#Poor bird never stood a chance.

[sincerely-sofie]

Omg I love Ruby

I'm not sure that the person who sent in her origin story quite understands how much I adore this girl. I love her so much. She's my baby. Oh my goodness gracious. She's such a good partner-in-crime for Opal and I can see these two forming an exploration team together when they grow up.

Team Smoke and Mirrors are some of the most well-known scouts there are in the exploration team world— they aren't the best of the best, but they're up there in skill, and Guildmaster Bidoof is always bragging that those two were apprenticed at his guild, and look at how they turned out! Yup yup, he's so proud to have been able to help them get their footing and send such a doggone wonderful team out into the world, gosh!

Chatot retired shortly before the Guild received their application papers, and he's slightly conflicted about that.

On the one hand, he'd like to resume his work and ensure they get a proper apprenticeship— while he's never met Ruby, he remembers when Twig brought a younger Opal to the Guild on a handful of occasions when her husband (Chatot shudders whenever he recalls the reality of who she married) was away on his own errands and she couldn't get a sitter for the day. He recalls Opal transforming into a downy little hatchling of his species during the first visit, and she was always in that form before Twig even came through the front doors on subsequent visits— when Bidoof casually mentioned the significance of this, Chatot was so emotional the rest of the day that he misfiled an embarrassing number of reports. He doubts Opal remembers him at all, but he'd be proud to keep her and her sister on the straight and narrow.

On the other hand, her and her sister are Twig's daughters. He barely survived ONE Twig. The thought of TWO of them being apprenticed simultaneously, let alone on a single team, is nearly enough to make his feathers go gray with just the thought.

[panged-lin]

Anyone else find the Sword & Shield fossil Pokemon a... little unnerving?

Absolutely none of those fossil parts match up one-to-one with each other:

Dracozolt is way, WAY too small for its legs and mismatch completely.

Arctozolt has a similar size issue, on top of merging a reptilian top-half on an aquatic bottom-half.

Dracovish has its head on the end of its tail with a bottom-half that just. Cuts off ubruptly. It's also a land animal that can't breathe air.

Arctovish is the most natural-looking... until you realise its mouth is at the top of its head. Apparently it froze its surroundings to eat which... isn't great for an aquatic beast.

They're all offputting in various ways with no combo that doesn't either look unnatural or is actively detrimental to how either half in meant to function (Dracozolt at least gets a good deal from those powerful legs and electricity-bank of a tail, but that apparently would have made it TOO good if it was the actual creature).

They are based on the concept of "chimera" - fossil reconstructions based on multiple animals that end up creating a number of errors when trying to study their past biology. Such a concept brought to life is a fun idea for fossil Pokemon; you're basically making custom 'mons, who WOULDN'T want that?

Bringing them to life however kind of reveals how messed up these innacurate creatures are. Their existence is suffering and they all look strange and uncomfortable in some very obvious ways.

[too-deviant]

jackie and wilson.

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summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour 

notes:  speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild 

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well. 

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours. 

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming. 

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it. 

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss. 

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster. 

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty. 

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse. 

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp. 

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got. 

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery. 

It was cute. 

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley. 

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over. 

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan. 

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name. 

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow. 

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.” 

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.” 

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.” 

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion. 

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.” 

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.” 

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly. 

“And that?” 

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did. 

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face! 

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered. 

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp. 

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill. 

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day. 

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go. 

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked. 

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.” 

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response. 

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet. 

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable. 

But you really needed to pee. 

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door. 

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke. 

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!” 

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up. 

“Be quick.” 

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed. 

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan. 

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence. 

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.” 

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour. 

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.” 

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.” 

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t. 

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater. 

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be. 

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off. 

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close. 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?” 

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion. 

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe. 

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything. 

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.” 

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse. 

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?” 

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.” 

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on. 

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation. 

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow. 

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

[wordstome]

the execution of lady jane grey

I got drunk and Tiktok showed me history_alice's video about this painting by Paul Delaroche. And since God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished, have some medieval executioner König x fem mc. Also, Lady Jane Grey was executed by Mary Tudor (Bloody Mary), not by Henry the VIIIth (the one with the six wives), but I blended the stories just because I can.

1.3k words

König doesn't ask questions.

It's never been his job to ask questions. The king points, and he does the dirty work. Most of the time, he takes pleasure in it: thieves, rapists, murderers, they all answer to his justice. And sure, a true loyal citizen might argue that he's simply enacting the king's justice, but it's König who swings the axe, is it not? In the end, König decides their fate.

In theory, anyway. In practice, this is simply his job. He keeps his head down and does what he's told. He stays quiet about the king's secret executions, the ones that happen in the dungeons instead of out in the open courtyard where the smallfolk gather to watch. It's hypocritical, honestly. They all look at König like he's a monster, some spectre of death among men, but when there's a public execution to be held, are they not the ones clamoring and pushing to be at the front?

There are some times when the king's executions are more...dubious. An advisor who voiced dissent one too many times. A thief stealing barley from the royal stables to feed his family, made an example of. A young man, just a boy really, accused of murdering four grown men—convenient, considering all four men's wives had been found in the king's bed at some point or another.

Those are the executions König prefers not to think about. The ones that haunt him in his dreams anyway. Those are the ones that make him yearn for his days in the army: when the people he killed were as faceless as his hood was to them, when he didn't know them and didn't have to think about the loved ones they left behind. König's never claimed to be a good person, the opposite in fact. But sometimes when he brings the blade down, he imagines a different, more royal neck on the block instead.

He feels this way now, as he watches her make her way to the block.

She's ethereal in her petticoat, the soft silken material reflecting what little light there is in the cold stone room and bathing her in a warm glow. Gentle and obedient into her own grave.

The king's wife. Sent to the block for treason, of all things. But everyone knows the truth: he's only killing this poor woman because he plots to put his latest mistress on the throne. Just a few weeks ago, this sweet young thing was the king's main obsession. She stood no chance at all, the daughter of a local lord currying favor with royalty. And now, she's being put to death through no fault of her own. The injustice grinds König's teeth, and takes his mind to a dark, dangerous place.

If she was his, he would never so much as let another woman cross his mind again. He's seen her about the palace grounds, with her beautiful bright eyes and lively smile, skirts trailing behind her like the tail feathers of an exotic bird. Just watching her had made him feel young again, no longer the brutish old soldier everyone averted their eyes from.

He's only spoken to her once, but he'll never forget it. He had been in her way, but she was the one who apologized. Most people would have seen the hood and backed away in fear, but not her. He watched, frozen and unable to say a single word, as she curtseyed and looked at him with, of all things, a shy curiosity. For one still, breathtaking moment, he held her gaze in his, and he felt like they were the last two people remaining on earth.

Then her lady in waiting had touched her on the elbow, and the spell was broken as they continued on their way. But König had never forgotten.

That same lady in waiting is here now, eyes puffy as she holds the queen's elaborate dress and jewelry in her lap. She had chosen to take it off, so as not to stain the expensive fabrics with her blood. How can she be so considerate of others, when the whole world has failed her so?

She turns to him, trembling like a little bird, and meets his gaze. The words come out before he can help himself.

"I beg your forgiveness," he blurts out, and almost immediately mentally scolds himself. What right does he have, of all people, to ask for her grace?

"Of course, sir," she says, her voice clear and sweet. Surely, he can't feel any more wretched than he does right now...and then she speaks again.

"I only pray you dispatch me quickly..." She turns a fearful eye to the wooden block, sitting almost innocently on top of the straw laid down to soak up her lifeblood. "Will...will you take it before I lay me down?"

"No, madam," he whispers.

She nods, and with a sudden streak of iron will, ties the blindfold about her head. König knows this is a kindness: she'll never see him coming. And yet his heart aches to see her cover up those beautiful eyes.

A loud sob comes out of the lady in waiting, watching her young mistress fumble around blindly. König's heart shatters when she lets out a little cry of confusion as the lieutenant of the prison rushes to hold her steady. "What shall I do? Where is it?"

König feels a sudden streak of anger, at the gentle way the lieutenant lowers her to the ground. The man clearly knows this is wrong, and yet will not lift a finger to help her.

Guilt strikes him yet again as he remembers that neither is he.

Or is he?

He stares down at her, this vulnerable little lamb sent to the slaughter, her pretty neck exposed for his blade, and he knows what he has to do.

The lady in waiting cries out in anguish as the blade lowers to the queen's head, causing her to gasp as the cold metal brushes against her skin. But instead of cutting her head off, König slices through her blindfold with a deft precision.

"What is the meaning of this?" The lieutenant demands as the queen scrambles from her kneeling position. König offers his arm, and she takes it, her hands warm against his sleeve as she stands up. The confusion is writ plain on her face, but her eyes shine with an innocent hope that only steels König's resolve.

"You," König says, pointing his axe at the lieutenant, who shuffles backwards nervously. "You will tell the king that she has been executed. If he asks for a body, find one: I don't care which one. And if you tell anyone what happened here today, I swear to you that I will water the earth with your blood, and the blood of every family member in your line." His eyes narrow at the lieutenant. "Do I make myself clear?" The man nods, stuck still with terror.

The queen's lady in waiting rushes forward, pressing jewels into her hands. "My lady, you will need these," she says urgently. "For wherever life takes you next." She gives König a determined look. "Take care of her, sir."

The queen's eyes go wide and round as she looks up at König. "I don't understand."

He kneels to her height, taking her hands in his. "I am taking you away from this place," he tells her, his voice low and urgent. "But you need to trust me."

She closes her eyes, and takes one deep, trembling breath before opening them again. "I trust you."

"Good." She yelps as he picks her up in his arms, hands instantly darting about his shoulders. "I am sorry, my lady, but we don't have much time."

She giggles, giggles, in his arms. "I don't mind," she says, with a mischievous little look that invites trouble. God, he is utterly fucked, isn't he?

"I can give you time, but not much," the lieutenant says. "Go!"

König doesn't need to be told twice.

To be honest with you, I have no idea what this is. I wrote this in, like. An hour. I think a demon possessed me. I don't think I'm going to write more of this au, but who knows!

@danibee33 @kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

[fanaticsnail]

Ohh, Snail, now I can't stop thinking about you writing that Corazon x AussiReader idea from the fanart you rebloged. Poor sweet baby 🥺 dealing with giant spiders and cute feral angry koalas, nooo, Cora, don't try to hug them, they may look cute, but they will eat your face 😱

Rosinante's Trip Down Under

Masterlist Here

Oh my goodness, Miss Vita! How gorgeous is it, though? Art by @rainnartt (CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER ART, IT'S AMAZING!!)

Synopsis: Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

I did go a little crazy in the tags, definitely ran away with me a little here.

Could you imagine, though? As an Australian, I can confirm: if it looks like it can kill you, it can kill you. If it looks like it can’t kill you, it absolutely can kill you. Our poor, clumsy man never stood much of a chance, did he?

In this picture, he looks like could be in Bondi, the Gold Coast or Surfers Paradise by the looks of it. I am going to put him in the Queensland region for the sake of the plot. This is how I see it going. 

Drabble Fic Word Count: 1,800+

Themes: rosinante x gn!reader, platonic fic, crack fic, modern au, reader is Australian, Rosinante is Spanish, Au he lives.

Tag list: @since-im-already-here @i-am-vita @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @remisloves @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Taking your new friend Donquixote Rosinante to your favorite sights in Surfers Paradise. His eyes widen in wonder, staring at sights that come so naturally to you, but are so out of the norm for him. You are happy to play tourist in your hometown, marveling at the sights as he experiences them for the first time. 

Outside of your local McDonalds and picking up a common comfort breakfast food for his adult adoptive son, who elected to remain back at home in the hotel as he adjusts to the time difference, Rosinante’s shriek prompted you to turn to meet him.

“What the hell is that?” he remarks, extending his pointer finger towards the large waste bin adjacent to the doorway.

“Oh, that’s a skip, Corazon. The red is for rubbish,” you continue, pointing at the other bin, “The yellow lid is for recyclables, and the green is for food and biodegradable-.”

“No! The thing with the massive beak!” he shrieks, watching as the dark-head bird pokes its head above the bin. The large hooked beak elevates a half-consumed cheeseburger before it gulps down the burger in a single motion.

“Oh!” you laugh at your blonde friend, clapping a hand over his shoulder, “That’s an ibis. We call them ‘bin chickens’ or ‘tip chooks’ depending on your region. They’re scavengers, they won’t hurt you.”

“A bin chicken, skip bin,” he hums, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he commits the name to memory, “And you call McDonalds ‘Macca’s’, right?”

“That’s right,” you hum your confirmation with a curt nod. He hums in response before ushering you along the pathway towards the hotel. 

As you continue walking along the sandy coastline, you notice he’s halted outside a petrol station. A large truck is parked beside the building: checkered blue and white painted on it’s side and large font titled “POLICE” and “0.05: DRUGS”. 

“Is this your local law enforcement?” he asks you, tilting his head to the side. 

“Yeah, that’s our local booze bus parked next to a divvy van,” you nod in affirmation, “They do regular drug and alcohol testing for drivers to ensure their safety on the road. Weird that they’re outside of a servo, though. Usually they’re on the main roads.” He nods his head and hums.

“Booze bus. Divvy Van,” he looks over to the petrol station, arching his brow high, “Servo?” 

“I know, it’s a lot,” you confirm with an apologetic smile, “I promise it gets easier to adapt to the slang the longer you practice.” He nods again. 

Passing a local park with a children’s play area, you manage to see your friend David from work, his two children playing together on the looped climbing frames and plastic slide. 

“Davo!” you call out to him, waving your unoccupied hand in front of you - considering the other contains a paper bag filled with the fruits of your labor. 

“How the bloody hell are’ ya goin’, Darl’?!” his nasally voice cracked to you, “Who’s the fella ya got there with ya?” You smile at him, walking to embrace him.

“This is Rosinante Corazon, the friend I mentioned was visiting from Spain,” you informed him, “How’s the missus back at home? How’s the kids?”

“Mate! Howzit goin’?” he extended his hand out to Rosinante, who placed his hand within and gave it a gentle shake who mumbled a soft ‘pleased to meet you’ in response.

“Ah, and the ankle biters are doin’ great. Givin’ the missus a bit of a reprieve here at the park, tough gig bein’ an ambo driver.” He glanced over his shoulder at his children, ensuring they were safe now they’ve climbed to an elevated height. 

“Oh I’m glad she’s managing to take a break. She’s a tough lady,” you nod to him, smiling over at the two children who wave at you while playing with a make-shift telescope. 

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you,” he confesses, gesturing down to the brown bag clutched in your hands, “Don’t want that brekky gettin’ cold now, do we?” You laugh at him, waving him off before waving at his children. 

Rosinante remained silent, only muttering a few words that stood out to him: “Darl’, fella, mate, missus, ankle biters, ambo driver, brekky,” on a perpetual loop.  

“You okay there, Rosi?” you quirk up at him, a soft smile pulling at your cheeks. 

“I’m alright, Darl,” he attempted, his voice falling to his nose and emulating the accent he heard moments prior, “Is that a common term of endearment here? ‘Darl’ and ‘mate’? How do you go with gender neutral titles?”

“Both of those titles can be used interchangeably, regardless of gender,” you inform him, “It all depends on context and the way you say it.” he hums again, nodding along and muttering several phrases he learnt. He reaches into the circular cup cardboard and pulls out his coffee and takes a small sip. 

Your feet finally carry your way over to the lobby of the hotel where he was staying with Law, his body immediately halting in front of the surf, dive and ski shop. His head cocked to the side, staring at the large, rectangular basket outside the shop. You follow his line of sight, which remained locked on to a large, canvas sign attached to the basket. 

“Ah,” you click your tongue, noticing they’re focussed on a common shoe worn in this area, “Do you and Law need a new pair of thongs? I know the bottoms melt a little when the bitumen gets a bit hot.” 

“You want me and Law to wear what?” he turned towards you with his eyes wide and jaw dropped. It took a moment for you to understand the miscommunication, your eyes growing wide and your nervous laughter propelling your anxiety further. 

“No, no, no, no, no!,” you managed to choke out, “No, we call ‘flip-flops’ ‘thongs’ here. Is that what had you a little confused? A basket full of shoes where you thought lingerie should be?” Rosinante laughed alongside you, shaking his head from side to side.

“You got me,” he chuckled, raising his coffee to his lips once more, “Our differences are quite vast, aren’t they?” 

“I suppose they are,” you acknowledge with a shrug and a broad, tight-lipped smile. He hums once again, muttering several phrases as you step into the elevator. 

Clicking the button to the appropriate floor, the doors open wide to reveal the carpeted corridor of the hotel room. You offer to hold the coffee tray in your unoccupied hand as Rosinante clumsily attempts to fish out his key-card from his pocket. He thanks you, his hand getting stuck in his pocket as he shimmies his shoulders to break it out. 

Finally clutching the key card, he places it in the door and swings it wide to reveal Law sitting on the plush bench beside the large window. His left knee was bent, his right leg extended as he reclined against the window. His gray orbs draw away from watching the gentle crash of waves towards you both as you enter the suite. 

Before you had a moment to greet the younger man, Rosinante’s broad grin and best nasally voice interrupted your train of thought. Rosinante gently took the brown paper bag from your hands and offered it to his son.

“Howzit goin’, Darl’! Brought you some Brekky from Maccas!” he walked forwards, thrusting the bag into Law’s hands, “Saw a bin chicken eating some scraps from the red skip, and passed a booze bus outside the servo on the way back.”

Law chose to remain silent, wordlessly taking the brown bag from Rosinante and maintaining unbreaking eye contact. Rosinante took that as his queue to continue relaying his adventure. 

“Saw Davo being a good fella at the park with his ankle biters, his missus has been working hard as an ambo driver,” he continued, biting his lip as he attempted to relay the trip back to his absolutely unamused son, “Then we passed a shop on the way up. Was gonna get us a pair of matching thongs for the trip, but thought you would get embarrassed to be matching with your Dad.” 

Law’s fingers stuttered their descent into the bag, choosing to take a lengthy breath instead. 

“Dad?” Rosinante quirked his head up, turning to look at you over his shoulder. You were doing your best to stifle your laughter by clutching your lip in your palm, “Do you still call parents ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ here? Is there an Aussie term of endearment he could use for me instead?” 

“‘Cunt’ comes to mind,” Law murmured, prompting Rosinante to snap his head back over to his son. His heart shattered as Law drew up a hashbrown and began nibbling at its golden exterior. 

“L-Law-?” Rosi’s heartbreak was depicted in the quiver in his tone. You walk over to your friend’s side and offer him his forgotten coffee with a smile.

“-Rosinante,” you broke him away from his sorrow with a soft giggle, “‘Cunt’ is also a term of endearment here. Law and I had a little conversation about cultural clashes last night when we were playing cards. You fell asleep early, remember?” 

“It is my favorite Australian term of endearment,” Law admitted with a soft hum, reaching up his outstretched hand to wordlessly ask for a coffee, “But your insults are far better. Quite original.” 

“Okay, Champ,” you mock Law, passing him his cup of coffee, “Big words coming from a guy with a face like a smashed crab.” 

“Coming from a Drongo with the personality of a dropped meat pie,” Law smirked in return, taking the cup from your hands. Your joint laughter ricocheted from the hotel walls, prompting Rosinante’s prior sour mood to pick back up. 

As you all ate your brekky in comfortable silence, you gazed out onto the beach below. Law followed your eyes, looping at the large swell of the waves. The choppy waves crashed against the golden waves, the vendors beginning to set up their canopies to sell their wares along the boardwalk. 

“You did well, Rosinante,” you complimented the tall, blonde man, “Using our words in the appropriate context, I mean.” Rosinante smiled at you, placing his paper rubbish in the brown paper bag.

“Thank you, Mate,” he said with a soft wink, “I appreciate the praise for my efforts.”

“No wakkas, makka,” you smile at him with a shrug. Both men quip their head up, their ears pricking and confusion written on their face. 

“We’ll get into that later, I guess,” you chuckle at the two of them as their confusion deepens.

The large Australian crowd began to take out their surf and boogie boards, set up nets for volleyball, and their wickets for beach cricket. The variety of populus below in various designs bathers, placing sunscreen on their bodies to protect from the deadly UV rays. 

“Beach day?” you ask them, smile drawing up over your features once more.

“Beach day,” Rosinante nods in confirmation, excited to learn more slang and cultural differences as the day broadens its rays over the oceanic backdrop. 

[mjrtaurus]

Dragon's POV shortly before Luffy was conceived (and then again years later bc these two learned nothing the first time around).

Putting those reptilian moves on him 🤣

Now I'm just imagining Crocodile flirting like an actual saltwater crocodile and wooing Dragom over with sweet words in his raspy voice, lots of kisses, and a hand stroking his back. Dragon is always a goner when it comes to physical touch.

Meanwhile, Dragon flirts like an Andean Condor, which involves showing off his amaru wingspan and a little bit of vulture-y hissing. Poor Crocodile and his fondness for birds never stood a chance.

Meanwhile Buggy, Mihawk, Sabo, and Iva are watching this weirdness go down like it's a David Attenborough nature documentary.

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 5: Yandere Hawks

You know, people should be real glad he's such a nice guy. A Hero. Cause it was WAY too easy to get Her files. Tsk, tsk. Such poor security! He's kinda disappointed, honestly. He was sorta expecting a bit of a challenge.

It IS a Goverment building after all.

But maybe it's 'cause she's not a Hero herself. She's a civilian. So they don't care as much. You'd think you'd just get universal security and then lock down the Heroic files, but no. Glorified safes and lock boxes. Clear and traceable holes in all SORTS of bloodlines.

Gee, wonder why Mr. and Mrs. So-n-So have a redacted kid! Bet THEY'RE not related to any Heros! Sure won't be easy to just go to their HOUSE an find their kid's name THERE along with a few hostages!

It's theater. A joke, really. He's kinda GLAD he basically has no family, if THIS is the security they'd get.

Good thing he's removing Her files. They'll be MUCH safer with him~. A few dummy files left in their plaaaace, aaaand... back out through the blind spots in the camera coverage! Honestly, he's done harder exercises with his feathers literally concussed.

Ooooh~☆ Like that one. And that one~!

He keeps flipping through his social feeds. Might as WELL multi-task. Selfie with the skyline~♡! Aaaand upload. There we go, that's his #Aesthetic post of the day. Now PR will have nothing to complain about. Hmmmm, should like a few memes. Don't comment on THAT scandal. Joke about THAT one. Post a thirst trap modeling pic... aaaand...

He feels his feathers escape the building. Finally! It was his last hit of the night. File finally in hand, he lazily rolls to his feet, stretchs. Tucks the file away but not his phone. Then let's himself drop forward into open air. Let's his wings CATCH.

The magnificent slide of cool air against his feathers, the resistance of wind against his wings. He soars and for a moment... let's himself feeling nothing else. It is perfect.

It always is.

First things first, dropping of the files. Gotta keep them safe after all. Then... then he SHOULD be going to bed. Heck, if he doesn't feel like going alone, it's not like he doesn't have OPTIONS. He honestly has too many. But even then, the thought of it's exhausting...

They want The Mask. And yeah, sometimes it's FUN being the mask. Good for PR. Adds to his good reputation when they inevitably talk.

And they always DO talk.

They spread the word exactly as he expects them too. Dispite swearing, to the last, not to breathe a word. The picture of discretion, they PROMISE, Hawks~♡! Ha. 'Course they are. Pretty, chatty, birds. Picked for their scandal free backgrounds, photo ready faces, and hero positive attitudes.

He gets a LIST for every event he goes too. Has several, ranging from "approved in general" to "by region". Really... the height of romance, his meet-cutes. Picture perfect down to the last detail.

You'd almost thing a team of handlers PLANNED them for him.

Not to say the sex isn't great. Sex is always nice! Just... not when you're not in the mood for something REAL, ya know? When you want to get... get MESSY.

Hunt someone. See those eyes dilate, utterly AWARE and focused completely on HIM. That moment of indecision. Stay and fight? Run? Watching the scales tip and clatter in ruin to the floor. Run. Let um get a head start. RUN. Want to see those Big BEAUTIFUL Wings snap out to their full width, massive and powerful, and RIP through the air as they fling her into the sky. RUN!!!

Run away, lil predator. He's coming to CATCH you~

God, she'd be so POWERFUL in the air. So DANGEROUS. Eating up the distance like she actually stood a CHANCE. Those wings, so far from fragile its laughable. But... oh. Oh, he's FASTER. So, so much faster. Agile in a way her raw power robs her off.

She would never be able to fight him off. Would have NO chance to truely escape.

And then?

Then it's a matter of stamina. Training. And only ONE of them's a Hero~

He'd harry her. Feathers flying from ever angle, deadly sharp and far too close. Better dodge! Use your quirk! Oh DEAR, uses stamina as a fuel source does it? Hope you have ENOUGH~!

Little cuts. Kicks here and there. Pushing her lower~ Pushing her lower~ Watch out for that building! Uh oh! Powerlines! Large wingspan is a benefit in open air~ but it works against you heeeeereeeee~! Better LAND, lil harpy!

Before he knocks you from the SKY.

And he WOULD. God, it would be AMAZING. If he got her at just the right angle? He could kick her into a building, a tree, SOMETHING. Or maybe as she goes to flap? He could trap a wing. She'd DROP.

Wrap her torso in enough feathers to pin it. Slow her fall juuuust enough to really hurt, but keep her from hitting wrong. Ah~ bet she'd SCREECH. Struggle and lash like a cornered animal. Wing slamming the dirt helplessly, flapping uselessly, as she tries SO hard to get free... heart pounding, legs kicking, adrenaline surging through her veins~

He Wins, lil fighter~ now he gets his prize~♡

Ah, he bets you'd BITE. If the HPSC wouldn't kill him for it, he'd probably LET you. Let you scar him up in your rage. Leave your mark. You'd be so PISSED at losing. So nervous. And he can get that, vulnerability is a lot. Big, strong, walls all crumbling down? It'd feel like raw nerves. Being SEEN.

And he'd SEE her alright.

Even if she managed to avoid it. Managed to land, run, get herself nice and lost. He'd chase her down. Wear her down. Til the anger has no more fuel to burn. The threats have no more strength. Make her run and fight and run and climb and RUN... until her body just? Can't any more.

All struggled out~

Nothing but muscles shaking and bruises, feather cuts and the sweat that burns them. Gasping for air that can't seem to come fast enough. She never stood a chance~ But he let her try anyway.

And god. All his senses would be ON FIRE. Practically high on it. He'd be everything he's NOT supposed to be. Every instinct he's supposed to shove down on full glorious display.

He'd feed her till she CHOKES. She wouldn't get a choice. Watch the grease run down her pretty face and neck. Run his fingers through those pretty feathers and feel HIS against her skin. Preening and so, so pretty. All clean~ All those pretty little cuts and poor lil scrapes.

He put his merch on Each And Every One~

Little red feather band-aids all pretty on her skin~♡

His~ Won fair an square. Gotta take care of it. Blood and grease and sweat. Find all the places that make his Harpy bird squirm. But she can't escape. Not ever escape. He won. His, his, his. He'd make those place feel NICE. Watch her as she feels good.

She'd be so tired. So sore. She'd WANT to feel good. Be so tired of fighting and pretending. Hungry. And he'd be so good about how he takes care of her. Cause he's a HERO. Massaging hands and feathers that hold her nice and still. Careful kisses and playful teasing. Then? He'd hold those powerful, exhausted, thighs open and show her what worship feels like.

She'd make SUCH cute noises. He bets he could make her beg. Could probably make her cry.

He's fantasized, before, about not holding back. When some hero chaser is in his bed, with the "real" Hawks. Performing once again, a different facet of the Mask, all the better to pretend he is a Real Boy. Ha! What would be like? To do nothing but feel GOOD? To concentrate on pleasure? The feeling of his body moving?

To GRAB and put his back into it? Knowing damn well he'd leave bruises. Because he's stronger then them. Because his body is a weapon. Because wires in his brain were mixed up long, long ago and nothing can possibly undo it now. Wanting to snarl and shred everything around him as he rams home, deep and good like he's melting.

Wants feathers EVERYWHERE. Under him, against his skin, attached to whomever he's fucking. A God damned NEST. With blankets and feathers and tatami.

Wants to be BONELESS for how hard he fucked. How much effort it took. A marathon and a national EVENT. Wants to put on a parade and have a feast and then RUIN all of it. It's like screaming in his head, sometimes. All the instincts he is forced to repress and ignore. They blend together. Violence and hunger and horny and NEEDY AND ANGER AND-!

He lands. Outside her apartment. He's seen rats live in better places. It's an unkind assessment. But he's abruptly feeling kind of... agitated. He really should push her towards a better job. Like working for him. Or living with him. Or being HIS. Maybe both. And he'll need to hunt down a few insurance agents. Have some TALKS.

He slips a few feathers into the building. Her neighbor sleeps with the window cracked. From there? The vents. Gotcha~

The steady sound of breathing. Asleep. The rhythmic pattern... knowing it's from HER... it's...

It's soothing.

He settles back into a watchful crouch. He's still on edge. Hard. But nothing he can't fix. He has a pretty good angle from where he's perched. You forgot to fully close your blinds. And his eye sight is EXCELLENT. You look so relaxed~♡

He feels you breathe. Gently, ever so gently, let's one of his feathers drift forward to land carefully against a cheek. Warm. He can feel your pulse.

He strokes himself franticly. The cold air of night time just adding to the thrill as it teases everywhere his hand is not. His handlers would HATE this. The HPSC would NEVER allow it. He presses his other had to his face, to muffle his voice, as he desperately tries to both buck his hips AND keep his balance. So good. God she looks so VULNERABLE~

He milks the tip. Finally giving in to the urge to BITE his hand, glove leather filling his mouth. The only think keeping him upright on the phone poll he landed on, is the feathers he's grabbed himself with. And even THAT reminds him of his earlier fantasies. He spills, jerking, and raining down on the unsuspecting street below.

Good thing it's so late at night.

His entire body is riding the aftershocks. Sensitive and good. Euphoric. He laughs, wild eyed as he stares down at his hand. How depraved~ His lil hunter is certainly bringing out the worst of him, isn't she? Or maybe it's the best? It's certainly SOMETHING. And god, is it HUNGRY.

He looks back at her sleeping face as he licks his hands clean...

He should do this again~

[tac-the-unseen]

Pebble

König x reader fluff

A pebble.

A single pebble lay on your desk.

A dark Grey stone with little clear specks giving the illusion of sparkles. Not terribly unusual if not for the fact that rocks in all different smaller sizes keep showing up around your stuff. You have a jar filled with them. You had no clue why they keep showing up. Everyday one pebble just appears.

Its became routine. Wake up, get dressed, find the pebble, go to work.

You're pretty sure someone's fucking with you. Like 80% sure. You told your supervisors and higher ups. They've sent some to the labs and each time it was simply just a rock. Then will hand you back the shattered stone.

It puzzles you and everyone who knows about the mystery stones. You've asked night sift if they know anything and they just shrug their shoulders.

Some people think a bird of some kind trying to court you. Others think someone is pranking you. And you leen to the latter here. Someone has to be joking with you. Why else would anyone do this? At least the pebbles make you somewhat happy.

To König the pebbles were a simple act of affection without having to get to close to you. Every morning he would get up, go outside and find a rock he likes. Then after putting all his love into it (squeezing the pebble in-between him plams and say nice things to it) he places it somewhere you'd notice.

He's mesmerized your routine so you never catch him in the pebble-placing act.

He thinks that because the pebble makes him happy it will in return make you happy.

Sometimes he finds the rocks on his missions. The pebble catches his attention for a brief moment and then it's in his pocket.

He thinks the rocks are beautiful and wants to give you that beauty.

He would love to tell you it him gifting you pebbles but he's terrified you'll call him weird and file a harassment claim. So he just keeps it up.

He even found tomorrow's pebble.

Tonight was the night. Tonight you finally had the night shift. Tonight you were gonna catch the pebble-placer.

Buuuuut you forgot one thing......the night shift was sooooo boring. Your eyes bore into the green lit monitors. Watching for intruders who dared to step into the base.

Coffee slowly became your best friend. You and the other poor soul on grave yard duty alternated making rounds about the base.

You read the clock....0200....2 AM....Mina stood from her chair. She stretched like a she was praying to a God and then made a hum. " my turn then." You nod as she swayed to the door. She stopped then turn to face you "Should a bring back a snack?" You nod again "Fuck yeah. Anything is good." She smiles lightly at you." alright, see ya."

"see ya." You repeat.

You watch on the monitors as she wanders around. Then you foot steps outside the door. You look down at the screens once again. Only to see the person just out of frame. Just barely out of sight.

You grab the gun from your hip. While the chance of an intruder are slim it will never be zero. You point it at the door and stayed there.

The door knob slow turned. A tall figure pushed into the dimly lit room then it paused.

There stood König. Eyes blown wide from what little you could see under his sniper hood. His shoulders tensed and hitched up. His arm slowly come up as to look non-threatening.

"König? what are you do here this late??" You whisper shout as you put your gun back in the holder on your hip. He seemed to relax for a moment. You and König have been friends for a few years. Not super close but close enough to hang out sometimes.

He started to panic trying to find an excuse. "I-I...got lost...." he stuttered out. You don't buy it. Before you can say something, Your eyes travel to one of his hands. it looks like he's holding something. He follows your gaze and snaps his hands to his chest. "I'm sorry I'll leave." He scrambled to the door. Out of instinct you grab him.

"König get back in here!" You yank at his shoulder. He freezes again then turns to you. His eyes are filled with fear but he listens and steps back into the room. You close the door behind him and take a breath.

You move to look in his eyes. "König why are you actually here?" He responds with the shaky breath. He looks around and then looks at the door, planning his escape. He looks down at his hand. "Can....Can I show you something and you not make fun of me?" He says softly.

You nod your head. "of course König. What do you want to show me?" He trembles and slowly holds out his hand to yours. He grabs your hand and opens it. softly a little light Grey pebble fall out onto your plams.

Your eyes blow wide as you stare at the pebble. You look up to meet König's eye only to see him make a run to the door.

He's gone before you have the chance to say anything.

 ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Minor editing to format!

This was my first post and it blew up on AO3. So if you've ever wondered who wrote the pebble head cannon, that me!

[neteyamkink]

neteyam finding his mate touchin herself but she cant get herself off without him but neteyam decides to punish her by making her touch herself while he watches 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

i’m gonna combine these two and kill two birds with one stone (also i forgot to include the part where he makes her touch her self while he watches i’m sorry i’m so stupid LMFAO i’ll make that another day)

parings: aged up! neteyam x fem!reader

warnings: perv neteyam :(, masturbation, voyeurism??, “i love you”, he calls u princess, uhh i think that’s it idk, i rushed ending sorry 😞

Neteyam didn’t know what it was about his best friend that he found so intriguing. Actually, I should say he didn’t know what wasn’t so intriguing about you. He was obsessed with you and everyone around you knew it but you. Glances that linger a little too long, the way he tugged his bottom lip in between his teeth when he saw you, and the way he was so protective over you all gave it away.

It was undeniable that he was in love with his best friend. He knew it too, but he never spoke up too afraid to ruin your perfect friendship. I mean what if you didn’t want to go on late-night walks with him anymore? or ride your ikrans for hours without a destination? He couldn’t have that. He needed you in his life.

This all changed when he happened to catch his best friend with her hand between her legs whimpering his name.

One late night he decided he’ll pop up to your hut and ask if you wanted to go on a walk. It wasn’t unusual for him to do this either. You two normally popped up at each other's houses unannounced, because that was just how close you were.

He stepped up to your door ready to knock right before he heard the most angelic two little words he’s ever heard before. “fuck, Neteyam,” you moaned. He stood there frozen in time, eyes wide before blinking a couple of times and putting his ear up to the door. Surely he wasn’t hearing this right, right?

“Please, Neteyam,” you whined. Okay, he was definitely not going crazy you were definitely moaning his name. What the hell is going on? before he made a move he needed to know if what he thought was going on was going on.

His feet carried him to the side of your hut and to the tiny opening you called a window. He cupped his hands around his eyes and leaned into the window to get a better look. And there you were in all of your glory, legs spread, fingers pawing at your clit hungry for release, hand covering your sinful mouth.

Neteyam almost lost his balance and held onto the mud wall for support. He couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. His very own best friend touching herself thinking about him? He pinched himself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. He tried to come up with reasonable explanations for this, but the only one he could think of is maybe his best friend saw him the same way he saw her.

His thoughts were interrupted by the pulsating in his lower region. He looked down at his loincloth to his boner. He was so painfully hard to the thought of you getting off to him and now he got to look at it. He couldn’t help, but reach his hand down and palm himself through his loincloth. It felt so wrong, but he couldn’t help it. His cock was throbbing with need and he had to do something about it right?

“nmpfff, Neteyam,” you moaned making his ears perk up and his face grow hot. Fuck you were so hot, the way your face contorted with pleasure, and your pretty moans sounded like they were sung by eywa herself.

You looked like you were struggling. Poor y/n couldn’t even get herself off. You were so needy for him that you couldn’t think of anything else but his cock and the way you knew you would never have it. You two were best friends, and of course, he would never see you that way. That’s How you ended up with your dainty hands circling your pretty clit dreaming of the slim chance you could ever have the real thing.

Before he could stop himself his feet were carrying him back to your door and his hands were balled in a fist. He took a breath preparing himself to either make or break your whole relationship. Then he was knocking on your door, knuckles hitting against the wood in a song-like tune.

“fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You scrambled to your feet and attempted to fix your clothes. Your heavy breathing and messy hair would give you away. Without another thought, you practically ran to your door opening it without asking who was there first. When you opened your door to see your best friend your face grew hot thinking of what events just went down 45 seconds ago.

“I didn’t expect-” you started, but before you could finish Neteyam was grabbing your cheeks and shoving his lips on yours. Even though you were shocked you didn’t hesitate to return the kiss. He pushed you into your hut shutting the door behind him.

“You could've asked me for help,” he smirks speaking up in between kisses.

you pause and put your hands on his chest pushing yourself away from him. “how did you,” you trailed off eyes searching around your hut and landing on the window without curtains. fuck, you thought.

“yeah…” Neteyam responded assuming you figured it out based on the way your gaze landed on the window.

You swallowed before cupping his face and pulling him back into the heated kiss. He wasted no time trailing his fingers down your stomach and curling his fingers around the waistband of your loincloth. every hair on your body stood up and a chill ran through your spine. His touch was electric.

A small moan left your pretty lips as he swiped his finger down your slit, his cold touch made you shiver.

“heard you moaning my name, you’re this wet just thinkin’ about me?” Neteyam began circling your clit. you hummed sweetly in response and let him lead you to your bed, he laid you down on the soft surface breaking contact for a second. You whine at the sudden loss of his body heat. you needed him as close as he could be. Your hands reached up to him and pulled him down with you. His knee slipped between your legs and his hand found its way back to your clit.

“So needy for me hm? Poor baby couldn’t even get herself off hm?” he hummed against your neck making your whole body vibrate. You needed him. Every inch of him right now.

“Please teyam, I need you,” you whimpered, pawing at his dick. You circled your fingers around his waistband desperately scrambling to pull his loincloth off. The sinful feeling of his pretty little best friend begging for him to fuck her went straight to his dick, making his painful erection even more unbearable.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he cooed, kissing down your neck and onto your collarbone. He slipped one of his fingers inside you, making a small gasp leave your lips. You’ve never felt like this before, his big fingers filled you up way better than yours. But you needed more. you needed him.

“need your dick, tete,” you choked out, trying to mask your moans with your words. The feeling of his soft lips leaving sweet kisses on you, and his fingers pumping in and out of you at a slow pace was pure euphoria.

Your desperation turned him on so much he couldn’t tease you anymore, or he was afraid he would cum right here and now without you even touching him. He reached down to his cock and lined it up with your entrance, slowly dragging it up and down to get him wet with your juices. He tried not to throw his head back in pleasure as you let out a desperate whine.

“Please, teyam,” you begged, and as soon as the words left your lips he was slipping inside of you. You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth as you threw your head back. He let out a low groan and continued to kiss your neck as he thrusted in and out of you. His pace was slow and steady, he wanted to take in every second of this experience. He was finally getting to fuck his best friend and make love even. He didn’t just want to fuck you, he wanted to saviour you, take you in and breathe you out.

“Been waiting for this for so long, you feel so good,” he whimpered into your skin. You reached your hands up to his hair tugging on it softly. Your legs lifted and wrapped around his hips, pulling closer to you and pushing him deeper inside you.

“take me just like that, princess,” he moaned pushing himself deeper into you. His pace began to get faster and faster due to his growing impatience. When his hand slipped down past your stomach and onto your clit you became just as impatient as him.

“feels so good, teyam,” You whimpered throwing your head back in pleasure and tugging at the roots of his hair. A strange coil in your stomach began to tighten with every thrust and every circle around your clit. You had been waiting for this moment too. the moment that your best friend would finally realize that you were in love with him and he would make love to you ever so sweetly.

His thrusts grew sloppy, and he knew he was about to cum. “I love you. every since the day I met you, I’ve loved you,” he confessed, burying his head in your neck.

“I love you too, teyam,” you pulled him closer and with that, he was shooting his hot seed into you. He didn’t mean to cum before you, but fuck those five words sent him over the edge. He fucked you through his climax, and soon after him you were coming undone underneath him. Your back arched off of your bed and your moans were the only thing that filled his ears. Pure pleasure and bliss shot through your body.

“There you go. Breath, princess, breathe,” he cooed at you as you came down from your high. You listened to him and tried to catch your breath, your body still convulsing underneath him. “I love you,” he kissed you, shushing your soft whimpers.

[mixtape127]

worlds colliding ☆ pt.1

genre : non!idol mark lee x male reader, college au, ennemies to lovers ?

summary : what if you - kinda - had to save the world and Mark was your sidekick ? or — you need to give out fliers for a class, and Mark doesn't care about "global warming."

warnings : strong language, mark is kind of a douchebag but i swear he's sweet, not proofread yet

words : 1.6k

notes : i love this story sm, it's been in my drafts for so long and it was supposed to be about p1harmony, but i like it with mark too ! might make it in more than just 2 parts if you guys enjoy it as much as i do ! and btw, english isn't my native language, so i really do hope i actually wrote well and if i made dumb mistakes, i'm sorry :((

currently listening to :

"thank you, please look forward to it !" y/n says, bowing multiple times, a smile enlightening his face, watching the group of students walk away with fliers in his hands. "i hope to see you there tomorrow !"

it must have been around 9:40 a.m., a chilly morning for a spring day. the sun was shining, the clouds were absent. the green leaves were showing, some still falling on the grass of the campus park. the students in short sleeves were out again, and the jocks were taking advantage of the cooler weather to work out outside. y/n looked up, his eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. he felt cold, his bones shaking. his poor denim jacket did not cover his bare arms, and his jeans with holes in them did not provide any warmth either. he smiled to himself, seeing some birds migrating elsewhere, formed into a triangle.

he blinked a few times, returning to his emotionless face, before continuing to approach some of the students in groups to give them the rest of his fliers. but none of them seemed interested, and y/n began to lose hope. his business professor had made it clear that if he couldn't get at least 20 students to donate, his semester was over. this was his last chance, and he wasn't about to let it go. his displeasure gradually began to show, the creases in his face deepening. the more people walked around him, the more his hands tightened around his fliers. it's one thing for them not to be interested, but for them to ignore him like this is another.

for a moment there was a flutter, no one was coming out or going in. he took the opportunity to catch his breath, closing his eyes.

"one... two... three..." he whispered to himself, focusing on the soft whistle of the wind.

when he opened them again, he saw a figure facing him approaching the doors of the art building behind him. y/n thought to himself that this was fate, that this boy was almost arriving with a glittering halo of light behind him, signifying y/n's last chance. he took this opportunity and approached the guy, feeling confident.

"hey, how's it going? i'm handing out fliers about globa-..."

a brief gust of wind caressed the skin of his face. again, no response. the boy stalked his way, his headphones screwed to his ears, only giving y/n a small glance. he stood there, watching the boy's back as he walked away. he finally admitted to himself that this time, his pride had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and someone had come to trample it right after. he noted in a corner of his head that he didn't like the idea at all. but it was without realizing it that his legs responded alone, quickly approaching the young black-haired student. he patted him on the shoulder vigorously and handed him the previously crumpled paper in his hands when the latter turned around.

Mark, on his side, put on a bewildered face, one eyebrow raised. he was sure that he had deliberately ignored this boy just a few seconds ago. his day was not starting very well. his dog had chewed on his last pair of freshly bought shoes, his roommate — Donghyuck — had finished his favourite cereal and the hot water had been turned off on his floor. then finally his bus... never came, so he set out to walk to the university, realizing halfway there that his wireless headphones were out of battery. he'd wasted about ten minutes buying wired ones just to survive the rest of the day. and it was also at that very moment, coming out of the convenience store, that he promised himself he'd keep a spare pair of headphones in the bottom of his bag, just in case.

he took out one of his headphones, and uttered an extremely nonchalant "what? i'm late." he didn't mean to sound mean or disapproving, but the day was already taking its toll on him. he almost wondered what kind of people were picking on him so much, and for what reason? had he been too mean to the salesman last night, when he asked him to get out of the store because Mark was singing EXO's music at the top of his lungs? was he too dismissive of his singing teacher when she told him to stop doing 'too much'? and then, what do you mean 'too much'? Mark really didn't like that word, even less when it described his singing.

y/n, on the other hand, waved the paper in front of his nose. he was frustrated with his morning, especially with the way people responded to him. and especially the way Mark said 'what'. he wondered why people were in such a bad mood in the morning. he let out a breath to regain his composure before starting.

"before you cut me off, i think taking this won't hurt you. i'm really passionate about this cause, so i will give you this flier. and if i have to shove it down your throat, i'll do it." he pressed the piece of paper against the boy's chest in front of him. "thank you, and have a great day."

y/n bowed before rotating drastically, turning his back on Mark. he put his hand on his heart, which was now pounding in his chest. not because the black-haired boy was a living god, but because he felt he was getting carried away and tangled up in his words. how people see him matters a lot to him, even if he doesn't talk about it much. and he knew that this interaction was going to play over and over in his head tonight and keep him awake.

"what a fucking weirdo..." Mark muttered once y/n was far enough away.

he clutched the flier in his hands before resuming his journey to his class, which was really about to start. what do you mean 'i'll shove it down your throat'? he shook his head from left to right, pushed open the door and quickly dashed down the left corridor, hitting someone in the shoulder on his way.

Mark hardly turned around, just to give a weak look to the brown man who was bending while getting lost in excuses, and he took a quick walk to room 208. once in front of it, he opened the door and quickly sneaked to his place, at the back left of the room, managing to pass out of the radar of his teacher, who hadn't even noticed his absence until then.

once seated, he took out some of his things, not forgetting his bottle of fresh orange juice, something he bought every Tuesday morning to give himself luck during that long day. Tuesdays were never really his days, always bad and gloomy. he wasn't superstitious, but if Tuesdays could disappear completely, his world would be much better.

as he took his notebook out of his backpack, the flier given to him by y/n slid silently to the ground. Mark bent down to pick it up, not failing to roll his eyes as he placed it back on the table. but his eyes were drawn to a large headline.

"THE WORLD IS SLOWLY ENDING, BUT YOU'RE THE HERO, RIGHT?"

he chuckled silently, before turning the paper over to see the back, finding that there was nothing written on it, and crumpled it up in his hand before tossing it into his backpack. saving the world was not in his plans. not today. 

maybe tomorrow... who knows? and he did. he saved y/n's world, in some sort of way the day right after.

"it will serve you better than me."

y/n blinked a few times, frowning in front of his phone, which was playing a summer song, although outside, it was raining damn heavily. he wondered if the voice came from someone talking to a friend behind him, or from his headphones. but the whistle sound in his right ear brought him back to reality. he let out a faint "i'm not a fucking dog-" before looking at the umbrella someone was holding upon his head, then at a guy with brown hair. it takes some time for y/n to connect the dots — maybe because of some sort of poor eyesight — but when he does, his mouth opens up wide.

"you're the guy from yesterday that said "what" so nonchalantly it made my day way worse than it was already !"

Mark rolled his eyes. "i'm trying to save the world, being a hero, i'm landing you my umbrella." with a devilish grin, he removes the umbrella from above y/n's head. "but if you want, i can leave too."

"i'm surprised you read that flier you hated so much." he mutters.

y/n did not know if he should accept, but after all, it won't kill him and it will keep him from getting sick. even though he loved hanging out in bed instead of going to class, getting sick was one of the things he hated the most.

"thanks a lot... um... what's your name?"

"Mark."

he took the umbrella and put it over his head while nodding, repeating Mark's name quietly like he was getting used to it. their eyes met again before Mark got swept away by Donghyuck's reminder that the bus was there and it wouldn't wait for them. he let himself be swept away, and a minute later, y/n's silhouette evaporated in the distance, through the mist on the bus windows.

Mark was lost in thought. and he noticed that his name sounded pretty coming out of y/n's mouth.

[felagund-the-valiant]

In All Shapes and Sizes - Beleg x shapeshifter!reader

Love comes in all shapes and sizes. Beleg got to experience this first-hand.

Words: 612

Tags: fluff

A/N: a tiny little something I wrote for @doodle-pops underrated character event :D

A chill lay in the air, announcing the slow approach of autumn. The leaves crackled ever so slightly under his boots as Beleg tread the narrow path that led to your shared home, humming absentmindedly. The birds overhead seemed to pick up on his song and joined in with cheerful chirps and coos, entirely unbothered by his presence. A couple of deer trotted through the forest, watching him curiously before going separate ways. He spotted fresh paw prints on the same trail he was walking on – his tracking abilities told him they were left by a fox. A knowing smirk crossed his face, and he sped up his pace ever so slightly, wondering if he could catch up before either of you reached home.

Mere moments later, Beleg heard a rustle in the bushes but couldn’t spot anything moving, or so he thought. A flash of red fur appeared in the corner of his eyes out of nowhere and he felt a pair of arms and legs wrap around his body as you leapt into his arms. He stumbled back a little and let out a breathless laugh.  “Slow down there,” he gasped as he set you back on the ground, but you paid him no mind. “How I have missed you, meleth. Are you well? Any wounds that need tending to?” You scanned his body and did a gentle pat down. “I’m fine, no need to worry.” Beleg stopped your hands from wandering by taking them into his own and smiling reassuringly at you. “You know I’m always careful. And more than capable of tending to wounds, as you should know.” You lowered your head bashfully at his comment, catching the reference to your first meeting.

It had been more than unexpected. One rainy day, Beleg had found himself nursing a poor hurt fox he had encountered while on patrol and was more than surprised when a couple of days later an Elf was sitting in his hut with no sign of the fox. He had heard rumours of so-called shapeshifters from other wardens but never thought he would see one in the flesh, much less fall in love with one. Many a times he had asked you if you wouldn’t come live with him in the city, but you refused, preferring the solitude of the forest to the hustle and bustle of civilisation. It wasn’t difficult for him to make the decision to join you in living in nature and he had never once regretted it. Living with the one he loved was worth more than any comfort the city could ever hope to offer and he had already spent large portions of his life in the forest anyway.

“Race you home?” You asked excitedly and he snorted. “I return after a long watch, and you want me to physically exert myself even more? Also, we both know I don’t stand chance. You just want to brag about winning again,” Beleg teased. In your Elven form he might have been able to outrun you with ease, but foxes were faster than the Elves and he knew you would not pick the easy route for him. You sighed dramatically and he halted any complaints you might voice by bending down and kissing your forehead. “All I want right now is to be home, enjoy a good meal and cosy up with my beloved. Does that sound good to you as well?” You bit your bottom lip and pretended to ponder his request before nodding. You stood on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his lips and interlaced your fingers with his. “That sounds wonderful, actually. Let’s go.”

[cal-flakes]

hii can you write an imagine with rafe and a reader that's just as psycho as him please??

okay so i also got another request about y/n protecting rafe so i’ve put these together, however i’ve put a bit of spin on it.

╰┈➤ protecting dark!rafe

warnings: mentions of lethal weapons, extreme violence, blood, homicide.

summary: y/n comes to rafe’s defence when he’s in trouble. (obx2 spoilers! sort of)

the grunts and groans of a struggle echoed through the dark forest of goat island, overriding her senses as she crept through the wailing trees.

she’d parked her car quite far out in hopes rafe wouldn’t see her, she’d intended to undermine his plans, take the cross for herself, but it seemed two people now stood in her way.

coming out of the camouflage of the thick woods, she tip toed around the side of the truck. her gloved fingertips just grasping the handle of her hunting knife while she went over the new plan in her head.

peaking around the side, she took in the scene before her, the strange man had rafe pinned to the ground, throwing punch after punch.

she’d never seen him before and it made her wonder who else was looking for the cross of santo domingo.

taking the opportunity, she lunged at him, plunging the blade deep into his thigh as he let out a cry of pain.

stumbling backwards, he landed into the mud with a groan as he stared down at the wound in horror.

before he had the chance to work out whether it was blood or dirt he was covered in, a gunshot filled the area, birds squeaking as they flew away.

rafe looked at the man on the floor, glancing between him and the gun in her hand, making the connection. it was obvious who shot him, but he just couldn’t fathom it.

a girl he had fallen for, killing a man in cold blood, right in front of him?

she stepped over his limp body, taunting him with a grin on her face. her pupils were blown and her hands trembled slightly as she looked over the man for any sign of life.

satisfied with his lack of pulse, she turned to rafe who was frozen on the floor, unsure of what just happened.

“give me your hand” she demanded, the numbness of her voice almost giving him chills. nodding in thanks, he reached up expectantly while his chest heaved.

in the blink of an eye, she’d put the safety on and flipped the gun around, slipping the handle into his shaky hands.

his breath hitched as she gently grasped his bare fingertips, squeezing them around the weapon.

“wh-what..” he gasped, breathless and shaken. she chuckled, shaking her head at his stupidity.

his heart could’ve exploded then and there, the feeling of betrayal coursing through him as he stared back at someone he thought he knew.

“im gonna make you a deal rafe, and you’ve got two options. you give me what i want, or..i give old shoupe a call, tell him i’ve got the gun you used on our friend here” she smirked, a menacing look dancing through her wide eyes.

“b-but that didn’t happen, that’ll never work y/n and you know it” he growled, gritting his teeth.

she tilted her head in amusement, leaning down. “oh but wouldn’t it? i was the worried girlfriend, following you to find out where you were going, only to find you blowing this poor man’s brains out” she stated proudly, inciting an angry sigh from the boy below her.

“and i was just, so scared, so i kept the gun, making sure i had something to protect me if you ever tried to come for me too..”

“you used me..” he muttered, staring into her eyes in hopes something familiar would return. “you waited until i’d done all the hard work huh? thought you’d swoop in, take the cross for yourself?” he snapped, attempting to lunge at her.

his reach was limited however, as she placed her dirty boot on his chest, pushing him further into the ground. “oh baby boy, that’s exactly what i’ve done..” she uttered, blowing him a kiss before sending a sharp kick to his jaw.

“you should be thanking me really, i just saved your life..but i suppose you’ve always been an ungrateful dick huh?”

she rounded the truck once more and got in the drivers side, leaving rafe in the mud, writhing in pain and hurt.

[didoldacc]

oh boy (wonder) ● huening kai | chapter one

this work contains violence and smut, MDNI!

warnings: sound of gunshots, curse words (i don't know if this one even should be in warnings) let me know if something is missing!

+this is not a dark fic, warnings are only there because it is unavoidable in a superhero setting. but this chapter is one of the lighter chapters.

smut warnings: none

word count: around 1.4k

"they say the new vigilante wondering around devil's tongue is gotham city's boy wonder." you said while chewing your pen. you were definitely stressed. all of this had a very high chance to boost your path to climbing up career stairs yet the worries you had about your city made it impossible to focus on promotion ensured with the story of blue bird that you have been working on.

"nightwing?" your co-worker fulton asked.

"yes, him. i really hope he doesn't bring gotham's curse on us. you know our crime rates are record high, we are almost as fucked up as gotham but what blüdhaven needs is not a vigilante running around. i don't think it helps gotham city, either. he should go back where he came from." you felt an urge to argue even though no one was saying anything. even confused looks towards you was covering fulton's face.

"well, tell me where do you see a problem in this? you are in need of a good story for your next sweet paycheck. and it comes by itself to you. you can still add commentary in your stories, it can gain a lot more attention but other than that, you shouldn't put your thinking cap on." he argued back, sounding like he didn't get your point at all.

you decided to avoid having a prawle with him. "whatever... i asked for pictures of him to be taken, do you have them?" you asked. "yes, i have them. you know even though you never bothered to learn my name, you have no idea how far i would go to capture pictures for your stories." he said jokingly but you knew there is no smoke without fire.

you frowned "hey, give me some credit. i of course know your name, fulton." trying to object what he said.

"that's my surname, i am talking about my first name." his protest immediately daffed by you. "is that really important? that's all the information i need for a respected co-worker." hoping he would get the hint.

"let's get working. and also we need to get read for this night. i suggest we follow him."

"welcome to our precinct, rookie. you are for sure going to feel unwelcomed here but don't get scared! they will start to treat you like a human being in no time." a random officer said. kai wanted to roll his eyes. his low-key attitude was definitely not suitable to a cop his age and experience.

"no worries, i survived gotham. i am pretty sure that some socially awkward stiations isn't going to be my cause of death instead of a psychotic clown terrorizing the whole gotham." he headed to his desk after giving him a sarcastic and dismissive response.

"look at the newbie over there! he looks so dreamy!" said a senior officer who didn't look much older than kai. "is he kai kamal huening, the adopted son of bruce wayne? i heard he lost his parents when he was a kid and adopted by the billionaire playboy." they started gossiping as if kai wasn't there. "poor guy, but lucky."

kai couldn't help but smirk to those women talking about him. even though they were obstrusive, he was used to it. gossips were unavoidable if you were a wayne. it was okay as long as they didn't know the batman and robin. yet he didn't worry about it due to very limited observation skills people had.

kai started to place his belongings to his desk. this was a new beggining to him, a chance to become a different man than his surly adopted father, an identity that had nothing in common with bruce's darkness. lost in the thoughts, kai stopped thinking once he saw his captain walking towards him. he hoped that she was just coming there to welcome him. kai immeadiately stood up. but once she started talking all of his hopes was in vain. just being there to welcome him was further away from the truth with the worlds slipping out her mouth. "isn't that a great coincidence the successor of the wayne fortune started his career as a dedective with a high ranking. i will keep my eye on you. anyways i am actually here to remind you that you can take the documents for your first case from my secretary." she left without giving him a chance to reply.

he went up to secretary's desk to take the file. the secretary seemed a nice sweet girl unlike everyone else around. "oh, you are here to take the 'blue bird' files, right?" kai felt his heart racing with his luck but he managed to stay nonchalant. "yes, i guess so? isn't his name nightwing? why the file is called blue bird?" the secretary's lips slightly opened for a minute then she pressed them together before answering. "i wouldn't know, sorry." kai smiled. "no, i am sorry. i was just talking to myself. it was rude." kai explained himself. he had a feeling that she was the one he wouldn't hate to be around. "guess i better get started." he said before leading to his desk. the sweet secretary waved good bye to him, both of them forgetting to exchange names.

kai wanted to give himself a break and not to go to patrol this night but later decided to do so because he was in desperate boredom due to lack of human connection he had. before he left he wanted to call barbara. his hands were about to dial the contact name 'babs<3' yet he stopped himself. if he called her, bruce would know and the last thing he needed was bruce knowing kai was alone like himself. kai was never a grumpy and serious person like bruce. he had a phase where he was constantly mad due to his parents' passing but thanks to alferd and his more open-minded and fun-loving nature. yet kai was still afraid that he someday would turn into a bruce or the batman. so no he wasn't going to call barbara and she sure could outlive few weeks without talking to him.

"god i am really hoping that the new vigilante is on a patrol this night. otherwise we are fucking up our sleeping schedules for no reason." fulton complained.

"stop whining like a baby. if i am going to be the next lois lane i need this story." you sounded stern while saying it.

"or you could be the next vick vale." his sarcasm in his voice made you sick for some reason but you didn't chew on. "or her yeah." you mumbled.

you stared at the roofs where the so called nightwing hanged out the most. what was his deal? was he really robin? if he is, why did he leave batman? you needed all those answers for your story.

suddenly you heard a gunshot. the adrenaline taking over your body, the only thing you were managed to think was whether or not if this story was worth risking your life yet you still ran toward the gun sound, coming down from the ladders as fast as you could. you were certain that it was your lucky day when you heard more gunshots coming from there. "this will definitely get nightwing's attention."

a/n: i know reader and kai may seem a bit annoying but they will have character developments and kai's character may seem just dick grayson named kai but don't worry it will be a mix of kai's and dick's personalities. i added this note cuz it bothered me while reading but then i remembered my plans for this fic.

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

thinking about how cytherea absolutely reads gideon like a goddamn book. she really takes one singular look at her and is immediately like ah yes. wake's kid. who is very clearly a lesbian with a penchant for chivalry, which means the drooping baby bird routine is tailor-made for her. also, the ninth is terrible. she's lonely and likely craves hints about her family.

oh gideon, has anyone ever told you you have beautiful eyes?

poor gideon never stood a chance.

[undyingembers]

OC Kiss Week - Victoire & Siavash

An OC Kiss Week entry featuring my Rogue Trader Victoire and @dujour13's Siavash. Thank you for letting me do this to him. This was fun.

There are some content tags for this one. Warhammer 40K is very grimdark, and Victoire is...not a nice person. I'm grateful for Dujour for letting me do this to her charcter.

cw: torture mention; shooting mention

Even hours after she put down the little insurrection on Dargonus, Victoire still smelled of blood and gunpowder. Her principal colony was used to a little unrest now and then—people wanting free time, increased pay, and, Emperor forbid, limited working hours. This time was different. This time, the peasants didn’t simply ask for more bread and fewer lashes. There was talk of wanting to create beauty and art and fulfilment in doing what they enjoyed instead of serving the Imperium. Workers shirked their duties to go dance and feast in the hills. Their bad behavior didn’t abate no matter how many lashes they received. Eventually, even the foreman and enforcers put down their whips to go join in the discussions and festivities, encouraged to see the people they oversaw as fellow workers and people. The governor of Dargonus couldn’t keep it under control, so the Rogue Trader had to fly all the way to Mundus Valancius system to deal with it personally.

Victoire put an end to that brutally. She gathered all her armies to gun down the celebrations, had the Drusian priests to deliver sermons on austerity and devotion, and punished everyone who stood in her way.

They were able to put an end to all of this at last. The very last of the agitators held a large bonfire and feast right outside the capital. They even had the nerve to send Victoire an invitation to “see for herself what it was like”. Victoire responded by personally leading a squadron to gun everyone down.

Now, Victoire was in a shuttlecraft with the sole survivor of that massacre. Victoire had expected the chief agitator to be some grand revolutionary inspiring the rabble with speeches and heroics. However, from her reports, it seems that it had happened almost by accident. Some charming stranger had come into one of the bars and chatted and greeted everyone as if he were a friend, playing his music, imagining a world where the patrons there drank for enjoyment instead of getting through the hardship and monotony of the day.  

What she saw now was a broken bird in a cage. The man’s amber-touched yellow hair fell limply around his sallow cheeks. His hazel eyes stared blankly ahead of him. According to Victoire’s officers, he was already like that when they found him, which was partly why Victoire had decided to forgo the usual torture.

Victoire had not meant for this man to survive. It was a miracle that he had. Now everyone he led was dead. She could only imagine how that felt.

“No one was rebelling against you,” the man said in a hoarse broken voice. “We were just getting together. Raising each other up. Enjoying life.”

Victoire gripped this poor fool by the chin and forced him to meet her gaze.

“You should never have crossed me,” said Victoire. Her captive did not resist as she leaned over and planted her red lips on his forehead.

“Things don’t have to be like this,” he said. Odd, even in this broken state, he’s still spouting this nonsense. It was almost as if it were his nature. “Even you don’t have to live in such a miserable world.”

Victoire let go and stepped away before his words could unsettle her even more.

The shuttle dropped them off in a grassy area of the planet Dargonus. The place was riddled with large trees, boulders, and the ruins probably left behind by some xenos that had settled on the planet long before mankind came in. It was a good location to give her prisoner a fighting chance.

The guards dragged him out and uncuffed his wrists. The poor man looked around confusedly.

Victoire cocked her sniper rifle. “I’ll give you an hour’s head start,” she said before taking off in the shuttle again.

[randofics]

Road kill Transformers headcannon

Heavy gore!!! Animal gore!!!

I wrote about this topic in another post and figured I'd do an entire headcannon on it. Basically it's what the cybertronians would think of organic gore. Roadkill is an everyday example that they would run into.

HEAVY GORE UNDER CUT!!!

-------------------

Bay OP- He didn't really notice the small animal corpses on the side of the streets and roads at first. Sure he'd notice the odd bump at night driving along, or the rank smell that he'd occasionally drive through but he thought nothing of it. He had also seen animals crossing the roads but never close enough that he had a hard time stopping. However one rainy night when the fog was thick and the moon barely shown through the thick canopy of trees on either side of the road it happened.

He hadn't been going very fast but even still the impact was brutal. With his extreme weight and momentum the poor creature never stood a chance. When the deer jumped out onto the road she was merely a few feet from his grill. The nine ton bot rammed into the helpless animal killing her on impact. Blood spattered over his windshield and the lifeless body rolled under his tires scraping along his undercarriage and more blood coating the crome pipes and cables. He swerved off the road and into the ditch coming to a stop in the soaked dirt. He was stunned and not sure what to think he reversed swinging around on the slick asphalt and driving towards the mangled corpse. He stared at it for several minutes still conflicted with his feelings about the situation before transforming and gently collecting the brutalized animal in his servos. He walked into the woods and dug a hole for the body, gently laying it to rest as he'd seen the humans do with their dead. With his respects paid to the creature he walked back to the road transformed and returned to base.

As he drove into the well lit hangar gasps, wide eyes, and optics met him. Cornel Lennox ran up to him asking what had happened. After an explanation Lennox showed him to the bots wash station to clean him up.

BayBee- Bee being closer to road level had been one of the first introduced to roadkill. He had been driving with Sam when it happened. It was daytime and the city streets were littered with dead leaves. The squirrels were busy gathering food for winter and because of this they tended to get more bold when crossing the roads. He had been going 35mph at most when the little fur ball hopped into the road. It looked left then right trying to decide which way to run but by the time it chose it lept right into the path of bee's tire. Curses from the radio flooded the cab. It was an unpleasant feeling for him, and it took a few tire spins for the body to fall off his tire. He parked on the side of the street and Sam stepped out with a water bottle in hand. He nearly gagged when he saw the carnage on bee's tire. Bits of fur, fresh blood and pieces of flesh was stuck to the treads. He opened the bottle and did his best to wash everything off but he knew he'd have to wash Bee later. Bee and Sam never really spoke of the experience.

BayCross- Cross had a similar experience to Bee though his was of the featherd variety. Driving through a wooded rural area a bird flew low across the street in front of him hitting his grill and over his hood and windshield. It left feathers and blood in his grill and on his windshield. He didn't really know how to react so he just returned to base and hit the wash station.

TFP OP- Optimus was driving down a canyon road at night when it happened. A coyote ran across the road and was struck by his bumper. It was killed on impact and got sucked up into his front axel. The body got caught on corners of metal and was torn apart. Blood coated his wheels and undercarriage with fur and flesh stuck in the nooks and crannies. He'd been lucky enough to not have seen much organic gore yet only really seeing minor wounds on the kids and some more serious injuries on military personnel when he was working with them. But this was on another level entirely! Cybertronian gore was mechanical and jagged, the only similarity being liquid lifeblood. Organic gore was messy and flowing with almost no jagged edges. It seeped between his panels and plates like ichor, and became sticky like glue. The red lifeblood was warm still from the just living creature. There wasn't anything he could do except keep driving, so that's what he did. He came across a lake and drove right into it letting the impact and rushing liquid remove the bloody remnants of the animal. He transformed and roughly waded through the water to scrub off any stubborn specs. Once he was satisfied he returned to base. He never brought up the subject to anyone except Rachet.

TFP Bulkhead- after dropping miko off at base he had wanted to go for a late drive on his own. He was minding his own business when two pronghorns bounded over the road. The first one made the leap but the other wasn't so lucky. It smashed into the apex of his grill flipping and crashing through his windshield. It's neck was snapped and it's legs were badly mangled as it lay dead half inside his cabin. Blood dripped from its muzzle onto his seat, glass scattered across the seats and floor. He had to call arcee for help not wanting to get the kids involved in something so gorey. She pulled the mangled corpse free and lay it on the side of the road. When they returned to base he went straight to the wash station not letting miko see the blood on his seats. The kids did ask what happened and he told them the truth. He was slightly surprised when they nodded in understanding and left it at that.