his legs stretch out - the hint of a smirk, as he deflects, “How do you know me and Althea haven't been getting cozy?”

There’s a derisive snort from the armchair to your right.

“You wish you could handle me, motherfucker.”

There a chorus of laughter, Wade’s voice ringing out.

“Was that a joke?” It pitches up, as if he can’t believe it, “You're getting soft, maybe you are getting laid.”

As is he hadn’t been gargling Logan’s balls just a few days before. Coming so hard with his roommate’s fist around his cock, that he saw stars.

The look Logan shoots his way is unreadable. A lazy roll of his eyes, before his head tips towards the television.

“Just start the goddamn movie, dumbass.”

You slip from Wade’s lap when Logan peels from the couch to grab another beer. The chip bowl scooped up off the table - can’t be running out, not when there’s another hour still left to go.

A moment as you linger, watching as the fridge light illuminates his face. The silhouette of his features, the sharp cut of his facial hair flecked with grey - before he’s catching you, an eyebrow cocked.

You make a show of rounding the fridge, stepping into the narrow pantry. Hoping that he follows.

He doesn’t let you down.

“You’re not gonna call her, are you?”

It’s not what you mean to ask him, even if it’s certainly what you’ve been thinking about - the conversation a lead weight in your belly.

There’s a beat, as his eyebrow lifts. The peek of the tip of his tongue, running across a canine.

“I might,” He drawls, an arm bracing on the shelves, filling the doorway, “Gonna try to convince me not to, sweetheart?”

That jolt inside you plummets, until you see the curl of his lips. How there’s a dark heat that simmers in his eyes, as they drop to your mouth.

Teasing. Logan is teasing you.

You step into him. A hand curling around the back of his neck, his sharp intake of breath just audible before your mouth tips up to his.

It only lasts as long as a heartbeat, but you can still feel the hunger.

How his hands curve around your waist, dipping to cup against your ass. Tugging you flush as he licks into your mouth, leaving you panting when you pull away.

You can’t get too caught up. Not with your friends just across the room, this tenuous connection still taking shape between you.

“Come stay with us tonight.” It’s quiet, as his lips brush yours again, “We’ll take care of you.”

Logan’s eyes open, his voice a low rasp.

“Thought it was a one-time thing.”

You can’t bite back your smile, “Mm, think it was at least a three-time thing, if I’m remembering right.”

And there’s still his words, echoing in your mind, when it wanders. “Our girl.” If it had been possible to come from that alone, you just might have.

He huffs, and your voice softens.

“But no. Not if you don’t want it to be.”

The look he gives you is searching.

“Wade put you up to this?”

You lean against the shelves, arms crossing, “Wade has been half-hard all night, thanks to you. He feels the same, hasn’t been able to stop looking at you.”

His tongue pokes against his cheek.

“I’ve noticed. You two are not subtle.”

Heat licks at your cheeks, as your eyes drop. It’s stupid how much a crush can affect you after everything, but Logan has a way of turning both of you into schoolgirls.

You’ve each had the flickers of feelings before, but it’s never been like the express train that is one Logan Howlett, unexpectedly crashing into your station.

Neither one of you had stood a chance.

“I’m sorry.”

You try to move away from him, but there’s no where to go. His hand reaches out, even as his eyes shift away - settling somewhere next to your ear as his own pinken.

“Don’t be. It’s… uh,” There’s a lift of his shoulder, as he searches for a word, “Nice. Been a long time.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You smile, head tilting, “So… maybe just think about it?”

There’s the sound of a cinematic explosion behind you - layered laughter pulling you out of the moment.

Logan leans close. A held breath, before he grabs the bag of chips off the shelf - dropping them into your bowl as he takes a step back.

Just as aware as you are of the time that has passed.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He purrs, “I’ll think about it.”

There’s a low murmur in your ear, when you slip onto Wade’s lap a few minutes later. Stalling as you refilled, waiting for Logan to settle in before you went back.

You can feel him now, the considerably-more-pronounced ridge that presses into the curve of your ass. The hand that settles almost possessively just beneath your breasts, splaying wide.

“You’re so hot when you’re jealous.” Wade rasps in your ear, a press of his lips against your neck.

This time when your elbow digs into his side, he laughs.

“Hello gorgeous,” Wade coos, “I’ve missed you.”

Logan shifts, scowling, “I live with you.”

There’s a sigh from behind you, as you settle between Logan’s thighs. It’s late now - the movie eventually winding to an end.

Tension stringing tight in your belly, that warm weight as everyone bid goodbyes. Al conked out on her recliner after ten minutes into the second movie, something that Wade may or may not have planned.

Making for Wade’s room - starting where you left off in the kitchen. Clothed peeled off with the wandering of mouth and hands, bared by the time the door kicks shut behind you.

Your palm pressing against his chest as he settles back against the headboard - you and Wade fitting yourselves onto the bed alongside him.

Even though you’ve seen him before, he’s still a sight to behold - all thick muscles and hair-dusted skin - something you’re still taking in.

“Not you,” Wade clarifies - a hand smoothing down your back.

Your thighs press together, squirming already, as his hips settle just shy of the soft curve of your ass. A shift, as he gets comfortable - the weight of his stiff cock dipping against your skin.

“I’m talking to king dong right here.”

There’s a rough scoff, “Don’t talk to my dick, Wilson.”

“Well someone has to. He told me he’s lonely, poor thing. Always what you doing, not how you doing. Isn’t that right, big guy?”

“Alright,” Logan scowls, a hand bracing on the headboard as he lifts up, “I’m out of-”

He chokes on the sound, as your tongue peeks out to lap at his shaft.

It’s pretty - flushed at the tip, as it rests against his thigh. A thickening twitch as you kiss along his hard length, down to the dark, wiry hair - a hushed groan as he sags back into place.

“Didn’t get to taste you last time.” You murmur, fingers wrapping around the base, “Been thinking about this.”

Stroking against skin, as you take him into your mouth. A soft moan in your throat, as he fills you - the tip skating across your tongue.

“‘s right,” Wade comments, with another roll of his hips. Thumb pressing against the tip, angling him down to tease as your entrance, “Gotta level the playing field, gorgeous.”

A glance up at Logan, eyes narrowing as he smirks.

“We’re totally pussy pals now, bee tee dubs. Both opened the gates of Mordor. Took ole one-eye to the same optometrist.”

The annoyed groan you make turns soft, as he starts a lazy rhythm with his hips. Knowing how to wind you up - skating his length against your slit, as try to take another inch down your throat. Cheeks hollowing as you suck, tongue tracing the underside of his tip.

“Counting down the days until we’re cock comrades,” He adds, with a friendly pat against your ass - before he sends Logan a wink, “But I’m willing to wait for marriage. Know you’re old-school, peanut.”

There’s a pull of Logan’s brow. A scowl, as he shifts - the movement nudging him deeper into your mouth. Distracting him from the sharp retort as you moan, the sound buzzing against his cock.

He meets your eyes, half-lidded. A hand coming to cup your jaw, urge you to take just a little more.

“Cold day in hell before that happens.”

It’s gritted out, half-hearted as your head bobs. A slow stroke of your fist across spit-slick skin - his hips lifting, chasing you.

“I dunno,” Wade coos. Eyes dropping down to the leaking tip of his cock. His thumb pressing against the curve of your ass - tugging you open so he can watch how he sinks into you.

“I have a way of making people beg.”

You whimper, as he inches into you. Mouth full, spit pooling on your tongue. It almost overwhelming, to be between them like this.

The pleasurable warmth that loops through you, your eyes sliding shut. Leading into Logan’s touch as Wade splits you open, leaving you squirming.

There’s a shift, as his hands slip to flatten against the mattress. A smooth drag as he surges forward - hilting himself with a final roll of his hips.

It makes you gasp, even with how slick you are. Clenching down around the cock that fills you - eagerness flickering in your belly, as you life your hips to take him deeper.

“Fuck, baby. So fucking tight.” Wade moans appreciatively. Slipping half-way out, only to watch how your ass sways when he fills you again, “Gonna turn my dick into a goddamn diamond. Emma Frost this shit.”

Another thrust sending you forward. A rhythm starting - sinking back onto Wade’s cock when to rock back, your throat relaxing when you take Logan further.

Your jaw has to open wide take him. There’s a throb against your tongue as he nudges at your throat. A rattling gasp when you’re shifting back again.

“Feels good, sweetheart,” Logan coos - his hands curving around your throat, fingertips at the base of your neck, “Think you can take more?”

The praise stokes the fire in your belly. Eyes wide as you nod - Wade slowing as you angle your head.

“Oh yeah, she can.” Wade purrs.

Watching as you try to take more, until your nose is brushing the coarse hairs at his base. The air burning in your lungs as you hold your breath.

A gasp, when you pull off him. Leaving you to kiss and suck at his tip, lips slick with spit.

You ache for them - your other hand wedging between your hips and the mattress. A whine when your fingers circle, slipping against slick skin.

It sends your nerves alight, with the way Wade grinds himself into you. His cock dragging against your walls, nudging against a sensitive spot inside you - you can feel your thoughts starting to go hazy.

“You think she gets wet from kissing? Fuck, you should feel her now.” There’s a rough thrust, the slap of skin against skin.

There’s a pressure against your back, as Wade dips down. His chest pressing against your shoulders - caging you in as his cheek nudges against yours.

A kiss dropped against your shoulder.

“You get a little slutty with a dick in your mouth, baby?” His voice goes soft and low - teasing.

“That’s okay, I do too.”

His words make you moan. He’s deeper like this, filling you with shallow thrusts. A hand tucking beneath you, cupping a breast.

A rough groan in your ear, “Makes me wonder… why am I letting you have all the fun?”

Logan’s hips lift on their own accord. A bitten-back sound, trapped in throat as you register what he means.

Your head angling to make room for your boyfriend, lips trailing down to press against his base. A tilt of your fist, holding Logan’s cock for him steady as you smile.

“Room for two, honey.”

There’s the twitch of Logan’s hands against your skin, his grip tightening in your hair. His eyes dark when you glance up at him. A heave to his chest, lips parted as the tip of his cock slips past Wade’s lips.

“Fuck.” It’s gritted out.

His hand leaves your neck to hook against Wade’s shoulder, fingers pinching into skin. A muffled sound caught in his throat, as Wade pulls off him and grins.

Twin kisses pressed against his shaft. You travel up this time, tongue tracing over the thick vein. Logan’s jaw clenching, teeth grinding together.

“Don’t hold back on us, daddy long leg.” Wade hums, smirking, “As if you didn’t cream your panties the last time I did this.”

A drag of his tongue against Logan’s sack, and the moan loosens. Words coming with it, the next time you trade - kisses pressed against the seam, as Wade takes the shaft into his throat.

“Oh shit,” It’s panted out, “That’s it, put that fucking mouth to good use.”

There’s a groan, with the bob of his head. Your own lifts as you watch, a soft hum as you kiss his throat. Watching the way his eyes flutter shut, brow pinching as he tries to take him further.

“You’re not used to something this big, are you baby?” You coo, “Gonna need some help?”

“Fuck.” Wade laughs, as he pulls off him - the sound strangled, as the rock of his hips goes sloppy, “Teaming up me. Don’t bully me, I’ll-”

He moans, when Logan’s hand presses on the back of his head, urging him back down. Your teeth sinking into your lip as you grin - a kiss pressed against Wade’s cheek, then chin.

A shift, until the tip slips from his mouth, and then you’re sharing it - messy, spit-slick lips against skin. Open-mouthed, tasting him, tasting Logan, as you rock back to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck, I dreamed about this.” It slips from Logan. Hushed, you almost miss it in the hazy swirls of your mind.

It shoots through you, straight to your clit. Your efforts doubled - you like how messy it is, the brush of his tongue against yours. The hand between your thighs bracing on the mattress instead so you can twist further, the other pulling his mouth to fully meet yours.

There’s a ragged moan, as Wade’s body goes taut. His face burying in your shoulder as he ruts into you - two more shallow thrusts before he’s spilling with a rough moan inside.

Grinding against you, pumping himself into your tight warmth until the throbbing pulse of his cock ebbs. Until you’ve milked him empty, his come painting your walls.

“It’s too much,” Wade gasps, lips curling up at the edges. Teeth nipping at your skin, “You two are gonna kill me-”

Logan huffs - eyes dark, “If fucking you to death was an option, our fight would’ve gone a lot differently.”

“Look at you,” It’s wheezed against your skin, an eye cracking open, “Another joke.”

Logan hums, more amusement than annoyance. A hand slipping from Wade’s shoulder, wrapping around his base. A slow squeeze in front of you, as your eyes widen.

“Supposed to be taking care of you.” Your smile is sheepish, “Sorry, Logan.”

Too caught up in sharing him - the weight against your tongue, how the tip slipped between pressed-together lips - to concentrate on your goal.

“You are.” It comes out rough - another squeeze. Angling it down, tapping the tip against your tongue when your mouth opens.

“Know you want a taste baby, but I’m not coming ‘til you do.”

You groan, as you suck him. As he feeds his cock to you, still stroking at the base. Feeling empty when Wade eases from you, hands at your hips - coaxing you to your knees for him.

“Human centipede, got it.” Wade grins - kissing down your back. Teeth sinking into the curve of your ass, as you hiss, “Better save some for me, gorgeous. Sharing is caring.”

You jolt, when his mouth presses against you.

Practiced swirls of his tongue, fingers that replace his cock. The needy rut of him inside you has been edging you since he started - and as you watch the way Logan watches both of you, it’s not long before you feel that tell-tale twist inside you, that pressure that winds tight.

Logan growls - all rasping voice and pinched brow. His lips parted, thighs inching wider as you let you hands wander across the thick muscles of his thighs.

Tracing over his fingers and lower, cupping him. A sharp hiss - his fist squeezing at his base, holding himself back.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let me give you what you want.”

It’s as close as you’ve heard to begging. A moan as the fingers curl and sink inside you. Teasing swipe of a tongue, dipping down to press against your hole. Panting breaths turning into whimpers, as Logan’s cock brushes over your lips.

“Please,” You whine, rocking back, “I want it, Logan. Wanna come-”

Wade’s lips close around your clit, and with the pound of his fingers, that string inside you snaps. Pleasure arcs through you, crackling up your spine.

Eyes half-lidded as you moan, the plunge of his fingers drawing out your orgasm. Muscles tensing as he teases at the sensitive bud - sharp, pointed licks that leave your toes curling.

Logan’s fist moves faster, as he watches you come undone in front of him. A hand curving around your chin to keep it in place - a thumb hooking around your teeth to keep your lips parted.

“Good fuckin’ girl, that’s it.” Logan growls, “Open your mouth for me, there you go.”

You open wider, just in time to catch the ropes of come that spill across your tongue. Taking him into your mouth, tongue lapping at the sensitive head as Logan moans. His fist working himself empty into your mouth, pulsing against your tongue.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Wade’s hands press against your hips as he shifts beside you, “But don’t you fucking swallow.”

His hands joining Logan’s, tilting your head to mouth to the side - thumbing at your lip.

“Open.” Wade grits out - a sharp hiss when he sees how you hold it on your tongue, just before his mouth presses to yours.

Something thrumming in your belly, as he licks into your mouth. You’ve never shared anything quite like this before - the heady mix against your tongue. The moan that slides from you, echoing with the buzz in Wade’s throat.

The look of hunger in Logan’s eyes, when the kiss breaks. Lips glossy with your messy kiss, as his hands close around your biceps. It’s easy, with his strength, to tug you up until you’re straddling him.

His half-hard cock trapped against his slick core as he pulls you close. You laugh as your knees press into the mattress, a hand braced on his chest.

“Okay,” You hum, eyes dragging down, “This time, you lay back. Let me take care of everything.”

The murmured “fuck” against your lips, before his mouth presses to yours. Hips canting upward, seeking your heat.

And if you were a betting girl…

You’d bet this wasn’t a two-time thing, either.

Wade stretches out, cat-like. A matching lazy grin, as he peers out of one eye up at Logan, using a thigh like a pillow.

“Never thought I’d visit Paris,” He sighs, “Much less twice in one night. Good thing I’d been saving those frequent flyer miles.”

A yawn, muffled with the back of his hand, “Though I guess it’s not your first time though. Eh, Valjean?”

Logan grunts, the sound buzzing beneath your ear, where you head cradles against his chest. Muscles still burning from riding him, until his hands had hooked under your thighs to help.

Your leg stretches out now as you doze - boneless - hooking around his other thigh, as his fingers trace patterns on your skin.

“And don’t you think I didn’t hear that you dreamed about this,” Wade props himself up on an elbow - never one to let a comfortable silence linger.

A finger reaching out to poke his roommate in the ribs, “You catching feelings, peanut?”

Logan’s eyes roll, as he bats the hand away - nudging you to the side so he can ease carefully out from under you.

“Don’t ruin it.”

Swinging his legs around until he can push himself up - his ear to the door for a heartbeat until it’s swinging open.

“You’re coming back, right?” You ask, groggy - the words murmured out into the dim room.

His head turns, glancing back as he turns. You can catch the way his eyes soften, a thumb hitched over a shoulder toward the bathroom.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He rasps, “Just grabbing somethin’ to clean you up.”

“I’ll be right back.”

thanks for reading! 💖 I have three more nights I’ve been wanting to explore with them (next one being the old dp with dp+w), so hopefully will have that up soon!

[chaoticbardlady99]

I Triple Dog Dare You (Astarion x F!Reader) (Part 2 to Pinkie Promise)

CW: Angst, mentions of trauma, mentions of sexual trauma, mentions of bullying, mentions of parental death, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of voyeurism

Both titles have been inspired by the song ‘School Nights’ by Chappell Roan

Dedicated to @amica-aenigmata-naboo - thank you for demanding a part two 😂

Part 1: Pinkie Promise?

✨this has been proof read once and I have been awake and working since 3 am. It is not 10:04 pm. Please help✨

You finish your letter by folding it into thirds and then writing ‘Star’ on the back. You take a deep breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth- reminding yourself that you already know he likes you back, you are just taking that last extra little step. You also can’t attempt to write this letter again- this is your 8th draft, the others turning into flames in your hands very quickly.

You want to ask Astarion to be in a serious relationship with you. You have only been seeing each other (as far as you know) and you’ve spent almost everyday sleeping with him in his tent since you had ventured into the Underdark. Most of the time- you don’t even have sex. You stay up talking together and sharing soft kisses- no clothes, just intimacy. You adore those moments immensely.

Life around camp has also been good- everyone is finally beginning to get along. Shadowheart and Lae’zel even silently respect each other now. It feels like one big happy family and you are grateful for them when this whole journey feels far too big and scary.

Recently, you and your crew have been playing an ongoing game of “Triple Dog Dare”. The only rule is you can’t dare someone in the middle of a battle or a serious mission. Otherwise- it’s all fair game and if you decline to do it, you have to take the darers’ guard duty or help them with a chore. The chores were limited to one task and it can’t be taking down a whole tent + equipment- the one time Astarion had to take down Gale’s tent had been disastrous. The dare had been to allow Gale to take you on a date- Astarion shot back with a “I triple dog dare you to swallow my fucking knife wizard.” All parties (minus Astarion) agreed that this dare was not to be followed through on.

The game has had… less than favorable results. Watching Wyll and Karlach streak across the camp while you were piss drunk was awful. Oh and the time Gale almost died because Wyll dared him to spy on the two of you for 20 minutes. You hadn’t heard his thoughts, but Astarion had. His head had shot up from between your legs with a furious look in his eyes. Astarion had covered your naked frame up quickly with his shirt (his trousers still on) and chased after Gale until he pushed the man into the freezing Underdark water.

The group then had to make a few more rules people didn’t realize they had to make. In Gale’s defense- Wyll didn’t specify and Wyll is a real snob about which chore he gives the person. It’s also the worst chore and usually includes de-stinking his boots. You are almost positive Wyll does this on purpose as repayment for all the headaches this groups’ shenanigans has given him-oh and the horns.

Karlach triple dog dared you today to finally confess your feelings to Astarion. You had gawked at her and then dared her to do the same with Dammon. You shook on it and it was done.

Finding out that Astarion’s life is in far more danger than any of them had realized shook you to your core. You are tired of wasting time being afraid to ask him what you already know (or at least hope you know). You are silently grateful that Karlach has given you the push you needed (you doubt she would have actually made you do anything- she wouldn’t put you on blast like that).

It just never felt like the right time in the past. Having your life be in constant danger is kind of a romance killer and you aren’t sure how the hell you are supposed to do this.

Do you court him? Do you ask him to court you?

You ultimately settled on just flat out telling him your feelings- politics be damned. It’s not like you were welcome in High Society anyway.

Now you are in the safety of Last Light Inn and it feels like the right time to bring this up. You worry that waiting any longer will result in him looking for someone more serious or maybe you would always just be a person he slept with during the journey to his freedom.

You hope you are more than that and you are almost positive you are. The way he looks at you, kisses you, and talks to you is so genuine- his eyes are always so soft and so are his lips. He protects you and you protect him. You adore him and you think he adores you too.

So naturally, walking up behind him and Shadowheart talking isn’t a nerve wracking endeavor to you. This is all going to go off without a hitch!

Or so you thought.

Your ears twitch and you barely hear what they say to each other, but you do. Gods you wish you hadn’t.

“You are insufferable, Cleric.” Astarion groans, “I already told you my answer.”

“Oh please- you follow them around like a lovesick puppy. You can’t honestly tell me you have absolutely no feelings for them.”

Shadowheart takes a long sip of her pint and raises an eyebrow at him. You remain in the shadow- your heart thumping out of your chest. Maybe he’ll say a lot of wonderful things about you? Maybe your hopes will be-

“Nope, not a single feeling outside of my carnal desires,” he says nonchalantly, “that’s all it’s been and they know that.”

Oh.

You feel all the air leave your lungs as you crumple your letter and shove it in your pocket. You don’t know why you insist on listening further.

“Then I triple dog dare you to go talk to someone and take them to bed. You will have no problem bedding that Harper who keeps giving you ‘fuck me’ eyes- I’m sure.”

Oh please no.

“You offend me- that’s hardly a challenge,” he says while standing up, sauntering over to the Harper that is eyeing him.

You promptly turn around and hurry out of the building. You can’t breathe. You should have known better.

You had always been Tav the Guillable, the Plain, the Insufferable, etc, etc. You had been thrown at your aunt and uncle when your parents passed. Your aunt and uncle lived in a nice Human only city and you are a ‘filthy half-breed.’

One of the boys in your Archery class found out you had a crush on him so he asked you to meet him by the river. You showed up with wild flowers for him- something your mother told you Wood Elf’s do to show affection. He showed up with your entire class- all of them laughing at you for being stupid enough to believe he liked you and then his future partner beat the shit out of you before throwing you into the rushing water. You wished you hadn’t survived, but a nice family who was tolerant towards Half breeds saved you. Your Aunt and Uncle were pissed. Admittedly, so were you.

They treated you terribly- constantly trying to marry you off to old men who you would turn away with your boorish behavior.

You really thought you had it right this time. Everything felt so natural and right- like you had been made for each other. What did you not pick up on? What did you miss this whole time? How could you have been so blind?

You pick up your bedroll on the way out- you were all going to sleep on the floor of the inn with the rest of the Harpers and Refugees, but you couldn’t pretend you wanted to be near Astarion like he does with you. You aren’t ready to confront him- you aren’t ready for the pretty illusion to be completely shattered and swept under the rug yet. You were just getting used to being someone he loved and now the whole world is crumbling underneath you.

It was barely anything- obviously- so why does it hurt this much?

You find yourself in front of Damon’s metal shop and he’s talking to Karlach. You clear your throat and they both look at you. Karlach suddenly looks concerned when she sees the look on your face.

“Could I sleep above your shop tonight?” You say with a strained voice, “behind the hay? I just… need to be alone.”

“Sure thing- it’s all yours.”

You smile gratefully at him and begin to climb up the ladder.

“Do you want me to tell Fangs, Soldier?”

You can hear the question in her voice. She is your best friend after all.

“No- please don’t,” you smile at her sadly, “I would prefer he doesn’t know where I am.”

Karlach nods in understanding, giving you a sad smile, and you go behind the hay and lay out your bedroll. It smells like him and you don’t know if that’s helping or hurting at this point, but you are mostly too tired to care.

Your heart hurts as you try to find sleep. You throw the crumpled note across the little loft and silently begin to cry.

At least you knew what it felt to give and receive love- even if it was false and unrequited the entire time.

*****************************************

Astarion is barely present for the conversation with the Harper male who is trying to impress him into bed. Astarion is only thinking of you and how much he wants to get this over with so you can find a more secluded spot together. Every morning to every night feels like far too long to wait to have a tender moment with you.

Astarion imagines leaving lingering kisses along your collar bones and your cheeks. He thinks about how he desperately needs to rebraid your hair. It’s been frizzy and unruly from all the fog- the baby hairs sticking out all over the place. He also needs to patch up your armor again- your Meilikki Cleric Armor ripped apart from the events of yesterday.

Mostly though, he wants to spend the off day tomorrow with just you. Astarion wants to find somewhere to hide or even just rent a room so that you can just be in each other’s presence un interrupted by the world. Astarion’s heart glows at the thought of the sexless intimacy you share. He’s so happy it’s not a priority to you- it’s allowed him to do things at his own pace and as he wants to which is very freeing to him.

Astarion had finally admitted to himself that his plan had well and truly failed- he has fallen for you very hard.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to lie to Shadowheart. He mostly just didn’t want to be pressured to leap forward. Astarion isn’t sure if you want to be something real with him and he also doesn’t know if you are hell bent on being a proper noble woman who marries a proper noble man. It would break his heart if you rejected him and Astarion has no desire to feel that way. For now, Astarion will bask in his peaceful ignorance.

The Harper man eventually scowls at Astarion and tells him to fuck off if he isn’t interested. Astarion goes back to Shadowheart with an annoyed look on his face.

“Fine- you win, Cleric,” Astarion scowls, “I have feelings for them. I couldn’t even give that man a moment of my attention because I couldn’t stop thinking about them so if you will excuse me-“

Shadowheart squeals in delight and Astarion rolls his eyes. Astarion walks around the entire inn and property- you are nowhere to be found. Astarion is beginning to become more and more worried. Astarion is pacing out front when Karlach and Dammon come up to the Inn- ready to hit the sack.

“Karlach,” Astarion says, a bit more panicked than he means to, “where is Tav? I’ve been looking for them everywhere and I can’t find them!”

Karlach looks suddenly uncomfortable and like she definitely knows where you are.

“Karlach if you know where Tav is-“

“I do!” She says exasperated, “but they specifically asked that you don’t know and I don’t blame them! You gonna go fuck them and pretend to have feelings for them again for the billionth time?”

Astarion is stock still and horribly confused. What in the hells is she talking about? Karlach shoves a piece of crumpled paper into his hands and shakes her head at him.

“You know- if you are going to fuck with someone’s feelings,” Karlach tries to keep her patience, “maybe don’t pick the nicest person in the room. Honestly Fangs- fuck you. I thought you were better than that.”

Astarion is at a loss for words- which is very rare for him. He slowly unfolds the note- hoping it might put some of the pieces together.

Star,

I have really come to enjoy your company and our time together.

I am quite smitten with you and I’m too nervous to say this out loud, but I would like to be able to call you my partner (in a romantic sense)- if you return my feelings, that is.

If not, no worries. All I want is for you to be happy.

-Tav

The pieces click together like a haunting tune.

You had heard everything that was said between him and Shadowheart. Obviously you didn’t stick around for the important part, but Gods you must be heartbroken.

Astarion has to assume you were hiding somewhere in Damon’s shop if Karlach is the one who knows where you are. He had been avoiding the shop initially so that Karlach could have her privacy with Dammon. Now it’s fair game.

Astarion quickly walks towards the shop and as soon as he enters- his ears pick up your quiet sobbing. Your thoughts are loud and unguarded- his words playing in your head over and over again. You are wondering why you aren’t good enough. Astarion finally sees what you have refused to show him- your parents are long gone, despite the fact that you talk about them as if they are waiting for you to come home. Your Aunt, Uncle, cousins, and an entire society have rejected you, humiliated you, and belittled you. This just happens to be the salt in the wound. You keep looping through the thought of how stupid you are to have missed this of all damn things. How could you even begin to think he would actually want you? Plain, boring, ugly, half-breed Tav.

Oh my Darling, what have I done?

Shadowheart had been teasing him relentlessly ever since you had all arrived back to the safety of Last Light Inn. You had led them all to support Astarion in finding out more about the scars carved into his back. It had been incredibly dangerous and Shadowheart had had to heal him more than usual- he kept putting himself between you and every bomb, warrior, etc. He wanted her to stop- he likes the privacy of his little world with you.

Now he’s demolished that world and your heart in less than an hour. Astarion was actually nervous earlier- realizing how deep his feelings for you are and how much he wants something real with you. He just isn’t close enough with Shadowheart to share those feelings out loud willingly. Astarion is thrilled that you feel the same way, but now he isn’t sure he can convince you that his feelings are genuine and not a giant lie.

Astarion slowly makes his way up the ladder and he hears your sobbing stop- one single sniffle occurring before silence.

“Darling?” he asks quietly.

The air is tense and Astarion feels more nervous than a school boy with a crush. You hiccup.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is strained and cracks- he can hear the effort you put into trying to make your voice sound steady and normal.

You are definitely not happy with him. You usually address him as Star when he first arrives in your orbit.

Astarion takes it as a good sign that you are at least willing to speak with him.

“It’s come to my attention that you may have overheard a conversation without context and without staying until the end,” Astarion says slowly, “I was hoping you might let me explain myself.”

You sit up gingerly, your head bent, and look up at him with puffy, bloodshot eyes. Your bottom lip is swollen- you often worry it between your teeth when you are upset. He doesn’t like when you are upset, but he does love how incredibly delicious it makes your lips look. Your skin is under a veil of tears and your cheeks are stained pink from you rubbing away the sadness from your face. It’s unfair how beautiful a crier you are.

Astarion decides to go against his better judgement and he crawls towards you. You look at him with a guarded expression, but you don’t fight him as he pulls you into his lap- his fingers moving the hair out of your face and wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks.

“Shadowheart was teasing me for being… overly concerned with your safety today,” Astarion begins, “I just didn’t want to- her and I aren’t close enough for me to-“

Astarion huffs in frustration and looks down at the floor momentarily before making direct eye contact with you. He decides to use the tadpole- maybe showing will make more sense than explaining.

Astarion shows you his original intentions of manipulating you- his musings over your beauty, but your aggravating naivety and the annoyance at your persistent kindness. He feels you flinch a little, but your body begins to relax against his as you watch his feelings change. Astarion lets you see all of his jealousy, confusion, fear, and adoration for you. He even lets you see his turmoil during sex. Astarion enjoys himself with you- more than he’s ever enjoyed himself with anyone, but the self-loathing and disgust pose a challenge during intimate moments.

Lastly, Astarion shows you how scared he is to lose you. He lets the feeling consume him and he feels like he’s a rope ready to snap at any moment. His mind wanders to how much he doesn’t ever want to have to miss you- the beautiful moments you have shared together and how much joy you have brought to his life. You make him want to be a better person- well at least in your presence. Astarion would do just about anything for you.

You press your forehead to his and release a relieved sigh. Astarion pulls you in for a deep, tender kiss. The kiss is needy, but not in a sexual way. Astarion needs you to know that he really does adore you- his affections are absolutely not fake.

He finally has to pull back to let you breathe and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You make me so so happy, Darling,” Astarion whispers tearfully, “I really don’t want to lose you.”

“Star, I adore you for all the sentimental reasons,” your eyes sparkle as you look at him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Astarion tries not to show how relieved he is, but the way his shoulders slump gives him away.

“We don’t have to have sex, you know,” you say quietly, “I can wait until you are ready. I want you to be happy and feel loved more than anything.”

Astarion is surprised by the choked sob that escapes his lips- pulling you in closer.

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Yeah well,” you pull back and smile at him, “I triple dog dare you to prioritize your wants and needs first!”

Astarion rolls his eyes at you and tries to hide the grateful tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You are his most favorite person across all the planes. He is so grateful for you, your patience, and how much you try to understand him so that you can support his healing from centuries of abuse.

“Cheeky pup.”

You grin widely, “the cheekiest.”

“Hmmm well,” Astarion slyly smirks, “if we are going to play this childish game…”

You pout, jutting your lower lip out. Astarion places a chaste kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear.

“I triple dog dare you to be something real with me.”

Astarion’s nerves are going haywire- praying to every God he can think of that you still want to be serious with him.

Your smile could light up the entirety of the Shadow Cursed Lands. You give him a short sweet kiss on the cheek and A kunik*.

“Dare accepted.”

*A kunik means nose kiss in Inuit

[veritasangel]

Verdant Gamble

Ft. Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

sum: gaz knows he should stay away from you but he's never been one to back down from a fight before, so he definitely won't now

warnings: sfw, fempov, kissing

a/n: deciding to post the sfw parts first because it's easier to write. wc: 1.7k

The rumble of bikes echoed through the night as Gaz pulled into a dimly lit car park of some dive bar on the outskirts of town. The sort of place where rival MCs exchanged glances like daggers and tensions simmered just shy of boiling over. He knew he was walking into enemy territory-the Vipers ran this area, and Gaz had no business being there.

Except for you.

He killed the motor of his Kawasaki and swung his leg over the seat, eyes scanning the area for any familiar faces. He wasn't here for a fight tonight, though that didn't mean one wouldn't find him. He had something else on his mind-something reckless and far more tempting than a brawl.

You were the daughter of the Vipers' president and as forbidden as they came. You were a free spirit trapped inside a world of loyalty and blood oaths, bound between your father's expectations and your own rebellious desires. Gaz had crossed paths with you more than once, and not just in passing moments.

There was tension between you two, building for months ever since that first encounter at a neutral bar on the outskirts of town. It started small: lingering glances across a crowded room, the soft brush of your hand against his arm as you passed, words said low in whispered tones when no one else was paying any attention.

The possibility of getting caught was always there, either from one club or another, especially with how Gaz's gaze would stay just that fraction of a second too long on you, or how you always managed to find yourself alone with him whenever nobody was looking.

But you liked the risk of it, the dancing-on-the-edge-of-a-knife feeling. Gaz represented all the things you weren't supposed to have, all those things that quickened your pulse and made your heart thump in your chest.

He was bold, unafraid, and that sly grin of his seemed to promise danger and excitement in equal measure. He's different from the men you grew up around-more controlled, more deliberate. Where the Vipers were all blunt force and intimidation, Gaz moves like he's got something to prove, like he can outthink and outmanoeuvre anyone in the room. He actually takes you seriously, doesn’t treat you like you’re a fragile object.

He stepped inside the bar, cheap booze and cigarette smoke meeting his senses instantly. The place was busy and chaotic, yet his eyes managed to find you. You were seated at the bar with a bottle in your hand, clad in a black leather jacket. Your father's club patch embroidered on the back, marking you as off-limits to anyone smart enough.

Which was precisely why Gaz could not stay away.

As he approached, you glanced over your shoulder, your eyes locking onto his. A slow smile tugged at your lips, a dangerous mix of curiosity and mirth flashing in your gaze.

“You really must have a lot of guts to show up here,” you told him, turning to face him against the bar. “Are your boys looking for trouble?”

Gaz shrugged his shoulders, acting cool although he could feel the tension cracking around them. “Not tonight. I thought I’d come and see how the other half lives.”

You raised your eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Sure, because your lot’ are much better.”

Gaz chuckled softly under his breath as he looked at the bar where you were leaning over it. His eyes travelled up and down your body, “I didn’t say ‘better’. Just different.”

You tilted your head slightly as if in contemplation. He wasn’t here to flirt or play games, there was some other thing behind those sharp brown eyes. And just maybe it was something that piqued your interest.

“Bold move, Garrick. You know my father would have your head if he knew you were here.”

“And yet,” Gaz leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low enough so only you could hear, “here I am.”

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink, eyes never leaving his. “You’ve got a death wish.”

“Well, different can get you in trouble around here,” you replied, taking a slow sip from your beer, your eyes not leaving his. “My father doesn’t take kindly to boys from 141 hanging around his turf. You know that.”

“And yet,” he said, echoing your earlier words with a sly grin, “here I am.”

The side of your mouth tilted up ever so slightly. Stupid as he was, you relished in his audacity. You surveyed the bar to make sure that no one was paying too close attention before leaning more toward him and lowering your voice so only he could hear. "You’re playing with fire."

He leaned closer to bridge the gap between you two and whispered so lowly that no one else could hear. “Perhaps I fancy the burn.”

The tension between you had reached a peak level that made your hair stand up on end and sent waves through your body. It was risky, but here you were anyway, messing with danger like nothing mattered anymore.

Standing up and flattening your jacket, you beckoned towards the rear door. “You want to talk? Maybe let’s do it somewhere less…well-” You trailed off, looking around at all of the members in the bar, unaware of who was here talking to you.

Gaz followed suit without question; weaving through the noisy crowd in the bar while lowering his cap, fully aware of how many eyes were on him. If he stayed any longer, someone might identify him and that would start a fight he would like to not have tonight.

Outside the building you stopped on one side with arms folded as you faced him. The moonlight cast an eerie light over the back alley with shadows looming in between you both.

“What is it that you want, Gaz?” You warned, your voice sounding softer although still cautious.

“You,” he said before he could realise what was spilling out.

Your eyes widened slightly, but you didn't back away. You held his gaze, your face hardening, though there was a flicker of something else beneath it. "You think just because you show up here and flash those eyes, I'm going to fall for it? You think I'm going to betray my family for your games?"

Gaz stepped closer, the space between them dissolving as he lowered his voice. "I'm not asking you to betray anyone. This isn't about the clubs. It's about you and me, whatever the hell this is between us."

You stared back at him, the tension palpable, the pull undeniable. He knew this was a line you two were about to cross, and once you did, there was no going back. If your father found out, if Price found out, it would mean war-between the two clubs and between you both.

You weren't naive, though. You knew the way this world worked-loyalty ran deeper than any fleeting connection, blood and sworn oaths meant everything. But here you were, alone in the shadows with him, questioning what should have been a clear-cut line in the sand.

The silence grows between you thick with unspoken words and dangerous truths. The tension is high, and though every instinct screamed in protest to just walk away from him, something in the mere tone of his voice-in the raw, terse intensity of his presence-predominantly managed to keep you rooted on that spot.

"I'm not playing games," Gaz said, inching closer until he was right in front of you. "I don't give a damn about the clubs or the rivalry. I'm here because of you. Because there's something between us, and I think you know it too."

Your breath caught in your throat, each word cutting through the walls you'd built. He was close now, close enough that you could see the flicker of tension in his jaw. His voice was low but steady, the conviction behind it enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You stepped toward him, your voice dropping to a whisper. "You're either the dumbest man in this town, or the bravest. I can't figure out which.

Gaz grinned. "Maybe both."

You shook your head but there was a spark in your eyes now, something wild and untamed that drew him in. "You realise if anyone finds out, we're both screwed."

He nodded, eyes unflinching. "Then no one finds out.".

You bit your lip, weighing his words. The silence stretched between you both, heavy with unspoken promises, the weight of your decision. Then, before you could utter another word, Gaz closed the space between you both; his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, heated kiss.

It was like throwing gasoline on a fire, the friction between you both exploding into an inferno as you moved together-the kiss urgent, frustrated, and something both of you knew was perilous. Your hands clutched his jacket, hauling him closer, and he pinned your back against the rough brick wall, the night air around you cool compared to the heat of the kiss.

As you broke apart, both of you breathless, you looked at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "This is a bad idea.”

“The best kind," he whispered, his lips grazing yours again, his heart pounding.

You laughed a little as you kissed him again, mumbling "You're going to get us both killed."

"Worth it."

For one moment, your face softened and a glimmer of vulnerability flickered across, before you masked it again. You stepped back an inch, your eyes scanning the car park. "This can't go on. Not like this. If my father finds out-”

"We'll figure it out," Gaz said, though even he knew how impossible that sounded.

You gave him a sharp look, but there was something softer beneath it. "You better hope you're as smooth as you think you are, Garrick. Because if this blows up, it won't just be us in the crossfire."

"Then let's not let it blow up," he said, his hand brushing your cheek, the warmth of your skin grounding him even as everything around you felt like it was spinning out of control.

For now, you had this moment, though you both knew the storm was coming.

༄ MC 141 m.list // general m.list

© veritasangel ↣ do not copy/translate any of my works.

[starsxblazing]

Pushing the Limits (Part 10)

Summary: Prepping for your mission takes an interesting turn

Azriel x Reader

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 11 - Part 12

----

Cassian banging on your door before the sun was even up had you pulling your covers over your head with a huff. When you didn’t answer, he burst through the door and pulled the covers off of you. You frowned at him when cool air hit you and it was all that you could do to not knock that cocky smirk off of his face.

“Cassian!” you snapped. “I could’ve been naked.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he laughed. “Wake your ass up. Rhys wants to see us.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be training in that damn maze that you set up?” you asked as you hesitantly crawled out of bed, rubbing your eyes in the process.

“The girls’ will manage without the two of us for a few hours.”

“Yea but I like doing it with them. Even if it kicks our asses most of the time.”

“Well the sooner you get up, the sooner we can get back.”

You groaned again as you stood to force yourself awake. Knowing your struggle, the House placed a steaming hot cup of coffee on your desk and you had never been more thankful for a house that was essentially alive. Unsure of what to wear, you slipped on your usual loose t-shirt and leggings in hopes of being comfortable.

For all that you wanted to be with your friends, you also didn’t want to be. The three girls going through hell in those obstacles were a lifesaver and it gave you something to think about other than your broken heart. You ignored Azriel any time that you were in seeing distance from the other, refusing to look at him because you couldn’t forgive him. At least not yet. Maybe, just in hindsight, it wasn’t that big of a deal but it was to you.

You had lost your favorite dagger that had been a personalized gift from Rhys whenever you both were free of the underground prison. It was so close to your heart since it was something given from the heart and it really hurt to lose. Not only that, Azriel’s mistrust in you hurt as well. They all knew that you weren’t as good but it left you wondering if the shadowsinger’s harsh words about your training was something that he really thought was true.

Pushing your pain aside, you made your way to the balcony where Cassian was already waiting on you. He gave you a playful scoff paired with an equally playful glare. It eased your pain just a bit and you couldn't be any more thankful for him. Being in his presence was calming so you didn’t mind the close proximity that he moved towards you once you stepped into the fresh air. 

“Do you know any good blacksmiths?” you asked as you looked up at him.

“I know plenty,” he chuckled, the sound being off compared to usual.

“No. Not just any blacksmith,” you sighed. “I want the best of the best.”

“To replace the dagger you lost?” You nodded since you weren’t able to form the words. “I will go through all of my sources and find the absolute best.”

You barely caught Azirel’s presence as you grinned up at Cassian before he gently picked you up and moved into the sky at a slower pace than he usually did. Anger was shining in his eyes as he flew and you hated that you were the reason behind the rift between the three brothers. It was the absolute last thing that you would ever want but yet here they all were.

Cassian landed flawlessly as he always did and set you down just as gently had he had when he had picked you up. You had wondered if it was pity that made him do it but you quickly realized that it was his appreciation that you were still alive and with them.

Rhysand was waiting in the office with Amren and no sooner than they could sit down, Azriel was striding through the door behind them. You still refused to even so much as look at him even though you so desperately wanted to. A month after his confession still had your heart hurting and a part of you wanted to let it go just to see if things would work.

“Are you up for some work, Y/N?” Rhys asked, breaking through your thoughts.

“You know I always am,” you agreed as you felt Azriel’s eyes on you. “It’s only been a month and I’m so restless that I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“You just like to fight, girl.”

You grinned at Amren and you were always conflicted if you liked her or Cassian the most but always decided that was almost equal. Amren always encouraged your violence and you found it amusing every single time. Pushing your thoughts to the side, you listened as Rhysand explained the details to Cassian.

“It’s a rival camp of Windhaven,” the High Lord started. “They have snuck in too many times, mostly in the middle of the night, and have done what the worst of the Illyrians have to offer.”

“Actual and true danger then?” you asked and contemplated what exactly they were to do. “I’m guessing that it means sneaking and plotting.”

“Cassian knows what needs to be done and will give you all of the details tonight before you leave in the morning.”

You nodded but was surprised that the shadowsinger had nothing to say, even by the end of the meeting.

Azriel was beside himself with worry as he sat in his room, his shadow leaving him to go check on you in your room. Going to Windhaven to see how things were going was one thing but taking care of rogue Illyrians from a different camp was something different. He had full trust in his brother, who was still highly upset with him, to protect you but the mating bond only had his worry at an all time high.

It would take everything in him to use his senses and not be overbearing. Even though he knew that you didn’t know about the bond, he tried to tug on it anyway. He wanted nothing more than for the both of you to be fully connected so that he could send all of his love and regret in hopes that you would know just how sorry that he was. It was another sleepless night and he waited for a different shadow to tell him that you were getting ready to leave. The one that favored you the most never told him anything about you other than that it wanted to be with you.

He was unsure if he should do what he was planning but he felt that if he didn’t, he would wholeheartedly regret it. Cassian was finishing his breakfast while you were working with the many straps on your leathers so you would be able to place all of the steel on the table in front of you in them. For the first time in a month, you looked at him and all that he could see was sadness and pain before you quickly returned to your task.

Despite the fact that Cassian was still upset with him, he threw him an apologetic glance before watching you struggle with the many weapon holder straps. He took a deep breath and approached you, his heart clenching and aching when you stiffened as he got close. In hopes of appearing smaller and less intimidating, he knelt beside you which caused you to look at him with surprise. 

He did his best not to touch you no matter how much that he wanted to as he wrapped the strap around your thigh. You continued to stare down at him as he tightened it so that it fit correctly before adjusting the one around your waist and then the one that would hold the sword behind your back. 

Once he was satisfied that it was all correct, he pulled Truth-Teller from its strap on his own thigh and placed it in the strap on your right side so that it would be the first thing that you could grab. From his peripheral vision, he saw his brother completely frozen in shock as he knew he would be.

“I don’t need your weapons,” you muttered, the pain in your voice only breaking him further.

“I know,” he whispered as most of his shadows disappeared other than a few that wanted to stay with you. “But Truth-Teller has never let me down. Ever. And I know that it will help you too if it is needed.”

There were tears lining your eyes whenever he slowly stood and the sight of it had him wanting to pull you into him to comfort you from the pain that he had caused. Before he could say anything else, Rhys appeared on the balcony and his eyes went wide when he noticed the weapon strapped on your side. With a shake of his head, he stepped away so that the High Lord could winnow them to their destination and he prayed to the Mother that you would come back safe and unscathed.

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @i-am-infinite @acourtofbatboydreams @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @bxm-1012 @justdreamstars

[spittingbloodandscreaming]

Motel Sex (Gerard Way x Male reader SMUT)

Was supposed 2 post this erleir forgor about the passage of time please forgive me will work on requests tomorrow I haven't slept in 3 days

WARNINGS: nothing much really? Mild hair pulling?

AN: This has been sitting in my docs for a WHILE so I thought I'd finish it up and throw it here so there's atleast something while I work on the other requests

Gerard sighs at himself and looks around the empty motel room. The guys have left him the space to "Have some alone time with your ‘friend’. wink wink,” Frank said, emphasizing the wink out loud before leaving. Gerard glances at the time on the half-broken electric clock on the nightstand—only fifteen minutes until you planned to arrive. No big deal, right? He can wait.

Enough time has passed, and Gerard is watching one of the limited channels on the TV before he hears you knock on the door. Excited, he jumps up to answer.

“Hey, Gee!” you say as the door opens, revealing your boyfriend, a look of relief on his face as if he had been half expecting you to not show up. He greets you happily and hugs you tight before welcoming you in. “Where are the guys?” you ask, sitting down on one of the two queen-sized beds in the motel room.

“They went out for a while, givin’ us alone time. Should be leftovers, though,” he says, leaning in to kiss you as he finishes his sentence. “But I think I’ll be pretty full by the time I’m done with you.” Gerard leans further into you, pushing you fully onto the mattress. It’s very clear how amused by his own joke he is.

“What are you implying there, Mr. Way?” you say before giggling back into the next kiss.

“Oh, you know,” Gerard says, mischievously smiling before grabbing you around the waist and getting on top of you. He’s straddling your legs, keeping you in place against the bed. Gerard grins wide, kissing all over your face. He’s utterly thrilled to be with you, to have you in his arms, even if it’s in a dingy motel.

Gerard can’t keep himself contained, giggling like a madman as he moves down to gently kiss your neck. He’s so caring with his touch, or at least tries to be. He keeps his hands in yours for the most part, squeezing them lovingly. Eventually, though, his hands travel up to your neck, long fingers resting on your pulse as he gently nips at the base of your jaw.

As the moments pass, Gerard’s kisses get progressively more intimate and prolonged, and eventually, his fingers start to dig into the soft flesh of your neck. You can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose, or if he’s just that into it. Either way, you don’t mind, and that’s evident by the soft whines each one of his kisses pull from your throat. Something about those sounds make Gerard snap, grinding his hips against yours as he lets out a long drawn-out whine of his one. He licks a long line from the base of your neck up to your mouth, turning it into a rough, sloppy kiss.

Gerard trails his hand down your torso, hooking his fingers in the waistband of both your pants and underwear, pulling them down just enough to reveal your half-erect cock. He wraps his hand around your cock gingerly, and, ignoring the action, just the way he handled it was gay. 

Your muscles tense as Gerard keeps his movements steady, slow high-pitched whimpers filling the motel as he slowly moves himself down, putting his face at crotch level. He rests his head on your upper thigh. He looks up at you, face just inches away from your cock as he smiles oh so sweetly. You look down at him, voice trembling; “Please.” Gerard needs no other encouragement. He runs his tongue up the length of your dick slowly before shoving as much of you in his mouth as he can, which is, admittedly, a lot.

He sucks you off so perfectly, you can’t fathom how one man could make you feel this good. He has you grabbing handfuls of the sheets, bucking your hips and in turn making the back of your cock hit his throat. You arch your back and grab a handful of Gerard's hair, the other hand hitting the mattress. You’re practically screaming—you wouldn’t be surprised if the guys got a noise complaint because of you.

You only last a few more minutes before your moans begin to catch in your throat, and Gerard notices. He digs his nails into your thighs as he takes your whole length in his mouth, throat contracting around your cock as he does so, ripping a loud, broken scream from your throat. You use the handful of his hair you have as leverage, shoving him all the way down as your dick twitches—one final warning before you cum down his throat. 

Gerard stays in place until you’re done, swallowing around your cock before bringing himself up. He has drool and cum dripping down his chin, and his hair is a mess, and he’s smiling so wide you’d think he just got a million-dollar check and a puppy. He crawls back up to kiss you gently before laying his head on your chest and sighing. He stays silent for a moment, before clearing his throat and whispering. 

“I love you.” You can feel him smiling against you still.

“I love you too,” you say, sighing and closing your eyes.

“Y’know, we should probably get your pants on before the guys get back.”

[thesixthplaneteer]

Here is my entry for the Masquerade Breach zine!! I have been hitting that word limit like a brick wall for the past month, and I am too excited to keep it to myself! My piece is titled Hell-O-Ween! A Masquerade Breach Story because we like cheesy horror in this house. Thank you for reading!

It’s the late 1980s in Las Vegas, Nythanel, and Noa are attending a Halloween party being put on by Don Jacob Rothstein. Held in a mansion in the desert far away from the city, so the more illicit activities don't fall under unwanted scrutiny, and only those in the know are supposed to be there. One person slipped past security, an ancient enemy of the Giovanni whose true motives are unknown, but their eyes are set on Noa tonight. What can a neonate necromancer and waterblooded sorcerer do when things really start to go bump in the night?

The green makeup of his Audrey Two costume hid the redness but Nythanel still felt the warmth of embarrassment and anger on his face. Fighting back tears he side stepped between costumed guests, tray toting servers, and did his best to fight the urge to bull them over as he went back to the ballroom. Don Jacob Rothstein's Halloween party was in full swing. The dance floor was lively, the bar was packed, and the live band seemed like they could go all night long.

He wanted to make his problem everyone else’s problem but held onto his senses, making a scene at the head of Clan Giovanni’s party wouldn’t make his night better. Noa’s bright red hooded dress and silver devil mask were easy to spot, but seeing her didn’t bring the ease to his mind he wanted. A tall figure in an elaborate red Venetian masquerade costume with a matching laughing mask loomed over her, holding her wrist.

The party-goers near them shuffled away and gawked. No doubt they thought some crass couple brought their backroom fun to the front. A wall of bodies formed to watch, but over their shoulders Nyth could see another masked person grab Noa from behind. Nythanel shoved over a woman in a peacock dress and jammed his elbows into the sides of two clowns to get through.

Noa struggled to get out of their grasp, but Red Mask jerked her arm the other direction. The snap was audible over the music, a pained scream erupted from Noa, a jagged peak shot up from under the sleeve of her dress. The crowd around them gasped, some retched, some clapped for what they thought was some Halloween entertainment, some quickly fled, others watched on unsure what to make of the display.

Nythanel burst free of the crowd and charged them, seeing that the second assailant's costume was also Venetian - though far less elaborate and the color beige. Red Mask noticed his approach and abandoned Noa with a leap backward as Nythanel slammed into the tussle, bringing them all down to the floor hard. Noa’s silver mask clattered to the ground while Beige’s mask was knocked askew but stayed on their face. The thin fabric of their costume tore as Nythanel gathered a fistful of it and pulled, the other fist delivering a hard blow to the back of their head, forcing them to surrender Noa in order to defend themselves.

The surrounding crowd was now comprised mostly of individuals thinking this was simply a show for the party. Some clapped, some cheered for who they picked as their favorite, while a few pulled their partners away.

Moving with trained agility, Nythanel threw his leg over Beige, pushing them onto their back, gaining control of the situation. Flesh exposed itself, the torn collar of the costume revealing their throat. Nythanel gazed at the sight for a moment. He had no Beast. There was no voice demanding he feed, no inner monster begging to kill. This desire was all his. He opened wide and lurched forward, his fangs breaking skin. Any scream to come was cut short by the crushing of their windpipe beneath teeth. Fresh warm blood cascaded into his mouth. Mortal, musky, the sting of alcohol, and a wine-like sweet finish. Sanguine he thought to himself as it empowered his own weak vitae.

Nythanel didn’t see where the sawed-off shotgun came from, nor notice how Beige was able to pull the concealed weapon, he only heard the deafening bang that brought him back to reality. A shower of blood and bone poured from a bystander’s face. Screams of terror erupted from the crowd, they slammed into each other in their mad scramble, going toward the back of the manor to get away from the no longer entertaining brawl. The band abruptly stopped, the gunshot ending the revelry. Not wanting to risk Noa or himself being the target of the next round he twisted and wrenched, flesh and inner tissue tore until he ripped free the section of throat seized by his vicious teeth.

More yells of fearful confusion came from the guests, the handful of them brave or drunk enough to think they could stop a gunman turned and ran as Nythanel spit the chunk of meat onto the floor. Suddenly, he felt pressure build in his ear drums, his heart became heavy with dread despite the flood of passion from the blood. He'd felt this before, when Noa had shown off her necromantic powers in their rare moments of being able to be alone together since arriving in Las Vegas. Nythanel had thought he’d become accustomed to it, or at least shouldn’t be caught off guard by it. Still it numbed the hot anger and hatred he felt. A curtain of wispy, incorporeal figures began to fall from the ceiling. They manifested into the material world like shadows cast into the air itself as they drank in the light, only allowing a dim glow to illuminate the room. Recognizably human, yet completely otherworldly. One such shadow fell over the victim of the beige thug’s gunshot. The body began to twitch and jerk, a sickening gurgle came out of its throat as the air pushed out of its lungs. Nythanel reeled back from the corpse shambling back to its feet, and turned to see Red Mask holding a black stone.

Noa moved to stand, and for a moment she was awestruck at the blatant display of Oblivion's power. Her already dark eyes turned black like a starless night. She wiped her palm across Nythanel’s chin, wetting her hand with the blood of his victim. Willing forth her vitae through the protruding wound in her arm, she let it drip down and mix with the cooling blood before taking hold of the locket around her neck. The air around her became humid and cold. A shiver went through Nythanel as he felt an icy touch trace his spine. The rose on his lapel wilted, and the few mortals that tried running past them collapsed, their eyes went dull, skin turned pale. Sapped of life. She waved her hand out in front of her and took measured steps forward, like a priest performing a sanctifying prayer, and the wispy shadows began to retreat.

The sound of wet choking reminded Nyth of the reanimated corpse, and as his head turned back, he saw it rush past him. His body at first couldn't move as a deep and primal terror seized him. It was walking death, but not his kind of death. True death, the kind even the undead feared. He didn't want to go near that thing, but as it closed the distance between itself and Noa, he knew he had to act or he would lose her. Grabbing hold of his dying lapel rose, he squeezed hard along its thorny stem to draw blood, calling upon the sanguine power within him. He mumbled the incantation and the rose revived in his hand, more vibrant than ever.

Nythanel willed the rejuvenated plant to grow, attempting to whip it towards the corpse to stop it in its tracks. With perhaps more luck than skill, the branch wrapped around the creature's throat, barbs digging into dead flesh. Nyth pulled hard, managing to stop it mere inches from Noa, yet the body remained upright as it struggled to fulfill its goal of reaching her.

Noa didn’t waver at all, either completely confident Nythanel would help her, or far too focused on taking control of the descending wraiths.The room was a thunderous cacophony of horrified cries and screams of dismay, the shattering of glass on the ground, the panicked stampeding of a mob with no direction to go in. Those who had witnessed Nythanel's attack and the arisen corpse tried to run away, but those who hadn't seen pushed back to try and reach the front exit. Spirits accosted various bystanders, forcing themselves into unwilling bodies to inflict more fear onto those surrounding them. Poltergeists scattered plates and knocked over chairs, some managing to even drop a large chandelier on top of the crowd. In the confusion, they didn't care who was trampled. The guests desperately lashed out at anything impeding their own escapes. Jewelry, costume accessories, blood, and bodies all dropped to the floor and were stomped on without a second thought. The wraiths were erratic, but Noa fought, countering the incantations of Red Mask as the shadows ebbed and flowed around them like a turbulent ocean. To an unknowing observer, the two appeared to be simply standing in place and muttering strangely, but Nythanel knew they both were manipulating the thin fabric separating the land of death from the land of the living.

The rose Nythanel turned into a weapon was also being sapped of its life and desperately it drank from him to stay alive. He shifted his weight and pulled as hard as he could to try and bring the corpse to the ground. There was little hope in killing something that was already dead. He forced his will onto the rose once more, allowing it to drink even more of his vitae. It expanded rapidly in response, sprouting more branches that ensnared the body and sawed into its skin with mutated spikes. Despite it being controlled by a spirit, it was still limited to the strength of the muscles it still possessed, or so Noa had previously explained. The writhing and wriggling vines continued to tear, severing the veins and nerves and rendering the wretched thing immobile for good.

His vision started to blur, his head swimming as his vitae was near exhausted. The rose had taken root in his arm and now it threatened to drink him dry. With nearly all he had left, he willed the passing of seasons on the flower, advancing its life cycle to the point it began to wither and decay until it too became immobile and dead.

The two necromancers were still locked in their strange duel, fighting for control of the spirit current that flooded the manor. Nythanel knew he had to help Noa, something better than running headfirst into a death dealer but his options were limited. His eyes went to the floor for answers, and sure enough there was: shotgun. Hurriedly he picked it up and aimed, hoping it had the promised second shot, though the room spun in his hungry near-delirium. With a squeeze of the trigger the weapon thundered, sending its payload into the shoulder of the Red Mask. Crimson exploded from their wound as they stumbled back, their concentration breaking enough for Noa to gain the upper hand. Her good arm raised higher, and the undulating ceiling seemed to calm as the wraiths obeyed her. The shadow over the ballroom lifted slowly as she brought them to heel.

The Red Mask despite all of the trouble and their fresh injury seemed to have accepted their defeat. With only a glance to Noa and a dramatic throw of their cape, a cold silence surrounded them as they simply walked away. Despite the chaos of the still frightened crowd, they were swallowed within the mob as if they had not even been there. Nythanel at first made a move to follow, but stopped himself as Noa began to buckle. Good riddance, he thought sheepishly as he turned to her, relieved the death dealer decided to just leave. She was more important to him, anyway.

As the full brightness of the lights returned and the pressure lifted from his ears, the distinct sound of Italian leather stomped across the floor towards them from behind. A ham-handed man took hold of his collar and jerked him into the air, the shotgun crashing loudly onto the marble.

"You're gonna wish you were fuckin' dead when I'm through with you, Warlock." Growled Adolfo Puttanesca, right hand of the Don.

[renlyslittlerose]

Kinktober Day 12 - Stripping

Today's kinktober prompt: Stripper Obi-Wan.

I made it cute. I also went way over my word limit. Sorry @veloursdor Wiggle Your Hips - 2,134 Rated: E Content: Frotting; Hand Jobs; Mentions of Bottom Anakin and Top Obi-Wan; Grumpy Obi-Wan 😡

---

“You need to wiggle your hips more.”

“I do not wiggle my hips.”

“You do now.”

Obi-Wan stopped his poor attempt at a seductive dance and glared at Anakin. He crossed his arms over his chest as if to hide his supposed modesty, a blush spread wide across his cheeks and chest, giving him a delightful appearance that Anakin reveled in. Anakin knew telling Obi-Wan he looked cute would earn him a swift kick across the jaw and a bruised ego that would be felt for months, but it would almost be worth it. Almost.

A few days ago the Council informed Obi-Wan that he would be sent to a mid-rim planet on an important diplomatic mission. At first it seemed that it would be like any other, but Anakin counted himself lucky to be present when the other shoe dropped. According to tradition, visiting dignitaries and diplomats would have to partake in a ritual dance - a ritual dance that looked, to Anakin’s untrained eye, an awful lot like a strip tease. Obi-Wan hadn’t shown any indication he was uncomfortable with the instruction at the time, but Anakin could feel his complete aberration at the prospect through their bond - like a man recoiling from touching something unnecessarily mushy.

Anakin thought Obi-Wan did sexy well; he could be standing casually and Anakin could think of nothing but his deep desire to rut his cock against Obi-Wan’s stomach and whisper lewd things against his ear. But effortlessly sexy and purposefully sexy were two different things that Anakin - and Obi-Wan - were beginning to realize.

“You were doing okay when you were pretending this was just another lightsaber training exercise,” Anakin supplied.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “You said I had the expression of, what was it? A constipated Bantha?”

“A chronically constipated Bantha…”

A moment passed with Obi-Wan glaring at Anakin from across the room, before he sighed and dropped his arms. “I feel like a complete fool,” he said, all the anger slipping away. “I’ve never been very good at dancing off of the battlefield.”

“You get too caught up in your head,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I suppose I do.”

It was strange to see Obi-Wan so out of sorts. Normally he was all confidence even in the face of uncertainty, but his dejected personality change made Anakin feel equally uncomfortable.

“Keep going,” Anakin said. “Finish the dance and then we can work on whatever it is you’re unsure of.”

A smile spread across Obi-Wan’s lips, soft and quiet. He looked up at Anakin through the fringe of his hair, blue-grey eyes bright. “You sound almost like a teacher, Anakin.”

“Maybe you’re finally rubbing off on me.”

Obi-Wan completed the rest of the dance just as stilted and awkward as the first three times, movements uncertain and embarrassment palpable even to those who had no insight into the man. The dance ended with the diplomats in ceremonial undergarments where they would conduct their business in the same style of dress, no one able to hide behind riches and fabrics. Obi-Wan didn’t wear undergarments normally, and so he stood in front of Anakin completely nude, cock soft between his legs as he finished the dance.

“Anakin.”

Anakin brought his gaze back up and smiled at Obi-Wan. “I know, I know - eyes up here.”

“What did you think?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Maybe forget the whole ‘pretend you're fighting’ thing I said before, and think of something else when you’re dancing.”

Obi-Wan’s blush went deeper and he shuffled toward the bed, collapsing on it next to Anakin. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Who said you had to be the best?”

“I did.”

Anakin stared at out at the skyline of Coruscant, fiddling with the hem of his cotton shirt. He’d already shed most of his clothes the second Obi-Wan invited him over, but then Obi-Wan had told him they wouldn’t be having sex and Anakin was left semi-nude and regretting the haste at which he departed the training room.

Although sex may have been the key all along…

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said quickly. Obi-Wan glanced up at Anakin, his brow quirked. “How about instead of thinking of the dance as a fight, think of it as having sex.”

Anakin thought Obi-Wan was going to outright reject the notion - maybe even laugh and tell Anakin to keep his head out of the gutter. But instead his expression relaxed, and he sat slowly.

“You might be on to something, actually. It was originally a dance created by a Queen from a nearby nation who was there to seduce the King in hopes of ending a decade’s long conflict.” He tapped his bottom lip with his finger, focus on the same skyline Anakin had been staring out before.

Without a moments pause Obi-Wan stood and collected his clothes. Re-dressing he started the dance again. This time there was more movement to his hips and shoulders, body swaying from side to side as he undressed according to the guide he’d found in the temple library. He started with the sash around his waist and then moved on to the robes, before slipping the tunic off. Once his upper half was bare he started on his leggings, thumbs slipping beneath the banding and running along, teasing the audience with the finale.

All the while Anakin watched, enraptured by the flex of Obi-Wan’s muscles beneath his skin, the shimmer of sweat along his brow, and the soft part of his lips as he breathed steadily, chest rising and falling in meditative serenity. Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, and there was still the familiar focus on his face, but it didn’t show in his movements anymore, everything more supple and relaxed.

When he was finished he stood in front of Anakin entirely nude, cock half-hard and pulsing between his thighs. Anakin licked his lips and swallowed a thick wad of spit, his own cock hard between his legs as he lounged on the bed.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?”

“My eyes are up here.”

Obi-Wan looked up from Anakin’s groin. He didn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed.

“How was that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“G-good,” Anakin said, nodding. And then, because he knew it was lacking. “Really… seductive. I can see why the King would want to call off a war.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, the sound of it going right into Anakin’s cock. “Sadly, it didn’t actually work. The war continued for another six months before the Queen had the King assassinated. But it makes for a good story, and an embarrassing diplomatic tradition.”

“What did you think of?” Anakin asked, voice thick with arousal. “I mean, when you were dancing.”

Shrugging, Obi-Wan collected his cloths, his cock still bouncing between his legs, thick and heavy and leaking precome. “I thought of you, of course.”

“Just me?”

“And me.”

Tossing the clothes on to a chair in the corner, Obi-Wan approached Anakin and sat down on his lap. Anakin hissed as Obi-Wan’s underside slid across his length, weight steady and demanding on top.

“What were we doing?” Anakin asked, a whimper slipping past as Obi-Wan began grinding down on him, his hands braced against Anakin’s shoulders. Anakin slid his hand along Obi-Wan’s thighs, feeling the muscles flex before he gripped Obi-Wan’s hips and thrust upward.

“We were fucking,” Obi-Wan said, the word ‘fucking’ sounding severe and filthy coming from his lips. “Do you recall that incident a few months ago with the spacecraft we were stranded in just above the atmosphere of some unknown planet?”

“T-the incident where you fucked me against the console I was trying to fix?” Anakin asked.

He bit his bottom lip and sighed when Obi-Wan grabbed their cocks and pushed them together, precome slick against their lengths and Obi-Wan’s palm as he started jerking them together.

“You make it sound as if you hadn’t spent the last week begging for my cock,” Obi-Wan said. He sounded perfectly composed, but the sweat beading across his brow and the tremor in his touch belied his arousal. He started thrusting up against Anakin’s cock, hand making a perfect circle that they could both fuck into. “You were so insolent - trying to rut up against me in the evening and sometimes during the day. So impatient.”

“I-I wanted you,” Anakin said, a tad defensive. “You kept denying me, even when we had the time.”

“Maybe I liked to see you desperate for my cock,” Obi-Wan murmured. He pushed Anakin on to the bed, relaxing his weight into Anakin as he pressed him into the mattress. He hovered just out of reach, however, lips close but still too far away to kiss and bite. “Maybe I like when you’re rutting up into your hand in your sleep, you’re so desperate to get off. Maybe I like when I can smell your sex in the morning, thick and dense. Maybe I like when you’re hole is loose and sloppy from the fucking you’ve been giving yourself with your fingers, as you wait for my cock.”

Anakin groaned and arched up into Obi-Wan, their cocks sliding together. Obi-Wan was keeping a slow pace, hips rolling down on Anakin, pinning him in place while giving him just enough friction to be good, but not decadent - not satisfying.

“F-fuck, Obi-Wan,” Anakin whimpered. “Didn’t know you got off on my touching myself.” And then, because he knew he’d get a reaction. “You’re kind of a pervert.”

Obi-Wan’s laugh of surprise broke the spell, and Anakin swallowed it up as their lips crashed together and Obi-Wan began thrusting into him. Anakin sighed into the embrace, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure roiled around in him, pooling in his groin as he felt the familiar pulling sensation in his cock. Obi-Wan was hugging him close, broad hands pressed against his back and shoulders, keeping him close as they humped against each other, chasing their release.

“Y-you’re a terror,” Obi-Wan mumbled when they broke apart, his voice thick with desire. He kissed down Anakin’s neck, teeth nipping the sensitive skin. “And a tease.”

“I-I’m not the one performing a strip-tease,” Anakin retorted.

Sliding his hands down Obi-Wan’s back, Anakin grabbed the meat of his ass and squeezed, shoving Obi-Wan up further against him. Obi-Wan let out a growl that traveled right into Anakin’s cock, and he came with a loud moan, back arching and hips twitching as he tumbled down into his release. Obi-Wan kept up the punishing pace, hips grinding into Anakin’s, lips hot against his temple, words stuttering as he praised Anakin for being a ‘devilish boy’ and a ‘tempting boy.’

When Obi-Wan was done he collapsed on top of Anakin, keeping him pinned to the mattress. Anakin’s shirt clung to him, sticky with sweat and humid air, but he didn’t care. Instead he closed his eyes and kept Obi-Wan close, wrapping his legs around Obi-Wan’s hips to prevent him from escaping from his needy embrace.

They settled into a doze, Obi-Wan’s breathing evening out as they lay on the bed. Off in the distance Anakin could heard movement down the hallway as the dinner hour approached and fellow Jedi made their way to the communal meal hall. But they remained where they were, contented for the time being.

That was, until Obi-Wan’s force signature began to tremor again.

“Stop thinking,” Anakin mumbled, but it was too late.

Raising his head, Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin, the worried expression once again splashed across his handsome features. “Anakin?”

Anakin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead replied. “Obi-Wan?”

“When I was dancing… how obvious was my erection?”

“Uh… I mean, pretty obvious.”

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed and he let out a clucking sound in the back of his throat. “Well I can’t think of you when we’re dancing then,” he began. “No, getting an erection in the middle of a diplomatic meeting would be very bad.”

Before Anakin could tighten his grip Obi-Wan was standing and returning to the centre of the room. Resting on his elbows, Anakin watched as Obi-Wan started going over the movements again, expression once again reminding Anakin of a chronically constipated Bantha. Sighing, Anakin sat up fully and watched Obi-Wan stumble through his routine.

Maybe no one would notice Obi-Wan in amongst the rest of the diplomats as he tripped over his feet and glared at the floor. Anakin hoped that would be the case, for Obi-Wan’s sake.

[scorchieart]

Hi! I hope it's not too late but may I request Chevalier/ 7/ Comfort/ 2nd POV pelase?

Characters: Chevalier Michel, F!Reader

POV: 2nd person Genre: Comfort

Prompt #7: “Don't worry about winning. Worry about coming home.”

Wordcount: 1295

A/N: Ripping off the bandage quick with this one. I had two VERY different ideas for this prompt, but today we're going with a young Chevalier and a young reader set in the story event when Chevalier was supposed to attend a tea party with his brothers and the children of the nobility... but it didn't go so well. Thank you for the request!

You tucked the ends of your tulle skirt into the cuffs of your socks after they slipped out for the sixth time. The dress you wore was pretty, polished, and poofy, none of which was particularly pragmatic for your spontaneous stealth mission. As you spread your puffy-sock-covered legs across the luxurious rug in what you assumed was a study, you wondered how long it would take before someone noticed you were missing, when the sound of the door opening stiffened your limbs.

The velvet armchair you’d chosen as your hiding place was excellent for concealing your uncooperative skirt, but impractical for reconnaissance. Keeping as still as possible, you counted the seconds in your mind until the door shut again, and nearly stood to check that the coast was clear until the sound of footsteps froze you in your spot again.

The game’s up, you thought, patting your dress free from the dust and lint that accumulated over the morning. You would have to answer for slipping away, yes, but the least you could do was look presentable in your confession.

You craned your neck toward the door to catch a glimpse of your discoverer, fully expecting whoever it was to be visible even from your limited view, but found no one. 

How strange. Those footsteps were definitely coming from inside the room, and there’s no way anyone could conceal themself so quickly upon entering. Why, you had squeezed yourself into all the nooks and crannies before deciding upon the chair as your best option. The poofy skirt severely limited your options, so what of an adult twice your size? No, the only logical explanation was that this someone had been in this room before.

You repositioned yourself so that you were crouching, the skirt slipping out from your socks again, and popped your head over the armrest. Sure enough, there was nobody standing in the doorway, or by the window, or in front of the bookshelf, or at the desk, or next to the fireplace. But there was someone sitting in the armchair. A young boy with striking light hair and furrowed brows, looking straight down at you with his shining blue eyes.

You wanted to scream, but the moment you opened your mouth a hand roughly covered it and pushed you back down to sit. Then there was a thud as the boy landed beside you and crouched behind the chair.

“Mmguhmma!” you said from behind his hand, which you hoped would be interpreted as “Who are you?” or “Let me go!” or even “Go find your own hiding place, you boorish cur!” but the boy only scowled and brought the pointer finger of his free hand to his lips. 

Something about the way he faced you ticked you off the wrong way. Maybe it was the way he so seamlessly entered the room and cornered you, or how he effortlessly took control even though you’d been here first, or his stare that seemed to freeze and pierce deeper through your skull with every passing second. Regardless of what it was you wanted out, and you raised your arms to push him away when voices from the hall stopped you.

“I think he went through here,” said one voice.

“Don’t pull a muscle, I’ll bet he’s gone to the library,” sighed a second. “Oh, why did we get stuck with finding him? I wanted to spend my afternoon eating teacakes, not chasing down beasts!”

“Remember, you’re on duty,” warned the first voice. “You’re not supposed to be eating.”

“I’m not supposed to be hunting down Prince Chevalier either. I think I deserve a reward,” huffed the second.

Your arms dropped limply to your sides as you stared back at the boy. Was this the Prince Chevalier? The peerless prodigy who memorized libraries, commanded armies, and dominated Rhodolite’s elite?

“He’s only a child,” said the first voice, sounding less assured with each word.

“He’s no normal child,” said the second. “You’re still new here, but when it comes to Prince Chevalier, you never want to get involved. You saw what happened in the garden, even his own flesh and blood can’t bear to be around him.”

“They’re only children, too! None of them even looked remotely interested in the tea party. Why did all those counts and dukes have to drag their children into their messed up politics?”

“It’s all a game to them, the world of the nobles. They’ll use their own kin as pawns to get even the tiniest bit ahead, because that’s how you play and that’s how you win. But when it comes to those noble beasts you don’t worry about winning. You worry about coming home.”

The room grew cold the longer Chevalier’s stared on you, and your jaw began to tremble. You wished you could at least turn away, but his grip never loosened as the conversation wore on, and his eyes never wavered from yours.

“It’s not right,” the first voice said after a long pause. “It’s just not right.”

“It doesn’t matter what we think’s right or wrong. We just do our job and pray we don’t cross the wrong path. The sooner you learn, the better,” said the second voice.

“Well, we still have to find him,” said the first.

“Don’t pull a muscle, the party’ll last all afternoon.”

It wasn’t until the footsteps completely died away that Chevalier finally released his hold on you, and as soon as he did, you quickly crawled backward, ripping the tulle in your haste, until you collided hard with the bookshelf, your chest galloping up and down like a sprinting horse. 

“If you’re going to cry, get it over with and go back outside,” Chevalier said sharply as he stood. The immense relief you felt when his eyes finally left yours was immeasurable, but as easily as the dread trickled away, sorrow was quick to take its place.

“What happened at the party?” you asked.

“If you weren’t hiding, you would know,” he said.

“I’m not h-hiding!” you stammered, getting to your feet. “I only got lost!”

“So lost that your first words when someone found you were ‘Go find your own hiding place, you boorish cur’?”

Your face grew hot. So hot that even Chevalier’s returned wintry stare couldn’t cool your flaming cheeks. “You startled me,” you said.

“You mean terrified. They all do,” he said.

“No— you don’t terrify me, Prince Chevalier!” you said quickly. 

“They always lie, too.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then I will direct you back to the party and we can go our separate ways.”

Your lips trembled as he stood by the door and folded his arms. You wanted to crawl back behind the armchair and sink into the dark velvet, but you felt certain his eyes would pierce through the fabric undeterred no matter what. You stared at the ground, grabbing fistfulls of your skirt.

“I can’t go out there. My dress is ruined,” you said, not believing your own flimsy excuse. 

“Only torn. It can be easily mended,” he said. “A simple overhand or running stitch will suffice. There is a sewing kit in that desk.”

“But I don’t know how to sew,” you said.

“There are books in the library with pictures,” he said impatiently.

“Will you show me?”

“Haven’t I helped you enough?”

“Yes, so let me help you back.”

Chevalier’s brows furrowed, though unlike when he first found you, this time was out of confusion.

“Those people said they’ll be looking for you in the library, right? Tell me which shelf the books are, and I’ll bring them back here and we can fix my dress,” you said.

“And exactly how does that help me?” he asked.

“Because you don’t want to be alone as much as I don’t want to go out there," you said. "You came into this room knowing someone was here, right?”

When I attend social gatherings I didn't want to go to, I pass the time looking at the other guests and wondering who else didn't want to be there.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[krigarekorp]

you should write sabriel cuddling and gabriel braiding sam's hair <3

Let Me Care About You

Rating: Teen (mild gore, cussing) Word count: 2188 Content warnings: Canon-typical references to violence and injury Summary: Sam was badly injured on a hunt, and Gabriel is worried about him, though he doesn't want to show it for fear of being too vulnerable and pushing Sam away. Sam doesn't mind the attention. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44140506

Gabriel stared at the rickety old bed Sam was laid out on in the infirmary, eyebrows furrowed, an uncomfortable feeling in his chest that he couldn’t quite figure out. 

It felt… Restricting, his feet wanted to move, but he didn’t; he would rather not get any closer than he had to, because Sam was just… No, no, no, absolutely not; Sam Winchester was, well, Sam Winchester, which meant he was off-limits. 

But why, he asked himself, just because he was supposed to be Lucifer’s vessel? Well, Lucifer was dead now, so it wasn’t like he had any use for a corporeal body, and the thought of Sam being in that role made Gabriel’s skin crawl. He loved his brother dearly, but he would wish him upon absolutely no one except maybe Asmodeus; he would be getting popcorn for watching an interaction between those two. (As long as he was as far away from them as possible, of course.)

His hands gripped the railing near the stairs hard enough for his vessel’s knuckles to pale and whiten entirely; the metal creaked under the force of his celestial strength and discomfort. 

Gabriel just wanted to sit with him.

Would that be so bad?

Of course, it would be because if he allowed himself to latch himself to Sam, to stand next to him all the time like he wanted, to hold him, to… Well, he would be royally fucked. Sam wouldn’t want him, Sam would call him weird, he would avoid Gabriel like the plague, and then their relationship would be ruined like every other good thing the archangel ever had in his life. 

It just wasn’t worth it, he decided, and let go of the railing to retreat out of the infirmary quietly.

“Gabriel?”

Don’t turn back. Don’t even look at him. Pretend you didn’t hear him. 

“Hey, wait.”

Fuck.

Gabriel slowly turned on his heel, putting on his best show business face. “Good morning, Samshine! Feeling any better?”

Sam blinked, seeming to be very slowly registering that question. “I don’t know. I got knocked out pretty fast before the rest of it. My leg burns like hell, but I guess it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever felt.”

“I hate to break it to you, but Dean administered a pretty heavy dose of morphine. I don’t think you want to see your leg right now.”

“Oh. I guess that’s why my head is fuzzy. Is it really that bad?”

“Yes, Sam, it’s that bad; that hellhound basically put you in a blender. You’re lucky it doesn’t have to be amputated, you know.”

“...Wait,” Sam muttered, and Gabriel could feel his wings bristle. He really hoped Sam didn’t remember that- “That hellhound… Gabriel, my leg was gone.” -Dammit. 

“Yes, and now it’s back; stranger things have happened.”

“Did someone reattach it?” Sam asked, sounding almost… Scared. 

“Uh… Yep, that would have been me.” Gabriel replied, unable to look directly at the hunter. “...Didn’t have enough grace to fully fix it, but… Hey, a gory leg is better than no leg at all.”

“Gabriel, you don’t have to talk to me from all the way over there, you know.” 

“I’m fine where I am.”

“C’mere.”

“...Okay, princess.” Gabriel retorted, but did as he was asked, making his way down the steps, stopping about two feet from the bed. 

Sam looked like shit. He was pale, his eyes were partially unfocused, his hair was a mess, and the bags under his eyes were far deeper and more pronounced than usual. It made Gabriel feel guilty that he couldn’t fully heal the hunter; he felt weak, like he had failed the man who had saved him. 

How could he ever repay Sam for his hospitality after being rescued from hell like this? With no grace, and an inability to properly sort through his own feelings, he deserved far better than Gabriel-

His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet “thank you, Gabriel.” It broke him.

Tears stung the archangel’s eyes, threatening to fall against his will and humiliate him. 

Even in his semi-delirious state, Sam could tell Gabriel was about to cry. “Gabe? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gabriel took in a deep breath, letting it out with a shaking voice. “...I thought you were going to die.”

It hit Sam at that moment that Gabriel had been afraid, and he still was, over a measly human like him. “You…” Slowly, Sam extended his hand out to the angel. “Come sit down.”

“Where?”

“On the bed.”

It wasn’t like he never lied, but he would be a liar if he said he didn’t just want to wrap Sam up in his arms and hold him like he was the most precious thing in the world because, to Gabriel, he was. 

So he sat down, since it would be as close as he was going to get. Still, he was only perched on the end, one leg still on the ground, the other balanced by his heel on the metal frame, up  against his chest. He was 50/50 on whether he should get back up or stay, and it showed. 

“Talk to me, Gabe.” Sam requested, focusing on his friend as much as he could with how exhausted he was. 

“Talk to you? What do you want me to say? I’m not going to say what I just told you a second time; it’s embarrassing, you know.”

“I’m the only person here. You don’t have to hide that sort of thing from me.”

“Of course, I have to hide it from you!” Gabriel snapped, refusing to meet Sam’s tired eyes. “I respect you too much to be throwing my stupid emotions at your feet for you to pick up!”

“You’re not ‘throwing your emotions at my feet,’ Gabriel, I’m asking for them.”

He paused, not having expected that response. “...Then you’re missing a pretty vital organ in your skull.”

“Are you calling me stupid?” Sam asked, laughing softly.

“No! Yes… Maybe. Not stupid like intellectually, but stupid like… Stubborn. You already patched me up after… After Asmodeus, and I haven’t even paid you back yet, I don’t want to give you more crap. I don’t want to keep owing you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“You’re such a liar!”

“I don’t want anything from you, Gabe. I want you to be comfortable, I want you to feel safe here, you have no obligations except, I dunno, not breaking stuff.”

“Already screwed that one up several times,” Gabriel muttered.

“So you’re the one who broke the mug?”

“Maybe… But I’ll replace it. I should go replace it. I’m gonna go replace it now.” He said hurriedly, placing his other leg down to leave. 

Then he felt something around his wrist, a hand, Sam’s hand. It was warm and strong; they were still those same hands that cut the wire from his mouth, that carried him back to his room those nights, that pulled his stubborn ass out of Apocalypse World. They were strong and calloused but still gentle, and it made him freeze in his tracks. 

“It’s just a mug,” Sam assured. “It was cheap and ceramic, and we’ve had it for years. It already had a crack in it. Please, Gabriel, stop trying to run from me; I care about you.”

There was a long period of silence, the archangel fixated on looking anywhere but the hunter, until his other hand came up to gently guide his face back to him. 

Gabriel let him do so, though if it had been anyone else, they would be dead. Tears were streaming down his face; he just couldn’t get them to stop. He hated it.

“That night when I said I needed you, I meant it. I still do; I wasn’t just saying that to get you out of your trance.”

“Maybe you need me, but you don’t want me, Sam. I’m too much.”

Sam’s hands moved from Gabriel’s cheek and wrist to his back, pulling him into a hug. “I know ‘too much’ when I see it, and it’s not you. If it were, I wouldn’t have been taking care of you after you escaped.”

Gabriel let out a sob against the hunter’s chest, slowly allowing himself to return the embrace. “You’re making it so hard not to get attached to you, you know,” He all but whimpered. There was so much pain in his voice. 

“Just take it easy, man; not everything has to be such a fight. Let me care about you.”

For once in his life, Gabriel couldn’t think of what to say, so he just stayed quiet and listened to Sam’s heartbeat. A heartbeat he was so damn grateful he could still hear. 

Neither of them let go of the other, taking comfort in the warmth and the silence around them.

After a while, Sam felt heavier, and his grip loosened, leading Gabriel to deduce he had fallen asleep. 

As careful as possible so as not to wake him, he laid the hunter back down and pulled up the blanket.

Hesitantly, he brushed a few loose strands of hair from Sam’s face, a barely-there smile on his lips. Even when he was injured and exhausted, he was absolutely gorgeous; there was just no denying that. 

Sam then mumbled something incoherent before tugging Gabriel down by the collar of his jacket and wrapping his arm around him.

“What did you say?” Gabriel chuckled.

“I said lay down…” 

That was it. He was smitten, and there was no going back now. 

-

Over the course of the next few days, Gabriel continued to visit Sam, getting more and more accustomed to expressing himself freely around him until, eventually, he was the one asking for cuddles. 

Right now, he was tucked into Sam’s side, watching the hunter quietly with sparkling eyes, pupils dilated.

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

“Why?”

Gabriel blinked, trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t reveal how he was feeling. “...Because…. You… Um… You have something on your face.”

Sam frowned, patting his skin to try and figure out what the archangel was referring to. “I do? Where?”

“...It’s gone now! You got it!” Gabriel said hurriedly, averting his gaze so as not to incriminate himself.

Sam wasn’t buying it. “There wasn’t anything on my face. What were you looking at?”

“...You…” The archangel muttered, not loud enough for even himself to hear correctly, and Sam made a face. 

“I can’t hear you.”

“...You! I was looking at you.” He huffed, still avoiding looking at the hunter but now hiding his face against the flannel of his companion’s shirt.

Sam’s face prickled with rosy heat; Gabriel was looking at him, just because? “For what?”

“What, I can’t look at you now?” Came the angel’s stubborn retort. 

“You’re allowed to look at me. I’m just curious.”

Instead of responding, Gabriel just reached up and started messing with Sam’s hair, refusing to elaborate as to what he was doing no matter how many times he was asked. The hunter eventually just accepted it and closed his eyes, not minding the feeling of the angel’s hands in his hair. It was nice. 

Gabriel worked tirelessly, fingers twisting around strands and looping sections around each other, even starting over a few times. He was hyperfocused, and ended up sitting several different ways, first in Sam’s arms, then behind him, then next to him, then on his lap, then back behind him again. 

The clock ticked away, and the hunter found himself dozing off now and again, though Gabriel moving around and pulling on his hair would wake him. 

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Done!” 

Sam reached up to feel his hair, curious about it. “What did you do to it?”

“Viking braids. Shield Maiden braids, to be specific.”

Sam grabbed his phone from the table next to the bed and opened the camera, immediately smiling when he saw just what Gabriel had done with his hair.

It had been braided in sections, two smaller braids on each side stretching all the way back, with a larger braid on top and some hair left to flow freely underneath. “No one’s ever done my hair before… This is really cool, actually. Where did you learn to do this?”

“Hello, I was a Norse god for centuries? It wasn’t just for fun, and I picked up lots of traditions along the way to blend in better.”

Sam looked up at him, smiling, and Gabriel rested his chin on Sam’s head. “What?”

“What else do you know?”

“About Norse culture? Everything. I know things that aren’t even in any books. I know songs, hairstyles, recipes, building techniques, magic, people, slang; you name it.”

“...Do you miss Norway?”

“Of course I do… It was my home, but I can’t go back now; I killed Loki, and I’m sure all of his other family members and more hardcore worshippers are gonna be after me.”

Sam reached up, brushing Gabriel’s hair out of his face, and the archangel leaned into the touch like a cat. “Maybe you can teach me about it all someday.”

“I can do that.”

-End

[sometimes-you-write]

Trapped Inside My Mind

[Plain text: "Trapped Inside My Mind". End plain text.]

Multi-chapter.

Chapter 1 : The ancient evil trapped in amber.

Chapter summary : You, Finn, and Jake are meditating with Princess Bubblegum in her castle when suddenly she has to check on something very, very important.

Of course things go wrong and now you have a world to save.

It was supposed to be a relaxing day, damnit!

Masterlist

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Fandom : Adventure Time.

CW/TW : none unless you count swearing.

Author's note : I'm so happy I wrote this and I hope you guys enjoy it.

English is not my first language so tell me if I wrote anything wrong.

The reader here is gender neutral and will use they/them pronouns.

Also there is no use of Y/N.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

"Guys, what I am supposed to be meditating about?" Asked a thirteen years old human boy as he whispered.

His name was Finn, he had white skin and blonde hair which was hidden by a white hat that resembled a bear. He was wearing black shoes with white socks, dark blue shorts, a blue shirt with short sleeves, and he was carrying a green backpack.

"Don't know." Surprisingly a yellow dog replied. "I'm thinkng of pillows stuffed with spaghetti."

His name was Jake, he was a magical talking dog who could walk in two legs. He had yellow fur, floppy ears and two cute big eyes.

Finn and Jake were also brothers.

"Pillows stuffed with what?" A third voice asked, wondering if they heard wrong.

That person was you.

You, like Finn, were a human. You were wearing brown boots with black socks, gray jeans, a white shirt with short sleeves, a duffle hooded jacket of your favorite color, and you were carrying a leather satchel.

"With spaghetti." Jake replied again.

You felt a hand on the top of your head before you could say anything else.

"Clear your minds."

"Right! Sorry, Princess." You said while she was doing the same with Finn and Jake.

Her name was Princess Bubblegum, she had pale pink skin and long pink hair, long enough it reached her ankles. She was wearing casual pink yoga pants and shirt, pink shoes, a hot pink cardigan sweater, and a golden crown with a blue gem.

Princess Bubblegum, PB for short, had invited you and the boys to meditated with her in her castle.

Apparently, meditating helped you become stronger in a spiritual way.

While Finn complaining that it was "boring", you and Jake were all for it.

You don't know how Jake feels, but you were a little stressed.

Last week, you, Finn, and Jake, were on a mission to rescue Hot Dog Princess's knights from a maze they got lost in.

The three of you found them easily and were about to get out, but one of the knights said something about a magical creature that granted wishes in the center of the maze.

You weren't interested, but the two boys were, they both seemed to have the same wish.

The ancient psychic tandem war elephant.

In the end you all entered the labyrinth to find those wishes and, to not get lost, Jake has tied his legs to something and start to stretch.

You may wonder, how was that possible? Well, that's because Jake had shapeshifting powers! He could change into anything he wanted… but it seems that even he had limits.

The deeper you went into the maze, the more he stretched and the more he stretched, the smaller he became.

You tried to stop him, but he wasn't listening.

You finally arrived at the center of the maze, where you guys found what seemed to be a mud snake.

You thought one of the knights was going to wish for Jake to be okay... but you forgot they were... slow. One of them wished for a box while the other literally exploded.

Poor Jake was so disoriented that he ended up wishing for a sandwich. That left you and Finn.

You were going to make your wish and save Jake, but it seemed like the snake was enjoying watching him die and said it was Finn's turn, so you couldn't do anything.

You knew how much he wanted to wish for the elephant, you were about to tell him that you can wish the elephant for him, so that he could save his brother, but it seemed that he had other plans.

He wished for the elephant and began to communicate with him telepathically.

And apparently because the elephant was there, he was also granted a wish and ended up wishing for everyone to be healed.

And with that Jake and the knights were okay, then the elephant took all of you home.

You still had a wish, but you didn't use it yet, you just kept it in a jar and hid it in your closet.

The snake had said that there were no do-overs.

You expected today to be a relaxing day.

You took a deep breath and tried to clear your mind, but all that effort went out the window as PB gasped in fear.

"I have to go check on something!"

"Can we go with?" Finn asked.

"Perhaps you are ready to go with." PB answered after a few seconds.

"Are you sure, princess?" You asked. "We can stay here if you want."

"Yes, i'm sure."

"Alright." You said as Finn and Jake bumped their fists.

"Guys, you'll need to put these on." PB said as she took off a pair of earrings from her ears.

After putting each earring, which were apparently also tiaras, on Finn and Jake's heads, she removed a necklace from her neck and put it on yours.

Everything around you turned a transparent blue for a second.

"Neat." You heard Jake say.

Then PB touched the gem on her crown and then a transparent blue bubble surrounded her head.

Oh, so that's what happened a second ago.

"Stay close to me." PB said before clapping her hands.

Then her butler, Peppermint, appeared and blew a very large bubble, big enough for the four of you to get inside and once inside the bubble began to float upwards, up to the tree on the top of the castle.

"At the heart of this tree is an ancient evil, held in a prison of amber…" You gave PB your full attention.

The bubble burst once you reached your destination.

"The Lich."

You gasped at what was before you.

There, trapped in amber, was the Lich.

The first thing you noticed were its horns, they resembled those of a goat, the left one was intact while the right one was broken.

Then you looked at it's face, it had horrific green lights as pupils peering out of its empty eye sockets, and pale undead skin pulled tight against its noseless skull. Its skin is frayed away from its lips revealing a wicked and perpetual grin. Its arms are bare bones with various decayed tissues, showing off its skeletal hands. It was wearing loose robe with multiple layers and a large cape that is severely torn at its end.

You had never seen anything like this, not even in the three years you were in the land of Ooo.

"Jesus christ." You whispered.

And if that wasn't enough, you started hearing things, they sounded like meaningless whispers.

"What's that sound?" Finn asked as you looked around trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

"He is casting spells… trying to get in your head and control your bob, but these gems are protecting our minds from his influence." PB said making you touch the necklace she gave you. "If we lost the gems, we'd be defenceless, he would have full control over us."

"That's freaking nuts." Finn exclaimed.

You stared at the Lich fow for a few seconds before looking back at PB.

"Beyond Iceberg Lake lies the ruins of the Lich's tower, where he was converting the planet's life-force into unholy power to destroy all of Ooo." PB explained. "But before he could, the Legendary Billy attacked him and pummeled him into the resin of this tree."

Billy, you remember meeting that guy, like, a few months ago.

Your train of thought come to a stop when you heard the sound of something breaking.

"Is it just me or do you guys also hear that?" You asked nervously.

"I thought i was the only one." Jake answered.

"I… what the nuts?!" PB screamed with fear.

You, Finn, and Jake, turned around and gasped in shock.

The Lich has escaped! But how?!

"Dude, be a big sword!" Finn told Jake, who did so without hesisation.

Finn then grabbed Jake and used him to hit the Lich… but it didn't work because he ended up escaping.

PB gasped and shout. "Quickly! To the other secret room!"

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

PB had taken the three of you to a room with a closet, a chest, and a window.

"There's only one know weapon that can harm the Lich…" PB said as she opened the closet. "The gauntlet of the hero."

Inside the closet was a large gray gauntlet with one eye, which was closed, on the back of the hand and a blue gem on the back of the wrist.

You've always wondered why Billy didn't have his gauntlet when you met him, it turns out it was here all the time.

PB put the gauntlet on your right hand and said. "You have but one chance. While the Lich isn't at full power, you must smite him with this."

"Cool." You said in amazement after witnessing the glove shrink to your size.

"His only desire is to destroy life." PB whispered while grabbing a crystal ball, the ball showed an underground entrance. "If you fail, he'll kill everyone." Now the ball was showing the Lich with fire in the background.

"No! That will not happen!" Finn declared as you nodded.

"That's right!"

PB smiled, then walked towards the chest and opened it. "Finn, this is for you, The Lich's lair is supposed to be cold. I just don't want you to get sick." She took out a pink sweater and gave it to him. "Take this sweater, I made it myself. I'm not great at knitting, but please wear it… I care about you, Finn."

"I love it." Finn replied after putting it on.

PB then hugged him, you and Jake didn't hesitate to join the hug.

Not a second later, the four of you were startled by the sound of the window opening.

All of you gasped.

"Hey, hey, hey!"

"Mothertrucker! You again?!" It was all you said the moment you realized who it was.

His name was Ice King, he was a crazy and annoying old wizard. He had pale blue skin, a long nose, long white hair and beard. He was wearing a dark blue robe and a golden crown with three red gems.

"So, I've been thinking about this a lot lately and, well… gosh i'm so nervous."

"What the heck do you want?" You asked with annoyance.

He looked at you and asked. "Will you gave me your blessing so i can marry Princess Bubblegum?"

It took you a few seconds to comprehend what you had just heard and when you did it… you were furious.

"Not in a million years! Get out of here you old pig!" You yelled before running towards the window.

"What?! Why are you calling me that?!" He asked angrily.

You didn't even answer him, you just closed the window.

"No! Not the latch!"

"Quickly now, guys." PB said. "Track the Lich by his trail of death."

"Here i go!" Finn exclaimed before he started running.

"Oh no, you don't!" You interrupted and grabbed him by the back of his sweater. "You are going to stay here."

"What?! Why can't i go?!"

"I need you to protect the princess, Finn." You said. "You know how batshoot crazy the Ice King is, you need to stay here and make sure he doesn't kidnap her."

You weren't exaggerating, the Ice King was crazy, he was obsessed with marrying a princess to the point that he even kidnapped them.

And you may wonder, how can Finn, a thirteen years old boy, protect PB from Ice King, a wizard?

Well, that's because kicking the Ice King's ass is easier than one might think.

Yes, even to the point a thirteen years old could kick his ass.

"I guess you are right." Finn said quietly.

"Come one, Jake!" You shouted before running out of the room.

"Here i go!"

"Be safe." You heard PB say.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

The two of you were running through the candy forest following the Lich's trail of death, which was not a difficult thing to do.

"Be honest with me, did you want Finn to protect PB or was that just a excuse so he won't come?" Jake asked.

"Actually is a little bit of both, if Finn is with the princess, he will protect her from the Ice King and he won't get close to the Lich." You answered. "is a win-win scenario!"

You knew Finn very well, you knew he could defend himself.

But if the Lich is as bad as PB says he is, you didn't want to risk the young boy getting hurt or worse.

"Running this fast makes my stomach hurt." Jake commented after you crossed a bridge.

"Come on, Jake!" You looked back at him, still running. "we are getting close to the-"

You couldn't finish what you were saying because you bumped into something.

When you looked up, you realized it wasn't something but someone.

"What the fuck, Ice King?!" You shouted before pushing him out of the way.

"Hey! Wait! I'm serious about Bubblegum."

Neither you nor Jake paid attention to him and kept running.

Suddenly, the Ice King began to float and got in front of you while saying. "Look, i wrote her name all over my arms and legs!"

"Aaaahh!" You and Jake started screaming in horror and disgust.

The Ice King showed the two of you his arms and legs which had written "Princess Bubblegum" all over them.

Forget the Lich, this was the most horrifying thing in the world!

You and Jake started running again, still screaming.

Ice King started following you. "It's not fair! She always hangs out with the three of you!" He looked at you and said. "And it's not like you want to marry her!"

"Of course i don't want to fucking marry her, you pig! She is almost three decades younger than me!" You yelled.

"Why do you keep following us?!" Asked Jake who was already getting tired of this, you shared that feeling.

"I told you already! I want your blessing so i can marry Princess Bubblegum!"

You and Jake just ignored him and kept running, hoping he would get tired of this and leave.

Of course that doesn't happen and now you're stuck inside an ice dome.

"Come on, give me permission to marry her. I'll… i'll-"

You interrupted him. "I have already told you! Not in a million years!"

"Oh, come on! If you bless our wedding, then maybe she'll really love me."

"I told you no, you idiot! Now get out of the way before I punch you!" You warned him.

"I will! When you bless our wedding!"

Without hesitation, you punched him in the face with the gauntlet.

Hey, you did warn him.

"Aaaahh! My nose!" He screamed in pain.

"Jake, get us out of here."

"I'm on it." Jake said as he shapeshifted his fist into a bigger fist and punching the ice walls.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Soon you and Jake found yourselves on a beach and ran towards the shore.

"Hey! This is the place Finn and I found you frozen!" Jake commented.

Once you were on the shore, Jake pointed to the lake and said. "There! Out over the lake!"

You could see the Lich rise from the water and start floating away from you.

"Jake, turn into a boat!" You told him.

"I'm your dinghy dog!"

You and Jake started following him but then you noticed that you were doing it very slowly.

"Jake, wait! I will see if can use this thing!" You shouted as you put the gauntlet in the water. "Now, how do I use this?" You asked yourself before tapping it with your left hand.

Suddenly, the eye on the gauntlet opened, revealing a green eye and a black triangular pupil, and shot a beam from the palm.

"Aaaahh!" You and Jake started screaming, not expecting that.

At least that helped! You and Jake were going faster now.

"We are getting closer!" Jake shouted.

"On the count of three!" You shouted before pulling the gauntlet out of the water and pointing it at the Lich.

"One… two… three!"

But before you could blast the Lich, the Ice King got in the way! And he had…

"Finn?! Princess?!" You shouted with horror in your eyes before poiting the gauntlet away from them and into the water. "No!"

You and Jake ended up being shooted to the sky.

"Oh, no." Ice King commented before he, PB, and Finn, ended up getting soaked. "Oh gross. This water stinks"

Once you and Jake were on the shore, you yelled so loudly that your throat hurt. "Ice King!!"

"Look! Look what you made me do to them!" He yelled as he showed you PB and Finn, who had their wrists frozen.

"I didn't made you do anything, you stupid son of a-!"

PB interrupted you. "Guys! Don't let the Lich reach his well of power!"

Before you or Jake could say anything, you heard an explosion going off.

"What is that?! "Finn asked alarmed.

"Oh no! He made it!" PB shouted.

"Princess, don't worry! We still got time!" You hoped you were right.

You and Jake started running and ended up finding an underground entrance.

"Hey, where are you guys going? What's going on?" Ice King asked.

You just ignored him and got inside.

Soon you and Jake found yourselves in a…

"A underground subway?" You asked in surprise while looking around and taking note of the skeletons on the ground.

"You were here before?" Jake asked.

"No, but i know what it is. We had these things back in my time… damn, I sound old saying that."

You suddenly heard something akin to someone shushing before the witnessing all of the skeleton getting up.

"Oh, fuck!" You cursed before activating the gauntlet and blasting all of them. "We don't have time for this."

"Then let's go." Jake said before he started running.

Before you could follow him, you felt something grabbing your satchel. You looked down and saw it was a skeleton.

"Oh hell no!" You yelled before stomping on its head, breaking its skull without problem.

You were next to Jake when you two felt the floor shake, you looked down and saw that it wasn't the floor, you were on top of a giant skeleton!

You, without thinking, activated the gauntlet and blasted it, unfortunately you accidentally also made a hole in the floor and the two of you fell down there.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

You and Jake didn't stop screaming or falling but then you saw a pipe.

You grabbed Jake with your left arm and grabbed the pipe with the gauntlet before you two turned into pancakes.

Not far from you was another hole in the floor, you got closer to it and saw…

"The Lich." you whispered.

The Lich was in front of what appeared to be a well filled with… green stuff, for the lack of better word, and then dipped his hands there.

"He's getting his powers back. weird." Jake commented before climbing onto your back.

"Well, not for long." you whispered before blasting him.

Unfortunately, he dodged it.

You keep blasting him, but he keeps dodging.

You jumped down and started falling towards the Lich to blast him in the face.

But he grabbed you by the wrist, the one with the gauntlet.

"Oh, no." You said nervously.

The Lich got his face close to yours and brought his skeletal index finger to his non-existential lips.

He shushed and the gauntlet exploded.

You and Jake were in pure shock.

The Lich then grabbed Jake and threw him across the room.

"Jake!"

You tried to get the Lich to let go, but he grabbed you by the chin and made you look at him.

Your frightened eyes staring back at his empty eye sockets.

After the Lich finished examining you, that's what you think he was doing, he threw you to the other side of the room.

You ended up hitting the back of your head against the wall.

You lost consciousness for a couple of seconds but managed to stay awake.

"Ice King, let us go right now!"

You prayed to God for that not to be Finn, you prayed to God for that not to be Finn.

You looked up and saw Ice King with, yep, PB and Finn.

"You get to be kidding me!" You shouted angrily.

"Jake!" Finn screamed watching his brother dodge a green fireball thrown by the Lich.

Finn then hit the Ice King with his frozen wrists.

"Aaaahh! Why do people keep hitting my nose?!" Ice King screamed in pain and dropped Finn.

Once on the floor, Finn broke the ice on his wrists and ran to his brother.

"Jake, are you okay?!" Finn asked.

"That's it! I'm gonna bark him!" Jake exclaimed before grabbing his brother and using his shapeshifting powers to stretch towards the Lich.

This turned out to be a bad idea because the Lich ended up hitting him in the face with a fireball.

"No!" You and PB shouted.

Jake started falling with Finn under him.

You felt your heart stop at the sound of a gem breaking.

"Finn." You whispered watching the young boy get up… his eyes turning black with green pupils.

Finn clutched his head in pain and screamed. "Stop!"

He stopped after a few seconds and started walking towards… the well.

"No!" You shouted before standing up and running towards him.

You grabbed him by the back of his sweater and dragged him away from the well. Once you were away he tried to fight you, so you did the first thing that came to your mind.

You took out your necklace and put it on him.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Everything around you… turned black… and so very cold.

You looked around… but could see nothing but absolute darkness.

You felt so cold that you quickly pulled up the zipper of your jacket.

Then you heard an unknown voice calling your name.

You looked around and discovered it was the Lich.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked.

Yes… yes, you were cold.

"Walk into the well."

You tried not to do that, you really did, but you couldn't stop.

You started walking towards the well but then you felt something akin to arms grabbing you around the middle trying to stop you, but you were stronger so you kept walking although with a little difficulty.

Then you felt like you couldn't move anymore, you tried to move your legs but you couldn't.

You looked down but saw nothing.

What's happening?

You looked up and saw the Lich throw fire at you.

You tried to move but couldn't.

But the fire didn't do anything to you, it didn't even touch you.

You took note that the Lich seemed surprised.

Why?

Then the Lich started screaming.

He also started moving weird, from your point of view it seemed as if he was hitting himself against something.

Now he started laughing and laughing, to the point that it was causing you a headache.

Then he disappeared.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

You gasped once everything was clear again and you could see again.

"Finn! Buddy!"

You saw Jake on the other side of the well with Finn on the ground over what seemed to be dust.

"Jake?" Finn asked before exclaiming. "Jake!"

"Finn!" You shouted. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes! I'm alright!" Finn replied with a smile and asked. "Are you alright?!"

"Yes!" You tried to go towards them, but you couldn't move your legs. "What the-"

You looked down and noticed that you were trapped in ice, from your feet to your knees.

"Why are my legs frozen?"

"Finn saved you!" Jake said.

"Finn! You did it!" PB exclaimed with a smile.

"We did?" Ice King asked. "Hey! Yeah, we did!"

That made you raise an eyebrow.

Did he actually do something or is he just talking nonsense?

"You guys! This experience has brought us all so much closer together." Ice King looked at PB and said. "Princess, I'm sorry for all of this. I love you, and I've decided to set you free!"

That made you sigh with relief.

Ice King melted the ice on PB's wrists and let her go. "Go free!"

"Noooooo!!!" You, Finn, and Jake, shouted in horror.

And why is that?

Because he dropped her into the fucking well!

"Whoops! I've got the dropsies!

None of you said anything, you didn't even insulted him.

You all just stared at the well.

]|[«»]|[««»»]|[«»]|[

Next chapter ]|[ Masterlist

[delicatebluebirdruins]

read the tags on a post by @weird-life-of-a-closet-fangirl hope you don't me tagging you, you just had some interesting points in your tags (also tumblr why can't i use question marks in some asks? this got so annoying today)

Mia didn't really decide as such when Eveline was another monster but the only reason Mia fought against Eveline (to the point Lucas and Marge both thought that at some point Evie was going to get tired of waiting for her) was because she knew Ethan was safe (she during a storm tried to send him a video telling him that he was right about her lying to him, to stay away from her and forget about her and have a good life) but then he wasn't because Ethan was sent an email from her account as he never got that video. And when Mia officially rejected Eveline was after the tape of Mia trying to talk to Evie and Evie going on a murderous rampage instead

so Mia was in the padded cell for 2 years from the 4th November 2015 its the file on Lucas's laptop along with the next and final entry of the email logs being Eveline getting more people kidnapped. (still want to know the act of violence from Mia that got Lucas of all people to lock her up)

Sent: Friday, November 4, 2015 2:10 AM That bitch Mia is still somewhere in between Evie-La-La Land and reality. She gets pretty violent, so I locked her up in a cell. I thought maybe Eveline would get mad since Mia’s her favorite and all, but she doesn’t seem to care. She actually goes and visits her sometimes. She thinks Mia’s her mommy. Like I said, your “bioweapon” is fucked up.

Sent: Friday, September 1, 2016 1:10 AM Eveline’s family obsession is getting out of hand. She’s making everyone kidnap more and more assholes off the street to add to her freak show of a family. Maybe she’s getting tired of Mia not coming around, but it’s a pain in the ass for me because I gotta clean up the mess whenever someone new comes along. By the way, Evie’s looking sick or something. Her skin is getting all wrinkly and she’s getting grey hairs. Is that supposed to happen? It’s almost like she’s getting old all of a sudden.

Now that I think of it I have two theories for how Evie learned of Ethan and decided that he was the key to getting Mia to accept her

1 From the start because surely she saw either video being made but didn't think about using it until later (not as likely but still a possibility)

2 personally i think in amongst the victims that were brought in to the guest house smaller scale operation there considering the needles (I have to wonder if some of those was used on Mia) and the body bags so I think that in the limited view of the room at large from Mia's cell but what you can see from the cell is the table with the list of names and pictures of victims (true the same ones you see through out the games but maybe they were the "successful" ones that they kept trying to emulate) and complacency or exhaustion on Mia's part and a victims picture on the murder board and a voice begging for mercy sounding a little to close for comfort makes that wall she probably placed around thoughts of Ethan come crumbling down and someone was around to take note of how important Ethan was to Mia and everything goes as normal

now as for Village I really wish capcom kept her with the wheelchair or gave her a cane (for this reason and additional moment of offness for Ethan to notice but is too tired to focus on the RE3R was great in showing Jill's mental state and how she partially missed the city going to hell) because in the cutscene where we find Mia https://youtu.be/NkavqZJywp4 (also quick question with the village being blasted surely leaving someone underground would not be a good idea? like with air vents and exits?) look how she moves when coming out of the cell (screenshots for my own reference) it could be because she knows about Miranda's ability to shapeshifting but the second screenshot looks like she is using the box for support and checking on her leg before coming after Chris (has anyone done a freecam thing for this bit?)

Mia as a whole there is a lot to cover and I hope RE9 is about her (if not I'm going to be very annoying) taking down the connections from the inside as Mia is one of the few people we know who worked for them who is also still alive Alan? dead, Lucas? dead, Miranda? Dead. with a small playable section with Jill (character interaction i think would be fun to see) and Rose (she getting her own kind of justice for Evie)

[axl-ul]

Flickering Lights Always Watch Those Who Are About to Drown

(A short story as a small thank you and a celebration for 100 followers which happened some while ago. I know, I'm late, hehe. Again, thanks a lot!)

Ulfrika slowly made her way through the narrow street filled with litter and flickering street lamps. The old newspapers, used napkins, even reeking clothes not only constantly posed themselves in the doctor’s way, they also gave the street its distinct smell. Sour, humid, dirty. One that makes a person bend forward and throw up between the two blue garbage cans with suspicious rustling coming from inside.

Despite her narrow nose being quite proficient, she did not mind the circumstances. In fact, she came to tolerate, no, she came to respect the gloomy atmosphere of the path to her flat once her work shift at the hospital ended. Certainly, she could easily take the tram and be at home much faster. But walking was something that offered more freedom for her thoughts to rise from under the hardened crust of her mind.

The first quarter of the moon watched the concrete sentinels as the strict mask of the daytime city began to unravel in the pure chaos. Silver threads of the light equally shone on Ulfrika’s lanky shoulders and thick brown hair she let slither by the sides of her sunken cheeks. A pleasant tickling for sure. So much different from the cold freezers she worked with but still not as quite right as the fur of her loyal companion. A deep sigh. Oh, how much she missed her dearest friends!

The dry skin of her fingers easily matched the colour of the distant celestial body. Those fingers, so long and unnaturally thin, hold the cigarette firmly as if she were still wielding a scalpel instead.

She took another puff and snorted. A bad habit for a person, even worse for a doctor and yet she couldn’t bring herself to care less. After all, her only patients were corpses waiting for a trustworthy autopsy.

She thought further as she finally walked out of the uncertain shadows and quickly crossed the road before another moron didn’t stick with the speed limit.

Her lips moved in silence, all the words she thought were only painted in her deep eyes,“I suppose those cadavers have to be just as patient as I am every month so I can see my paycheck…“

Somebody honked the horn behind her back. Yet, she did not turn. Her legs were as if on an autopilot, always driving forward, never back. Shiny shop windows cast white and yellow, rarely orange, light on the pavement where her feet briskly but inaudibly trod. The further she went, new colours, signs, bars, shops, kiosks and other wonders emerged from the dull background. More and more people, demons and spirits were passing by her. The mass of strangers drowning in ecstasy of a late evening moved like a wild river.

It was all so strange, familiar, distant and close, too fast and still so slow for her to ignore. What was that ‘it’, though? She herself didn’t know the answer. The feeling, the smells mixing in the air of the colourful street, the goosebumps on her skin while the warmth underneath the long jacket with a hood persisted… Or was it the noise ringing, drumming on her eardrums, the smoke pleasantly burning her lungs, one of the few things that had made her feel something, anything, these last few months. Or was it years? Again, the doctor was unsure. Ulfrika stopped counting a long time ago.

Even though the majority of people around were heavily intoxicated, laughing and chatting or vomiting by the corner, a small crew standing by the staircase of a pub let their gaze linger on the half-breed for too long. A woman no more than twenty five narrowed her eyes and focused on Ulfrika’s distant face. Immediately, those eyes widened in horror as the woman turned to her friends. When her trembling index poked back to the spot, the pale doctor was no longer there.

Ulfrika quickened her pace and threw the dark hood over her head so the shadows could consume her once more. The gesture wasn’t done by her out of fear. Thick eyebrows furrowed, although beneath them her abysmal eyes, so deep and dark and eternal, kept their emptiness as if the outer world could not possibly penetrate the stone visage.

The day’s been hard. Too many traffic accidents have occurred lately. The memory of a proper lunch was too hazy. Her back was arched the whole time and her hands in a constant cautious motion. Not to mention all the paperwork. What was worse, the smouldering end of her cigarette is now slowly dying. Unnecessary trouble was the last thing she needed at that moment, though they were not more than flies buzzing around her ear.

At last, she saw a corner with a convenience store. The sign in the shape of a smiling cartoon dog, a colourful portrait of the owner’s pet friend, flickered then came back. Snacks and drinks were gazing into the quiet part of the quarter and also right into Ulfrika’s growling stomach.

She turned to the left around the corner and continued. The low dike with a pavement created a border between the sleepy street and a slowly flowing river. Its river bed was small, not much of a threat to the citizens. Only to the crickets on the opposite shore which were hiding in the thick bushes and whose chirps were on par with the river’s humming. The waves licked the protruding stones and rocks, the water teeth bit into the floating logs and twigs.

The strange cradle created by the nearby nature as well as the city rocked Ulfrika’s sleepy mind. The doctor was adamant to reach her home, her bed with a simple pillow where her pets would snuggle close to her side. Brisk steps went quicker and quicker. Her inhales were deep and exhales powerful. Small clouds of breathed out autumn air surrounded her nose.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Her ears pricked up.

A whimper. A weak, silent whimper carried by the soft breeze. It sounded sorrowful, frightened. But where was the source of it?

Ulfrika followed the sound. In a matter of a few minutes she noticed a small paper box from shoes stuck in the shallow waters as she leaned over the old handrail, its metal surface matching the coldness of her own skin upon the touch. She put down her hood and listened further. Truly, the drenched box was making those noises. Or whatever that was inside.

She had a guess, though.

She hung her warm jacket over the metal tube with a flaked colour and jumped over the barrier. Carefully sliding down the hill, Ulfrika landed right beside the rock formation. The cardboard box was now floating in the cold water only a short distance away. A distance she could easily overcome by four long steps.

The street lamp’s light didn’t quite reach her but the moon was bright, the sky cloudless and her sight eerily sharp. Ulfrika carefully entered the cold stream. Her steps were slow as she didn’t wish to experience a hard fall on the slippery surface. Only when she was waist deep in the freezing stream did she manage to reach her goal. Picking up the item, she smelt it while returning to the shore. Wet fur.

Long nails found no obstacle in the duct tape around. She ripped open the upper part and curiously peeked inside.

In the corner, a tiny shivering and yowling puppy was looking back at her. Its fearful dark eyes were gazing up from under the large floppy ears. The muzzle was covered in deep scars, the upper lip carried a deep cut which revealed a set of teeth and swollen gums. There were several places on the pup’s neck where its caramel brown fur was missing. The black back was no different with the bald spots and the lifted paw marked a rough fate as well.

“Poor baby…“ Ulfrika sighed as her brows furrowed all the while a web of wrinkles emerged on her pale forehead.

The little puppy whined once again, demanding safety far away from the cold flowing abyss where it had been thrown.

“Let’s get you out of here, alright?“ She slowly returned to the shore and climbed up. Finally, after reaching a safe spot under the white light of the street lamp, she carefully took out the puppy. At first, the defenceless creature snapped its miniature jaw in hopes of biting the doctor. Ulfrika didn’t mind though. The only thing she dropped was the old cardboard. Her deep soothing voice reached out,“Hush, little one. You’re safe now. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. But you just need to trust me a bit. I understand it’s a tough decision. But you have to try. Can you do that?“

The dog in her hand went silent and tilted the head as if it really understood the gentle words, although there was always the mark of undying untrust in the creature’s look.

The doctor wrapped the puppy in her jacket and approached the nearby convenience store while the wind rose up and harshly hit her from behind. Dark hair floated as the whipping tongues of the autumn glided by her. Her head resembled a wretched beast from the darkest abyss.

Clink! The cracked door opened, though the hinges creaked and squeaked. The wind fought its way inside, too. The force of it made the several hanging posters swing, but fortunately it wasn’t strong enough and everything stayed at its place once the doctor slammed the door behind.

Many of the items in the six thickly supplied rows shook from the impact. The glass bottles and cans clinked against the hardwood. A few plastic toys even fell to the ground, though they didn’t break. 

The sound and the sudden chill made the tiny sleeping man with thick glasses jump in his high seat behind the counter. Soon, his eyes brightened up. “Doc! Thought you ain’t coming tonight. The usual stuff? Or you finally quit the cigs?“

“I wish you a good evening, as well, friend,“ the woman bowed her head while a faint hint of a smile crossed her face. “No, I still haven’t lost interest. Yet, tonight I’m going to need some dog treats. Preferably, something really tasty. Do you happen to have some, please?“

He laughed,“Don’t tell me you’re going to spoil your dog…“

“A wolf.“

“...a wolf sooner this month. Did she learn how to speak?“

“Not yet, Mr Moore. I need them for this little silly.“ She carefully showed the old man the found puppy in her arms. The cub was beginning to doze off, however, the lamp with its orange light woke up the little one.

“What an adorable find! Even cuter than our Jimmy! Too bad the scars are so deep. Whoever was the owner had to be one terrible son of a bitch, let me tell you that.“ The man’s round cheeks puffed like pillows while he admired the creature. His sausage-like fingers went to pet the little head but he quickly retracted as the dog barked. Of course, the tremble from cold, poor treatment as well as the young age didn’t make the puppy the most dangerous looking. Mr Moore, a simple man with hair as white as snow and a warm heart, encouraged the puppy’s confidence and played along. “What a fierce guy! Once he grows up, he’ll make a terrific companion!“

“Mr Moore, please, could you find those treats? Tiru and Krabat are waiting at home for me.“ Her deep voice bounced against the cracked walls. No harshness or impatience was there. Only concern and fatigue.

“Oh, sure thing, doc!“ His short legs began to move and within a few seconds he vanished behind a thick purple curtain in the back of the room. Unlike his physical presence, his chatty personality didn’t go away. “Tiru and Krabat… Doc, I always wanted to ask ya this. How in the hell did you name those pets?! The strangest names I’ve ever heard, ain’t gonna lie to you,“ he screamed.

“Old tradition, sir. Nothing more.“

“You sure? Just like keeping a wolf and a raven? I’d expect a hamster or a turtle. Though, these guys suit your style more, I guess.“

“Excuse me, Mr Moore?“

“Oh, don’t mind me!“ The old man heartily laughed. “So, are ya keeping the little guy?“

“I’m not so sure. Would you be interested in the adoption, sir? Jimmy could use some friend now.“ Ulfrika tapped her chin. Something was missing in that eerily quiet environment. Then,it hit her. “May I ask? Where’s Jimmy?“ She looked around in hopes to find a joyful drooling head of a bulldog.

“The poor bastard’s with my wife upstairs. She hasn’t been feeling well so he sticks around. What can I add? This bloody weather ain’t good for anyone.“

“Sure. As you say.“ Ulfrika once again politely bowed, the thin but numerous strands of hair slipped to her almost black eyes.

A box of dog treats landed on the green counter. “Here you go, youngster. It’ll be…“ Mr Moore widened his eyes when thirty dollars landed beside the box.

“Please, keep the change, Mr Moore. If I may ask, please, say hello to Mrs Moore and Jimmy. I wish you a nice evening.“

“Miss Výtaušeimová! This is too much! I can’t let you go off easily!“

The gaunt doctor stopped in front of the door - a puppy in one hand, a colourful box under the other armpit. “I said keep the change, sir.“

“I…thank you, doc.“

“No. I thank you, Mr Moore. Good night.“

Checking the late night hour at the old-fashioned wall clock, she was prepared to open the door with her elbow when the shop owner called behind her for the last time. “By the way, there was a strange guy today. He didn’t buy anything. Just went straight to me and asked about you.“

“Name?“

“Said no actual name. Just that he’s your neighbour and didn’t manage to catch up to you in the morning.“

“What did he look like?“

“Sorry, doc,“ Mr Moore shrugged and pouted,“he was wearing a hoodie and kept his face down. I couldn’t see an inch of his face. But he sounded young. The youngster could be no more than eighteen or twenty. But that’s just a guess.“

“Anything else?“

“Just that he’ll try to wait for you here tomorrow in case he misses you again.“

Ulfrika paused in thought. Soon, she bowed her head and a low grunt escaped from her throat once the rabid wind hit her face.

The puppy was whining the whole way and Ulfrika did her best to soothe him. It’s been a long while since she was taking care of someone.

As if it weren’t enough, a downpour visited the dirty city for the fourth time that week. Water from deep puddles splashed around whenever a car or a bike passed by. By the end of their common way, Ulfrika’s jeans were soaking wet. Strangely, she didn’t utter a word nor did she make a sound. The only time an eerie mix of hiss and growl spread around was when her keys stuck in the damaged door. Under her shallow breath, she spat curses on the caretaker.

When she finally barged in, she gave the miniature unkempt entrance room a meaningful look. There, in the dark corner, hiding by the large leaves of a dried palm, was a lanky man in his forties sleeping tightly on a chair. Another wooden chair was just by his right with an ashtray and a dying out cigarette stuck in one of its grooves. An empty bottle was rolling beneath it.

Upon such a disappointing view, Ulfrika puffed out her chest and ran her hand through the ruffled hair.

“I wish you a pleasant evening, sir,“ she uttered in a low voice as she made her way to the rusted lift cage of an elevator. Though she didn’t scream, it was still enough to yank the caretaker from his slumber.

“Miss Výtaušeimová, you didn’t pay your rent again.“

“Are you sure, sir?“ The only feature which changed on her poker face was a raised left eyebrow. Still, she didn’t offer him a single look and kept on waiting for the lift while showing the man her lean back.

“Yeah, I’m.“

“Then check your records because I paid in advance. Again.“ Only then she turned around in the rhythm of the thrumming machine. The slow motion of her body as well as her deep ice-cold voice made the man lose his frown and calmly walk to the nearby stall. He took out the book from the small safe and checked. After a small hesitation, he looked back with uncertainty painted in his suddenly pale face. “Sure, Miss. Everything’s alright. By the way, I wanted to tell you that a young boy-“ He furrowed his thin black eyebrows until deep cracks appeared on his wide forehead. “Is that a dog?“

Ulfrika answered only when she got into the lift and pushed the right button,“Yes.“

“I allowed you only those two dirty beasts.“

“So? You invite various other filthy man-eaters from the street nearly every night and nobody bats an eye. Is it a case of a social cohesion you feel towards your fellow specimen, perhaps?“

The door on the lift started to close. The sound of the tiny wheels moving in the rusty rails echoed throughout the dusty space. It was loud, yet the caretaker’s last words were more powerful. “Watch your mouth, doctor. There’s a lot of people in the streets who’d gladly take your spot here. Be careful what you say to me, you impudent bitch!“

“I’m not impudent. Only observing a certain natural behaviour of local species. Good night, sir. Hopefully the fleas won’t bite you so you can get some better sleep and stop being this rabid for no reason.“

As the rusty door closed and the lift started to move upwards, the reddened face of the man vanished among the quick images of changing levels.

A loud bang marked the endpoint of the long way to the highest level. The lightbulb inside the cabin as well as the one in the long corridor flickered once the doctor stepped out. Yet both decided to keep shining in the gloomy hallway. Although, the light from the street could be otherwise enough, thickly painted glass of a big window at the end of the corridor didn’t allow better lighting. The atmosphere mirrored on the dried palm which now more resembled a scarecrow than a healthy plant. The three doors were no different. Their peeled brown colour and varnish exposed the naked wood and the cracks in the form of a web in it.

Ulfrika nonchalantly walked by the first door with a mop leaned against it. The item gave away to her that the caretaker still didn’t change the location of the second storeroom in the building and that the reeking smell was still residing in the locked room.

The second door, an abandoned flat, was directly facing hers. She was prepared to prop against the entrance when a sudden noise made her look behind and pause in thought while the poor puppy woke up from its light slumber and whimpered.

The noise of something falling was coming from inside the abandoned apartment.

“Come on!“ Ulfrika grunted and quickly turned on her heel. She pushed the entrance door and as fast as she could she jumped into the safety of her flat. The dust whirled behind her but she no longer cared.

Behind the locked door and in a joyful howling of a large wolf with thick grey fur and yellow blazing eyes she let out a relieved sigh.

Her eyes suddenly brightened up, a perfect contrast to the dark abyss which she showed to the outer world.

“Tiru! Hello, my dearest friend! How was your day?“

A loud howl and a waggling tail provided an answer.

“Yes, I understand. Don’t worry. The dinner will be soon. Where’s Krabat, though?“

Another bark.

“Oh, I see. I shouldn’t worry you that much next time. Hopefully, he’s going to return soon. By the way, here’s our new little friend, Tiru. Please, take care of…“ She wanted to say the name of the puppy when a realisation struck her once again.

She carefully raised the trembling puppy over her head and checked the crotch.

“Little one, you came here by a river, nearly drowning in it. I’m sure you have fleas. But I also bet you might be an excellent hunter. You seem to display a great will and maybe…“

As she let the puppy down and saw how quickly he turned back to lick her foot, Ulfrika finished her sentence,“...loyalty.“ The doctor lightly tapped on her chin. Soon, the hybrid widely smiled as she proudly announced,“Argos. That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?“

The harehound happily barked and let himself be licked by gentle gentle Tiru. Ulfrika used this sudden distraction. Neatly putting her clothes in its place in a simple wardrobe, she ventured into a tiny kitchen where the before-hand prepared dough was awaiting her.

While she was preparing the pork stuffing, a sharp pale beak knocked on the kitchen window. The doctor didn’t need to turn around to know who was waiting behind. Stretching out her long arm she let the raven inside. The black feathers whizzed and the bird obediently landed on the hybrid’s shoulder.

A little peck here and there caused Ulfrika to look at him. She was ready to scold him for coming home so late but once she saw a banknote in Krabat’s beak, she let out a bark. Her laughter startled out only the small puppy who in the meanwhile made himself most comfortable under the wolf’s chin.

“Who did you steal from this time?“

No matter how much she asked him, the raven refused to let out any sign. He let go of the piece of paper and let himself be petted.

The dish was finally in the oven, roasting until it was deliciously crunchy. The smell of dough and spiced meat with onion filled the whole apartment. To use the free time, Ulfrika with a curious Krabat went over to Argos. Before taking the final step, the eager and overly curious raven flew down from her shoulder and started observing every detail of the puppy. Every scar, every bald spot in his dark caramel fur, his cropped ear. The view made Krabat let out a loud caw. Argos drew himself nearer to Tiru and whimpered.

“Krabat, be careful around our little boy. I doubt he’s seen much of the outside world. Is that right, little pup?“ She gently smiled and petted the puppy. “Tiru, please, watch over him for a while. Krabat, you take care of the oven. I’ll go and prepare the sink. Little Argos needs a bath.“

Once she said the last word, the puppy squeaked and desperately barked. Though, after the reassuring nudge of the she-wolf and a tender look from his new, much caring owner, he stopped. “Don’t worry, sweetie. This time, there won’t be any freezing water or anything else that would hurt you. Ever. I promise, alright?“

Ulfrika quickly made her way to the light bathroom and began preparing all the things she needed. A shampoo, a wide sink full of warm water, an old brush she no longer used. Everything was prepared and laying still under the gaze of two lightbulbs installed in the corners of the bathroom. Only a towel was missing. Ulfrika sighed when she realised it. Another walk through her flat was the last thing on her mind. The strength was slowly leaving her and the tiredness was taking over the lanky body. But remembering the innocent creature, she sighed and walked over to an antique looking wardrobe in the entrance room. Despite her light body weight, the wooden floor squeaked.

Her eye ominously looked up from under silky hair. The single light bulb which was there. The flashing immediately stopped. The space was once again flooded by a white light.

Ulfrika carefully slid out a yellow towel from a neatly stored pile. She turned around on her heel and wanted to venture to the kitchen where Argos finally began to happily bark and play with his new friends.

But she didn’t go there.

The bell on the front door rang.

Before she walked over and gazed through the peephole, she puffed, completely annoyed. Yet, she didn’t have any choice. The sounds from inside as well as the light sneaking under the door gave away instantly that somebody was at last home.

It wouldn’t be Ulfrika, however, if she didn’t rush her companions into the closet in her bedroom and told them to be as quiet as possible. Only then she sneaked back to the front door and looked through the old peephole.

A person with a dark green hood over their head was waiting there and impatiently pressing the bell. Their face could be barely recognisable under the layer of clothing. Not to mention they were arching over.

Warily placing her hand on the cold handle and preparing her sharp claws and fangs as sharp as a needle, she finally answered the constant ringing.

The person jumped up in surprise when a gust rose and a blunt force threw them against the wall behind. They didn’t even manage to let out a scream. Ulfrika’s cold and unnervingly calm eyes shut them up for good.

She placed her nails close to the person’s hairy neck and whispered, never letting her eyes off of them. “Who are you? Why do you keep asking for me? What do you-?“

Her grip on the hoodie’s collar loosened and she let out the boy’s feet fully touch the floor. “You?!“

A pair of daring brown eyes, lighter than her own and of a strange shape, looked back from under the hood. The boy of no more than eighteen with a freckled face and fangs smiled back. “Sup, auntie!“

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Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added): @vanessaroades-author @rubywrite @aohendo @rbbess110 @jgmartin @outpost51 @athenswrites

[furinana]

Reviewing SMT's 30th Anniversary Event in Yokohama

In 2023 (the year of Nanashi's birthday!) I spent some months in Japan so I lucked out when they announced a Megaten concert right before my departure.

This is a compilation of thoughts from tweets and messages I sent to friends that I decided to turn into a public post for archival purposes.

Disclaimer: unless stated otherwise, none of the pictures I'm using here are mine. Most of them were taken from the event's official account.

May 6th. From Kyoto (the city I was staying) to Yokohama was approx. two hours by Shinkansen. Like how a close friend of mine says, "The thing about Japan is that you ride one train and you just become the biggest car hater immediately".

[I ended up taking an overnight bus for the back trip however, took around 7 hours. Cramped on your legs but your pockets hurt way less]

How is Yokohama at the moment? A bright sunny noon and like this user illustrated, windy as hell (my cap came off once and I had to run in the middle of the street to rescue it).

[KT Zepp Yokohama]

I arrived 4 hours before the concert's schedule so I fucked around Yokohama's cozy Chinatown for a bit, among other places I don't remember. I didn't take into account that you could arrive hours prior to the event to purchase the limited merch line and stare at concept art of mainline games in an exhibiton placed in the entrance. The merch would get sold out in a matter of minutes in the gap between the opening and when the concert would start! Don't underestimate scalpers, folks.

A beginner's mistake, this is how life teaches you to be smart.

[For every 5,000 yen you spent, you got the chance of receiving a colored bookmark of one of the protagonists. A lot of items involved abysmal luck to get. Fortunately I was able to grab what I set my eyes on in the later online raffle so things turned out fine on my end (although I'm currently having to deal with a lot of dupes much to my annoyance. But hey, I have official merch of Flynn and Nanashi now)]

Regarding the exhibition: Not a lot of stuff to comment on. They made a timeline of sorts for each mainline title (except the NES games because fuck 'em I guess) and pretty much most of it was available in official artbooks published previously. Nocturne for example, they displayed the writing process & how they sketched cutscenes and attacks prior to making them 3D etc, which was no-news if you browsed the Ayakashi Monthly book before.

[We weren't allowed to take pictures so I can only show the previews from the official account. We had to stay at a long line to look at each piece in a chronological way so it felt particularly... uncomfortable. I don't like the feeling that I might be slowing down other people so I end up rushing what was supposed to be a serene activity]

The actual exclusive never-seen-before art was regarding beta character & demons concepts from SMT4A:

[Top: Drawn from memory by me. Bottom: The "mermaid" is a reference to the Starbucks logo that interestingly, is also present in Nanashi's room (which could mean there was an intention of Nanashi's only reference of a mermaid being the logo of a cafe that wouldn't exist in-universe anymore. For those unaware, the mermaid in question is actually a siren!]

Here are the descriptions I typed on my phone right after I exited the exhibition (and would use as base for my own sketches a day later):

Chironnupu had two beta forms with the face as it is now where one walked on four legs and the other his legs faded out in a ghost-like manner. He also had a third and more distinct from his current design where he was dressed in Ainu attire on 2 legs and was smiling to the viewer (a Youkai Watch sort of vibe, very cute).

Nanashi had an unseen sketch where Doi drew him with a suspiciously big waist. Yeah, I know it's minor but I wanted to comment on how unhinged Doi is in drawing girly boys. Go off king

Cleopatra had a form where she had dark skin, dark green hair and emerald green eyes (...huh? I just realized I painted her hair with brown instead of green lmao I became fixated in making her look similar to Maria Torres from Trauma Team). Considering how some demons get color variations (such as Vishnu or Moh Shuvuu), some even getting darker skin in adaptations (take Rama in the Devil Survivor 2 anime), perhaps Cleopatra getting an alt that is closer to this beta depiction isn't an impossibility. I can dream

Vishnu-Flynn had a version where his face was the same as how Flynn normally is.

Mermaid had a form where she was supposed to resemble the Starbucks logo where her palette was red&other color (I don't remember if it was blue or green) and showed an alluring evil smile.

Now let's talk about the concert. The structure of how it went was basically alternating between the band playing remixes of soundtracks with gameplay videos on the screen and then pausing for the hosts to talk with the audience and share some free-talks with the musicians that worked on the titles.

Fans used this menorah they sold in the booth as a glow stick (the ones you see in idol events).

[Event announcers Mafia Kajita and Chiaki Matsuzawa in day 1 and 2]

At the end there was a little quiz with gameplay-specific questions, for example what a certain skill does. You had to answer with this little cardboard thing that had a Jack Frost in one side and Black Frost in the other.

Regarding the free-talks, a summary of what I was able to get (take those with a grain of salt):

Kozuka never played any Megaten before composing for the games (he thought they were too dangerous)

SJR composer played all of them

Tsukasa said the songs for the SNES games were a lot longer and better-sounding but unfortunately they had to chop off a lot

Meguro makes sound effects before making the music, finished SMT2 before starting composing but doesn't play games anymore

By the end, Kajita wishes Megaten games were released more often so events like this could happen frequently and Matsuzawa says she's a big Digital Devil Saga fan.

By the way, you could easily recognize the western fans from the audience from how louder and cheerier they were compared to the local ones. Japanese fans are the types that respect silence to a scary degree. For another example, I was able to watch The Boy and the Heron right in the opening week and nobody from the session I went to laughed or made any perceptible reaction to other viewers. The only one laughing in the entire room was my, notably, non-JPN roommate.

When the concert was nearing its end however, the hosts allowed everyone to be as loud as they wanted to thus letting the atmosphere at long last turn closer to the spirit of Megaten... chaotic.

[Going personally to the concert was a totally unique experience compared to seeing it from a screen with diluted audio. You truly had to be there to have your stomach twisting from the echoes coming from the band's instruments]

My personal favorite remixes:

SMT1's Ginza

SMT2's Disco Theme

SMT4's Boss Theme & Map theme

SMT4A's f6 Godslayer (when they showed Vishnu-Flynn on the big screen... 😳)

[tsuki-chibi]

Ladynoir July 2023 Day 27: Names

Read all the entries on AO3

--

Chat Noir was so deep in thought that he didn’t even seem to notice when Ladybug landed on the rooftop and walked over to him. He was curled in on himself, his legs pulled up against his chest, staring out at the city. But she could tell from the far away look in his eyes that he wasn’t actually seeing the city.

“What’s up, Chaton?” Ladybug asked, taking a seat beside him. Chat startled a little, blinking at her in surprise even as he smiled in welcome.

“I was just thinking. My class recently started a project where we have to think about our future,” he said. “Apparently most kids our age have to do it, because I talked to a friend who doesn’t even go to my school, and her school is doing it too.”

“Yeah, my class is doing it too,” Ladybug said with a nod. Madame Bustier had introduced the project to them three days ago. It had seemed interesting and fun at first, but then Marinette had realized the full scope of what was going into it. Every little thing they wrote down about their future needed to be backed by research.

“I figured,” Chat said. “How are you making out?”

“Well…” Ladybug let out a sigh. “Okay, I guess. It’s a lot. Like I know what I want to do for a job. But now I’m having to do a whole bunch of research into it. Like what kind of education I’ll need, and what my chances really are, and how much it’ll cost, and how much it’ll pay, and how long it’ll take to be successful… It’s really kind of stressful, actually.”

“Right?” Chat exclaimed. “How am I supposed to know what I want to do for a living? The only thing I’ve ever done is work for my dad. I’ve never had the time to think of what I might want to do.” He sounded legitimately stressed out about it, and Ladybug felt bad for him. She scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, I think this is project is meant to be informative and fun,” she said gently. “You don’t have to know for sure what you want to do, Chat. Not everybody does. A lot of my friends don’t.”

“That’s true. Some of my friends don’t either. But some do, and I envy them.” Chat’s shoulders slumped and he leaned into her, seeking comfort. Ladybug lightly stroked his hair.

“Maybe you could write about jobs you think you’d like to have. Like you know, don’t limit yourself to just one or two. Pick four or five and go into detail about all of them to show you’ve done your research and really considered everything,” Ladybug suggested.

Chat contemplated that for a moment. “I guess that could work. But I still wish I knew for sure what I wanted to do. Sometimes I think I’ll be stuck working for my dad forever.”

Ladybug’s heart went out to him. Chat sounded like he was in the same boat as Adrien. She wondered if Adrien was having a similar struggle with the project. He sure hadn’t said much when he, Marinette, Alya, and Nino had been talking about it in class earlier.

“Well, what about the other parts of it? Like kids and getting married. Do you know if you want either of those things?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Chat said immediately.

“Then that’s something your dad can’t control right there,” Ladybug said brightly. “You could maybe put in details about your wedding if you’ve thought about it, or… I don’t know. Oh, you could put in the names of your kids!” She giggled. “My friend was teasing me earlier about putting in my future kid’s names. Hugo, Louis, and Emma.”

It was funny now, but in the moment it had been mortifying to hear Alya say those names out loud where Nino and Adrien could hear. Thankfully Adrien hadn’t known that Marinette planned to have those kids with him. He and Nino just thought that Marinette was keeping those as names in general. Still, Marinette had given Alya a kick under the desk for that one.

Chat stiffened against her, but Ladybug didn’t notice. She kept talking, saying, “Or if you had an idea about where you wanted to live, you could research house prices and stuff like that. Or vacations! I’ve always wanted to go to –”

“Wait. Did you say Hugo, Louis, and Emma?” Chat said, interrupting Ladybug.

She paused, frowning. “Yeah? I like those names.”

Chat turned to her. His eyes were very, very wide as he said breathlessly, “Marinette?!”

[3ofpents]

100 Palette Challenge // Palette #23 // Picturesque Point Pleasant

Today's color palette comes from a "Picture-Play Magazine" cover from April 1922.

This poster actually came together pretty quickly! Or at least it felt quick. Honestly it felt like the longest part was looking up photos of Point Pleasant to reference (mostly because I was originally trying to not use the bridge, but you know, the palette limits me on options).

Oh but it came together even more quickly the SECOND time. Because I had to DRAW IT TWICE. Because normally when I create a new file for these posters, I set the unit of measurement to inches because it's easier to remember 11 x 17 inches than 585884239 pixels or whatever. But THIS time, I apparently accidentally set the unit to CENTIMETERS and I didn't notice until I went to resize it to post here! ┻━┻ ︵ ＼( °□° )／ ︵ ┻━┻

So anyway this is the SECOND poster. But that's okay, I was able to fix some of the things I didn't like about the original version and some of the tiny mistakes.

BUT YEAH, Point Pleasant, WV is the home of Mothman, probably the most popular cryptid in Cryptid Fandom. Nevertheless, I'm sure there's plenty of folks who aren't familiar, so here's a quick overview.

The first published Mothman sighting was in November of 1966 when two young married couples were chased around the backroads of Point Pleasant by what they described as a large winged man with muscular legs, no arms or head, and glowing red eyes. You can read more about that in my post about Mothman on the Shapeshifters tumblr, Like most cryptids, no one can quite agree on what Mothman is, even among the believers. There's speculation about it being a demon, due to its connection to the Silver Bridge collapse exactly 13 months to the day after the November '66 sighting. Others think it was trying to warn people about it, like John Keel who wrote the book The Mothman Prophesies that the later Richard Gere movie was based on. Though Keel also theorizes that Mothman is an alien, but also that aliens aren't from space, but from Earth and, at least when he originally wrote the book in 1975, spoke in a very condescending tone of anyone who still thought aliens were from space.

Personally, I'd never heard of Mothman until the Gere movie, which I went to see with my mom. She wasn't super interested in cryptids, but she has always been a fan of Richard Gere and absolutely loved those paranormal thrillers filmed like psychological thrillers that were so popular in the early 2000's. I've loved Mothman ever since and, I suppose since that was my introduction to him, I definitely fall on the side of him trying to warn people about the bridge collapse. And because of that he shares a place in my heart with Giles Corey, the only man tried and executed for witchcraft during the Salem with trials, whose ghost is also said to appear before great disasters in the graveyard where he was pressed to death .

I think I've come a long way from my very first cryptid poster. I don't know if this one is necessarily any better, per se, than the Jersey Devil poster, but the techniques are settling into my brain and muscle memory.

This poster is part of @shapeshiftersvt's Cryptid Collection. If you like it, prints will be up on the Shapeshifters website sometime this week (probably tomorrow). I'll reblog this post when they are.