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aenaxes · 3 years

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OMG ok for the 200 follower celebration (based on your smoking post) PLZZZ write sharing a spice blunt with cross or any batcher of your choosing I would simply die 😩💅🏻❤️

vapor trails

[crosshair & hunter x f!reader] you don't really run with the fett twins' crowd, but you find yourself at one of their parties anyway (in reference to this post lol)

warnings: college!au, recreational drug use, suggestive themes, but consent is sexy & mandatory & sober babes

w/c: 3.8k

a/n: anon, you ask for one batcher, but why not two? thank you for enabling me nonnie & @mallr4ts lol (im so sorry to all the previous requests for the event, this one has just been needling in my brain all day and i had to get it out hsdfs)

event details here! requests are open until july 4th!

You don’t know much about the Fett twins.

They’re something like campus legends even though they’re only a year your senior and at the tail end of their fourth years. But as much as you’ve heard their names slung around in weekend plans and excited chatter, you’ve never once met them, much less seen them yourself. Between idling class whispers and dining hall conversations, all you can piece together from the rumors is that: one, they’re from a big family (you’ve heard anywhere from two to twelve other brothers, yikes); and two, as much as they work hard (because the venture capital and pre-professorial tracks seem rigorous enough), they play even harder.

It helps that they apparently own one of the biggest apartments off campus, one in which you find yourself hopelessly and miserably lost. And overdressed.

Great.

It hadn’t occurred to you that your roommate, who is nowhere to be seen, had been dressing up for her girlfriend, and that most people who had half a mind would wear something comfortable that could withstand a few spilled drinks and ash. So seeing the rest of the room in rumpled tees and sweats has you and your little black dress seeking out the nearest wall as you fiddle with your questionably sweet cup of margarita mixer.

You feel like a first year, and it sucks.

But for once, with everyone too busy mingling amongst themselves over the heavy thrum of some mumble rap beat, you manage to slip by unnoticed.

Every now and then, you dart your eyes around the ever shifting landscape of faces in the dim room, looking for even the vaguest familiarity that might let you feign being tipsy and join a group for the night. But every time you try, there’s no luck.

Fuck, you haven’t even seen anyone here before.

But there might be a god watching out for you yet when the crowd shifts just enough that you catch sight of the couch, and on it, someone you suspect to be one of the twins as he greets a few girls with a disinterested nod.

Emboldened, but mostly nervous that in the crowd of bodies and red solo cups you’re still helplessly alone, you push off the wall and squeeze past huddled cliques of conversation to make for the dark couch.

By the platinum bleached hair and big-name consulting group quarter zip, Crosshair—at least you think it’s him—lounges over the couch. He isn’t the only body on the suede seats, but he keeps to himself, his head dipped low as he works one hand over a small metal canister in his other palm.

If you weren’t having luck with the other nameless faces around you, maybe the Fett twin would keep you company—at least until your roommate came back to find you (if she did). And worst case, you’d just slink back to your dorm and mope until your roommate apologized to you with your favorite overpriced smoothie bowl the day after.

Mustering every ounce of courage you have, you plant your feet by the couch and finally speak.

"Is your name actually Crosshair?" you ask.

The man on the couch pauses, his motions stilling over the small metal cylinder in his palms, and he lifts his chin just enough to flick his eyes up towards the sound of your voice.

You always thought the girls in your droning 9AM gen-ed were wildly exaggerating his hype for their own devices, squealing over his (apparently) brooding charm and sharp looks to nip at his stash for free. But for all the vague haze surrounding your perception of the twins, you never thought that they were telling the truth.

If you had been in broad daylight under the incandescent glow of your creaky lecture hall lights, you might have called him cocky, almost haughty, how he meets you with an unreadable look for having interrupted him. But in the purple LEDs and heavy haze of vape juice and shitty tequila, he’s captivating, all dark eyes and perfectly lit skin, marked only by the needle-thin design tattooed over the right side of his face and a worn wooden toothpick bitten between his teeth.

You swallow down the dry lump in your throat when you catch him flick his eyes from your face, down the short length of your dress, and back up again.

"Smoke with me; maybe you'll find out," he drawls, toothpick bobbing as he speaks. He twists the cylinder once and offers you a wry smirk. And when you stay, speechless but there all the same, Crosshair scoots to the side and pats the narrow space between him and the couch arm, inviting you close.

"I've never smoked before," you admit a bit shyly as you drop down beside him. Your dress hikes up your thigh, and you shiver when your skin presses up against the soft denim of his jeans.

"Not even cigs?"

You shake your head. And you tell yourself that when he leans close and brushes his shoulder up against your arm, that he’s only doing it because someone’s boosted the bass, and you can’t hear him over the reverb.

"Well, good thing I'm here, yeah?"

He gives the metal canister a final twist and sets it down on the coffee table before you. Swapping the canister for a small brown sleeve, you watch in a daze as he pulls a semi-transparent leaflet from the folder and tears a strip of cardstock straight from its flap. He has pianist fingers, you think wistfully, neatly kept nails and slender grace, and you wonder if he’ll entertain you if you ask to compare your hand to his.

“What’s your name?”

You scrabble back to the present at the sound of his voice. “Uh, y/n,” you offer.

“Well, y/n,” he says with a soft laugh, having caught on to your daydreaming. “Step one, you fold your filter.”

You nod along absently as Crosshair artfully crimps the thick paper into a neat roll. As if there isn’t thirty-some odd people crammed into his apartment, he quietly takes you step by step, offering you the filter, the paper, then the contents of the canister (a grinder, he explains) like it’s a game of show and tell. But with every piece he places into your hands, you gravitate closer, closer, until you’re flush against his arm and practically hanging over his side to watch as he gently taps a line of bud over the paper.

“Here, let me give you a better look,” Crosshair says.

You expect him to bring the neat line of bud to you, but when nothing comes, you look up and find him waiting for you, one arm open in invitation as the other pats once on the dark denim of his thigh.

“Uh—”

“Sit,” he says as if you haven’t just met him fifteen minutes ago. “Front row seats if you want ‘em.”

On one hand, you barely know Crosshair outside of the rumors you hear on campus. On the other hand, he’s a genuinely pleasant person, careful to accommodate for your boundaries and offering a snide playfulness that’s banished your nerves from earlier in the night.

He’s also really fucking hot.

“Okay,” you murmur, and you let him wrap his arm around your waist and tug you onto his lap. And he’s right. Perched over his thighs, you see with perfect clarity (and without the strain in your neck) as he gently folds the paper over the mound of bud and carefully twists. It’s the prettiest joint you’ve ever seen—though it might be because it’s the only one you’ve seen.

"Final touch," Crosshair's voice rumbles over your back, shooting straight into your core as he lifts the paper's vellum edge to your lips. “Lick it for me.”

Since you sat down with him, you’ve only been the passenger, nodding along as Crosshair’s long, nimble fingers creased over filter paper and patiently pointed out things like the stray pistils in his baggie and the keef gathered at the bottom of his grinder for if you really want to get fucked up. And even though you aren’t doing much (because licking paper doesn’t really seem too crazy), it’s a step forward from the comfortable rhythm that had settled between you, and you twist around in his lap to shoot him an uncertain glance.

“Just,” Crosshair flicks his tongue over his lower lip, flashing a brief glimpse of a ball piercing towards your wide eyes. And if you weren’t so flustered, you might have recognized the coy playfulness in his gaze. “Give it a lick, right over the edge.”

“I—uh, what if I—” you stammer.

“You’re not gonna mess this up, darling,” Crosshair chuckles. If his hand squeezing brief over your waist wasn’t enough to bring heat searing over the tops of your ears, his next words, crooned low and breathy into your ear, certainly do. “You’re a smart girl. You can do it.”

"My brother giving you trouble?"

Another voice cuts through the din of the party, sparing you your stammering nerves as you whip your head up in its general direction. You’re greeted with the sight of his brother, peering down on you as he takes a sip from his cup.

“You’re such a killjoy,” Crosshair mutters, drawing his arm tighter around your waist as he jabs the half-rolled joint to where Hunter sprawls down onto the couch beside him. “No, I’m not being a creep. I’m teaching our pretty underclassman here how to roll.”

Oh.

Heat rushes over your cheeks, and you can’t decide whether you want to shrink into yourself or bask in it and beg for more.

He called you pretty.

“With her in your lap,” Hunter snorts into his cup.

“It was your idea to invite your entire fucking rugby team. Where else would we do it?”

“I’m so sorry he’s like this,” Hunter laughs, tilting his head and looking up at you through his (unfairly) long lashes. Where you thought Crosshair’s tattoo was bold, Hunter’s practically blows him out of the water, a well-worn swath of ink on the left half of his face, curving into neatly stylized teeth right at the edge of his lips. “I’m Hunter.”

Huh, maybe you do have a thing for tattoos.

“Y/n,” you squeak. “It’s, um—it’s nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart,” he says as he offers you an easy smile. “Has my baby brother been treating you right?”

“God, two fucking minutes,” Crosshair snaps. You hear the embarrassment seeping from the vitriol, and it strikes you like a shot to the head that he’s trying to play cool in front of you. “I come out two minutes after you and—”

“We’re fraternal, and I got all the oxygen in the womb. Explains why he has awful people skills,” Hunter fake-whispers loud enough for Crosshair to hear, and you giggle as the other man groans from behind you.

“No, he’s been really nice,” you say softly once you realize that you’ve been laughing a little too loud. “He’s teaching me about weed.” It sounds juvenile when you say it, awkward and clumsy on your tongue. It’s a dead giveaway that has Hunter’s smile mellowing into something soft.

“Your first time?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, Cross here’s high as shit at least four hours every day. Says it helps him do the math. I hate to say it, but you’re in good hands.”

“You try running a nonlinear regression sober,” Crosshair snorts. “Anyways, we were just finishing up this joint before you decided to kill the vibe.”

Crosshair lifts the half-rolled joint back up to your chin, and this time, he leans forward and presses his chest close against your back as the playful snark leaves his tone, in its wake, something patient and calm as his voice rumbles by your ear.

“You gonna help me finish the job, sweet girl?”

You surprise yourself when the initial trepidation vanishes as you tip your chin down and stick out your tongue. Maybe you’re showboating now that you have an audience, feeling Hunter’s dark eyes on your lips when you touch the tip of your tongue out over the edge.

Whether it’s your lip gloss or the fine crumbs of bud stuck to the roll paper that fills your mouth with something earthy and sweet, you can’t say. All you know is they’re both following you with that intense intent, the bass and blend of voices faded out around you; just you in Crosshair’s lap and Hunter pretending to care about the drink in his hand as you lift your tongue off the far corner of the paper and close your lips.

“Good job,” Hunter muses, and you’re pretty certain he’s not talking about the joint when you feel his gaze boring into you alone.

The smell of smoke pulls you out of Hunter’s gravity, and you look back in front of you to see Crosshair snap a scuffed metal lighter shut and toss it onto the coffee table. He brings the joint back down in front of you, blowing a neat stream of whitish gray smoke past your ear.

“You know how to pull?” Crosshair asks, and his chin brushes over your bare shoulder as he speaks. He’s so close. You can smell the burn, acrid and sour, but it doesn’t matter that it doesn’t smell like some bubblegum vape when you feel his breaths curling over your skin. You just want more.

Mutely, you shake your head.

“Mm, you know how to shotgun?” Hunter offers, and you hear Crosshair huff laugher from behind you. “Might be easier for your first try.”

You shake your head again.

“It’s,” Hunter pauses, and his brows knit close as he thinks for a moment. “It’s kind of like a kiss. But not really. I take a hit and you catch my smoke. That sound okay?”

You don’t think it matters that someone’s hit shuffle on the playlist, filling the room with a hard electronic beat that might have otherwise drowned out all sound. All you hear is your heart pounding in your ears as you nod and watch Hunter lift the filter to his lips and inhale deep, then pass the joint back to Crosshair.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, white trails of smoke curling over his upper lip as he lifts one hand to cup over the base of your neck.

“Open,” Crosshair whispers.

Wordlessly, you obey. Your lips part just as Hunter pulls close, so close you feel the heat of his skin spreading warm over your cheeks, and blows a soft stream of bitter smoke into your mouth. It can’t be more than a few seconds, but all the while, you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his.

“Breathe in, deep,” you hear Crosshair instruct as he begins to rub one thumb over the curve of your hip.

The smoke is thick, sluicing down your throat and filling your lungs like nothing you’ve ever felt before. It’s not bad, just new, and pressed between the twins over the couch, you think it just might have been worth being ditched by your roommate earlier in the night. But your lungs ache, and you slowly exhale, watching as your vision fogs with a loose cloud of smoke until your chest feels clear again.

“And you didn’t even cough,” Hunter smiles. His calloused fingertips follow the slope of your neck, lingering one moment more before he pulls away. And you aren’t sure if the low buzzing in your fingertips is the weed or their combined warmth as Hunter rubs over your knee and Crosshair leans his head against your neck. “Good girl.”

“Wanna do it again,” you whisper as the buzz begins to crawl up your neck, fizzling around your temples as you lean your cheek over where Crosshair nuzzles into your shoulder.

“With him or me?” Crosshair murmurs, his lips brushing over your skin.

“You,” you say dreamily, and Hunter laughs, a sound that suddenly seems so far away as you tip your head and press close against Crosshair’s silver hair.

Crosshair leans into your touch, pressing his cheek up against your neck one last time before he’s lifting his head and bringing the joint to his lips. You hear the hiss of his inhale, smoke curling up through the narrow body of the joint as the charred end glows warm beside you.

And instead of Hunter’s approach, level with you, Crosshair looms above you, meeting your wide eyes with something of a fond smile. Dragging his hand up your chest, he follows the line of your neck and holds snug over your chin. He squeezes softly, and your jaw falls slack, lips parted in a soft ‘o’ as he dips low. He's closer than Hunter as you feel his mouth just brush over yours and breathe smoke over your tongue.

This time, it’s easier.

You swallow down the smoke and hold, just a beat longer than before. But both Crosshair and Hunter notice as your lips stay parted, and they share a soft laugh that has you exhaling smoke and pride all at once when you finally relax your diaphragm and breathe out.

“Fast learner,” Crosshair muses, nosing up under your jaw as you sink back against his chest.

You mumble incoherently, chasing his touch as the high creeps heavy and warm from your chest to your collar and settles at the back of your throat. It anchors you, molding you up against Crosshair who feels nothing short of perfect as he circles his arms loose over your waist.

You turn your head to thank Hunter when you distantly register him pressing a cool cup into your hand (water, you think you hear him say), but the words slip back down into your throat, your eyelids suddenly unbearably heavy and coarse over your blurry vision.

“You wanna lay down?” Hunter offers, and his voice comes to you like you’re underwater, warped and bubbling past the din of the party around you.

You're pretty sure you nod.

For a few moments, you catch traces of an unintelligible exchange between the twins, only aware of the rumble of Crosshair’s voice at your back, and then you’re being lifted up off the couch, the music and raucous laughter fading behind you.

A door opens, squeaking half-shut, and you wince as a light clicks on beside you. Whoever was carrying you sets you down on something soft and cool, and you sway as the light dims and you settle into your seat.

You’re on a bed, you think.

Crosshair’s, judging by the shock of light hair that you can make out through your lashes. He helps you into a worn tee that reaches past the short hem of your dress, and you wiggle into it with a soft whine, holding it tight.

But where you expect a familiar weight to dip down next to you and pull you close, your eyes fly open when you see his figure turn away from you and towards the neon lights of the party outside.

“You aren’t staying?” It's the most coherent you've been through your first high.

“Not tonight,” Crosshair says softly. He turns back towards you and reaches up to fix the strap of your dress as you sit on his bed. “Baby’s first tokes got you all dopey. Right now, what you need is this,” and he presses a plastic bottle of vitamin water he’s seemingly produced out of nowhere into your palm. “This,” he adds, pressing your phone into your other hand. “And a good night’s sleep.”

“And what if I say I need you, too?” you pout.

Some part of you—the conscious part locked away in the back of your skull—bangs up against the hazy high at the crown of your head because when you’re good and sober and when Crosshair inevitably turns you down, you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for the next semester.

But he breaks into a smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes before he leans down to press his lips to your forehead. It’s just a split-second of warm, chapstick-soft lips on your skin, but it floods you with an indescribable good from the top of your head all the way down to your toes.

And as high as you are right now, you have a hell of a hunch that the flutter in your chest is going to stay, even when the room stops wobbling around you.

“When you’re all sobered up in the morning, we’ll make you breakfast, and we’ll figure it out from there,” Crosshair says after he’s pulled back, reaching up to smooth his palm over your hair. “Sound like a plan?”

You nod, probably with a little too much enthusiasm, but you’re rewarded with another low chuckle that’s practically music to your ears. His hand gentle and firm over your shoulder, Crosshair guides you down onto the bed and pulls the covers up to your chin.

“Now text your roomie so she doesn’t call the cops on us, get some sleep, and drink all of that, okay?”

“Okay,” you respond.

“Good girl.”

And when the lights click out, you curl into Crosshair’s pillow, breathing in cold, fresh notes of his cologne, and then you’re asleep.

You climb out of bed the next morning, your minidress rumpled under a long shirt. It's not like a hangover, no, you just find yourself a bit lightheaded and throat parched, and the disorientation makes your head spin as you’re greeted with the smell of fresh coffee and something savory—

Your roommate doesn’t wake up earlier than you, and she can’t cook for shit. And why were your sheets grey? Whose shirt were you—

Oh.

Fuck.

You practically burst out of Crosshair’s bedroom, and you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow you hadn’t expected to see Hunter sipping mildly on a mug of coffee while Crosshair pushes something around in a pan over their kitchen range.

“Mornin,’” Hunter offers you a small wave, and reaches for a third mug on the countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you liked your coffee so we just made it black.”

“What happened last night?” you gasp. If you weren’t so panicked, you’re certain the sight of them sporting nothing but grey sweats would have been your only concern, but you’ve just woken up with foggy memories and the slimy dread of anxiety that follows a blackout night.

“Easy, easy,” Crosshair assures you as he steps away from the stovetop. “Nothing happened after we smoked. You took, like, two hits, and you were so hazy you couldn’t remember your dorm number, so we put you to bed, and I slept out in the living room. Fetts are wild but we’re not scumbags, promise.”

And judging from the throw blanket sliding off the edge of the couch cushions, you’re fairly certain you can believe him. Relief floods your chest.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh, and your shoulders sag as the weight of panic sloughs off your back.

They both laugh softly, the sudden tension lifting from the bright morning light, and you can’t help but join in. And when that rosy relief gives way to silence again, it’s Crosshair who speaks next.

“So, you staying for breakfast?”

“Can I borrow some actual clothes first?”

“Done deal.”

#fun fact: my signature party trick is flirting with a guy and then stealing his blunt ✌️😗#thinking about how schlorbe n i agreed crosshair listens to souncloud mumble rap :/#its ok i kiss him anyways #hc that crosshair’s an econ/finance bro and hunter’s a history major hehe #sequel series: crosshair goes venture capital (gross)#tech's probably at like the space equivalent of mit or something #and i will Die on the hill that wrecker's super smart with kinesiology #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter x reader #the bad batch x reader #anon #yaej.writes

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 26 part one

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

I’m Coming Up So You Better Get This Party Started

The Lans arrive just in time to see Cousin Jin Zixun hassling Su She, and they wonder how he has the fucking nerve to come to a party that they are also invited to.

Su she was invited by his new best friend Jin Guangyao, who deploys a full-on charm attack, wrapping Su She permanently around his little finger.

Smoother than the Lanling weather that’s how he holds himself together Watch out, he’ll charm you

Jin Guangyao grew up with women who earned their living by being charming, pleasant, and hiding their true thoughts from their clients, and he appears to have mastered this useful skill set. With Su She, he exudes confidence and authority, allowing the lesser man to bask in his attention.

With Zewu Jun he deploys helplessness and embarrassment, effectively controlling a man with much greater power than his own.

Lan Xichen confronts him about Su She's presence, and Jin Guangyao pretends he didn't know that Su She was ex-Lan. This seems super unlikely, given that JGY is good at collecting information that he can use to fuck with people, and also that he sheltered Lan Xichen from the Wens directly after Su She betrayed him.

Lan Xichen seems like he doesn't believe what JGY is telling him but then he decides to drop it, passive-aggressively saying that since JGY is uninformed, he's not guilty. Lan Xichen is actually assuming a lot here about his right to tell Jin Guangyao who to invite and who to shun, but JGY doesn't push back. Lying is so much simpler.

(more behind the cut!)

Su She wins for most unintentionally sarcastic-seeming toasting expression.

Jiang Cheng, Party Animal

Jiang Cheng arrives at the party, bringing his Jiang retinue and his bad temper. He super obviously casts around to try to find Wei Wuxian, who already told him he probably wasn't coming to the party.

Jiang Cheng is that guy who only comes to a party because the girl he likes said she was thinking about going, and then he spends the whole party saying "hey have you seen Mei Lin? She said she was going to be here but I don't see her."

Jin Guangyao formally congratulates Jiang Cheng on the Jiang clan's success in the hunt, and Jin Guangshan toasts him. As always, Jiang Cheng reacts to praise from authority figures like it's rain in the desert, smiling from ear to ear. He says that the Jiang Clan will donate the prey from the hunt to the other gentry clans. ...what?

Are we seriously saying that when these dudes go night hunting it's not just to remove dangerous bad stuff, it's for profit?

Like, do they eat monsters? Wear their fur? Make leather from their skin? Carve jewelry from their claws? Is Jiang Cheng wearing a purple monster's skin right now? (There will be an art prompt at the end of this post)

Meanwhile, check out the way Nie Huaisang is looking at Jiang Cheng, wow.

Forecast: Hazing

Having gotten the single pleasant part of the banquet over with, it's time for the Jins to pick on the Lans. Cousin Jin Zixun goads Lan Xichen into taking a drink with him, knowing that this is (mostly) against Lan rules. Jin Guangyao tries to stop him by saying, hilariously, that it's bad to drink and fly on a sword, but CJZX waves this away and keeps pushing, saying that if Lan Xichen won't drink, it's an insult to him.

A random cultivator who is definitely on the Jin payroll backs him up, saying that teetotaling is for losers, and Captain Blowhard boisterously agrees. Loudly agreeing with powerful people is the Yao clan's signature martial arts skill.

Jin Guangyao looks embarrassed and helpless, which is, as mentioned before, his own signature skill. But he's just playing his own part in this piece of theater; everything happening at this party (so far) is happening for the benefit of the Jin Clan. Cousin Jin Zixun is an ass, but he's not actually a loose cannon, and Jin Guangshan is clearly enjoying the Lans' discomfort.

Why? This entire party, the hunt, everything he's done since the end of the Sunshot campaign, has been designed to increase and consolidate his power. His main goal is to get the Yin Tiger seal, but reducing the status of the Lans is also a good move for him. The Lans have been the strongest opponents to the use of resentful energy, and worked the hardest to conceal and contain the Yin iron in the past. If he wants to use resentful energy as part of his own cultivation, he needs them to chill.

So this is a bit of a test; will they comply with the will of the larger group in order to avoid conflict, or will they refuse, which will allow him to label them as iconoclastic weirdos?.

Lan Xichen takes a long look at his brother, who is expressing all sorts of emotions while keeping his face very very still.

At a guess, he is thinking that this entire party is bullshit, that his brother's willingness to play along with these assholes is bullshit, that being viciously beaten for having a single drink in his life was bullshit, that Wei Wuxian not being here right now is bullshit.

Lan Xichen picks the "go along, get along" path, having his drink and using his magic skill of anti-intoxication to neutralize it, as he'd done previously when drinking with Wei Wuxian.

Cousin Jin Zixun picks on Lan Wangji next, and since he cannot magically or even non-magically tolerate alcohol, there is a real risk to his reputation if he drinks. But Lan Wangji breaks rules when he feels like it, not when people tell him to. He pointedly ignores the offered drink while Lan Xichen looks worried.

The rest of the party guests have a wide variety of reactions, none of them helpful, to these shenanigans. Jin Guanshan's son and heir watches with calm interest as the power dynamics play out.

All of this is actually not great strategy for the Jins. The Lans don't play little social games to gain power, because all that time they spend not drinking, not gossiping, and not doing other stuff? Is spent cultivating and practicing sword and musical battle forms. The Lan Bros are overwhelmingly powerful as individuals, and embarrassing them won't change that.

It's moot, ultimately, because Wei Wuxian chooses this moment to arrive.

Darkness Visible

Wei Wuxian actually made a big impressive stair-climbing entrance to Jinlintai a few minutes ago, with camera work echoing Lan Wangji's stair climb at the Wen Indoctrination Bureau from several episodes back.

But nobody was around to see that, other than us, and when he appears at the party it's in stealth mode; he steps into the frame from out of nowhere, and drinks Lan Wangji's unwanted drink.

Lan Wangji responds by looking at him like this for the next several minutes.

Wei Wuxian doesn't have time for their usual sport of Extreme Gazing, though; he came for a reason, which is to find and rescue Wen Ning. He gets right to it, asking Cousin Jin Zixun where he's keeping him.

Jiang Cheng, who is the king of worrying about the wrong fucking thing, jumps up to try to stop Wei Wuxian from talking. Like, seriously, he's ok with the Jins trying to take his clan's special extreme weapon, but he's not ok with his head disciple being rude in order to fulfill a whopper of a life debt--Jiang Cheng's life debt, in particular--or being rude in order to preserve the clan's independence.

Jin Guangshan decides this is a good moment to bring up the Yin tiger amulet. Wei Wuxian pushes back, hard, pointing out exactly what Jin Guangshan is doing. He says he's setting himself up to be a new Wen Ruohan.

Lan Wangji pays close attention to Wei Wuxian's reasoning here, and so does Nie Mingjue, unless he’s just trying to mask his confusion.

Jiang Cheng is too busy being horrified to listen, apparently. Or he just doesn’t agree, preferring to be reduced to a secondary authority, rather than defy a primary authority.

Wei Wuxian is, of course, all about independence; he was literally born to be a rogue cultivator, despite being dubbed “patriarch” himself, not long after this.

Let’s Go Crazy Let’s Get Nuts

Wei Wuxian gets tired of the scene and decides to lose his temper. He makes a show of being enraged, and he genuinely is angry, but I don't think he's out of control, this time.

He acts like he's out of control in order to scare everyone, but he makes his points very clearly, reminding everyone that he has power they don't have, that he's good at killing, that he's not patient, and that his teeth are nicer than everybody else’s.

Everybody in the room freaks out to one degree or another--except Jin Guangshan, who is apparently too pissed off to be scared.

It's hilarious that Jin Guangshan thought he was going to get Wei Wuxian to hand the Yin Tiger amulet over by creating a complex system of social pressure against him. Wei Wuxian's favorite way of responding to social pressure is to escalate it into violence, regardless of the consequences; he's been doing that at least since Gusu Summer School and probably a lot longer. Jin Guangshan should know this, given how many beatings his son has taken from Wei Wuxian over the years.

Wei Wuxian does a fantastically sexy scary, theatrical countdown, and Cousin Jin Zixun caves in and gives him the information he wants. It's worth noticing that even under threat of death, CJZX doesn't comply until he visually checks in with his clan leader. He’s genuinely a bad person, yes, but he’s a loyal soldier, which is what most of these clans value most.

As soon as he gets what he wants, Wei Wuxian is perfectly, smugly, in control of himself again. Everyone in the room is still stunned and afraid, so Jin Guangshan has achieved that much, at least; nobody likes Wei Wuxian having the Yin tiger seal now, including Jiang Cheng.

As he leaves, Wei Wuxian has one of those conversations with Lan Wangji in which everything is said in glances in the course of a couple of seconds.

WWX: I love you, I have to leave you; I've got some shit to take care of and I won't be coming back to all of this.

LWJ: I love you; I'm probably going to have to fight you; your funeral is going to be so upsetting

Wei Wuxian turns away from everyone, and you can see the weight settling on his shoulders, as he contemplates the choices he just made and the choices that are still ahead of him.

Jin Guangshan, for the first and only time, loses his temper in front of everybody, literally flipping a table because he's so mad about what just happened.

Art prompt: Jiang Cheng wearing an outfit made of a Chinese mythical creature. Bonus points if it’s a qilin. Bonus bonus points if Zhang Qiling (from DMBJ/Lost Tomb franchise) is standing next to him looking grumpy while Jiang Cheng wears an outfit made from a qilin.

Soundtrack: Get This Party Started by Pink, Charm Attack by Leona Naess, Let’s Go Crazy by Prince.

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #wangxian #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #my gifs #learn to count the yiling way #1900 words

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geridrabble · 3 years

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A start, and about magic systems

A spark of magic. A mutant coursing out of control. A far-flung technology.

I’m a sucker for good stories, to the point that I’ll rant and rave about them to just about anyone who will listen. So, it’s a bit foolish that I haven’t thought to post some of my thoughts, no matter how unimportant my doubts might say they are. Recently, the excellent book Show Your Work by Austin Kleon finally pushed me into sharing a bit of my thoughts as an amateur writer.

I’m a sucker for good stories, but I’m especially a good sucker for good magic systems. That little spice of fantastical flare injected into the lifeblood of a narrative, whatever it might be- from more standard fireball flinging, to advanced cyborgs and augmentations that make the term “Magic System” a bit odd, to even more strange and wonderful ways of defying normality.

A magic system might not be the most important part of a story, but in my opinion, a good one can enhance almost everything within a story- the characters, the world, the combat and the mystery.

Showing Character

Stands in Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure are visually striking, especially compared to the fairly standard Ki that came before it in Shounen manga- the floating humanoid figures have unique mixtures between the mechanical and humanoid in their design. But importantly, as the manifestation of the user’s fighting spirit, they can tell you something about the user.

In the part that stands debuted in, Stardust Crusaders, their simple powers often meant you couldn’t deduce much from them, but even then there are little tidbits every stand whispers about their owner. Joseph’s Hermit Purple references both his powers of Hamon and his habit of predicting his enemies, for instance. In later parts, stands portray even more of their user’s personality and past- Josukes Crazy Diamond is both a destructive powerhouse and a proficient healer, which matches his “Punk with a heart of gold” character, while Fugo’s Purple Haze has a violent and uncontrollably destructive power, matching it’s owners own indiscriminate rage.

Another great example of a magic system that shows the character using it is the class and aspect system from Homestuck. Every player in the story is afforded a mythological role, or classpect, which influences their powers, but is also a summation of their character and role in the story. This system is present throughout the entirety of Homestuck’s massive girth, and even minor details tend to feed back into that character’s title.

Magic systems like these let the audience wonder and speculate about a character, and lead to a system that can gain popularity even outside of its origin. Fans of Jojo’s love creating stands for their own characters or characters from other works of fiction, or even real people.

Enhancing Combat

A magic system will inherently make combat more of a spectacle, with showy spells or empowered martial arts- but I find that some fall into the pitfall of just having contents mostly decided by raw strength, like in Shounen manga like Fist of the North Star and Dragon Ball Z.

Part of what made Jojo’s such a game-changer was that rather than raw contests of strength, characters used the confines of their abilities to formulate strategies, even before Stands. In part 2, Battle Tendency, Joseph’s schemes are delightful to watch unfold. But when stands are introduced, the creative uses for each stand’s ability and the mindgames surrounding trying to discover your opponent’s ability make fights enthralling. Stands like Giorno’s Gold Experience win fights by bending it’s ability to create life in ways that probably never occurred to the audience.

In Avatar: The Last Airbender bending on the outside appears simple, but the numerous applications for bending every element are limitless, enough so that most benders style is entirely unique from others in their clan.

Or, in Saga of Tanya The Evil, aerial combat between mages creates fast-paced skirmishes that resemble hyper-mobile dogfights, with mages using acrobatic aerial maneuvers, darting down streets in city battles, or hiding behind clouds or the sun.

There’s a lot more examples I wanted to use, but this is already running pretty long. Notably, I only used anime examples- and that’s because although creative magic systems obviously exist outside of anime, the most prominent and bizarre tend to settle within that genre. I hope I showed off why I love some of these stories.

Tomorrow, I’ll be sharing some of the systems I’ve thought up on my own, my inspirations for them, and the one I’m currently working on.

Toodles!

#jojos #homestuck #avatar #saga of tanya the evil #magic system #show your work #writing

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costellos · 4 years

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a/n: here are all the Bucci gang asks from last Thurday’s Halloween headcanon ask game! I decided to compile them into one giant post bc... hoo boy... there were a lot. nonetheless, thanks for participating, friends! this was so much fun!! (also, side note, there are still a ton in my ask box. I’ll get to those sometime this week, so hang tight!)

tw: minor gore mention in Abbacchio and Fugo’s descriptions

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & some misc. halloween headcanons!

bruno bucciarati.

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@buuni asked: ahhh the Halloween emoji game seems fun !! could I ask for Bruno 🍂 thank you !! And I hope you’re doing well this spooky season 🐇💕

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

participating in All Souls Day. although Bucciarati was raised Catholic, I don’t think he’d remain a practicing one. still, there’s something comforting about honoring the deceased. he’d tell you fun, little stories about his father and the kind of household Bucciarati was raised in. you can’t help but notice how happy he looks as he talks. how his eyes sparkle, that rare, genuine smile on his lips. at the end of the day, he tucks a chrysanthemum behind your ear and places a kiss on your temple. “I appreciate your patience, amore,” he hums, that smile still on his lips. “it means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

leone abbacchio.

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@heartsllabyul asked: OMGOMGOMG TOYAAAAAA 🍂🍿 with the loml leone abbacchio please 🥺

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

trying seasonal foods. Abbacchio finds a lot of it fascinating since “fall” isn’t really a season in Italy. it gets colder sure, but the culture around autumn isn’t nearly as big as it is in your country. he thinks a lot of autumn-based foods are odd. pumpkin spice anything tastes artificial to him, though he thinks butternut squash soup is decent. his favorite is spiked apple cider! but he’d never admit it. he thinks it’s entertaining watching you desperately search for some seasonal food that he’d like.

🍿 how they react to watching a horror movie

he doesn’t! Abbacchio doesn’t see the appeal behind horror movies. besides, his time as a police officer and mobster has made it difficult for him to see them as anything other than cheap entertainment. and that goes for slashers, psychological thrillers, and gorey flicks. despite all that, he’ll watch horror movies if you like them. he finds your interest endearing. he gets more embarrassed than he’d like to admit when you hold onto his arm as you watch.

giorno giovanna.

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anonymous: giorno + 🏠🍂? Abbababy Anon asked: Hmm hmm~ how about 🎃 for Fugo and Giorno?

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🏠 how they would react to being in a haunted house

pretty well! Giorno isn’t someone who scares easily. the most he’ll do is take a step back when something gets him. he keeps his fingers laced with yours, ready to advance (or abandon ship) whenever you’re ready.

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

watching meteor showers. autumn is an astronomy hot spot, an event that he would love to share with you. anything about life and human existence is a topic of interest of Giorno. how to preserve it, how to observe it. he’d happily share everything that he knows with you. Giorno would take you far away from the city, far enough for you to clearly see the night sky, and far enough to be completely alone. but once the meteor shower starts, strangely, he wouldn’t be watching what seems to be falling stars. no, his eyes would be locked on his other favorite spectacle: the person sitting right beside him.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

not seriously, and he’s not a big fan of it. he hates scooping out the pumpkin’s guts to start carving. the wet and sticky texture, along with the smell... no thanks. he’d rather watch you do it. and once you’re finished, he’d be happy to sprinkle some cinnamon in so that the pumpkin smells more palatable once it’s lit.

guido mista.

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@zellyroo asked: 🍂 and 🎃 w/ mista please? 💛💛

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

Mista loves picking apples. it’s a laid-back activity with a high return rate. spending time with you and getting food while feeding the Pistols? count him in. plus, he loves feeling like the perfect boyfriend when he has to help you grab those hard-to-reach apples. and dear god, don’t get him started on apple cider donuts. oof. he could eat 10, easily.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

very seriously. he’s seen so many cool designs, how hard can it be? Mista quickly learns, however, that carving pumpkins is quite difficult. you laugh when you hear him curse under his breath as he tries to cut through it. the Pistols bully him for his ugly design, but it’s hard to understand them when their mouths are stuffed with pumpkin seeds. Mista just tells them to shut it. in the end, he gives up on his elaborate design, opting for something more simple. after all, he hates anything that complicates his life (and boy, is this stupid pumpkin doing just that). it comes out like any other jack-o’-lantern.

narancia ghirga.

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anonymous asked: Hi; May I ask 🧙‍♀️ for Narancia, please? Thank you! :D 🧡

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🧙 if they would dress up & what they would dress as

it would take a little convincing to get Narancia to dress up. he really, really wants to do it, but he doesn’t want to come off as childish! you’d have to tell him that everyone in the U.S. dresses up on Halloween. but once he’s convinced, he’s convinced. he’d be bouncing a variety of ideas with you; he’d probably have a new one every hour. in the end, he’d settle on something spooky with you, like dressing up as zombies! (much to Fugo’s dismay.)

pannacotta fugo.

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anonymous asked: 🧟‍♂️ 🍂 for Fugo! Abbababy Anon asked: Hmm hmm~ how about 🎃 for Fugo and Giorno?

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🧟‍♂️ a non-serious fear that they have

zombies. the idea of a virus spreading, how it wrecks your immune system and makes you lose control of yourself... it reminds him too much of Purple Haze. on a less serious note, he just thinks they look gross. he’s seen his fair share of innards and bodily fluids during his time in Passione, but. still. eugh.

🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

corn mazes, surprisingly! it was one of those things he thought was stupid at first, but loved once he was actually in one. the maze attendant gave you both a series of riddles mapped according to different intersections in the field. Fugo had a blast trying to figure it out; after all, it was just one giant puzzle. he had a smug look for the rest of the day once he found out that he beat Mista’s time.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

too seriously for it to be fun. being raised in a demanding household has built him to be a huge perfectionist. carving pumpkins was something he thought would be really easy until he got to it himself. the pumpkin’s rind is so difficult to cut through that it makes his lines look jagged. and god, he was not expecting it to be so messy. Fugo had this elaborate design planned out, but once he finished, he ended up with a standard jack-o’-lantern face. you’ll have to remind him that it still looks great.

trish una.

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anonymous asked: 🍂 and 🎃 for trish?

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🍂 what their favorite fall activity is

getting fall-themed coffee, obviously! but not pumpkin spice lattes. god, no. Trish thinks they’re overdone. she’d rather go for anything with caramel and / or cinnamon. bonus points if it’s sugary (bitter coffee is only tolerable). she laughs when you get whipped cream stuck on your top lip, but her honey-sweet giggle is always followed by her swiping her thumb over your face. it’s a great excuse to touch you.

🎃 how seriously they take carving pumpkins

not too seriously. at least not initially. she sees it as another part of American culture that she doesn’t understand. but when she sees how much fun you’re having, she can’t help but get into it herself. it’s a fun past time, albeit difficult (who knew these gourds were so thick?). Trish makes it her personal goal to make her pumpkin look nicer than yours. although she’s unsuccessful in her endeavor, she’d admit that pumpkin carving was “just okay” — aka really fun.

#bucci gang #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #headcanons #golden wind #part 5 #ask game response #giorno giovanna #Bruno Bucciarati #leone abbacchio #guido mista #Narancia Ghirga #Pannacotta Fugo #trish una #gore mention /#after about 3 months of running this blog #I finally got a Trish request #bless u anon :')#she was a joy to write for

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lesbianbooradleypsued · 4 years

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The Etherian Party Bus: Point Zero

Fandom: She-ra and the Princesses of Power Pairing: Adora/Catra Word Count: 6,898

Summary: As Darla approaches the point of no contact with Etheria, Adora thinks about how they got to this point. Just 7 months ago they'd won the war, and now she doesn't know if her little crew will ever return. Or After the defeat of Hoard Prime, Catra and Hordak were exiled for four years. Adora and Entrapta refused to accept being separated from them for that long, and loaded the two of them on Darla and then set out for parts unknown in space. Adora is currently considering everything that has happened to get them to this point as they are about to leave contact range with Etheria. Catra joins her on the bridge.

Notes: So this is just one part of a series. They'll be posted out of order with the time stamps at the beginning. Haven't written in a long while so have mercy on me. X-posted to AO3 as well.

Tags: Smut, Porn With Plot, Rough Sex, Biting, Scratching, light bdsm aspects, Top Adora, Bottom Catra, Blow Jobs, Adora Has a Penis, Recreational Drug Use, if i forgot a tag tell me, Fluff, Not Beta Read

Seven Months Out

The rhythmic thump of heavy bass from two floors down on Darla thrummed through Adora's relaxed body like a second heartbeat.

She was shamelessly lounging on the bridge in her Captain's chair in a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a white tank top, and the comfortable black slip on shoes she wore day to day around Darla. Her right leg was draped over the plush arm of her chair and her left leg was cocked out, resting comfortably on the floor. Her right arm was folded behind her head and her left was lazily holding onto a glass filled with shimmery dark purple liquid that rippled in sync with the bass.

The bridge was dark save for the few ever present blinking red lights on the various dash boards and panels surrounding the six strategically placed seats that now comprised the ship's bridge. All Entrapta and Hordak's designs. It was just those lights and of course the large windows filled with the brilliant kaleidoscope of stars that were reflected in Adora's peaceful hazed over blue eyes.

She was lost in reflection.

In front of her were countless galaxies filled with countless lifeforms and Adora wanted to meet and learn about them all. And hopefully quell that insatiable drive in her that'd been building steadily for the last four months of the exile to just keep going.

Adora finally knew what a passion was now, something not born out of circumstantial upbringing or a sense of duty, but something you do because you want to. She wants to explore further every day just to find out something new, chart new stars, learn about a different species cultures. She wants to see what Catra feels like in her arms there with her through every new experience, so far removed from their prior life. Untethered. She knows very little about the First Ones, most of it not great, but she does know they were explorers. She figures that's where this passion must come from.

Behind her, falling further and further away every second is Etheria. It's so far away now it's no longer visible even at their highest scanning capacity.

After seven months in space, the last four of them spent finally finding out what kind of person she was outside of child soldier/She-ra, Adora's feelings about their abrupt, messy departure from their home planet had managed to settle down between resignation and dull betrayal.

It's still a very tender spot. Her logical brain understands that Catra and Hordak couldn't just escape any type of punishment for their literal war crimes. It wouldn't be fair to the countless lives forever changed by them. She also will begrudgingly concede that it would have been a slap in the face to every citizen of Etheria if Glimmer had just gone against the public demand and pardoned them. She is also begrudgingly grateful that Glimmer had ordered the most minimal punishment she had within her power as Queen.

But four years exile still seemed so long. Too long. Even longer now that she knew what her and Catra actually had. She thought she had loved Catra at seventeen, but that feeling was hardly a single star in the quadrant compared to the way she felt about her now. And she knew that with every day that passed, the feelings were just getting more and more intense. She couldn't imagine going four days without the magicat, four years was absurd.

Less than an hour after the sentencing they had left Etheria in a messy, absolutely traumatic scene on the front lawn of Brightmoon. Two of them were convicted criminals who had just been exiled from Etheria and two of them were Princesses who refused to just accept being parted for four years, the need to rebuild Etheria be damned. And as an extra spicy surprise they found out a couple of months in, that Double Trouble had stole'd away on Darla for reasons Adora was still unclear on. Something about drama and possibly being wanted.

The first few months in space had been a disaster Adora acknowledged, taking a sip of her drink and savoring the smooth herbal flavor. They had been blindly chasing the idea of restoring magic to the universe like it was their assigned mission, and not just a distraction from their current situation.

The immediate space around Etheria, it turned out, was not nice to begin with.

In the month since Prime's demise a power vacuum had opened up in the area. Entire planets were without the resources to rebuild themselves and were more than willing to fight for them, and there were opportunistic ships filled with bandits everywhere. It was chaos.

And they had flown into the middle of all that and loudly pronounced they had killed Prime and were magic.

Que a three month long shit storm.

They all just suffered.

Entrapta retreated into herself, barely coming out of the engine room unless they were under attack or broke down. She had been shaken to the core by her sudden loss of confidence in the friendships she had tentatively built over the last three years. Friendships she thought were built on mutual respect for their unique abilities and qualities. Entrapta knew she was the smart one. But only Adora, Scorpia, Wrong Hordak, and Catra had spoken on Hordak's behalf even though Entrapta provided sufficient evidence that by killing Prime in the way She-ra had, it had changed Hordak in fundamental ways. Yes he was responsible for what he had done, took responsibility for it, but he was also literally a new being.

When She-ra knocked Prime's ass out of Hordak's body and vanquished him, it was like being baptised, exorcised, and reborn simultaneously. All the clones had experienced it. Hoard Prime could not control them even again, could never take control of them again. An order coded into their very DNA that demanded them to conquer all for Prime was obliterated. That drive, an instinct really, had been as deeply ingrained into them as breathing was.

Hordak was not really washed anew like the other clones though. He didn't go from a mindless drone in a hive mind like the others, no, he'd spent thirty years waging war in Prime's name on Etheria. He was now without purpose. He was overwhelmed with emotions he did not know he was capable of that lurched violently from happiness to guilt and more often than not ended up at rage. He spoke very rarely to anyone but Entrapta unless it was to loudly argue with Adora or Catra or both of them.

Adora had spent those first few months just absolutely drenched in anger and bitterness. Her mind circled around all of the hurt that had been caused during the last three years. So much of it was Adora and Catra's. They were hit with traumatic event after traumatic event for three years, after a traumatic as fuck childhood. And against all odds they had escalated and pushed that stalemate of a war to an end where everyone won. And now because apparently they couldn't have nice things, and Adora was not smart, they found themselves in a big galaxy filled with unexpected dangers. And what were they doing? Chasing and dodging said dangers because they were just barreling ahead under her command asking every being they met if they needed their magic topped off. She was being absolutely reckless and every near catastrophe circled back to two thoughts. I'm not good enough and how could Catra love me?

Catra had felt horrible that Adora had just given up her life on Etheria so she could stay with Catra. But she felt downright evil that she had selfishly agreed to it with very little argument. Adora had pointedly told Catra that this was what she wanted. How could she deserve this? After everything that had happened Adora had chosen her? Wanted her by her side to explore this precious thing they'd started? How could she say no? It was hard for anyone but them to understand how much it meant for Adora to say those words aloud. She wanted Catra. She could not actually believe it still. Fought herself against the notion in fact. She spiraled in self hatred and guilt. Which of course meant she lashed out at Adora because that's what she did.

Adora and Catra got stuck in a vicious cycle of fight, avoid, apologize, rinse, and repeat that went on for two months. And then finally after a truly shitty day, even by those early standards, it came to a head. Catra gathered all three of the brain cells aboard Darla and had a big "aha moment". They actually had their first real mostly calm and open discussion about their feelings and baggage in their lives. They also had sex for the first time. It was a really big aha moment.

Adora hadn't thought it was possible to fall more in love with the magicat but she did. After the incident, Catra began opening up in earnest to Adora. She whispered confessions of love and attraction into her ear, began to slowly become more physically affectionate towards her. Adora's focus started to shift from saving the universe to saving them. If Catra was safe, she was calm enough to be vulnerable for Adora, and it turns out Adora needed that vulnerability like fucking oxygen. It made her better, made her feel like she could do anything in the universe she wanted. It made Adora believe that Catra loved her for her, and not for what Adora could do.

So less running around space with her whole ass showing; ending them up in dangerous situations every other day, and more let's just go away from that situation and see what's over there.

But not enough because they all nearly died in a fiery blaze three months in.

Adora had snapped after healing Catra's broken ribs, pointed Darla in the general direction of far away, and gunned it. They'd cleared the small cluster of planets nearest Etheria that they had been nervously darting around for three months, getting their asses handed to them, and just kept going. She just put the whole magical quest on the back burner indefinitely. It wasn't working, was actively endangering them in fact. It was not conducive to a vulnerable safe Catra.

When they were a safe distance away she had hidden the ship in an asteroid field and Meelog cloaked them. And then Adora had turned to Catra and asked her what she thought they should do next. It had been a very wise decision.

Catra had taken control immediately. First she encouraged/ordered Entrapta and Hordak to use their combined intelligence and any means necessary to get Darla up to date and better suited to surviving four years in space. They absolutely ran with it. They'd practically completely redesigned the layout of the ship and had even managed to expand its size over the last four months. Darla was taking on the character of a jigsaw puzzle with all the different colored materials covering her hull now. Double Trouble called it Junker Chic, Adora said she had character.

After that, and another near death experience for Adora, the magicat had proposed becoming diplomats of sorts for Etheria. Space was dangerous Catra pointed out, and that danger would likely come for Etheria again eventually. Having strong ties to planets already established in the quadrant has leaders could only be helpful.

And as her last decision Catra had released Adora from any responsibility except for occasionally parading She-ra out when the situation called for it. Her girlfriend had poked and prodded at the new ember of passion in Adora's heart until it was a raging fire.

It had been an amazing change in their lives.

Still seven months in space and in her heart, Adora was still so raw from the sheer trauma of the entire trial, convictions, and absolutely cataclysmic immediate aftermath. She'd had to carry Catra aboard Darla because the magicat was crying so hard. She felt...betrayed? Somehow used in a way she couldn't express? She had nearly died over and over and over again for Etheria. She nearly lost Catra forever for Etheria. And all they got were two weeks before everything went to absolute shit and strangers who didn't know the full story started demanding Catra's permanent exile. Some had even called for execution despite Etheria not having a death sentence. "Make one" someone had said. Adora had nearly ran them through with her sword.

Adora knows if they are ever gonna return at the end of the exile she's gotta heal more. Has to get to a place where she wants to go back. They all do.

Two decks down, in Darla's expanded cargo bayn the wildest party this side of Etheria was raging on at, what her body believed to be, very very late at night. The beat changed suddenly, becoming more powerful, and it startled Adora out of her musings. The tempo sped up and the bass pounded harder and Adora released a throaty chuckle. Her groin tightened, partly from the vibrations and partly from the effects of the drink coursing through her blood. She took a long swill of her glass and moved to rest her right hand firmly on her lap, rubbing her hardening dick through her pants and sighing in contentment.

The thing Adora lovef most about this aimless explorer diplomatic lifestyle they'd gradually slipped into was the culture they'd shared with scores of different species. The drink in her hand was supplied by the fourteen Chix'eks currently onboard the ship at the moment, who were also supplying the music.

Of all of the species they'd met so far, the Chix'eks are by far Adora's favorite. Tall and willowy bipeds, their shimmery smooth bichromatic scales come in countless color combinations and their facial features remind Adora of a bird of prey. They were also the most sincere, friendly beings Adora has ever met, and their language was beautiful. When Adora had been downstairs with them earlier she had taken her translator earpiece out and just listened to them. It was like glass windchimes in a steady breeze. They also were absolute party animals. Like having a pretty good time was in their specie's nature.

They'd been traveling with this group for the last two weeks for no other reason than they were all going the same direction for a bit.

The Chix'eks were highly intelligent and eager to share their knowledge and learn from Hordak and Entrapta's own wealth of knowledge, Catra and Double Trouble practically fed off of their clever sharp wit and general "we're always at a rave" vibes, and Adora just loves listening to their intricate music and sampling the various mind altering substances they have crafted over several millions of years of inherited knowledge.

Medicine was a specialty craft amongst their species. Their medicine was arguably the furthest advanced in this quadrant of space. The fact that the plants that grew on their home planet could affect every species they had met so far seemed fantastically impossible to Adora. But she had experienced it first hand when she'd contracted some kind of alien plague virus from hell and almost died. It was not a great time. Catra had new nightmares for several weeks. But by chance a group of the scaled beings had happened upon them and saved Adora just cause they could. And then offered to make some introductions to other friendly worlds in that part of space. They'd sparked that explorative vibe.

Oh yeah, and their passion for making addictive free, highly specialized, mind altering substances was a huge bonus.

She was glad they were on board right now providing her strange crew with comrade and the drink in Adora's hand that has allowed her to sit and think in total peace for the last hour. It would probably be one of those nights otherwise. Outside of the moments she spent wrapped up in Catra's arms, where nothing else existed but them, Adora still couldn't ever just relax. It was a little easier these days, maybe because now her mind was usually racing about exciting things, but tense situations brought out her worst self destructive habits.

And they were in a tense situation, party aside.

They were almost at the point in space where they wouldl no longer be able to contact Etheria and Etheria will no longer be able to contact them. Entrapta officially called it Point Zero. As it was, the contact they did have with home had a two week delay. They'd hovered around this point for the last month. They'd even recorded a message telling Etheria they'd be leaving contact range for a while. It was an open-ended goodbye disguised as an update, just in case.

Adora knew the decision to venture out beyond this point was on her shoulders.

Entrapta and Hordak would have loved nothing more than to gain new scientific knowledge so they could continue their shared passion for turning Darla into a flying impenetrable fortress. As well as collecting new tech to bring back to Etheria to modernize the planet.

Double Trouble wad having the time of Their fucking life expanding Their repertoire of mimicry far beyond the limits of Etheria, and raising hell in Their wake for the drama of it all. Their gift for espionage had been especially useful on several occasions as well, either to get them all out of a tight spot, or just to gather information for Adora's research.

And Catra. God Catra had absolutely burst like a supernova away from Etheria. Gone was the self loathing, guilt ridden magicat who was immediately resigned to being torn away from Adora and tossed onto Beast Island because she thought she deserved it.

Catra is thriving in space, completely free of the demons that plagued her on Etheria. She's still as snarky and sharp tongued as ever but nowadays she smiled more often than not. Her eyes were brighter. She purred almost constantly. And they hadn't fought about anything more serious than what to eat for dinner in months.

Catra had slipped into the not exactly legit role of Etherian Ambassador like a second skin. Her skill for strategy and diplomacy were nearly fully responsible for Adora's continued ability to study other species without coming across as some insane space tourist. They'd made real diplomatic ties with other planets because Catra was a strategic genius. All she asked of Adora was to bring out She-ra when the need for "oohs and aware" occasionally arose. A smiling eight foot tall muscled goddess with a sword really topped off a presentation.

Adora had never in her life seen Catra so happy and carefree.

But still all that aside, Catra had made it very clear that where Adora wanted to go, she wanted to go. They were in sync now more than they'd ever been in their lives, more than Adora suspected they could have achieved on Etheria. Their bond seemed impenetrable after seven months of constant reliance on one another, cohabitation, and working through most of their shit. When they moved these days, they moved as one.

Just thinking about her lover made Adora's heart race in her chest and her dick jumped, going from a semi, to rock hard in seconds. She inhaled deeply at the sensation, and downed the last of her drink.

The drink wasn't usually this potent. Adora had been drinking a much lower dosage of it every morning at breakfast for a couple of months. It helped her to concentrate during the day, helped to keep her thoughts from spiraling when things were tense or she felt like she'd messed up. Entrapta had explained brain chemistry to Adora briefly, she got the gist of it. She didn't need to have an in-depth understanding of it to get that it really helped just manage everything.

Tonight's drink though was not about mental health management and all about that really good Chix'ekian time.

She set the empty glass on the small table at her side and shifted so she could pull her hardened cock out of her pants. The drink had a massive effect on her senses and her libido. Everything was so intense. It felt like she perceived time slower.

For example her sense of smell was so heightened now she could smell Catra, knew she was making her way down the hall to the bridge. Her heady earthy aroma was addictive. Adora had only been minutely aware of it growing up, when they were pressed up against each other in their bunk, or claws to sword in battle. She'd never stopped to examine the nature of it, why Catra had such a distinctive scent compared to everyone else. She hadn't understood pheromones. She didn't understand the magicat instinct to mark and claim. She understood now though that Catra was different on a very basic level from Adora. It made Adora love her more.

The door barely made a sound as it opened and closed. Adora stroked herself lazily as she listened to Catra pad softly across the carpeted floor, her eyes still drawn to the wild unexplored space in front of them.

She felt Catra move around her chair and her eyes turned away from the view to watch her girlfriend kneel in front of her lap, rest her head on Adora's thigh, and begin gently running a clawed hand over Adora's exposed stomach, inches away from where Adora was stroking her own dick.

Catra's eyes were wide, pupils blown, and her voice when she spoke was practically sinful. "Hey Adora," she rasped out looking up at Adora as she scent marked her inner thigh. Adora took a deep breath and her lips curled into an absolutely love drunk smile.

"Hey Catra," Adora replied, her free hand immediately going to Catra's cheek and scratching behind her ear.

Her gaze drifted down to Catra's neck, and the thick white collar affixed with a golden o-ring she was wearing. This was a rather recent addition to their relationship and Catra had only ever worn it in their cabin. But she smelt of the woodsy incense the Chix'eks liked to burn and the herbal blend they'd created for Catra to smoke. Which meant Catra was wearing it at the party. Her dick twitched in her hand.

Catra purred at the affection and movedn her hand from the blond's stomach to swat away Adora's hand from her straining dick and began softly stroking it herself. The fine furs on her palms felt amazing to Adora's overly sensitive cock and she groaned with pleasure, head lulling back as she buried her hand in Catra's wild shoulder length hair.

"Those Chix'eks really know their stuff," Catra hummed as she shuffled closer and higher on her knees so she could press a small kiss to the base of the blond's length.

"Feeling good?" Adora asked, chuckling. She tightened her grip on Catra's mane slightly and kept her in place against her dick. She moaned when the corner of Catra's lips pressed momentarily against her balls.

"Feeling great," Catra said before beginning to lick at the hot flesh in front of her face "I'll be bummed when they break off to go home."

"Oh my god same," Adora said laughing and breaking out into a wide smile. Gently she pushed Catra backwards and sat upright in her chair, kicking her shoes off and to the side.

"You know," Catra said as Adora pulled her back towards her lap, "we're about ten minutes till we're out of range."

She might have said it conversationally but Adora knew Carta was nervous about Adora's decision. But Adora was not. Just like she wasn't nervous when she leapt into the darkness in Prime's ship, just like when she chose to spend some well deserved time with the love of her life over "duty", and just like the time she gave Catra control of their situation.

Adora pushed Catra back, leant forwards, and cupped both of Catra's cheeks, fingers immediately curling around her ears. She kissed the magicat on the forehead and deeply inhaled her scent. "Kitten I sent the message and set the course for straight ahead when I came in here an hour ago. I want to see what else is out there." Her blue eyes flitted up hungrily to the stars and then back to Catra before she reclined back into her chair.

Catra didn't look up, but she did release a suspiciously watery chuckle before she shifted forwards and wrapped her perfect lips around the head of Adora's cock suddenly. She took it deep down her throat so fast it seemed effortless. Adora groaned obscenely and buried her hands in Catra's hair, her grip tight and immediately desperate.

Adora's cock wasn't exactly small. Fully erect as she was now it was eight inches long and thick as fuck. And Catra just kept sliding her lips further and further down her length until they were stretched taunt and her breath was coming out in hot, fast puffs against Adora's abdomen.

"Gods, fuck Catra," Adora groaned out as Catra's head began to bob up and down in her lap. The blond watched Catra's throat greedily as the muscles contracted to deep throat her over and over again. They were strained against her collar.

Adora felt a sudden sharp sting at the base of her dick and hissed loudly in pleasure. Occasional knicks on her dick were an unavoidable experience when the woman sucking it regularly had needle sharp fangs. Adora relished in the familiar sting, craved it actually.

Adora's fingers tightened roughly in Catra's hair and when the magicat made to bob up, Adora forced her back down until Catra's claws pressed into her thighs, easily piercing through her sweats and into her skin. The magicat sputtered around the cock firmly blocking her airway.

Catra let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a yowl as she struggled to breath for a second. And when Adora pulled her back up she sucked in a ragged breath before a deep growl rumbled in her chest. Her bi-colored eyes were completely blown and she pulled against Adora's hand, trying to take the blond down her throat again.

"Fuck you're so desperate to choke on my dick, aren't you Kitten?" Adora slurred out. She didn't even wait for a response, just shoved Catra back down as her hips jolted up.

She began fucking Catra's throat in a slow but firm pace. Push Catra down and hold her there for a few long moments and then yank her up. Catra was growling nearly non-stop as she fought to keep her lips firmly wrapped around Adora and the vibrations from it made Adora's toes curl into the carpet.

She could happily cum like this, just release herself into Catra's eager mouth like she'd done plenty of times before, but she was suddenly starving for more. Catra's body was practically writhing on the floor, her hips jerking forwards repeatedly, and her thighs pressed firmly together. The sight of her girlfriend so fucking turned on from sucking her dick made Adora feel godsdamn invincible.

"Up," Adora ordered, not waiting for Catra to respond before she was leaning over and practically ripping the magicat's leggings off. Catra was too far gone for words or to be much help, and Adora practically had to pick her up to get the pants and underwear off her feet. She made quick work of both of their shirts too. "Come on," she growled, pulling her writhing girlfriend into the chair with her.

Adora pulled Catra forwards at the hips, pressing her down until Catra's dripping pussy was pressed against her abs. Immediately Catra started rubbing wantonly against against her, spreading her slick up down Adora's stomach. Her mouth found Adora's neck and she began pressing possessive needy kisses against her.

"Fuck you're so sexy," Adora groaned as she held firmly onto Catra's hips and watched her grind against her. Adora didn't need heightened senses to know even after multiple showers, she was going to smell like Catra for days.

"Mine," Catra growled out territorially as she made new marks to Adora's already colorful neck.

"All yours Kitten," Adora agreed. She loved feeling Catra move against her like this, but her dick was begging for relief.

It was difficult to push the writhing Catra back enough to enter her. Her girlfriend was nearly completely gone, operating on her most base instincts and desires, but Adora managed to grab her hips in a bruising grasp and lower her further down her body.

Her own hips were jerking violently upwards on their own volition and it was a frantic moment as she tried to hold Catra still enough that she could stroke up into her. "Hold still," she ordered, her blunt nails digging into Catra's hips demandingly. Catra let out a frustrated growl but stopped fighting against Adora. Adora grunted as she shifted their bodies, lined up, and slammed her dick hilt deep into her girlfriend.

Catra let out a guttural sound from deep in her chest and her claws raked through Adora's hair, pulling their foreheads together. "S-so good f-fuck Adora," she stuttered through clenched teeth as Adora began slamming up into her roughly.

Their eyes were wild and locked onto one another's. The room was filled with the thumping bass, the lewd wet sounds of their thighs slapping together, Adora's harsh ragged breathing, and a constant rumbling growl from Catra.

Every time she bottomed out in her lover Adora's heart skipped a beat. Catra's pussy was clenching around her cock almost in sync to the music and Adora felt like she would die if she couldn't get further into Catra. She wanted to live inside the woman in her lap.

Catra's head fell to Adora's shoulder and she began rambling out adoration and praise for Adora as she sucked, licked, and bit at Adora's neck repeatedly. "Fuck s-soooo fucking good. You fuck! You're f-fucking me so g-good Adora Fuck." Her body was becoming pliant above Adora, allowing the blonde to drill up at her own pace and pull Catra down on her like a toy.

The praise combined with a bite hard enough to draw blood at the juncture of her neck and shoulders had Adora howling. Adora was like a woman possessed as she heaved both of their bodies up and then down onto the floor. Catra began to scramble up when Adora pulled out of her but frantically got into position when Adora started to forcefully roll her over into her hands and knees.

This was Catra's preferred position to get fucked and Adora wasted no time before slamming back into her girlfriend. She leaned over Catra until her front was flush against the magicats silky back and braced herself on her right arm. Her left hand shot up to Catra's neck and her fingers dug in between her collar and fur.

"Fuck!" Catra howled as Adora began violently rocking against her, pushing her further to the floor each time. Catra's claws were fully extended, digging grooves into the carpet and scraping at the metal beneath it. "I love you," she growled out, giving up any control she had left and just letting Adora pound into her.

"Y-you're my, my fucking whole world," Adora managed to gasp out as she lurched above Catra. "I w-want to be inside you forever."

Catra trilled below her and her pussy began to clench so hard around Adora's cock it felt nearly impossible to pull out. She felt like Catra was sucking her into her. They were almost completely down on the carpet now, with most of Adora's weight fully on Catra.

"Mine," Catra growled desperately, her eyes were clenched shut and her body had begun to violently tremble. Her claws were locked several inches down into the floor beneath them.

"Yours. All yours. Everything I am is for you," Adora gasped out. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she felt like it was about to explode and her focus had completely narrowed to the feeling of Catra's pussy gripping her cock like a vice.

She could feel a scream building up in Catra's chest below her and Adora latched onto her shoulder with her teeth. She bit down hard and Catra's head snapped back as she screamed Adora's name and tipped over into her orgasm.

Adora's balls and upper thighs were drenched as Catra's pussy spasmed and squirted below her. The feeling of Catra's white hot release was it for Adora. She slammed down once, twice, a third time, and then her body went rigid as her own orgasm ripped through her. The blond's back arched and her head snapped back, eyes open and wide, her vision filled with porta literal stars as she emptied her balls deep into her girlfriend.

Below her Catra writhed and rubbed up into Adora, her pussy was milking Adora's dick for every last drop of cum it could. Adora felt dizzy from her violent release and she pressed them both down against the floor, barely managing to not rest completely atop Catra's petite frame.

They laid there together like that for a long while. Taking greedy breaths and shaking against each other. Adora was still buried deep inside Catra as the woman's pussy contracted around her. Finally when Adora started to come back to herself she eased out of her lover, chuckling lightly at the disgruntled whine Catra let out.

"Ssh baby," Adora cooed. She kept a hand on the small of Catra's back and stroked her fingers through the thick fur as she straightened up on her knees. Her back gave a satisfying crack at the stretch and she sighed looking down at Carta whose fingers were starting to dig into the floor rhythmically. Her hips were raised trying to get as close as possible to Adora's gently scratching hand. "Come on baby," Adora murmured softly as she picked Catra up.

Catra was practically boneless in her arms but Adora managed to get her knees locked around her waist and her arms over her shoulders before she hoisted both of them up off of the floor. She took a moment to get her bearings and wrapped an arm more securely under Catra's ass.

Catra had almost immediately started purring after Adora picked her up and now it was turning into a loud rumble as she nuzzled her face in Adora's neck and started to scent her. "Bed," she grumbled out against Adora's skin as her claws started to kneed the blond's shoulder.

Adora chuckled and gently butted her head against Catra's. "Yes bed time now," she whispered softly as she spared one last glance to the star filled windows in front of her before focusing on the task at hand.

By Adora's estimate she had about five to ten minutes to get Catra to the privacy of their cabin before the magicat would be forcefully holding Adora down regardless of where they were. Catra's after sex hormone driven instincts were always pretty strong and were Adora's absolute favorite moments to witness. She knew they'd be intense tonight with how hard they'd fucked and Catra still riding the high of that Chix-ekian herbal blend she'd smoked.

"Okay," she murmured taking stock of the situation. This was not her first naked Catra on the bridge rodeo. She knew there was no way she was going to be able to put Catra down long enough to get their clothes back on, the possibility didn't even cross her mind. Still, in an attempt at civility she toed their discarded clothing into a pile and mostly kicked it under her chair.

Adora took a few steps to Catra's chair and grabbed the large fluffy blanket folded up in it. "Hold tight baby," she whispered, waiting a second for Catra to tighten around her body before shaking out the blanket and wrapping it around their bodies.

She grimaced a little at the ten rivets cut into the floor at her feet. Double Trouble would have a field day with that. She shrugged because what could she really do about it now? Quickly she checked Darla's readings before heading off of the bridge. Out in the dim hallways of Darla she could just slightly make out the sounds of music and laughter and it made her smile impossibly wider as she tightened her grip around her purring girlfriend.

She had just reached their door when Entrapta swung around the corner laughing. She just managed to stop herself from running into them and snapped back. Hey smile was sweet as she observed them. "Hi Adora," she managed to whisper out despite her obvious excitement.

"Hi Entrapta," Adora giggled lightly, shifting Catra's weight to her other arm.

"I've noticed we have continued on at our current trajectory Adora," Entrapta whispered, her hair expressing her obvious delight with the way it rolled around her body.

"Indeed," Adora whispered and then smiled widely when Entrapta had to cover her mouth with her hair to keep her excited shriek down.

"Goodnight Adora," Entrapta whispered, and then leant towards Catra and whispered even quieter "goodnight Catra."

Gently Entrapta patted the area between Catra's ears with her hair, and Adora had to push down a delighted gasp when Catra's tail came up and curled around the end of the hair. Adora honestly felt like she could cry at the way Catra's tail intimately held onto Entrapta, swirling around her hair for a few seconds before dropping back down to tuck under the blanket. That gesture from Catra held more meaning than any hug could and it was clear from the happy smile on Entrapta's face that she understood that. The princess waved before barreling back the way she'd come from.

A sharp, pointed nip at her shoulder made Adora chuckle and she turned and walked them into their cabin. She shrugged off the blanket wrapped around them and headed into their little bathroom, Catra still in her arms.

In a clearly practiced routine she ran a washcloth under warm water and brought it up between them to wipe at the sticky mess between Catra's legs. Catra was starting to purr like a skiff motor now and rub her face in earnest against Adora's neck and shoulders.

Satisfied that Catra's fur wouldn't mat Adora headed back into their bedroom and turned out the lights. A light glow from the baseboards was all the light Adora needed to walk the few feet to their bed. She turned around and carefully lowered their bodies down, her muscles tensed to keep them from tipping back. They had picked up the unique bed a few planets ago after Catra had fallen in love with the design. It's sides raised up gradually creating a deep pocketed area in the middle. It was a little tricky to get in and out of, but being nested down in the middle with Catra was absolutely worth it.

After some practiced maneuvering Adora laid down and stretched out her legs, a deep sigh releasing from her chest as Catra wrapped her body around Adora's. A big goofy smile split Adora's face in half as Catra started to rumble on top of her. A moment later her kneading started back up and she began to lick gently at Adora's bruised and scraped neck.

Adora was absolutely blissed out with contentment as she buried her fingers into Catra's furr, one hand right above her tail, the other behind an ear, and started scratching. The rumbling and purring kicked up several notches and Catra began to lick at her skin in earnest.

She'd learned a lot in the last seven months, but the most important lesson had been figuring out all the ways Catra had been saying "I love you" since they were toddlers. She hadn't gotten it before the heart, hadn't thought it was possible because Catra had never said the words out loud. But every purr, nuzzle, and kneed Catra had let out just for Adora had said it for her. Adora was so fucking glad that circumstances aside, she'd finally gotten the chance to figure this out.

The room was absolutely silent but Adora could still feel the light soothing pulse of bass. They laid together for a long time as Catra's rough tongue laved over Adora's neck and upper torso. Adora kept up her diligent scratching, shifting whenever necessary to give Catra easy access to her body. The sounds coming out from Catra were honestly favorite sounds in the universe, a constant deep purr that was laid under a rumbling growl.

Catra was apparently satisfied with her grooming job because she started to settle against Adora, her purr has toned down into a lazy idle as she gently rubbed her scent glands against the splotchy skin of Adora's neck

"I love you so much," Catra murmured, shifting up to press gentle kisses against Adora's face. Her eyes blinked slowly.

"I love you too," Adorab breathed out before pulling Catra down to settle her head on Adora's chest. Adora kept gently stroking behind Catra's ears up until the moment sleep claimed her, warm and content, wrapped completely around her lover.

Darla cruised quietly through space for parts unknown.

#she-ra #adora/catra #catradora #catradora smut #Catradora fic #the etherian party bus

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mocacheezy · 3 years

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Looking at the trailer for the upcoming Netflix Cuphead show, I am just a little dissapointed. I mean it's a short teaser trailer, I dunno what I expected. I was so excited I was hoping the show was out already but aight. Aight. My mistake, am still very excited though.

The animation reminds me of the new Mickey mouse cartoons, which aight, will take me some time to get used to, since it combines the rubberhosey style but also makes it fast. But hey, it's good. I like that the animators are bringing the old timey charm and modern cartoons action pacing together. But, may I say:

King Dice looks amazing, though his voice sounds??? Off??? To me???

It might just be the fact it's been a long, LONG TIME since I've been in Cuphead waters and I didn't play the games (wistfully looks @ Switch prices and vows once more to get that game and the console), but the voice for him I have in my mind is that of Alana Bridgewaters, who sang the Die House song (and how I adore the performance, I am in love with this song still, relistening to it made me smile).

But like, from what lil' dive into the trivia I made (this is just me musing about this stuff, so I am not looking too deep. Don't take this small rant of mine as The Truest Truth Of All Truths aight?) here are some inspirations for the guy:

Now I knew about Calloway, because again, I loved the game since I was also in the BATIM fandom at the time, and the two games are both in the old timey style. Not to mention the jazz music covers and fan songs these two spawned.

Just, *chefs kiss* it was beautiful I tell you guys. My "old soul" heart sang with joy.

But anyways, thanks to that combined hyperfixation I did learn just a bit more about old timey animation (and the studios that competed at the time, and the practices/working conditions, and the lawsuits, and the -... well, you get the picture. It was a hyperfixation of almost three years or so.) which also made me realize that yea, I can see the influence of the singer.

And the song that was sung by Bridgewaters is how I imagined his voice to be (aight, also some of the amazing VAs that used to dub the fancomics, have to pay my respects to them, because they did a wonderful, amazing work. The voice claims for him were all over the place, but her version od Die House was and is my fave) so hearing the speaking voice in the show is... Off. Strange.

I consider myself someone who can and WILL find a way to make even a slight detail in a piece of media make sense or find an explanation, so a thing that doesn't fit with what I thought about a show/character/etc., etc. ends up working, so here it is:

The voice a person talks in can be completely different than the way they sing (and honestly in jazz? In the way these people sing where it can be like listening to silk and smoke, a voice that puts your mind in a relaxed haze, but can also be a wild whirlwind depending on the singer performing?? Like... Yea, there is def a difference, gotta keep that voice in shape and that throat well tuned)

The voice actor for the character Alameda Slim in Disney's Home on the Range (2004) could not yodel, so the studio contacted a singer who was in the scene, was well known and could yodel so well, that my lil slovene self wanted to learn how to yodel, and probably drew my parents NUTS with my attempts. So there IS a big chance in my opinion, of our Mr. getting a different VA for singing (oh let the man sing, please good goth give us the sleazy bastard singing, I will throw all of my non existent cash at his feet, go into proper debt and sign my soul to his boss if that happens. Yes, it appears I am an unshamed simp for villain men who have purple in their colorscheme. With each year I mind it less)

Not only that, but I am uncertain if the song was a spurr of the moment decision/fun easter egg made by the creative team, or if they wanted to include it, but lacked the budget/time/ideas who to contact (the game was supposed to be released earlier, but took longer to complete which... Have you SEEN the game? Like, I bet the wait was worth it, the animation is HAND FUCKING DRAWN!!!). Whatever the reason was, Madam Bridgewaters has my heart, and my wish to one day be able to get my voice to that kind of tones because damn. Damn my heart. Hearing that voice after years had me melt. Hats off madam. Miss? Madam? Ma'am.

Netflix gave them a good budget. They are using their budget. That's it. They have a vision of how the show will look, however I do hope we get an actual trailer soon. I want to see more of this amazing thing they are making (but patience is a virtue, so just *vibrates with restrained excitement*)

...

So to wrap up this Netflix Cuphead rant of mine:

Mr. King Dice still has my heart, even if I am a bit iffy about the voice. Also, shout out to the people in charge of getting the sneak peak out, they KNOW who the fans simp for.

The animation is more crisp than I'd imagine and faster than what the game style animation was. Again, will get used to it, but it will take some time. Kudos to the animators because well damn, even the other cartoons have great designs and I love the phone dude. I hope he rolls high. (also good fucking point from some other people, if the full show was done in the style the game was done, it would take years for one/few episodes to be finished)

I will keep an eye out for when the show drops, and might screech about it in the future. I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THOSE TWO CUPS BE THEIR MOST AMAZING RASCAL SELVES!!!

Anyone who will not be able to look @ the gaming dice if I start simping for that dapper casino manager again, I apologize, may your gaming nights not be too awkward if you own purple/lavender dice. There will be no actual content that you'll have to shield your eyes from, but just know it's out there and that it is 😙👌 and you are being spared from my full on thirsting on main.

#moca talks #cuphead show #Netflix cuphead show #Am I excited? Yes.#Am I delighted that it exists? YES.#Am I ready for it? ABSOLUTELY NOT.#I can't wait for it to drop though I am so curious what they did with it ✨

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thorsthot · 5 years

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cosmic intimacy (I)

pairing(s): thor, gamora, brunnhilde, peter quill x reader

warnings: orgy smut, unprotected sex, possible shitty writing and unknowingly fucked grammar cause I am tired.

words: 941 note: here’s part one loves

The body is so greatly connected to the universe. When you breathe, she breathes back. When you orgasm, you can feel the magnetism of the universe. You can feel the breath of the universe, deeper and deeper as you begin to fall under and get lost within your mind. The numbness and rush of your blood, the beating of your heart are all tied into the universe.

And when you’re out in space, you can feel the light of the stars intensify. You can feel the heat intensity build with every low breath you make, and yet, it remains cold in the great abyss. Space is made up of so many different nebulas, stars and planets. It’s made of all the colors in the rainbow. It’s made up of everything and anything to be thought of; and so are you.

The air is hot and full of sin. The moans of others fill your ears with every beat of your heart. You’re filled up with more than just emotions, but with the feelings of fingers and miscellaneous objects that are specifically designed to make you orgasm. You feel that familiar sense of need and euphoria as you continue to grind down on the cock of a new man. Stretching your cunt out so good it hurts, your ass being fucked open by another person, a pretty brown girl with a pretty purple cock strapped to her. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as you grind down harder. The hand of yet another wraps around your neck and you smile, tongue daring to break through your teeth. Their hand comes up, hard grip on your jaw as they dip their fingers into your mouth, making you suck on their cum.

“Pretty little Earth whore,” She explains. “Lips so plump and nice. Mouth so warm, you should get this pretty little face fucked. Quill, come here.”

He strides up, cock out and hard. He teases it, licking his fingers before slowly massaging his cock with those same fingers. The pretty green girl cocks your head to the side and gapes open your mouth with her fingers. Quill slides his cock into your mouth and you cough when his tip reaches the back of your throat. He tries again, slowly edging his cock into your mouth, biting his lip at how you gag around him. He picks up rhythm and wipes away the burning tears that roll down your cheek.

Brunnhilde, the one behind you, fucking into your ass so sweetly; shoves two fingers from both of her hands into your mouth, gaping your mouth open for Quill to fuck deeper into your mouth. Gamora slaps at your cheek, then at your tits, tugging on your nipples as she grinds her cunt down on the God of Thunder, who has his cock buried within you. You brain becomes so clouded and overflowed with sin and haze. It’s a static; a static that leaves you open to every ounce of pleasure. You have nowhere else to look but at the one whose fucking your throat. You can’t even help but squeal out those annoying, yet pretty sounds that come with the gagging from the cock that’s forcing itself down your throat.

“Three cocks in all three of your holes huh?” Brunnhilde whispered in your ear. The feeling of her breath on your neck, tickled down your spine. “Good little slut, it’d be selfish of me to want you all to myself.”

With every thrust inside you, from either way, your body trembles. You’re sure that you’re cumming, but you can’t tell because your body is already on fire and at its own personal high. You’re floating. Floating so high in space. So fucking high and you don’t want to come down. If it were possible to be fucked at every waking moment, you vouch for it. You can feel your wetness pool down beneath you. You’re crying; shaking so hard that you’re being forced to sit still and take it. Quill pulls down at your hair, yanking your head back so that he can make this final few fucks down your throat before he ultimately unleashes his load down your throat. And when he finally does you gag so hard you can feel it in your stomach. You close your eyes as he slowly fucks out of your mouth, praising you as he slaps his cock down on your tongue.

“Fuck,” He pauses.

“Come here,” And before you can react by swallowing the rest of his cum, Gamora has you, lips pressed to yours. Her tongue finds its way down your throat, licking up Quill’s cum from your mouth. You can’t react any other way besides falling into her kiss. She lets you go at the same time that Brunnhilde slips out of your ass. Gamora also leaves, possibly done with you. Both of them being your bookended support and being as you’re weak, you sink down onto Thor, head resting against his chest.

You get a quick glimpse of Gamora and Quill sucking off Brunnhilde’s strap. But that’s all you seen before your vision got hazy and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Thor held onto you; his grip tight and comforting as he pounds into you from beneath. You can feel your wetness splash around as you squirt and cream around his cock.

“So good for me baby,” He breathes out. “So good.”

In space, everything is at a constant high. There’s a burst of energy coming from every curve of the universe. Space is so beautiful and alluring, and so full of life. As are you.

cosmic intimacy masterlist: @siriuslycollins

Permanent taglist: @macfizzle , @audacious-little-fuck, @shaykeijser, @ghost-with-spaghetti-arms, @thedunconnsmythe, @history-freak1, @pagethepunisher, @kitcatimpala67, @frappichino23, @insideoflit, @thorsstar, @captainthotodinson, @mermandy, @ka-ni-ma, @leaf-slut, @sea040561, @cannonindeez, @blackpantherimagines @thebookamongmen, @havpojke, @totallyreadyforthis, @heliosparadox, @ineffabl-y, @the-bleeding-rose, @lilylovelyxo, @akamaiden, @ringpop-poppy, @coonflix, @godohammers, @marvelmaree, @acciorinn

Thor Taglist: @sthorgestavenger, @shiningnestor, @dcmarvelblog, @lbrownsugarbbyl, @loverofthor, @vulnificura, @humbleslvt, @onemorebookidontneed, @kittygothpastel, @darling-youre-beautiful, @infinity1321 , @6lackraconteur , @hi3431, @m00sethemurderer , @warriorsacrifice

#cosmic intimacy masterlist #brunnhilde x reader #thor x reader #gamora x reader #peter quill x reader #Gamora x Peter x reader #man idk what to tag this shit as #thor smut #brunnhilde smut #peter quill smut #Gamora smut

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lovehotelreservation · 5 years

Text

My Dirty Little Shame - The Disgrace and The Incompetent [2/?]

Summary: A Stand User. A villain.

No matter how you were classified as, in the eyes of Abbacchio and Aizawa, you were someone in dire need of discipline by their hand.

And after all that had transpired between you and the two of them, your punishment couldn’t come sooner enough.

Rating: PG-13 [Rating will go up]

Pairing: Abbacchio/Reader/Aizawa

[Next Chapter]

YEEHAW EVERYONE I HAVE RETURNED WITH A NEW UPDATE!!!

Thanks so much to everyone who expressed their interest in the first chapter of this new piece! With Part 5's anime having ended already while BNHA's new season begins tomorrow!!! I wanted to return to this fic, as there's still much I wanted to share with this work! Especially LEWDZ

Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy!

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Just where the hell was Narancia?

Scowling, Abbacchio reached up to adjust the police cap atop his head. Though he wasn't wearing his usual eccentrically revealing gothic robes, he was still sweltering within Tokyo's humid summer in the police uniform that he was currently wearing. With his black lipstick scrubbed off and his silken, ivory locks tied up in a bun, he was much more presentable--and unrecognizable--in appearance.

It had been a busy week.

Abbacchio had much on his mind, going from caring little about the upcoming Summer Olympics--save for the bit of country pride that would arise if Italy won gold--to jetting off on the next flight to Tokyo as soon as he was given approval.

Namely on how he planned on devastating you the moment he managed to track you down.

Though, he still had to be considerate of why he was allowed to go on what was essentially a revenge trip in the first place.

This office was just so damn golden.

And floral.

And Moschino.

"While Abbacchio had come to see Giorno as a close friend, a trusted ally, and a respected don, there was something so gaudy and tryhard about the young boss's office space that made him want to start smoking and use the coffee table bonsai tree as an ashtray. And, indeed, he was doing just that, a lit cigarette perched between his fingers.

Though, with Giorno sitting at his desk just before the royal blue velvet sofa that Abbacchio was lounging upon, he was at least respectful enough to tap the ashes onto the designated tray.

"--While I'm well aware of where Passione must stand in terms of global affairs, Mr. Polnareff has been a great friend and ally, and I feel that assisting the Speedwagon Foundation would be in our best interest," Giorno remarked, his chin resting upon his steepled fingers, all while his eyes trailed over the array of documents currently displayed on his desk. He reached down to sift through the file dedicated to Koori and the recent attack on the Olympic village, retrieving a picture of the ice skater to show to Abbacchio, his eyes narrowing with resolve.

"After all, we need to make sure Ghiaccio gets captured at last so we can stop La Squadra from spreading out their influence abroad."

Reclined fully back against the sofa, Abbacchio allowed for a haze of grey smoke to escape his lips. "...I'm well aware." His position was familiar, reminiscent of those warm, idyllic afternoons spent with you. Your head on his lap, affectionate eyes staring sweetly up at him while your fingers teasingly trailed along his chest.

Up until he had enough, seizing your wrist before splaying you upon the couch and smothering your lips with smokey kisses.

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, knowing that if he were to even glance at the photo, he was going to destroy something. While Ghiaccio was always an especially irritating sight that caused sore eyes, Abbacchio's fury came from the connection that the two of you had together.

How your arms wrapped so snuggly around Ghiaccio's neck, one of your eyes fluttering shut in a wink before you disappeared from his life.

Seeing Abbacchio's averted stare, Giorno closed his eyes, a light chuckle escaping him as he slipped the photo back to its file. "Of course." His attention shifted over to another file, one which bore the seal of Japan's Hero Public Safety Commission. "...Still, to better our chances, the Speedwagon Foundation is requesting that we join together with the Heroes Association during the Olympics--"

Abbacchio glanced down.

Giorno's bonsai tree really was looking deficient in cigarette ashes.

Following his gaze and how his hands took hold of his cigarette, Giorno only proceeded to sigh, "I understand that it's already requesting much of you to assist with international affairs, Abbacchio. However, from what I could see, while Narancia will surely be needed, only you and Eraserhead will find the greatest success together since the two of you had similar encounters--"

Abrupt and unceremonious, Abbacchio was suddenly on his feet. His hand lowered, flicking ash to its designated tray. A respectful manner in contrast to the glare in his eyes--still less volatile than from when he saw Giorno as a hapless new recruit instead of the reliable don that he was today.

"Tch--I don't need anyone's help. I've got no reason to work with a so-called Hero who couldn't even do his job right," Abbacchio nearly spat out just before he turned to make his leave, his eyes facing forward to the future he was willing to claw his way towards.

The future he saw was you bound in chains, whether in an Italian prison cell, or locked away in his bedroom.

And though Giorno expected more or less for this mission debriefing to end as it did, he still couldn't help but smile as Abbacchio added,

"Revenge will see me through."

However, while Abbacchio's vengeance could match that of the sun, his eyes couldn't withstand the intense brightness of summer. Reaching for the front of his uniform, he retrieved the rather unfortunate pair of non-Gucci shades that had been provided by the Speedwagon Foundation for his disguise, slipping them on with displeasure.

He peered around the crowd of excited spectators in hopes of catching a glimpse of Narancia. However, in this age of Quirks, to find a scrawny Italian 20-something dressed in an orange Supreme hoodie and a purple Moschino skort proved to be annoyingly difficult.

While Abbacchio was to patrol around the arena for when Ghiaccio would take the Olympic stage, Narancia was supposed to be doing recon around the premises, seeking out all possible escape routes that the gangster-turned-athlete could utilize. It took a great deal of either courage, stupidity, or courageous stupidity for Ghiaccio to have even resurfaced in the public eye to such a degree.

Though, as Abbacchio could reason, by what he was aware of La Squadra, he wouldn't have been surprised if this was in relation to whatever business relationship that was struck up with the yakuza in exchange for hosting him in Japan.

That and pride.

So much.

Goddamn.

Pride.

Contemplating as to why Ghiaccio made his return--along with, more importantly, why you showed yourself once again--Abbacchio prepared to do another patrol around the arena's premises.

Up until he caught a glimpse of a young man running by the stands, his Supreme fanny pack--worn diagonally across his chest--bounced slightly against his front with each hurried step.

With the flash of orange and purple, Abbacchio snorted under his breath.

There was only one person that scrawny who could dress that ugly.

Still, there had to be some reason that Narancia was too busy running about to report back. With that in mind, Abbacchio proceeded to trail after him, right as a Bakugou Katsuki was introduced to the crowd.

While Abbacchio made his way past stands of a different nature from what he was used to, a lone Aizawa was in one of the overseeing VIP rooms, staring out towards the grand obstacle course below where athletes would demonstrate the power of their Quirks. His eyes shifted over to the clock that was hanging on the wall towards his right, his eyebrows furrowing as he let out a displeased hum.

Just where the hell was Midoriya?

With the Olympics set to begin soon, Midoriya should have returned from his run-through of the entire Coliseum space. Having completed his studies and graduated from UA High, he had finally set out to accomplish his dreams of being a professional hero.

While balancing on top of his own participation in the Olympic games, he was tasked with assisting his former teacher, as per the request of Toshinori. Given the international connections regarding this mission, he near pleaded to be able to help out and broaden the scope of his experience.

Though Midoriya looked to be all too eager to take on his new role, Aizawa could only look towards this mission with burning vengeance and bitter longing.

A sight that he could only and truly gaze at by the work of his upgraded goggles.

This office was just too damn bright.

Calmly sitting at one of the many chairs by a conference table, Aizawa was tempted to already slip on the modified pair of goggles that were laid across the sleek oak surface.

A specially designed pair from the Speedwagon Foundation, the international organization that dealt with a certain subset of people who had Quirk-like abilities.

They weren't Heroes by any means.

Rather, as the Speedwagon Foundation referred to them, they were Stand users.

Truly the one crucial point that separated Quirk from Stand was that the former could be seen by all while the latter was only able to be seen by those who also possessed the same power

At least for the most part.

After all, with the goggles that the Speedwagon Foundation had prepared just for him, he would now be able to see any Stand, no matter the user.

And now Aizawa--a Pro Hero who dealt with countless villains--was standing in one of the offices at the Speedwagon Foundation's temporary headquarters: a grand naval vessel that was docked off the coast of Morioh.

The task of hunting down not one but two Stand users was now officially on his shoulders, at the request of the two individuals sitting across from him.

To the left was a familiar face: lead detective for the Ghiaccio/Koori case and representative for both the police force and the Olympic Committee, Naomasa.

On the right was a stranger with a near unsettlingly familiar voice: a fortune teller and one of the top agents for the Speedwagon Foundation, Mohammed Avdol. A man of Egyptian descent, he carried himself ever so calm and reserved with the occasional hearty chuckle. Though, his outfit was bold with vibrant red cotton robes and big, ornate golden jewelry adorning his body. If Aizawa were to so much as close his eyes whenever Avdol spoke, he would have most certainly believed that a calm but prideful Toshinori was in the room.

While not surprising, somehow the world's Number One Hero was involved in this whole ordeal, as well. And despite his logical dismissals, he still felt the beginnings of sparks of vengeance and the pangs of jealousy, the thought of you looking towards a close friend with the same desire you once showed to him.

"--thus, after reviewing the footage from All Might's agency, we have concluded that it is without doubt that Trouble Maker was seen on the premises, posing as part of the cleaning staff," Naomasa noted while presenting security camera stills. "However, considering her insistence on gaining access to Toshi's office, suspicion obviously arose, but she disappeared before she could be confronted."

Sure enough, disguise and all, you could be seen going about your 'duties'. While Aizawa was irritated thinking over what your intentions were, he was even more annoyed--albeit at himself--over how cute you looked in your work uniform.

Trouble Maker.

Apparently that was a familiar name amongst the yakuza, of a tempting siren who was not to be trifled with.

A simple but fitting title for you, even if earlier recollections of the time spent together were much more tender and sweet.

Perhaps now he would finally know just what caused that betrayal which had him scouring for revenge.

"For this to happen just mere weeks before the incident at the Olympic village..." Avdol trailed off, his eyes--once closed with contemplation--opening while his arms remained folded over his chest. "...I'm certain that whatever scheme is going on will most certainly involve Ghiaccio's appearance at the Olympics, whether by sabotage in favor of the yakuza or fleeing the country."

Aizawa reached for the goggles on the table, already rising from his seat. "Regardless, their intentions don't matter. I'll see to it that they are apprehended and brought to justice."

While Naomasa looked to be a bit flabbergasted at how fiercely determined Aizawa was, Avdol held a hand up, motioning for him to sit back down. "It is a relief to see that your resolve lives up to your reputation, Aizawa. However, while I trust you fully to take on this task, facing off against a Stand user is still much too different than facing against a villain."

"Believe me, I have experience with facing against Stands."

There was venom on Aizawa's tongue, a taste made even more bitter when a memory of your cheerful smile crossed his mind. One that was offered to him while he was struggling to so much as sit up from the concrete ground, just moments before you made your escape in the back of a van, the sight of you drawing Ghiaccio close to your chest before the backdoor shut.

Though Avdol's expression looked to be more sympathetic, he remained firm, all while his hand rested over a file that was dated nearly 7 years ago, of which was noted with a simple but resounding 'Mission Failed'. "We would still prefer you partner up with a Stand user, Aizawa, especially since one is on this mission as well." With a nod, he urged, "You should work alongside him. Though he does align himself with Passione, he is to be trusted and his experience would--"

"To work with the Italian mafia?" Aizawa interjected, his eyes narrowing while his tone struggled to remain neutral. "Pardon for what I must ask, Mr. Avdol, but are you out of your mind?" He near slammed his hand against his chest as he went on, lips curling into a snarl as emotions of both heated vengeance and a lingering heartache quickly resurfaced, "The responsibility for this matter falls onto me, and I will make sure this nuisance finally comes to an end with that woman in handcuffs."

Alarmed, Naomasa quickly turned towards Avdol, preparing to apologize for Aizawa's outburst. However, the Speedwagon Foundation representative looked to be calm, his eyes closing before pleasantly remarking, "I see this side to your reputation rings true as well."

Before Aizawa could get another word out, Naomasa immediately stepped in, his hands up in a gesture to calm down, "I understand that this mission has personal context for you, Aizawa. However, the success of this mission is of absolute importance." His expression becoming concerned, he added, "While it is imperative that Koori gets apprehended and whatever yakuza connections he has are revealed, Trouble Maker is a wholly different matter, especially if All Might gets involved."

While still tense, the more rational side of Aizawa struggled to reign him back in, that there was no place for his emotions during a mission debriefing of all things. “I agree that we should investigate further into why she took post at his office. However, I don't--" Recalling how perfectly you fit into his arms while he whisked you away to the bedroom came to mind. "--see how a Stand-- how a Quirk like hers would be that effective against him."

Naomasa quickly sifted through another folder, drawing out a summary report with a compilation of security camera stills at the bottom. Skimming over the details, he remarked, "It was said that during her time at All Might's office, Trouble Maker was asking about more..." Glancing up at Aizawa, he started to look flustered. "...personal questions regarding him. Gossip basically. But from what we know of the volatile and influential power that Trouble Maker's Stand has, if used against All Might then--"

"Shouta! The jig is that the world can't know that All Might fucks!"

Avdol jumped slightly in his seat.

Naomasa covered his face with his hands.

Aizawa readied his scarf.

Closing the door behind him before stepping into the debriefing room--having been out to go use the restroom but was lost after the third winding turn back--a grinning Hizashi proceeded to rub the back of his head while bowing 45 degrees out of respect. "Oh! Sorry! Sorry!"

Cupping his mouth with one hand, he loudly whispered, "The world can't know that All Might fuc--"

The rest of the mission debriefing took much longer than expected.

His expression looking utterly irritated upon recollection, Aizawa reached for his goggles, his grip on them turning into a clench.

At the very least, with Hizashi acting as one of the official Olympic sports commentators, there would always be eyes on Ghiaccio once he took to the field, which was to be soon. He received notice that Ghiaccio was to engage in the Quirk obstacle course, the very same one that he knew Bakugou was to compete in as well.

However, right as he heard the beginnings of the Italian national anthem, Aizawa glanced down towards the stands, only to see a familiar mass of green dashing by.

There was Midoriya.

And he looked to be pursuing something.

Aizawa tensed.

Could it be...?

While logic and rationality would have made him think to contact Midoriya first, emotions had him rushing out of the room in pursuit.

As Midoriya was one to seek after danger to handle it on his own, for him to not report back as ordered spoke volumes.

It wasn't long before Aizawa was rushing out the south gate of the Olympic Coliseum, whereupon he caught up to Midoriya, who had since stopped in his tracks.

At the same time, Abbacchio had just finally gotten hold of Narancia, who also came to a still at the south gate.

Abbacchio grabbed onto his shoulder, "Oi, Narancia--!"

Aizawa seized for the back of Midoriya's collar. "Midoriya, just where have you--?"

Both paused upon hearing an irritatingly familiar inflection.

Abbacchio and Aizawa looked up from their respective partners, soon facing one another, eye to eye.

A disgraced cop who had since fallen to the influence of the mafia.

An incompetent excuse of a hero who had seen better days.

Their eyes narrowed towards one another in a harsh glare.

However, before either could speak up, they heard the delighted cries of,

"Ayy, Signore Midoriya! Any luck on your end?"

"Ahh! Narancia-san! Not yet, but I hope your search has been productive!"

The two greeted one another with a wave.

Alarmed, Abbacchio and Aizawa were quick to utter out a near united, "What?!"

It was then that, at last, Narancia and Midoriya had turned to face their respective superiors.

And all Abbacchio and Aizawa could see was red.

Namely, an achingly familiar shade of rouge that was present on their respective partners' cheeks as a kissmark.

"Ahh Abbacchio! There you are!" Narancia beamed excitedly while his arms folded behind his head, "My bad, but I was helping a pretty tourist who said she was looking for her baby boy!"

"Ai- Ai-Aizawa-sensei!" Midoriya stuttered out in a fluster while quickly wiping the kissmark away. "I'm so sorry! While I was canvassing the area, a distressed woman approached me and said she was looking for her kitten!"

The words that were uttered out struck at the two.

Baby boy.

Kitten.

You were here.

#leone abbacchio #aizawa shouta #jjba #bnha #reader insert #My Dirty Little Shame #Fic #management will return in a queue minutes

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rubberduckyrye · 5 years

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god im sorry if im flooding your inbox with questions but uh got anything about ur ocs theos and richard? (sorry if i've spammed you with questions i can't tell if i've actually hit the ask button or not sometimes oof)

uhm, how about your OCs richard and theos(?)

Not the same anon but could you describe theos

I’m finally getting to these, wooo!

I’m going to mostly focus on Theos here, but if you really are curious about Richard, let me know! I just. I felt bad cause I was drawing a reference of Theos but it took a while and I couldn’t really get to Richard, sorry;;

Okay, so a little bit of history for this;

These characters are two parts of a trio that I made with @celestriakle waaaay back when we were both in the NiGHTS fandom. These characters were based off of Wizeman the Wicked, the big bad final boss of “NiGHTS into Dreams” and “NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams.” If you want to watch a let’s play of the latter (as it actually has story/a narrative to it where as the first game has only game play. Older games had their stories mostly written in the little booklets that came with the games) you can watch this here. NiGHTS is like, the OG purple gremlin child and they are such a mischievous delight. The game sadly hasn’t aged well and wasn’t like, the best of games, but I still hold it fondly to my heart and I’d say it’s got some great concepts.

Anyway! If you want just a very rough summary and not watch 5 hours of a game; Wizeman the Wicked is the self-proclaimed god of Nightmare, which resides in the Dark Ocean underneath the Dream Gate. The Dream Gate allows dreamers (called “visitors” in the game) to enter their dream worlds of paradise (or, more accurately, worlds created by the reflections of their hearts) called “Nightopia.” However, Wizeman is constantly sending his creations, “Nightmarens,” to steal fragments from the hearts of visitors (these fragments being called “Ideya,” and are Courage (Red), Purity (White), Blue (Intelligence), Growth (Green), and finally, Hope (Yellow). The Ideya of Courage allows visitors to unlock their first Nightopia, and if they can gather the remaining Ideya, they can unlock new dream worlds. In these dream worlds are little creatures called “Nightopians,” which are like… fairies, I guess, to simplify things. There’s also an owl creature that doesn’t have a clear origin, and his name is…. Owl. Real creative, I know.

Another thing–SPOILERS, IF YOU DON’T WANT TO BE SPOILED FOR THE NIGHTS GAME, STOP READING AND WATCH THE VIDEO AND COME BACK TO THIS–that is important to note here is the Nightmaren. There are three levels of “nightmaren”; Third levels - the weakest enemies, the ones you find wandering Nightopia that get in the way/stage enemies; Second levels, which are “boss marens” and are the Nightmarens who have taken the ideya from the protagonist visitors and are keeping it hidden in their lairs, and finally, First level Nightmaren; to which there are only two. A pair of “twins,” if you want to call them that. Reala is the first of the two; he is very loyal to his “master”, Wizeman, and is considered the general of the nightmaren army. He’s portrayed as cruel and even sadistic in a way. The second first level Nightmaren? NiGHTS themselves.

NiGHTS is a renegade Nightmaren that has rebelled against Wizeman for an obscure reason. Fans love to speculate on it, but there is no real “canon” reason, only hints that NiGHTS might be more ashamed of where they come from than they’d like to let on.

Why is this important? Because it ties in to Theos, and consequently, Richard and Cyrus–Celest’s character, though I won’t talk much about him here since that’s her muse/character so go ask her about him if you’re really that curious. Either way, I’ll note here that Theos, Richard, and Cyrus are all “parts” of Wizeman. Think of Steven Universe and “fusions”, except this was created long before Steven Universe was airing. So Wizeman is a “Fusion” of these three characters--though the three “humans” that make up Wizeman are called “The Fragments.”

Anyway! Moving on.

The initial translation of the “NiGHTS into Dreams” biography for Wizeman was mistranslated, I do believe, but it suggests that Wizeman is a “Visitor with no Ideya” and among the first intelligent life form to exist in the world of dreams. Long before I even met Celest, me and an ex friend/boyfriend (don’t ask) of mine laughed at the idea, but them we started pondering the logistics of that information, and created Theos. He worked on the original story for Theos (which I can’t remember for the life of me, it’s all been scrapped though) and I made up a design.

So for reference, here is what Wizeman the Wicked looks like.

Here is what Theos used to look like. Be warned, it’s old as shit art! Wow, this art is almost ten years old, holy shit–

And this is what Theos’ current design is, plus a very sinister looking goop monster.

The first design you see on the most modern design (the more obviously human looking form) is Theos when he was alive. His eyes are actually a dark, dark brown, but they are hazed over. I forget the technical term for it, but anyway, it left him blind. This was kind of a problem, a huge problem, for Theos--because he was born during the age of Sparta.

For those of you who don’t know, Spartans were very vicious awful, and if an infant was born with a clear deformity or disability, they were doomed to be abandoned in the wilderness and left to die. Theos was born blind, and very visibly so. However, his mother had died during child birth, and her last request was that her baby live a happy life. To honor that request, Theos’ father convinced everyone that his child was a prophet of the gods, and that his blindness was due to an ability to predict the future via his dreams. He warned that the gods would strike Sparta down with vicious rage if they killed the baby boy, and that when Theos does pass on from the realm of the humans, he will report his life back to the gods. He managed to convince them that Theos was, indeed, a prophet, and he was an exception to the rule for about eight years.

However, his father had grown resentful and hateful of his son for “killing” his wife, and making his life a living hell, so he decided that he was tired of it all and threw Theos into a river, where he drowned.

Before Theos had died, he discovered the dream gate, and discovered that he was a lucid dreamer. He created a creature he named “Owl” (yes, this gives Owl an origin story) and had all five of his Ideya before he died, thus had access to all of his Nightopias.

However, when he died, he hit his head on a rock and fell unconscious just before he drowned, and a remarkable series of events occurred.

First, his mind and soul went to the world of Dreams.

Second, his lucidity started to violently lash out, as he himself was panicking and in a lot of pain, and started to change his “body.”

Third, all of his Ideya started shattering.

With the unique circumstances of his death, Theos’ soul transfered from the waking world to the dream world just before he died, sacrificing his Ideya to stabilize his form as a “creature of dreams” instead of as “a visitor.”

From there, after the horrid traumatic experience, Theos tried to seek comfort in his nightopias--nightopias that no longer had Ideya to support them, and thus were destroyed. Devastated by the fact that the world of dreams basically rejected his being, Theos threw himself into the Dark Ocean--the Sea of Nightmare--and was engulfed in the madness below.

This is where the fourth and crucial yet remarkable event occurred. You see, the goop monster depicted in the drawing I did is called “Dream Force.” The state of it in that picture, is when it takes on the negative thoughts and feelings of visitors, thus turning it into sludge and into “nightmare” force. This is a personal creation and headcanon of mine, but I imagine that the Dark Ocean is basically made up of “negative” Dream Force--or, Nightmare Force.

Now normally, when visitors die in a similar manner like Theos, they don’t last long in the dream world. Their souls eventually lose power and fade as they finally pass on to the next life. However, Theos was the first visitor to have “tamed” the Nightmare Force through his own lucid powers, and using the Nightmare Force as energy, he was able to survive for centuries--but at a cost. Being surrounded by nightmares, horrible, violent thoughts and feelings, and all that good stuff, only fueled the hatred and despair he felt. So, Theos grows more and more angry, hateful and resentful of the human race, wanting to be rid of it.

That’s basically his story, tbh! I don’t really know what to do with him, though me and Celest are planning a rp-to-fic thing of the Fragments, so he might just star as a NiGHTS oc.

Sorry this took so long to get to :’D I hope that satisfies you curiosity about Theos at least. I might do Richard another time.

Anyway! Thanks for asking~

#Anonymous #theos #oc

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thesickpanda · 4 years

Text

It’s the End of the World as we Know It (And I don’t feel fine)

Over a month ago I woke up with terrible pain in my back. For years we've been sitting on a broken futon so we figured that might be to blame. We could ill afford a new sofa at that time, but we really had no other choice. There was no comfortable chair for me to sit in and with the neuroma in one foot and a subluxating patella in the other leg, I need to sit a lot. So a few days after my spasm, a new, ergonomic sofa was delivered. It's been great. I'm incredibly grateful for it. But the back spasm? It hasn't gone away.

I'm used to the aches and pains of Fibromyalgia but normally when I have a spasm in my back or neck, it's gone after a week or two, tops. The regular aches return but there's a difference in a spasm. It's a sharp, vice like grip that prevents me from bending at certain angles. It generally feels like I have something with sharp fangs latched into all my tissues, sinews and muscles that just won't let go. It sends electrical, sharp twinges up the rest my back, threatening to paralyse me. It's really unnerving, but beyond that, it's extremely debilitating. I booked to see my myotherapist and the soonest I could visit her was a few weeks away. I saw her on Monday and my glutes were so tight that after she'd massaged them, I came up in enormous purple and blue bruises. Seriously, my butt looks like a baboon’s.

For one day my lower back felt a bit better and I didn't need to put a heat pack on. I've been putting on so many stick-on deep heat packs that my skin is red raw from the adhesive ripping off each night. Unfortunately, the pain returned with a vengeance only a day later. I'm struggling to do my core exercises which are essential for keeping me functional. My Fibro is greatly worsened by being static and my subluxating patella becomes excruciating if I don't do my hip flexors and other exercises. But trying to do them on the exercise mat on the floor right now? Immensely painful. Certain back stretches that always used to help lower back pain are so difficult to do that I just burst into tears. And I know what I'm in for. I have low back pain. I have one of the vaguest pains that doctors absolutely revel in dismissing. I know that I will be sent off to one useless physio after another and because no one can “see” the problem I’ll be sent on a merry-go-round of tired old treatments I KNOW don’t work. This back forth with medical professionals will go on for months and thousands of dollars later I’ll feel no better. I know how this book ends because I know the medical system and its limitations intimately. It’s a lost cause.

I do have a theory as to why this back pain will not go away, though. Along with the spasm, I've been incredibly stressed during my sleep. The cannabis I'm taking at night allows me to sleep for 6 hours, which is a massive improvement on no sleep at all due to pain. However, it works more like a pain distractor. The THC pushes me under into sleep mode, but I am clearly still in pain because I'm clenching. I'm clenching so damn hard that I have to wear a wrist brace at night to stop myself from cracking my wrists under my head. I wake up in the fetal position with my teeth gritted to the point that I now have trans-mandibular joint disorder, something else that is expensive to treat and that I now need to see a dentist for. Clenching so tightly for eight hours a night is likely doing in my back as well. Why am I so stressed? Oh, there are many reasons but the biggest one is bleedingly obvious to me:

Eco-anxiety.

[Image description: a realistic image of planet earth, as seen from space, with fire burning across most of its surface]

It is very difficult to put into words how emotionally distressing it has been for Australians to be surrounded by smoke and fire for months. We were very lucky in our region of the Blue Mountains that the smoke didn't settle nearly as much as it did in Sydney. Sydney is in a basin and so the pollution just sits on top of it and they were copping it from the north and south coast fires as well as the ones raging on the northern and southern slopes of the mountains. But eventually, the smoke haze grew so large and so thick that it dumped on us too. A few days ago, air quality reached 12 times the hazardous level. And as Australian houses are designed like sieves and are not at all airtight or properly insulated, the smoke just comes in. On Wednesday, my eyes were red, my nose was running and I was coughing constantly. I was incredibly agitated because I couldn't breathe. I couldn't go outside, that was even worse, so after a long drawn out winter I haven't been able to enjoy late spring or summer thus far. This has given me intense cabin fever as I am an outdoors person and recharge in nature

Apart from the stress of being cooped up inside a smoke filled house, I am also drained from being on constant high alert. I have the “Fires Near Me” app on my phone, which posts warnings if a fire has started in my local area; four have started in my watch zone in the past few weeks. There is a huge one raging in the upper mountains and dumping smoke on us. At any moment, we might have to evacuate. The mega fire (Gosper’s Mountain/Wollemi Park area) which is larger than the entire metropolitan area of Sydney is now burning on the northern slopes of the Blue Mountains, may cross over the road and start eating into the central park. If that happens, there will be a mass exodus out of the mountains towns, including mine. The new home we just bought? That might well burn to the ground. We had to over insure it because of the way property prices are forever escalating. It's so incredibly expensive and unbelievably stressful. We know all of this is happening because of climate change, and yet our leaders refuse to do anything about it. Oh, hopes and prayers are offered, sure, but policy changes and meaningful action? Ha ha no. Too many boomers in government for that.

Climate change anxiety is real. With most other worries and fears, I can console myself or rationalise them away. But not this one. Normally when I am anxious, I exercise self-compassion and console myself with: “there, there, it's not the end of the world”. But that line no longer works, because the world as we know it is changing dramatically and terribly and it is only going to get worse. It is TERRIFYING. Eastern Australia took a sucker punch to the face with all the smoke and bushfire and suddenly everyone is very painfully aware of the real consequences unchecked climate change. Every day that I open my blinds and see thick haze covering the forest, I'm reminded of how little of that is now left. For the first time, the bushfires are not carbon neutral; because of the drought, it has been predicted that the undergrowth and trees will not be able to replenish themselves, meaning that all of that smoke is just adding millions of tonnes of carbon to our already warming atmosphere. The koala is now functionally extinct yet our government refuses to stop logging native forests. Millions of hectares have burned, unfathomable numbers of animals and insects and other biodiversity have been wiped out. Hundreds of homes have been razed to the ground, people have lost their lives. And we have been told that this is going to be the new normal. From now on bushfire season won’t just be summer, it will include spring as well. Heck, in some areas, bushfires started in late August, which is fucking winter. Our largely unpaid and under-resourced fire fighters are exhausted and spread too thin. They’re now saying to some people in regional and rural areas that they just need to evacuate because there’s no way the RFS will be able to get to them in time to defend their homes. And yet, homes are so hard to come by in Australia that people will give their lives defending their house.

The news is constantly bleak. To go outside is literally toxic. To stay inside is toxic as well. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and at night I take all that stress with me into bed. The only saving grace is that last year we bought an air purifier. Yesterday we had to spend another $300 to get a second so that I am not confined to one room of the house all day long and so that we can both, you know, breathe clean air when we sleep. (Don’t get me started on how clean air is now a middle class luxury. We’re lucky we could afford to buy one, and even then, only by using AfterPay… This is disgustingly unfair on the poor/disadvantaged).

If this is our new normal I'm not sure that I want to live a long life. I am absolutely terrified of death but I am more terrified of watching the world burn to the ground around me as I age. I'm scared of what humans will be doing to each other once we run out of water and when there is no safe place to go. We like to think that we are okay in a developed nation like Australia, yet we may be one of the worst hit by climate change. With no rain, little arable land, tremendous heat waves (on Thursday Australia was the hottest country on earth) and super fires consuming millions upon millions of hectares, well….

When I was reading about the TMJ pain and clenching, one of the primary treatments is addressing the underlying anxiety that is making you clench each night. I laughed maniacally reading that. Oh yeah, I'm clenching my jaw because I'm terrified of climate change destroying the world. How the fuck am I supposed treat that anxiety? Tell me how I'm supposed to do that?!

So until the world somehow manages to fix itself, I guess that back spasm, jaw clenching and existential dread and anxiety are here to stay.

[Image description: panel one: cartoon dog sitting calmly in a burning room labelled “Australia”. Next panel is a close up of the dog saying with a smile ‘this is fine’. The dog is labelled “The Australian Government].

#Australia #australia burning #australia bushfires #climate anxiety #climate change #climate change anxiety #eco anxiety #chronic illness #spoonie #health impacts of climate change #existential anxiety #dread

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fruitful-blogger · 6 years

Text

Sleepless in the Castle

Remy can’t sleep, so he’s doing what he does best - getting lost at night and probably causing some trouble.

Set in @em-be-lievable‘s amazing AU, the Dragon Witch AU. Seriously, it’s so good.

PS Remy is mute in this AU, so if text is italicized and in quotes, it’s being signed. Regular quotes is spoken word.

Remy growled as he rolled out of bed, sighing as he realized that sleep was just not coming. He looked to the clock on the wall, it’s enchanted face telling the Monster Witch that it was, indeed, 1 AM.

He stood, wiggling his toes in distaste as they met the cold floor. He frowned at the floor. Virgil, seriously? He thought, knowing his rug had probably been stolen by the Dragon Witch he called a brother… again. He knew his brother wouldn’t give it back, damn his stupid hoard, so he was going to have to pester Patton for another to be sent.

In the mean time, he shuffled over to the closet where the little royal HAD given him something that would be of use now. He slipped on the fuzzy slippers that had been made for him by the little king as an apology for accidentally “kidnapping” Virgil oh so many moons ago. Really, that mistake was one no one regretted. Now, a few years on, his little brother was married and happier then ever, the Great Witches were given the recognition they deserved, and he lived in a fucking castle. He didn’t get lost at night anymore in the forest, leaving Virgil freaking out or something (because the boy was hella nervous about everything). Now he just wandered the castle grounds. Even so, he grabbed his robe – one possibly more extra then the ones Roman owned – and tucked his mirror into his pocket. This was no ordinary mirror, though. It was invented with a combination of Logan’s magic and the Mage Guild’s help. It was complex magic, even for a Witch, that allowed Remy and others to tap a code into the surface and ‘call’ to another. Right now, only a few were spread around the kingdom at the farthest reaches, connected to the castle’s main mirror for emergencies; however, each royal had a personal one, including the brothers of the newest Prince.

Remy opened his bedroom door instead of taking the balcony and going for a flight. He found his way down the hall, the warm lights spread out and casting their glow on him. From his robe, he pulled out one of his spare pairs of sunglasses but just tucked them on his head for now, his slit eyes that glowed purple and gold trailing around the halls, scanning better then any human’s could.

He stopped at the first door closest to his room and pushed it open quietly. Within was much brighter than the hallway and much warmer as a fire raged with all its magical and mundane glory, contained within a grand fireplace. The walls were lined with several… dozen… swords, some as old as the kingdom and others brand new, but all were perfectly balanced and usable in battle. While there was a bed, it was far from the fire, and instead a pile of blankets and cushions were pushed right up to the heat, a small body plopped on top and curled around a sword safely packed in its case. Remy snorted at the little body and couldn’t help himself as he entered.

Pulling out the enchanted mirror, he opened the compact and tapped his own tune into the panel. It ringed in gold as he pointed the mirror surface to face himself, showing the littlest Witch in the background. Remy smirked as he clicked the surface.

He forgot that the gold would flash to illuminate his face, and, even in the already bright room, the little witch groaned.

“Remy? Is that not you?” Dee groaned as Remy smirked. “What the absolute fuck did you not do?”

“Nothing.” Rent signed as he pulled a blanket over the lump with a little magic. “Go back to sleep.”

“Yes, please stay awake all night and roam the halls for all I care.” Dee threw. “Do you want to go back to your room now? Or do you want to leave mine?” The little snake slurred out, still in a sleepy haze.

Remy used one hand to pat the smallest’s hair as he finger spelled, “I’m good.” Once he had both hands back, he finished by saying, “Just gonna get a midnight stroll in, gurl. Go back to sleep. You DEF need your beauty rest.”

Deceit flopped back into his pillow, the universal sign of ‘I’m done talking to you,’ but he did throw Remy the bird as the other witch snickered, baking out of the room. He turned the mirror back to himself, the image displayed on the screen. He’d have to find some paper and magic it onto there. This was too adorable not to keep.

The next bedroom he also found empty, the room cold without its occupant, its heater, present. Unlike the last room, several rugs were meticulously rolled and stacked along the walls, several more overlapping on the floor. Some were of the finest wools and cottons in the most intricate designs, and others were threatening to fall apart from their age if not for magic, kept for their coziness or the memories they related to. Remy figured this room would be empty – Virgil slept better these days, but he almost never slept in his own room unless it was for a nap or someone was with him. More likely than not, he was somewhere in the castle, sleeping with his brothers or with his husbands.

Remy spotted his own rug, and the last one… so he waved his fingers, enchanting a spell as the two were now floating. He directed them to his room, where they unrolled on his floor. Payback, bitch. Remy thought, even though the rugs would probably be gone by the next evening.

Stupid brothers and their stupid hoards.

Remy walked with a thoughtful pace through the halls like he owned the place. A few of the night guards waved at him as he went, and he gave a few waves back. He came down to the main level where he found himself in the kitchens, his home away from home here in the castle.

Sure enough, his favorite person was up and working on a few snacks. The castle always had servants about in case the royalty ever needed anything, and this particular chef made the best coffee. Remy saw that they were focused on rolling dough, so he slid around the corner to be in their view. When they looked up, he greeted with a “Sup, gurl!”

Most people in the castle still didn’t understand his language aside from a few words and letters. Logan, that nerd, had actually gone around and taught everyone a few of his sayings and words, in case of emergencies probably, but it was also great to see a few guards practicing finger spelling when they thought he wasn’t looking. It was amazing.

This person, however, knew more than that. They actually knew a lot of Remy’s language as one of their nieces turned out to be mute, not by a curse but by their birth. Remy hadn’t even thought about it when he created his language, but it was appearing that there were more people who could use it. He’d eventually bit the bullet, for that reason, and sat down to detail his language in a book. He’d carefully drawn all of his words out and written up the meanings, and, with a little magic, managed to make a few copies to go around. Logan had actually hugged the thing he was so excited for new knowledge, and more than once he’d spotted Patton and Roman practicing with one another. A few copies floated out to libraries across the kingdom, including their own, and one landed in the hands of this wonderful person.

The person looked up just to catch the signs and smiled. “Duke Remy, loveky nigh for a stroll?” Steve noted as he stood. Steve was one of the best cooks in the castle, according to Remy. He probably used magic, but Remy hadn’t figured out how yet. “Late night?”

“Uhg, gurl, drop the ‘duke’ deal.” He signed.

“Duchess?”

“Bitch.”

“Now, if I called you ‘your royal highness Bitch Remy,’ the king would give me a lecture on language.” Steve threw as Remy laughed. “So, you want to talk about it or just the usual?”

Sometimes, Remy came down after having nightmares or being held up late at night with his own anxieties. Most of the time, though, it was just insomnia in general.

“Nah, boo, it’s just my disaster of a sleep schedule.” The cook nodded as he set the dough to the side. “Hey, has Virgil come down here yet?”

Steve blinked. “The Witch Prince?” Remy grabbed some flour and threw it at the cook, eliciting a chuckle from the man. “No, I have not seen Virgil since earlier this evening. He came by with the King for Hot Chocolate before bed. If you are concerned, check the other rooms he usually haunts next.”

Before Remy knew it, there was a piping hot cup of his favorite coffee in front of him. Steve did something to infuse cocoa and sugar into the mix, topping it off with a whipped cream. It was to die for.

Remy took a big gulp, ignoring the burn, and sighed in pure pleasure.

“You should really cut back on the caffeine this late.” Steve noted as he also slid a plate of cookies over before going back to the dough. “It’ll keep you up.”

“Who are you, Logan?” The monster witch threw. “I do what I want.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he put the dough on a plate. He turned to Remy as he smirked. “Yes, you make this very clear to everyone.”

Remy smiled brightly. It was one thing to be understood, but his pride in seeing his own language be given back to him was without words (even in his own hand). “Bro, you been practicing?”

“Yes, I have.” The man added before he slipped on mitts to grab the bread plate. “I should bring my niece by some time. She and you would get along like a castle fire.” He paused after slipping the bread into the oven. “But please don’t teach her any swear words.”

Remy chatted with Steve a little longer before he headed out again. It was now 2:30 in the morning, and Remy was now making his way up the Royal’s tower. These were the most heavily guarded rooms, and Remy just nodded to the guards as he went. Nobody stopped him. The one time a new guard had tried to, having not recognized Remy (“Really? How do you not know and treasure this face???”), they’d wound up not being able to stop him anyway and additionally being pranked.

He made it up to the king’s room. While most expected a grand entrance into His Majesty’s quarters, it was actually a simple door with a P on the door, pained as a child would. Remy opened the door quietly.

He looked across the grand room, ignoring the sofa covered in stuffed animals and the parchment pictures that had been framed – some of drawings by children of the kingdom and others Remy had created with his mirror and magic. The huge bed across the room was the size of two kings, but the singular lump to one side was easily picked out.

Remy knew just from looking at it that it was on the small side. Sure enough, he approached to see only one set of glasses on the side table, a sword hidden from most but within view of the trained eye, easily accessible should a fight come suddenly. The little king and the First Prince were curled up around each other, Patton spotting a few stuffed animals about with his night shirt covered in cartoonish puppies sticking out while Roman was decked in red flannel, a golden star etched into the breast pocket.

Two princes, it seemed, were missing.

Remy rolled his eyes as he headed to his next destination. Virgil, like Remy, could very well be anywhere at this point. If not in bed, he did rounds about the castle, making sure everyone was safe and sound, and could be found anywhere in the castle at the end – maybe playing an instrument, maybe napping on a high shelf. For now, though, the nerdiest of princes was always in once place.

The library was darkened sans for a light at the end, and Remy strode towards it to find his target. Logan had his head tucked in his arms, wearing yesterday’s clothes as his glasses were askew. Several books and parchment were scattered around him, and a well of ink threatened to tip over the edge of the desk with one wrong move.

The dragon witch cast a spell, one that didn’t even need words, as the mage snorted something in his sleep, causing the ink well to fall. Instead of crashing into the floor, the tiny object caught itself and gently floated down, not a drop spilled nor glass shattered. Remy scooped it up and properly capped it before looking at Logan.

The mage was dead to the world. Remy had no trouble scooping up the smaller man much like a small child. Logan shifted, muttering something about ‘string theory’ and ‘crofters’ before he settled into the embrace.

Remy blew out the candles and walked back to the royal quarters with his hostage. Along the way, though, he found another wanderer.

“Oh, same hat?” Remy looked over and smirked as a rumpled Virgil shuffled towards him.

“Same hat.” Remy spelled, keeping one hand on Logan. “Found the boo!” Remy smirked as Virgil reddened. “You looking for him to have a little fun?”

“I swear if you weren’t holding my husband, I’d strangle you.” Virgil threatened.

Remy snorted, giving a little wave that roughly meant ‘yeah, yeah, whatever you say.’ Virgil followed, but he muttered a spell as he went. Sure enough, when they arrived at the door, Logan’s clothes were now gone and replaced with sleepwear, his glasses in Virgil’s hands. The Mage Prince grumbled but curled under the covers himself. Virgil set the glasses to the side as Remy turned back to him.

“You should hop in and get some Zs. Those circles are starting to show again.” Remy noted as Virgil yawned.

“Yeah.” Virgil muttered before he looked to Remy. He looked between the bed with his husbands and his brother before he turned to the door. “Come on, bro.”

Remy was confused for a sec before he rolled his eyes. He followed his brother like a puppy, chatting about nothing until they got back to Remy’s room. Virgil glanced at the rugs on the floor before looking at Remy, a mix of guilt and annoyance at seeing them, but Remy rolled his eyes as jumped back onto the bed.

Virgil climbed in and swiftly fells asleep. It was now 5 AM.

Remy felt the drowsiness set in just as his door opened once more. A little snake trailed in and shuffled under the covers, ducking under Virgil’s wings as the small appendages curled around the smallest body. Remy felt the last of his insomnia leak away.

It was 5:12 AM. Remy the Monster Witch, the Duke of Hazard, Brother to Prince Virgil and fellow Duke of Hazard Dee the Basilisk Witch, was asleep.

I hope you enjoyed! Also, yes, I assume that Patton gives the bros some royal title like Duke or whatever and Virgil called them the “Dukes of Hazard” and it sticks. Virgil meant it as an insult, guys, it’s not supposed to be a badge of honor! (Remy and Dee state the differ)

#Sanders Sides #Remy Sanders #Sleep Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #Patton Sanders #Logan Sanders #The Dragon Witch AU

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