#Unnamed D&D story

[k--havok]

Last Line Tag

I was tagged by @oh-no-another-idea (thank you!)

No pressure tag: @jjm-blogspot @dogmomwrites @bookish-galaxy @writingpotato07 and an open tag for you!

--

Trusting Rane to take care of the undead remnants, Korzan turned and walked away. He kept walking until he couldn’t remember the stench of zombie guts. 

[spooky-fm]

Phantom Thief

Ao3. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8.

Part 4. Neal Caffrey … glows??

There is a moment of silence in which Peter swears he can hear his own heartbeat.

Neal takes a deep breath, clearly audible through the crack between the door and its frame and answers in that tiny nervous voice that he used earlier.

"Just. It's, it's a lot. And weird. But I promise I'm fine, and I'm going to explain everything, ok?"

Peter frowns in worry and takes a couple of steps back to give the conman some space to come out on his own.

"That's right, Neal, we promised not to freak out or jump to conclusions. Considering the last thirty minutes, I am pretty sure the explanation is going to be even more insane than your usual escapades. But we promised to hear it, all of it, remember?"

Jones makes a sound of agreement, and Diana puts her hand on her hips — one of her nervous tells.

"Your turn to rip our band-aid off, Neal," she calls out. "Whatever happened to your pretty face, I'm sure we can deal with it."

"Still technically my band-aid," Neal laughs quietly, and slowly opens the door, and oh, he really wasn't kidding about weird.

It's Neal, cannot be anyone else with that familiar shape of the nose and the cut of the eyes, the same jaw and same body type. The stance and the set of shoulders, even the clothes are all still so very Neal, but the rest...

Neal's normally blue eyes have been replaced with almost neon green, his hair is bleached white, his ears are longer and a little pointy, and his skin is several shades darker than before, in addition to being tinted green and glowing.

Neal's wide eyes dart nervously between their faces, and Peter is pretty sure that all three of them look completely gobsmacked. He feels a bit dizzy and tries to remember if he took a breath recently, but the glowing freckles on Neal's cheeks (are those constellations?) distract him from that train of thought.

As the silence stretches uncomfortably long, Neal gets more agitated, panic rising in his eyes, face closing off, conman smile automatically sliding onto his face to reveal sharp teeth (fangs, Peter thinks), shoulders deliberately loose, as if he is ready to spring into motion. Ready to run, Peter realizes, and the thought jolts his brain back to reality. He takes several shaky breaths, tries not to squirm under Neal's sudden laser focus on him, and tries to come up with something to say that won't spook Neal. He would usually channel El in situations like this one, with varying degrees of success, but for some reason his inner El is absent, and he gets inner Neal instead, of all people.

"Neal," he manages hoarsely. Hook. Neal tenses up even more, and Peter clears his throat before continuing. "Are you alright?" Line. Neal looks a little confused by the question, and opens his mouth, probably to repeat his earlier reassurance, but Peter keeps going. "It's just, you are looking a bit green around the gills." And sinker.

Three gaping faces whip towards him, and, yes, maybe the situation is serious, and maybe the joke is terrible, but the sheer confusion on their faces is so incredibly funny that Peter cannot help the grin that stretches his lips. It seems like the right course of action anyway, when Neal laughs — a little hysterically, but that is honestly understandable — and the tension bleeds out of his frame.

The sound breaks whatever spell kept them frozen in place and the two agents next to him finally close their mouths and shake themselves, adjusting their expectations of reality. Diana mutters a quiet holy shit, and Jones snorts a little helplessly in agreement. Peter smiles properly at that, certain that they will get the chance to get that explanation from Neal and that he will have time to freak out about whatever it is that the main headache of his life (now of green-eyed variety) wants to shatter about his notions of reality.

The smile dims when Neal's slightly hysterical laughter keeps going for far too long to be normal, and slides off his face completely when the laughter transforms into big gulping sobs that wrack his whole frame. He must have been quite a bit more nervous about them finding out about whatever it is that they are looking at. Or maybe he wasn't as unaffected by the kidnapping as he tried to pretend.

Peter slowly approaches Neal, making sure to stay within his line of sight and, carefully broadcasting his movements, puts a hand on his shoulder, hopefully grounding the man in reality. Neal leans into the touch, instead of shying away from it, so Peter must be doing something right.

"S-sorry," Neal whispers between heaving breaths, swiping angrily at his eyes and cheeks. Peter notes with some detached amusement that his fingernails are long and sharp, evoking an image of claws, instead of the usual immaculate manicure.

"You don't need to apologize, Caffrey," Diana says behind him. "You did nothing wrong. It's okay to be upset or overwhelmed."

Peter vaguely recalls Diana telling him about a psychology class Christie is taking to diversify her skills.

"She's right, you know," Jones adds his two cents. "We are pretty beat ourselves, and we are not the ones who were kidnapped and forced to reveal whatever this whole thing is. I'm still not sure what happened, exactly, but it's pretty clear you are freaked out about it, so it must be a big deal to you. Just let it all out." 

Peter remembers how proud he is of his team. He also remembers that he is in charge and needs to lead by example, which in this case involves providing comfort. If only it wasn't his one true weakness. He thinks frantically about what to do and finally locates his inner El.

"Neal," he asks gently, careful not to slip into his 'victim voice'. "Can I give you a hug?" There. It's not asking if he needs it, not even if he wants the hug — Peter is pretty sure that's the closest path to rejection of any comfort. But by phrasing it like a request for Peter's, not for Neal's sake, he is most likely to get an affirmative answer. Plus, Neal is used to agreeing with Peter but would have no problem saying 'no' if he truly is uncomfortable with the idea. Although, considering the way he is leaning into the hand on his shoulder, physical touch is probably not unwelcome right now. 

Neal gives a small nod, and Peter slowly closes the short distance and gathers him into a firm hug, making sure to keep it tight, but not constricting. Neal practically melts into him, and Peter gives himself a metaphorical pat on the back. 

Then he gives a real one to Neal and keeps gently rubbing up and down his upper back, his other hand bracing Neal's head on his shoulder. His hair is soft, softer than it is when Neal is — when Neal is not green-eyed and glowing (holy shit, his CI glows. what the fuck). He feels cold to the touch, and Peter remembers his earlier comment about not being sure whether the room was colder than normal. God, that feels like a lifetime ago, even though it has barely been an hour. 

Neal stops crying when Peter gets to thinking about explaining the situation to El, and stops trembling some time around when Peter is starting to consider lunch and dinner options. The conman is still slumped bonelessly against him, but his breathing has gone back to the rate that doesn't sound worrying to Peter, and he feels solid and steady under his hands. Still not warm, but considering the lack of shivering, Peter is tentatively labeling that as normal until further information is provided. For all of Peter's paternal feelings towards the conman, Neal is an adult, who does know how to take care of himself. Has, in fact, been doing that for decades, mostly on his own. The thought makes something uncomfortable clench in his chest again, and he squeezes Neal a little tighter, making the other man huff into Peter's shoulder in tired amusement.

Diana, not one for the touchy-feely displays in public, clears her throat and reminds them that the grace window which the marshalls allow them is probably not going to last for too long, especially since the office tracked Neal's location for them. Neal stiffens a little at that and gently extricates himself from Peter, who lets him go, but keeps a steadying hand on the younger man's back when he notices how shaky his legs seem to be. Neal rubs his face and shoots him a smile that has equal measures of gratitude and embarrassment. It also contains 70% more fangs than Peter is used to. 

"So," the conman says quietly, "I guess I should explain, right?" He has a bit of a lisp, on account of the fangs (fangs) in his mouth, that catch awkwardly on his lips. 

Peter looks over his team. Neal is smiling wryly and fidgeting with his cufflinks. He no longer looks like he is about to run for the hills, but some of the nervous shadows still lurk behind his (green, what the fuck) eyes. Diana seems to have collected herself, smiling her usual confident smile. Her eyes sparkle with curiosity, but she looks steady. Jones's eyes are still a bit wild around the edges, uncertainty visible in his stance. He has his hands tucked firmly in his pockets, but that's probably because, unlike Diana, he likes to get his comfort from touch and would have happily joined the hug if he had permission or an invitation. 

They don't look like they are about to explode. No impending crisis. Aside from the marshals and the anklet situation. Damn.

Peter makes an executive decision.

"First of all, where is the man who took you?"

Neal suddenly looks shifty. 

"He isn't, isn't a threat anymore, I have him, uh, captured. Oh, that sounds worse than it is. Ancients, how do I, what do I even say. Okay, right. Um, Peter, I promise I'll explain everything, but he is not a problem right now. Um. He is also too dangerous to be arrested by hu-, by the police. Please trust me on this." 

Neal is asking to trust him on many things already, so what's one more. Even if it's completely incomprehensible and possibly illegal. Peter makes another executive decision.

"Is there anything that we need to know right this second?" he asks Neal. 

The conman frowns thoughtfully and shakes his head slowly. 

"I don't think so," he mutters. "We should maybe collect the Fruitloop's things, it's really not a good idea to have them fall into the wrong hands. I can grab his stuff, while you uh..." he trails off.

Fruitloop. Sure, why not. Is that his nickname for Masters or is it someone else with an equally insane story attached. At any rate, it's a problem for future-Peter.

"While I call the marshals and inform them that I will be taking you to my place to recover from a kidnapping from one of your old enemies. I will then call Hughes and repeat the plan, explaining that I will be sending Jones and Berrigan to gather intel about the kidnapper, who seems to have taken off in an unknown direction."

Neal's mouth falls open a bit, and he swallows heavily before nodding sharply. "Technically," he smiles a little, a bit of his usual mirth returning to his eyes, "not a single word of that is a lie."

Peter returns the smile. He is fine with twisting the truth a little to protect Neal, but it's nice to know that he doesn't have to outright lie to his boss. He gives Neal's shoulder one last pat and takes out his phone to call Hughes. The marshals will be next. While the call connects he watches Neal carefully, ready to step in if he stumbles or gets shocked by the weird space tech energy. 

It seems that Jones has a similar plan, as he sticks close to Neal's side and watches him intently. He also produces a water bottle from somewhere and makes sure that the conman drinks at least half of it in small sips. Diana glances at them, looks around the hallway, pokes her head into the room that held Neal, and disappears down the corridor. She returns with a metal shopping cart that was apparently just there for some unknown reason, and Neal practically beams when he sees it. His freckles glow brighter when he smiles. What the hell. 

While Peter does some fast-talking with Hughes, Neal himself dismantles the futuristic (maybe actually possibly alien) tech with surprising efficiency. Soon, everything that distinguished this part of the building from the rest is packed neatly into the cart, and the three of them go on a hunt through the rest of the floor to make sure nothing remains behind. 

Peter has often wondered in the past what he would do in one of those hypothetical situations that can never actually happen. Like finding out magic is real or meeting an alien on Earth. When he arranges for a junior agent to drop off the replacement tracker at his house and assures Hughes that they do not need more people on the case of Neal's kidnapping, Peter discovers that the answer in the latter case is 'hide the possible alien from the government with the help of two other FBI agents'. He wonders for a moment if that means he just committed treason, and promptly stops caring about that question when he comes over to the rest of his team, where Diana is struggling with the busted front wheel on the cart full of possibly-alien tech, and Jones is carefully arranging his scarf over Neal's head to cover the most visibly strange features. 

AN: Peter just wants to get through the day. Unfortunately, the universe confronts him with moral dilemmas and ethical questions left and right. What would you do if your friend-slash-prisoner and sometimes pseudo-son turned out to (maybe) be an alien?

[underfiends]

Yes, Your Majesty

Killing Time short story numero 3. DMed by me, played by @hannrenn and @peppermintpinklemonade. Features royal corruption, betrayal, and a semi-public execution. Enjoy!

“Can I get a ‘Yes, your Majesty’?” There is a sultry lilt to the voice, and yet there is no amusement glinting in those eyes.

There is a knight kneeling at the base of blue carpeted steps. He shakes so violently that his steel armour clatters together, informing all who watch the man’s fear. A terrified visage attempts to plead. Cold indifference gazes back atop a throne of stone and silver. There will be no mercy here.

“Y-Yes, your Maje-jes-es-”

“I bore of your gibbering. You have broken oath. What say you of this claim?” The King rests his cheek upon his closed fist, smiling gently as he waits for the knight to gather his thoughts.

“I swear! I have been loyal. Never would I betray my kingdom.” The knight bows his head, dark hair falling about his face. He grips his grounded helm tightly in gauntleted fists, fighting the urge to close his eyes. A threat is much more terrifying when it cannot be seen.

“This is your truth?” When he is given a nod, the King beckons someone forward from behind his throne. “I see. Would you be so kind as to tell my informant that he is lying, then?”

The knight freezes. It is as though his lungs have barred themselves, preventing any air from entering. His blood turns to ice, paling his face so fully he goes from prussian to azure. The image before him swims. Perhaps the arrival has conjured water in the throne room? No, the King would never allow that, and the Wizard would not dare upset the King.

No one dares upset the King.

He sucks in a lungful of air so suddenly his fingers begin to tingle. Is this another spell? He is sure that the Wizard is privy to magic he has never heard of. A kind of suffocation spell, perhaps.

The King turns to his companion, eyes going soft and fingers coming out to brush against soft albrecht blue robes. The Wizard grins, a corner of his mouth curling into a smirk a moment later. His hand is placed upon the King’s shoulder as he leans forward and presses a kiss to his brow.

“Suilad, muindor.” The Wizard casts a glance to the kneeling knight, disdain exuding from him in waves. “Why is this traitor still breathing?”

“Why mellon, you cannot expect me to execute him without a trial. That would be unbecoming of me. I am quite partial to fairness. So,” His eyes snap to the guard, who flinches under his scrutiny. “It is only fair that my informant give his side of the story.

The Wizard straightens, his hands clasping together behind his back. Bare feet glide across carpeted steps until he stands before the accused. Eyes harder than steel, a fury so deep it could reach across the world; this man would sooner kill the knight himself than allow him to so much as stand.

“While performing a routine scrying check, I intercepted a transmission from another orb. Being me,” He pressed a hand to his chest, grinning smugly at the King, “I cast a simple enchantment to allow me to see through the orb without revealing myself. What I saw shocked me greatly. For there stood our very own knight, one who stands before the chambers of my King. There he stood, speaking to our enemy. There he stood.”

A sharp clang makes the knight jump and spin around.

Or, he would have, could he move. His limbs were weighted down by unseen shackles. Not so much as his head could move. He was forced to stare up at the Wizard in horror, unable to look at his approaching demise. For all know what happens to traitors.

The King crosses his legs and pouts. “You are taking too long. My Paladin, show our audience what will happen to them should they follow in this knight’s footsteps.”

There is a grunt. Right behind the knight. The scrape of steel against stone; the straining of leather as arms raise. A whistle in the air.

A head rolls to a stop by the Wizard’s feet. He looks back at his King, a silent question passing between them. The King waves a hand, and so he crouches down to pluck a strand of hair from the dead knight’s head. He slips the silver knife from the knight’s sheath. After a brief inspection of the blade, he brings it down viciously on the knight’s jaw. There is a sickening pop as the bone is popped out. Blood squelches over the skin as it is cut. The wizard drops the now bloodied knife and rises with his prize in hand.

A chuckle has him turning to grin up at his Paladin. “Come virdulq, we must accompany our King to tea. I do believe the Princess is waiting.” He looks down at the mess in the Wizard’s hands. “You may not bring your jaw to tea.”

The Wizard groans, throwing his head back even as he turns and follows his King and Paladin to the doors.

“But vyir, I worked so hard for this! I must show the Princess. It was her idea, after all. Now I can…” His voice trails off, too far now for the knights and servants to hear.

They stare in abject horror at the corpse. Blood soaks the carpet, turning it black. Red spatters steel armour, creating a grotesque portrait for them to view as long as they wish. Though they do not doubt that if the King were to return to a bloodied throne room, his right and left hands would have many more subjects to kill. The Wizard would have more jaws to add to his collection.

Even with this threat hanging over them, they cannot move. They can only stare, only watch as the blood stops flowing from the knight's served neck. They can only look in morbid curiosity at the steel helmet that had been placed at the knight’s feet when he had first knelt before the throne.

It is perfectly clean.

[cats-thoughts]

o/ 69 lol

o/

Give Us A Little Love - Fallulah

Ah yes time for what I have titled: Found Family <3 because sometimes a family is a young child and the 15 or so eldritch abominations living in the woods <3

tw: mentioned child abuse, implied body horror, general horror ig, wow i just keep writing stories abt rlly fucked up premises huh.

It's another time, it's another day

He stares out the window at the woods, shotgun at his side doing nothing to comfort him. That Thing tanked a shot like nothing happened.

Numbers they are new, but it's all the same

He'd lie to himself, say he was safe as long as he stayed out of the woods, but he knew he wasn't. It's visited him before. Leaning down to peer through his window at him. Tapping on the glass with long, razor sharp claws.

Running from yourself, it will never change

He should have never approved that grant, those experiments. He'd thought no one would notice. No one cared about the kids anyways. People went missing in the woods all the time. Some street rats disappearing wouldn't even raise an eyebrow. And it was a good deal for him- allow some tests and he gets to be sheriff, rule the town and be exempt from laws. Complete power for the price of a few lives? Anyone would take it.

If you try you could die

He should have known the brats were too stubborn to die. And now his son was missing, too. Whatever. Wasn't like the little shit did anything except bother him, anyways. Probably wandered off into the woods that afternoon. Stay Gone and get ate by the other freaks, for all he cared.

Give us a little love, give us a little love

It stares down at the young child, head tilting. The child stares up at it, then giggles, waving, stuffed bear clutched in one hand. It crouches, aching bones creaking, reaching a careful claw out. The child grabs it, tiny hand curling around the vague approximation of a finger.

We never had enough, we never had enough

It hums pleasantly, leading the young child further into the woods, where its other kids waited. Rere does like looking after kids. Maybe they can ask the child about the bruise forming on their cheek, or if they need help getting home. Maybe they'll want to stay.

Give us a little love, give us a little love

The new sheriff stares out at the woods as she finishes unpacking her things in the office. The old sheriff quit in hysterics after returning from a failed search party- some teens went missing, the other two returning screaming all hell about monsters taller than trees. He was the only one to return from the search party. His son also went missing recently, and she wants to look into some previous disappearances of orphaned children about a decade ago, back when he first became sheriff. She sighs and starts going home. She's got lots of work to do.

We never had enough, we never had enough

Two glowing white eyes watch her unnoticed from the woods, great antlers rising high above the trees.

[etanow]

MASTER POST

The Experimental Monster Laboratory, or Monster Labs, is a TADC AU where the cast is in the physical world! Sorta..

C&A Research Facilities is one of the cornerstones of the science and medical worlds! They do everything; funding research, manufacturing equipment, and research into the known and unknown in an effort to understand everything. To the public, that is.

They experiment heavily in everything, from hiring literal Gods on earth to manage the more ..sensitive divisions; mixing machine and magic, technology and the supernatural, genetic experimentation, you name it, they’ve probably done it! The world outside may not know anything of the advancements they’re researching but there is little C&A Labs won’t allow in the name of progress in understanding and cataloging everything in their universe. Our story takes place in one of the more private residencies deep in C&A, belonging to Caine; a minor God with mysterious origins, unknown limitations, and boundless enthusiasm for learning everything he can about his little science friends.

╰┈➤ Content

╚═ Unnamed fic (Coming soon...) ╚═ Bubble can cook?? .

╰┈➤ Asks

╚═ Does Pomni act like a zombie? ╚═ Is Zooble's Demon Snake Leg happy? ╚═ Gangle is in a Situation.png ╚═ Gangle's temperament ╚═ Has Ragatha ever shocked anyone? ╚═ Gangle love RAAAH ╚═ Do Caine and Ragatha fight over Pomni? ╚═ Why did Gangle summon a demon? ╚═ Why does Pomni wear a bell collar? ╚═ Kinger's eye ╚═ What if there was a baby crying? ╚═ Death trauma [Gangle and Pomni] ╚═ Kinger has ONE hobby outside of Bugs ╚═ Is Zooble protective of Gangle? ╚═ What happens when you touch Pomni's brain? ╚═ JAX DATED SOMEONE?? ╚═ What does Jax do? .

╰┈➤ References

╚═ Intro Cards ╚═ Height Chart Lineup ╚═ Zooble Demon Snake Leg Intro Card /j ╚═ Queenie ╚═ Gummigoo ╚═ The Sun Room ╚═ Logo .

╰┈➤ Arts

╚═ First ML AU Post ╚═ Second, exploring outfits ╚═ Design sketches part 2 ╚═ Pomni + flower language ╚═ Showtime + Ragapom doodles ╚═ Jax not practicing lab safety ╚═ Abstragedy cuddles ╚═ Raga doodle ╚═ Ragapom doodle ╚═ Jax and Meadowsweet ╚═ Pomni staring out a fake window.png ╚═ [Gives pomni flowers] ╚═ more doodles ig

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╰┈➤ Misc.

╚═ Caine Lemon Rant [Animatic] ╚═ Zodiac signs?? ╚═ Caine gets called a Tumblr Sexyman and cries ╚═ Bubble Looksmaxxing ╚═ Jax wants to take ketamine with you (Romantically) ╚═ Caine eats a lemon [Animatic] ╚═ BUNNYSUITSSS ╚═ Magma doodles ╚═ Magma doodles part 2

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╰┈➤ Pomniverse

╚═ Wonderland and Zombni are friends :D

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╰┈➤ Boundaries / Q&A

╚═ Any story plans? I'm not sure yet, currently writing a fic and several comics on the way.

╚═ Any boundaries? None, so go crazy! I am OK with gore, NSFW, angst, violence, etc, just be sure it is tagged/TW'd appropriately as not everyone is OK with that content. I'd also like to see please LOL

╚═ Can we create fanart/fics/content? Can we dub or fancam? Yes of course!! Please tag me, I'd love to see all of it! I'm tracking the tag #TADC Monster Labs AU for other's content

╚═ Is NSFW allowed? Yes, both art and fic, so long as it's marked appropriately I'd very much love to see!

╚═ Can I ship the characters, self-ships, or OC x Canon? Yes, ship away! Just be aware the only au-canon ships are Caine/Pomni, Ragatha/Pomni, Gangle/Zooble, and PAST Ragatha/Jax.

╚═ Can we make OCs? Go on ahead! Here is a PSD file for the blank template and the PNG can be found here.

╚═ Who are you?

✦✧ Hi I'm Audi! 26, she/they. Full-time office worker, I do art in my free time. ✦ My current interests are TADC, RWBY, Looney Tunes, and Trolls. ✧ I draw using a custom PC, a Huion Kamvas 16 (2.5K), and Adobe Photoshop. Currently learning to use Procreate. ✦ I do not RP and this isn't an ask blog, asks interacting directly with characters will probably not be answered. ✧ Asks are not guaranteed to be answered, sorry if yours isn't but please don't spam/send multiple times! ✦ Commissions and requests are not open at this time, thank you. ✧ My main tumblr is Audi-art. My Twitter is Hammerspaced.

[metalhoops]

The place was Chicago. The year was 1990. 

It was early enough into the year that the term ‘1990′ still sounded space aged. It’d been the 80s for as long as Eddie cared to remember. It was late enough in the year that everyone kept telling him winter was over. Nevertheless, he wore the leather jacket he’d ‘borrowed’ from his ex-boyfriend. Spring in Chicago was worse than a million L.A. winters. 

Eddie hated California on principle, but his record label was in Burbank. Despite the band being one of the biggest rising stars in the metal scene, he didn’t have room to get cocky. He’d spent the break between tours last year with his aforementioned ex-boyfriend in his New York apartment. 

The place had been small enough that smoking with the windows open felt like a hotbox session. There was one window in the apartment. It was in the bathroom and only opened an inch if you could get it to open at all. It wasn’t the rockstar life he’d fantasised about back in high school, but he was getting by. 

So how the hell did he end up in Chicago? He was getting there. 

As the filmmaker he’d slept with in Toronto had told him, opening in media res was the best way to hold an audience's attention. Was that what Eddie was doing? Trying to retell the shitshow of his life back to himself? Trying to make sense of it all, make it climax to something meaningful? Maybe. 

Eddie had gotten into the habit of keeping a journal, mostly for lyrics. The band was meant to be recording their third full-length studio album in a matter of months and Eddie only had three songs that were worth anything. To make matters worse, the other two had been concept albums. 

Corroded Coffin’s first and sophomore albums had been different enough that the band hadn’t been boxed into anything. Yes, they were a metal band, but they got their fair share of punks, goths and even a handful of yuppies that’d shown up to their gigs in the past. Hell, their opening act had been a grunge band. It sounded pretentious as fuck, but Eddie wasn’t afraid to transcend genres. The metal scene was changing. They had to learn to change with it.

The nail in his goddamn Corroded Coffin was that the band were known for their concept albums. Their first album Knightmare was a D&D-inspired thrash, metal album. Think Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow, with a few more homoerotic undertones. Their next album, Dream Dimension was more sci-fi leaning. It told the story of an unnamed group of kids who’d stumbled into another dimension. It was a little more glam metal. Some of the B-sides like ‘My Year’ and ‘Lakeside Interlude’ had been downright shoegaze. One magazine had likened the story to Dream Warriors, which Eddie thought was fitting. 

It wasn’t like Eddie didn’t have ideas for the next album. That was the problem. Eddie did have an idea. He just couldn’t write the damn thing. It was meant to be his magnum opus, the third album that’d stand on its own but also interconnect with the other two. 

He’d call it Daydream. It followed the story of a white-collar guy living the perfect nuclear family life, complete with a white picket fence and a Malibu Barbie, dream house. The thing was, the dude was miserable. He’d spend all his free time daydreaming about adventure and forgotten realms. 

The kicker was halfway through the album the listener would realise the guy was the titular knight from Knightmare. His perfect suburban life was turned upside down when his kid disappeared à la portal to another dimension. It’d be perfect. All Eddie had to do is write it, and that was the damn thing. He couldn’t.  

All his albums were about something. There was always a meaning beneath the meaning. Knightmare? Easy, that was about escapism. Dream Dimension? It was about growing up too fast. Daydream? That was more complicated. 

Daydream was why Eddie needed to write in his journal. It was why he needed to remember that the year was 1990 and that he was in Chicago. 

The thing was, Eddie didn’t remember writing Dream Dimension. There was a 1988 sized hole in his memory between their first and second US tours. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew exactly what caused it. In their early days, they were practically paid in 8 Balls and party favours. Eddie always had an addictive personality and getting into anything stronger than weed had been a bad idea.

It wasn’t until his bandmates had an intervention that he’d been able to see the forest through the trees. Realising there was a whole chunk of his life he’d missed out on was petrifying. So, Eddie kept a journal. 

He’d been sober for almost a year. He was practically fucking straight-edge without all the pretentiousness that came with it, but he knew one slip-up was enough to send him spiralling. That was how he ended up in Chicago.

It was the last show of their Dream Dimension tour, and they were in Chicago. Eddie was always lively on stage. Gareth had abandoned one of his drumsticks during a solo only for Eddie to run across the stage, slip and bite the dust with his ankle going one way and the rest of him going another. 

He’d woken up in a hospital with a lump on his ankle the size of a baseball and the uncomfortably familiar feeling of being high off his face on painkillers. 

To answer the question, Daydream was about getting older. It was about being okay with getting older. It was about doing it your own way. Back in the thick of it all, it’d looked like Eddie wasn’t going to make it to thirty. He was trying to be okay with the idea that he might. 

Last year, Jeff got married to a nice girl who’d been their costume designer for their first music video. It’d shaken him in a way he didn’t know how to explain. He was in his mid-twenties, yet suddenly he felt old. Wayne had retired and with Eddie’s help brought a Winnebago. He was probably fishing in Nebraska right now. 

See, the thing about the titular character in Daydream, was that he’d conformed to what life was supposed to be. By the end of the album, he’d have left that life behind for another, one of action and adventure, because Eddie could never understand why Dorothy wanted to leave Oz for fucking Kansas. Fuck Kansas, on principal.

Something about the album wasn’t clicking. Knightmare was leaving his boring life but ultimately, he was alone. Was that what getting older was all about? Being okay with being alone? When you were gay in 1990, it might be. 

After the tour ended he hadn’t wanted to go back to his apartment in Burbank. He hated it there. He’d entertained the idea of heading back to New York but it was depressing. It reminded him of Jack, and how so many of their friends weren’t around anymore. 

When all was said and done, he and Gareth decided to stay in Chicago. He never said it out loud, but Eddie was sure his friend had stuck around to keep an eye on him. 

Sometimes, Eddie just wanted someone to come home to. Maybe that was why he’d had a string of shit boyfriends. If you weren’t picky, people would walk all over you. 

Jack had been the one that’d made Eddie swear off dating. It wasn’t worth the trouble. He’d rather die alone. His name wasn’t even Jack, it was Corey, but everyone called him Jack. Short for Jacket. Eddie wished he was joking. That should’ve been the first red flag. 

The thing about Corey was he always wore the same goddamn custom-made, leather jacket, all year round. He’d liked having sex in front of his full-length mirror with Eddie always on his knees, which should’ve been at least a yellow flag. He never liked anything gentle. Corey liked the idea of having a rockstar boyfriend more than he actually liked Eddie or monogamy. That was why when Eddie left, he took his jacket. 

He didn’t know why he was still wearing it, but he was. He pulled it on as he hobbled in his moon boot across the street from his and Gareth’s rented apartment to the record store. He hadn’t gone outside in a week, and he was about to start climbing up the goddamn walls. He just needed to go somewhere, and Eddie loved record stores, especially little indie ones. 

Once inside, Eddie noticed the place was practically empty save for the guy behind the counter. They had an eclectic mix of records and zines lining the shelves. Eddie was glad the place was quiet. He didn’t have to worry about being spotted. It wasn’t like they were The Beatles. They could go places but in a big enough crowd, he was sure to turn a few heads. Some days, Eddie just wanted to disappear. 

They had Corroded Coffin records on the display shelf and a couple of magazines with his band's name on the cover, which made pride swell in Eddie’s chest, but he wasn’t here for stroking his ego. He wanted to know what other people were doing and get back in touch with the scene. 

He was busy sifting through the bargain bin when he felt someone slide in beside him. He cringed, almost expecting it to be some over-enthused metal head with a pen and a Corroded Coffin tee shirt, but it was just the dude behind the counter.  

“Sorry, can I squeeze past?” the guy mumbled, a crate of records awkwardly tucked beneath his shoulder.

Eddie did his best to make himself small, his dumbass ankle making a simple task seem like an effort. He didn’t miss the way the man’s free hand brushed over his side as he passed, as though trying to assure Eddie stayed stable. 

“Place sure is quiet,” Eddie observed glancing over at the man.

His jeans were fitted, tight in all the right places. He’d rolled up the cuffs of his shirt to reveal more of his bicep than Eddie deemed necessary and god his hair. There was something about his hair. Something about him seemed familiar. Eddie really hoped they hadn’t hooked up once. That’d be awkward as hell. 

“Yeah, we usually close around five,” The man replied putting an album on the shelf. 

It was almost six. Shit. 

Eddie hated when people did that. They treated him differently because his name was in the papers. Everyone wanted something from him, and they thought doing favours was a good way to win him over. It wasn’t. The guy could clearly see something shift in Eddie. 

“It’s no big deal. I have to stay an hour late to replace the stock, plus my roommate has a girl over, so I’d rather be here,” The boy laughed, shooting a look at Eddie over his shoulder, a stray strand of his perfect goddamn hair falling in his face. 

The boy paused, teeth worrying away at his lower lip, his hand falling to his hip as his eyes searched Eddie's face. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked. 

And there it was. Sometimes people did that. They played dumb about who he was before making a big goddamn deal out of it. Eddie suddenly wanted to crawl back to his apartment and spend another month in isolation. 

The boy snapped his fingers in triumph.

“Munson,” He practically shouted and holy fucking shit, that wasn’t what Eddie expected. 

No one knew his last name, not his real one. Everyone changed their names when they got famous. He’d gone for something simple, Eddie Emerson, it had some alliteration, just like Corroded Coffin. It wasn’t too far from his real name but not even the die-hards knew him as Munson. 

Then Eddie remembered. 

This guy was Steve goddamn Harrington. He didn’t remember many people from high school, but he remembered Steve. 

“Harrington,” Eddie breathed in disbelief. To his surprise, Steve screwed up his nose. 

“Unfortunately,” He admitted and stuck out a hand expectantly. Eddie leaned down and clasped Steve’s hand. From what he remembered of Steve, the guy had never been this friendly. 

“Nice to re-meet you I guess. I’d like to think I’ve changed a little in over five years.” He had, Eddie didn’t know how to explain how he knew, he just did. It was something about the way the boy held himself. 

“What brings you to Chicago?” He asked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that one of Eddie’s records was sitting on the shelf beside him. Honestly, it was a breath of fresh air to find someone who didn’t know who he was. He could keep the charade up a little bit longer. 

“Oh you know, work stuff,” Eddie answered vaguely, toying with his hair. 

That was something he did when he was flirting and holy shit, he needed to squash that right goddamn now. He wasn’t looking to date anybody, and he remembered Steve being very straight in high school. He needed to save himself from another heartbreak. 

“You live in Chicago now?” Eddie asked. The‘ because you didn’t seem like the type to ever leave’ was implied. 

“Yeah. Rob, my roommate, she practically dragged me here. We’ve been attached at the hip since I graduated. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else I wanted to be,” Steve answered. 

A little detail about the statement screamed for Eddie’s attention. 

“The same roommate that has a girl over?” He pressed and watch Steve fold his arms over his chest, all huffy indignation locked and loaded, begging for Eddie to choose his next words wisely. 

“The same,” he confirmed. Now that Eddie knew, he noticed they were selling a couple of queer zines. It didn’t necessarily mean anything. Steve might just be progressive. 

“I thought you were meant to be the lady's man, Steve,” Eddie tried hoping that was enough to make Steve’s defences fall. To his surprise, Steve snorted and shook his head. 

“Like I said, lots changed since high school. My luck in the dating department couldn’t be worse,” he admitted as he returned to stacking the shelves. 

Eddie watched the planes of his back move beneath his shirt, wanting to push himself against him, to feel what it was like for Steve to move beneath him.

He really needed to get a hold of himself. 

“Couldn’t be worse than my luck,” Eddie rebutted offhandedly. 

Steve shook his head and shot Eddie another glance over his shoulder. He inhaled deeply as though preparing to tell a long story. Eddie leaned against the shelf to show Steve he was all ears. 

“Last month, I went on a date with a girl and she asked me if she could call me by her ex-boyfriend’s name,” Steve began. 

Eddie screwed up his nose in response. 

“Worse still, I was so shocked she’d asked, I just agreed to it.” It was Eddie’s turn to snort. 

“Stevie, you didn’t.” 

Stevie. Goddamn Stevie. Don’t do this to yourself, Munson. Pet names are one step away from a full-blown crush. 

“I did. Do I look like a ‘Juan’ to you?” Steve asked honestly. The question had Eddie doubled over in stitches. 

“Alright, alright. That’s pretty bad, but that’s one bad date,” Eddie reasoned. 

“Dude, I wasn’t finished. The girl before that realised she was a lesbian, while on a date with me. Which is like... the third time that’s happened,” Steve admitted.

Eddie’s hand had betrayed him and returned to toy with a strand of his hair. He hid behind it as he tried to mask a laugh. This guy did have shit luck. 

“You’re a lesbian magnet,” Eddie reasoned watching as Steve hid behind his hands. 

“And the time before that, I thought I was getting somewhere with a guy. We’d been on three dates before he told me he had a wife.” 

Steve made the next confession a little quieter than the others, a little more reserved. Eddie felt the hairs on his arm stand on end. Steve had changed since high school.

“Once I hooked up with a guy who’d only give me head if I sang to him while he did it,” Eddie admitted, feeling the need to get Steve off the defensive and add to the pity party. He watched the boy’s features shift.

“Oh wow, that’s bad. You should’ve pretended to be tone-deaf,” Steve reasoned, once more proving he had no idea what Eddie did for a living. 

“See I was torn between that and singing La Cucaracha at the top of my lungs.” Steve snorted, honest to god snorted.  

The two lapsed into silence but it was a comfortable one. Steve smoothed down his hair five times within the space of a minute before taking a deep breath. 

Eddie knew what was coming. He wasn’t dumb, but a part of him would always be trapped back in high school. It kept screaming there was no way a popular kid like Steve would talk to a loser like him. He thought he’d buried that part of himself, yet here it was, rising from the dead. 

“Do you want to get a drink?” 

And there it was. Eddie didn’t mean to cringe, but Steve caught it, his hands stuffed themselves into the too-tight back pockets of his jeans. 

“Or not,” He muttered averting his gaze. 

“No. It’s not that. I... I don’t drink.” 

There you go Gareth. He was responsible enough to look after himself. 

“I could do dinner though,” Eddie tried to throw Steve a bone. 

Eddie waited for Steve to throw up one of the red flags he’d gotten used to seeing with all the men he’d dated or hooked up with. Eddie would say he didn’t drink, and they’d give him a funny look or mutter something about him being a killjoy. 

“There’s a place that does a wicked deep-dish pizza not far from here. You said you weren’t from Chicago, right? You’ve gotta have the pizza, it’s a rite of passage,” Steve ploughed on.

“Sure,” He muttered trying not to look as surprised as he felt. 

He watched Steve buzz around the record store, shutting up shop and then extending a hand shyly to Eddie. Right, his stupid goddamn leg. At least it gave him an excuse to get up close and personal with Steve in the street and not draw too much attention. 

The two made the short walk to the pizzeria at a plodding pace, talking about nothing in particular. 

“What happened to your leg?” Steve asked as they slid into the booth. 

“Slid on a drumstick and took a nosedive off a stage,” Eddie admitted. He wasn’t going to outright lie to Steve. 

“Ouch,” Steve mumbled, passing the menu over to Eddie. 

“So, you still do band stuff? I remember that high school talent show,” Steve noted, and Eddie cringed, letting his head drop to the table. 

“I really wish you didn’t,” He chuckled before confirming,

“Yeah, I still do band stuff,” as he raised his head and chanced a glance at Steve. 

“Cool,” was all he said before they shifted the subject. 

They were swapping stories about best friends, roommates, shared high-school trauma and generally flirting when a figure approached their booth. It was a kid, who couldn’t be older than fifteen with a shaved head and a battle jacket. He reminded Eddie of himself at that age. He knew what was coming.

“You’re Eddie Emerson, right? From Corroded Coffin,” the kid asked, his hands shaking. He watched as a furrow appeared on Steve’s brow before his jaw dropped. So Steve wasn’t totally clueless. 

“One and only. You want me to sign something for you?” Eddie asked, having gone through this song and dance a million times before. He tried to be nice, after all, it was a kid, but sometimes he got tired of always having to be on. 

To make matters worse it happened in front of Steve. Something about people coming up to him always sat wrong with other guys he’d been with. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or ego that did it, but he knew if he ran into a fan on a date, the rest of the night typically went sideways. 

He signed the back of a napkin as he listened to the kid rattle off praise for their music. He talked about his favourite songs and lyrics. Eddie wished he knew what to say, wished he knew how to take a compliment but he didn’t. To his surprise, he heard Steve speak. 

“Hey, did you make this?” Steve asked indicating the kid's battle jacket, forcing him to come up for air.

“Yeah, all on my own.”

The kid blinked and ran his hand over a couple of the hand-sewn patches. Steve obviously knew nothing about the scene because if you didn’t make your own jacket people would call you a poser. It was a nice shout though because he watched the kid light up. 

“Even the safety pins?” Steve asked curiously.

Eddie watched as the kid launched into a story of every little pin and stitch in the jacket, turning his attention away from Eddie, and giving him space to catch his breath. It was nice. He felt like Steve had seen him.

After another few minutes, the kid’s dad came to collect him and Eddie felt his body sag against the diner booth. 

“You get that all the time?” Steve asked, his foot nudging Eddie’s under the table. 

“You wouldn’t believe it,” He grumbled scrubbing his face. Steve nudged his foot again, giving him a goofy grin. 

“At least he liked your stuff,” He proposed. 

“I’m guessing it’s not your thing,” Eddie reasoned. He wasn’t one for stereotypes, but he really didn’t look like the typical Corroded Coffin fan. 

“I’m not too picky when it comes to music. I just listen to top forty stuff.” Eddie shot him a disbelieving look.  

“Dude you work in a record store,” he laughed and Steve shrugged.

“Among other things. I just got the job to hang out with Robin. She works there too. She only took the job to try and peddle her girlfriend Nancy’s zines. Sometimes I write the sports section because Nancy, Robin and Jonathan don’t know anything about sports.” Eddie rested his head in the palm of his hand, listening attentively. 

“Wait, is that the same Nancy that you dated back in high school?” He asked, trying to sound scandalised, glad to have a break from the rock star bullshit. 

“Like you said, lesbian magnet,” Steve grumbled, mirroring Eddie’s gesture, resting his head in his hand. 

“What are you actually doing in town?” Steve asked, more curious than nosy. 

“Trying to run away from writing our third album,” Eddie spoke. 

It’d been the first time he admitted it out loud. He didn’t talk about his music until he thought it was worth something, but Steve was a good listener. To Eddie’s surprise, he found himself spilling his guts to Steve. He told him all about the third album, about the goddamn symbolism, and the way things just weren’t clicking. 

“Why don’t you give him a reason to stay?” Steve asked when Eddie finished his monologue, as though it was the simplest solution in the world. 

“I mean, Dorothy doesn’t go back to Kansas because she doesn’t like Oz, she misses home. She misses her family. You want your knight guy to stay in fantasy land? Give him someone to stay for,” Steve proposed, and it was like the final puzzle piece sliding into place. It was brilliant.

“Stevie, I could kiss you,” Eddie spoke.

“Is that a promise?” Steve asked with a cheeky grin.

“Let’s get out of here and find out.”

[turtletaubwrites]

Misty Eyes ~ Part 4

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5041

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: This new life feels like a dream, and you're finding it hard to believe. How could you be here, how could you be safe? How could you be wanted?

Author's Note: Heeyy, so I swear there's smut in here, but our misty eyed reader has trauma, so a little patience is required.

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

“You’re such a–”

Law kissed his laugh into your mouth, and you couldn’t hold onto your outrage. 

Instead, you held onto him.

Law. 

He was alive. He was with you. He was kissing you. 

One of his hands teased into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along your cheek. You didn’t know what to reach for, your fingers clawing into his shirt while you went to pieces. 

His kiss was somehow desperate and gentle. Deep and slow, with needy sounds shared between you. Writhing under the weight of his body, your eyes went misty from overwhelm. You wanted to pull him inside your chest, keeping him in the hole he’d carved, so you could feel this way forever. 

“Are you okay,” he breathed, his thumb smoothing away the grateful tears.

“So good,” you laughed, the sweet smile he gave pulling a happy sob from your throat. 

Law kissed along your temple, your cheek, following your jaw down as you gasped, your breath shuddering through you. He breathed along your skin, tracing the tip of his nose, then his lips over the crook of your neck before leaving gentle kisses, a deep hum vibrating through him. 

Your skin was electric, shivers running through you as you arched your back. Breathy whines escaped you, crying out when he rasped your name. 

You tugged at his shirt, moaning as you yanked it up to feel his skin. He pulled back from your struggle, and your breath caught when he stared down at you. His golden eyes were dark as he pulled his shirt off, your eyes fluttering back at the sight of his tattooed skin. His body caged you in before he tasted your lips again. 

He was still pinning you, your thighs trapped beneath his weight. 

But that gave you more access to pull at the buttons of his jeans, whining when he stopped your frantic fingers. 

“Can I take my time with you,” Law asked, his husky voice making you shake. He brought your knuckles to his lips before he looked around, brows creasing at the sight of hate papering the walls. “There’s a couch in my quarters next door, do you–”

Your breathless “yes,” interrupted him, and he kissed you again before helping you up. He laughed at your pout when he pulled his shirt back on, before leading you by the hand.

“Aren’t you the captain? Can’t you do what you want,” you whispered behind him while he looked back and forth down the hallway. 

He ignored you, pulling you toward the next room when he saw the coast was clear. You couldn’t help the giggles that escaped, echoing down the corridor. Your laughs only grew when he huffed, pressing you against the closed door when he got you inside.

“Do you remember sneaking into the storeroom to steal weapons?”

His scolding glare faltered, his lips quirking as you watched the memory form in his mind. 

“Yeah, you got us caught,” he taunted, tracing his fingers along your hair, his eyes seeming to eat up every detail of your face. Including the indignant furrowing of your brows. 

“I did not! It wasn’t my fault, I only tripped because Cora dropped his…”

It was subtle, but the slight grimace on Law’s face made you want to never speak again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t think I know what really happened with you and–”

“It’s fine. I don’t wanna talk about it,” Law straightened, pulling back from you before adding, “not right now.”

How do I fuck up literally everything?

“Come on,” he tugged at your fingers with a small smile. His quarters were large, and you bit your lip at the sight of his bed, his covers ruffled from last night’s sleep. He gestured for you to join him on the couch, but you skirted around him.

“Oh my gods, are you kidding me?”

A large set of shelves lined the wall behind the couch, and you misted out of his grabbing hands to get a closer look.

Turning back to him with a laugh, your eyes wide with gleeful shock, you pointed at the displays.

“I haven’t seen these in ages!”

You reached into the shelf, picking up one of the early Sora comics from its display stand.

“Hey, careful,” Law cautioned, throwing his long legs over the back of the couch to take the thin book from your grasp.

“Really,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as he returned the book with care. You looked over the rest of the shelves, leaning in to examine the rows of coins he’d displayed between the comics.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Hobbies are important for maintaining mental health,” he said blandly, not meeting your eyes as he looked over his collection. 

“Whatever you say, nerd,” you laughed, touching his waist to force him to look at you. “I think it’s cute.”

He scowled as you bounced on your toes, narrowing his eyes before giving in, pulling you into a kiss. 

“Shut up.”

His soft command touched your lips, your laughter still humming through the kiss. Grinning, you curled your fingers into his black hair.

“Make me.”

Law huffed a laugh, your favorite smirk shining through before you squealed as he picked you up. He sat you on the back of the couch, legs scrambling around his waist. Your mind was empty of everything, but the need to feel more of him. 

Until you slid backwards. 

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, gripping your arms before your back could hit the cushions with your head toward the floor. He helped you turn, moving your legs to the side so you laid across the long couch.

“Already trying to kill me?”

You couldn’t remember feeling this light, this free, as you did teasing him. As he crawled on top of you, the weight and scent of him making you sigh. The feel of his tongue trailing your neck before he nibbled at your ear, bringing another squeal while you shivered. The look in his eyes almost brought tears to your own.

I can’t believe he’s real. 

“Not yet,” he purred, tracing his hand along your waist. He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you until you couldn’t take it. You whined, fighting with his shirt until he grinned and pulled it off. 

“Impatient–” he scolded, giving a surprised laugh when your hands reached the waistband of his jeans again. Law moved you gently so he could sit beside you, but you wasted no time in straddling him. You’d already tossed your shirt aside, fingers reaching for the clasp of your bra.

“Hey, hold on, Y/N,” he hummed, hugging you against him to slow you down. The sound of your heart somehow pounded in your head, even though it was trapped in the next room. 

Law sat back, his warm hands stroking down your arms. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he praised, eyes soft as he gazed at you. His head fell back, letting out a surprised moan when you rocked your body forward. The feel of his hard cock through all that fabric stunned you, and your body grinded onto his on instinct. 

His whispered, “fuck,” was lost in a feverish kiss, and you managed to tear your bra off while his strong hands pulled your hips down further. 

“Wait,” he muttered, voice almost pained. Pulling away, his eyes rolled back slightly at the sight of your bare chest. You had to bite your lip hard not to reach for him again. 

“What is it?” 

Worry had broken through your question, and you couldn’t fight the fears that crept in. Both of you panted for a few moments, lungs fighting for air after stealing it from each other’s lips.

He doesn’t want me. How could he want me after Doffy touched me?

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he checked in, smoothing the hair from your face. “We don’t need to rush anything.”

You knew his words should be comforting, but the hot pressure of tears built in your throat, your mind filling with the torment of words that you knew weren’t your own. 

‘My disgusting little doll. So pretty. So sick. That’s the only thing you’re good for, huh? Such an empty little toy. Maybe one day you'll be worth more. Think you can carry the blood of kings in this weak body of yours?’

“Y/N? Y/N, you’re safe.”

Part of you heard his voice while your body stayed frozen, eyes stuck wide as your nails dug into his shoulders. Fighting to shake free, you mumbled what was meant to be an apology as your hands slumped onto your lap. The sticky weight of wet cement kept every thought and movement sluggish, and you barely reacted when Law pulled a thin blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping you up.

“Mmsrry,” you slurred, unsure how long you’d been frozen. He rubbed his hands lightly on your blanket covered arms, shaking his head. 

“Don’t be. Just let me know what you need, okay? Can I get you some water?”

A jarring laugh fell from your lips, but you managed to nod. He sat you on the couch, fussing with the blanket to make sure you were comfortable and covered. Burning tears pricked your eyes as he went into an adjacent room. The sound of running water covered a strangled cry, but your eyes were dry when he returned with a glass. 

Law sat on the coffee table, but stayed quiet, leaving your thoughts to berate you for putting him through this. Shame piled on you, until something in you cracked open, his gentle question opening the way.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can do surgery,” you remembered, the words rough and empty.

“Yeah, I can,” he confirmed after a pause. Your body almost went slow again, but the urgency of terror pushed you, forcing you to reach for help. 

“Can you, please… please, sterilize me?”

Your fragile voice strained high at the last words, and the rocking of your body sped up, your eyes clamping shut. 

“Please, Law, I can’t–”

“I’m right here, Y/N. You can talk to me.”

Tears fell onto your thighs as you looked down. Nauseating guilt poured through you, a confession flooding from your lips like bile. 

“I was selfish. I wasn’t ready. I’m too weak.”

Law argued softly, his hand on your shoulder doing nothing to stop the stream of ugly truths. 

“I tricked… I made her help me,” you bawled, memories flowing in until you shook with shame. “Baby 5 still does everything. I took advantage of her. He would have hurt her, killed her! I’m disgusting, I’m sick. How could I–”

“Y/N, stop,” he commanded, shocking you into stillness. “You are not sick. You were a prisoner. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I–” you choked, blinking into his steady gaze, “Doffy said I’d finally prove myself if I… If I could carry a superior life in my body. If I could survive it tearing itself out of me.”

Your ragged breath caught in your lungs at the sight of Law’s towering rage, a barely contained snarl only dropping when he released the bruising grip he’d taken on your shoulder. You interrupted his apology, somehow feeling calmer after his display of anger. 

“Baby 5’s compulsion has only gotten worse over the years,” you explained, detached from the story now as you followed Law’s orders. “I told her I needed her help, and she did it, even though she disagreed. Even though she would be punished if he found out.”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

“Shouldn’t you be asking the young master about this,” Baby 5 frowned, crossing her arms as she assessed you.

“Yes, but–”

“Are you keeping secrets from him,” she accused, one of her arms shifting into a sickle to hold against your throat, even though she knew it wouldn’t connect. “I knew you were weak, but I never thought you’d be a traitor.”

“Please, Baby 5,” you begged, hands misty as you held them toward her, “I need you. I need your help.”

“... You need me?”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

The gravity of what you’d done sank into you again, but his waiting gaze pushed you through, separating from the pain and shame behind your confession. 

“I wasn’t ready. I never wanted to be ready. Especially for him. Even when I wanted to be his, I never wanted that. He promised I’d be rewarded, that I’d be worthy of the family. But I never wanted kids, and I knew that he… I knew I might not survive–”

Fear and bile caught up with you, leaning forward over your lap to hit your fists against your forehead.

“We’re safe here,” he reminded you, grabbing your wrists gently until you shuddered, sitting up again. 

“I couldn’t go anywhere without him knowing. I wouldn’t be able to hide pills without someone finding them, and reporting me. Everyone…” you choked out, swallowing the humiliation that threatened to spill into the world, “everyone knew what I was. Everyone knew that the only thing I’m good for–”

“Stop saying that,” he seethed, his knuckles going white as his fists clenched in his lap. The rage in him relaxed your body, nodding before you went on.

“I made Baby 5 steal birth control shots for me, and she’d give them to me every three months. I put her life at risk, he would’ve… I’m so selfish.”

Your sins were revealed as the man before you shook beneath his skin. Watching the play of muscles flexing in his jaw was almost soothing.

“I have two months left of this shot,” you pleaded, head falling back against the couch. “Please do the surgery. Please.”

Law stared at you for too long. Your body went weak, slow tears dripping down your temples to your ears, and you were too spent to wipe them away. 

I’ll never be safe. Doffy will find me. He’ll chain me up until I give him what he wants. I’ll birth another monster that will taste my blood on their lips before I’m free to die.

If Doffy doesn’t just torture and kill me as soon as he catches me.

“I can do it in a way that can be reversed,” he breathed, his words icing your veins, “but I don’t know another doctor that would know how to reverse it for you safely.”

“I don’t want it reversed,” you flew forward, clawing at his hands. “Just do it, please! If you can reverse it, you don’t have to believe me, but I swear it’s what I want.”

“... Can we think about it for a few days,” he coaxed.

Slow hit your system again.

Of course he wouldn’t do that. It’s all I’m good for. 

“I’m not saying no.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, the embarrassment of this whole interaction making you want to sleep forever. “I’m sor–”

“Stop,” he rasped, his fingers in your hair as he cradled your face. “How can I help you feel better right now?”

Another manic laugh left your throat, and you cringed at yourself, fighting not to apologize again. 

“Do you,” Law cleared his throat, a tentative smile tugging at his lips, “do you wanna read Sora with me?”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you miss that little traitor?”

“N-no, Doffy, I just–”

He snatched the wanted poster from your grasp, sneering before ripping it in half, letting the pieces fall to the marble floor. 

“It’s funny,” he huffed, pinching your cheeks between his long fingers, “you’ve been so loyal all these years, and that boy betrayed our family. But he’s the useful one.”

Holding in your cries at his punishing grip, you braced yourself for whatever came next. 

It was a brutal kiss, and you fell into it, giving everything you were to your king. 

Doffy pulled back, that wide grin beaming down at you, his fingers tracing your face, pressing into your mouth. 

“Such a pretty doll.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

Small whimpers from your own lips shook you awake, and you stilled. The heat and pressure of Doffy’s body didn’t seem to be near. 

And the sheets weren’t silk. 

“Good morning,” Law rasped, his hair beautifully mussed as he looked up from a book. The couch looked cozy with his pillow and blanket, bringing a disgruntled whine from your throat as you stretched across his lonely bed. 

“Are you up for work today?”

He chuckled at your second whine, and you felt his weight on the edge of the bed while you buried your face in the pillow. 

“You don’t wanna disappoint Ikkaku,” he teased, shaking your shoulder gently. “Believe me, I know.”

More wordless complaints made him laugh, and that sound alone got you to shake your sleep away.

That, and the soft kisses he gave, the slow sharing of morning breath that kicked you both to the bathroom to brush teeth, fingers pinching at each other's ribs. 

So fucking cute. Until you left his quarters, and he held up that stoic face in front of his crew, even though you could tell they saw through it. 

The Surgeon of Death. That angry, smirking, dangerous kid that turned into a vicious Warlord of the Sea. 

He was a sweetie pie. 

I can’t wait to call him that. 

~

You had a feeling that “Weps” would be your favorite position on the ship. There was something about the sonar that scratched a part of your brain, and Ikkaku was still the most relaxing person to be around. No need to fill the quiet with chatter, and no personal questions to skirt. Just instructions, a few jokes now and then, and the occasional “no slouching at sonar, slacker,” always followed with a wink.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble.”

Your head shot up at her whispered tease, only to find Law's grumpy face assessing you from the doorway. 

Was I slouching?

“Our new recruit will join you for morning shifts for the rest of the week, and I expect a full report on her performance.”

“Yes, captain,” she nodded, her face matching his serious tone. You tried not to gulp.

“Come with me,” the captain ordered, and you found yourself slipping easily into obedience, low level anxiety wrapping comfortably around you. 

“Am I in trouble,” you tried to joke, keeping your voice quiet in the halls.

“What? No,” he shook his head, gesturing to the now familiar door. “It’s lunchtime.”

Your soft, “oh,” was drowned out by the crew, although there weren’t many in the galley at the moment. Jean Bart’s greeting boomed from his massive form, the sound heavy enough for multiple pirates.

Anxiety stuck with you throughout the meal, up until Law brought you to the training room. 

“I thought we were doing an interview today,” you asked, feet still planted in the hallway. 

“Changed my mind. Unless you’re too scared to fight me,” he deadpanned, walking into the room without glancing to see if you’d follow. That feeling was back. That familiar, yet thrilling feeling of playful competition, and it pulled you out of your spiral.

“Jerk,” you huffed, chasing after him.

“Disrespecting your captain again,” he tutted as he pulled you onto the mats. He faced off with you with a smirk, looking you up and down while you moved into a fighting stance. “You’ve got the nerve to mouth off when you’re this out of shape?”

You were the first to strike this time, and it did not go your way.

~

“You know, you could be a little nicer,” you grumbled, nudging his book with your toes. After an embarrassing training session, annoyingly separate showers, and a dinner with too many energetic crewmates, you shoved your feet onto his lap while you stretched across his couch. 

“Could I?”

The purr in his voice made your breath hitch, pressing your toes a little further into his lap until he tossed his book on the table. 

He caught your feet, tattooed hands rubbing gently before he pushed them away. More guilt and fear that he didn’t want you started to creep in, until you felt his weight. Until he kissed those doubts away. 

“How could I be nicer,” he rasped, his facial hair making you shiver as he breathed along your neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist, loving the quiet gasp he let out. 

“Fuck me, Law.”

His body moved against yours, just a bit, and your back arched at the feel of his fingers digging into your hips. 

“Please,” you begged, with your nails twisting through his hair, “I want you.”

He kissed you again, and his heavy-lidded eyes rolled back when you scraped his bottom lip between your teeth. 

Your body mourned the loss of his heat as he sat back on his heels. The urge to grab him, to pull him toward you, to take him in, had you fighting yourself, but you couldn’t stop your body from writhing. Near-panicked fingers dragged over your own clothes, and you tried not to sob with need.

“Y/N,” he coaxed, his ragged breathing like another temptation you had to fight against, “I want you to feel safe. We can stop anytime, you can tell me–”

“Please, gods, fuck me, Law. I nee–”

Your desperate moan echoed into his mouth as he grinded against you. He helped you rip the shirt from his body, then pulled you up to sit as you tore the suffocating fabric from your own skin. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Law swooned, going to his knees on the floor for better access to trail his lips down your shoulders, your chest, your stomach. He let out a needy moan when you threw your bra to the side. You nodded as he glanced up at you, then arched your back when he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples. 

He massaged your breast while he sucked and swirled his tongue, his free hand rubbing a thumb across your other nipple, balancing out the attention. You leaned back on your hands, gasping when he switched sides, when he moaned with your flesh in his mouth. 

Then you pulled at his arms, needing to feel more of him. You agreed to his breathy, “bed,” and kissed your way across his shoulder and neck while he carried you across the room. 

Your long lost friend crawled onto the bed on his knees to lay you down gently against the pillows, and you couldn’t take another second of waiting. 

Finally, he let you tear at his jeans, falling forward to cage you in while you reached into the stiff fabric. Taking his cock in your hand for the first time, even still constrained in his tight pants, made your mind go blank with need. The veins pulsing beneath your fingers sent your body bucking beneath his. 

“Wait,” you pleaded, pathetic noises leaving your throat as he moved away. But his movement just brought his lips down your skin again, until his darkened eyes looked up at you from between your legs, his fingers dancing at the waistband of your pants. 

“Yes,” you ordered before he could ask. 

Running your fingers along your inner thighs, you lost yourself in the way he looked at you. Law’s eyes devoured every bare inch of your skin, the wet aching center of you just waiting for him to take you. 

“Please,” you begged again.

He let out a sound that might have been a growl, but it was lost when he plunged his face into your folds. You cried out his name, reaching for his fingers that had wrapped around your hips, then tugged at the strands of his hair again, clinging while he ate at you. 

The sensations were overwhelming, his hungry tongue, his facial hair teasing at your skin, the whimpers and whines he sent vibrating into that sensitive piece of you. His little sounds got louder each time you pulled at his hair, as you tried to draw him up toward you. 

Law drank you in like you were the last bit of water left on the planet. Kissing, and sucking, and plunging deep, his eyes burned hot while he watched you. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he slurred, messy face coming up for air for just a second. He thrust against the mattress, his jeans undone, but still restricting him while he writhed. 

Tugging at his hair wasn’t enough, now you were reaching further. You scratched at his shoulders, your fingers dragging across his skin as you fought to pull him up. He just moaned at the contact, bringing his own fingers to push inside you, curling gently while he sucked your clit. 

Your back arched for him, but your breathing turned to chaos. The word, “please,” filled the air, but your voice was broken, almost panicked. 

“I’m so sorry, are you alright,” he pulled away, wiping his face before he moved out from between your legs. He touched your cheek with his fingertips, sitting beside you as his soothing voice surrounded you. 

“You’re safe, it’s okay. What do you need– whoa!”

His pants had to come off. You needed to make him feel good. The need was so intense, so vital, you didn’t think you could breathe until you felt his pleasure. 

“Fuck me, please.”

“But you–”

You interrupted his counter, sitting up to kiss his still wet face. 

“Please, Law. I’m telling you what I want,” you pleaded, your hands playing dangerously close along his stomach, but waiting for permission. “I want this. I want you.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if you–”

“I promise.”

He stared for a long moment, and you almost sobbed for him, aching for him now. When he crawled off the bed to strip, you forgot everything else. Those gorgeous tattoos added to the work of art that was his lean, sculpted body. The sight of his thick cock springing free from those tight pants, already so swollen and dripping for you, had you twisting in his sheets. 

“Law, need you…”

“I need you too, Y/N,” he rasped, crawling up your body again. He scanned your face, bringing the hard length of him to slide along your core, arching your back while he drenched himself in you. “So wet…”

Another delicate kiss left the taste of both of you on your tongue before his eyes drank you in. A small, impatient whine started to form in your throat, but the slow stretch of his leaking cock took your breath away. 

“You feel incredible,” he sighed while you pulled him closer. His lips traced down your jaw, under your ear, letting you hear his soft, eager moans as he filled you. You could feel every vein throbbing as his shaft dragged through you, until there was nowhere left to fill. 

He stayed for a second too long, fully hilted within you, but your demanding body took over.

Law moaned, bracing himself on an arm to keep from falling onto you. Your hips were driving up to meet his, fucking onto him while you panted, starved for him. 

“Gods, you’re perfect.”

His praise was joined by deep, rolling thrusts that sent your eyes fluttering white. Still writhing beneath him, you gasped when his lips found yours again, one of his hands stroking your hair. 

“How does this feel, baby?”

He started to ask more, his voice rough as he checked in, but you couldn’t help but laugh. He started to slow, but you clawed at him. 

“So good,” you grinned, fighting to hold in another giggle. “You feel so good, sweetie pie.”

Law’s face, heavy with a mix of heat and concern jerked a bit, his eyes narrowing on you as his lips twitched. 

“What’s that now,” he dared, shoving into you just a bit faster while you choked on gasping laughs.

“You’re supposed to be,” you paused, overwhelmed by the feel of him, “so scary. But you’re just a sweetie–”

He shut you up with his tongue down your throat, his fingers fisting into your hair, but not hard enough. Breaking off the kiss, he flashed you that wicked smile, meeting your challenge to prove you wrong.

Your frenzied screams filled the room, but his blown out eyes never left your face, watching your every movement. Still so sweet while he hammered his cock into you. Emotion started to hit, and you didn’t want him to notice and stop. It just felt like a dream, being here with him. Any moment you would wake up to silk sheets, and invisible strings. 

Gratitude flooded you, even as your body hit a plateau. 

“I need you,” you begged, watching him start to lose that control he clings to. “Law, need to feel you come, plea–”

His thumb carved with the letter, “D,” found your clit, and you clenched your muscles while you screamed for him. You thrashed, letting your legs shake around his hips, and his thrusts stuttered, still so hard and deep as he moaned your name. 

He kissed you while he came, and you melted, your body swallowing him in. You wanted him to fill you forever, the hot spill of his pleasure more precious than anything you’d ever held. 

Your bodies stayed entwined, breathing into each other as you fought the pressure in your eyes. It felt like ages, yet still not long enough, when he threatened to pull away, leaving a beautiful whisper against your cheek before he moved.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

“Missed you too, sweetie pie,” you teased. You let your body drift into the air, a cloud of delicate water floating above the bed. Ethereal giggles left your form when Law grunted, the lower half of his body falling to the mattress without yours to rest inside. 

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for that,” he growled, rolling onto his back to look up at your hovering mist. 

“Not if I get you first,” you threatened with a kiss. You’d gone solid, straddling him, and giggling into his mouth when he dug fingers into your thighs. His low, dangerous chuckle made you shiver, gasping when he touched your face, rubbing his thumb across your lips. 

“You already got me,” Law teased, his eyes still dark as they poured over you. “Now it’s my turn to make you come.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I felt bad for all the smutty stop and go's, but I hope you don't mind. Trauma takes time, and healing isn't a linear path, but that doesn't mean that pleasure is out of the question. Patience, and a caring partner can make all the difference. I hope that none of you relate, but if you do, you're not alone. 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 5

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[animasolaoriginal]

I N F A T U A T E D ♦️MASTERLIST

original story ♦️ unnamed characters ♦️ very explicit smut

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

SUMMARY: She is a girl dancing in the club that he owns - and one day, their eyes meet, things unfold and escalate quicker than any of them expected, she specifically. He soon declares her his, and she follows, submissive and infatuated as she is, unaware of the sexual journey she is about to embark on.

GENERAL TAGS/WARNINGS: NSFW! Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Praise kink. Free use. (More tags at the beginning of each chapter! Read carefully!)

S E A S O N ◾️ O N E (10 chapters/~60k words total)

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

S E A S O N ◾️ T W O (10 chapters/~70k words total/WIP)

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

NOTES: I tagged this Dead Dove: Do No Eat for a reason. Please be aware of the themes mentioned above and at the start of each chapter. This is dark, unhealthy, and frankly very self-indulgent. And fiction, never forget. None of this is real. If you don't like any of these themes, please do yourself a favor and do not read/engage!

On a different note: I kept this purposefully vague when it comes to physical descriptions, so you can imagine any character here, if you like, or keep it neutral and anonymous, it's totally up to you!

NEW CHAPTER EVERY SUNDAY!

READ ON AO3

[hugsandchaos]

Danny Phantom Related Masterlist

DP x Linked Universe

•Short headcanon list

•Memes, anyone?

•More memes

•He jumped?!

•Uhh not sure what to call this

•Okay, this is probably the last string of memes

•I lied, here’s a few more

•It’s just one meme

•Another idea

•Cooking

•Incorrect quote that I just tossed out there (we appreciate you trying to help, Hyrule)

•Late night thoughts

•Studying and Manatees

•No caffeine?! Criminal!

•Introducing Vlad

•Another Incorrect Quote

•”Danny, get out of the closet!”

•Lord Of The Dark Birds

•A couple more incorrect quotes

•Soup Time

•LBM!

•Picking locks

•Who’s Dash?

•Dash? What are you doing here?

•Singing equals spells??

•Comfort in the chaos

•Wing bois rant

•More Little Baby Man

•How are they not banned??

•Dungeons

•Meme anyone?

•Summoned!

•That time Danny picked up Time

•Danny is the youngest sibling

•”He’s in the walls...”

•Astrophilia

•April 3rd Special! :D

Story Chapters: Eudaemon (Now on Ao3 too! :D)

•The Beginning

•Proper Introductions

•Dawn Of The Second Day

•Magical Meal

•Day 3

•Where Do Stars Come From?

•Quick update

Ao3 Link!

•Sneak Peek! (Updated May 4th)

Beautiful art by @nerdypear4 here, here, here, here, and here too!

•Quick vote

DP x Marvel Universe

•”Hey, Ron.” “Hey, Billy.”

DC x DP Prompts

•Accidentally Blessed

•Phantom Forest

•A Ghost Boy and His Wolf

•Tired Haunt

•Early Hero Gets The Adoptee

•Family Reunion

•More Wulf!

•Watchtower Ghost

DC x DP Headcanons

•Reasons to not trust the Justice League

•”Really? This guy?”

Seeing Double

Young Justice x Danny Phantom

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Friendship is Haunting

Mlp x Danny Phantom AU

•What if?

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

DP Unnamed AU

PenPals AU

Halfa Dash AU

•First post

•Quick talk about how Danny suffers in this AU

•Memes

DP x TF

•Ideas!

[lazy-indigo]

Sum art of Polites and his godly family (+ mom) :3

These are the only colored ones from the bunch :]

The first drawings are to show how close Polites and Aphrodite were before the war. They had a massive falling out since Polites naturally fought alongside Ody, aka against Troy.

ALSO YA GET TO SEE THE PARENTS HEHEHHE >:D Anteros and unnamed wife. I have a full backstory of how they met just- not her name bshsbsh

1st pic: Relates to that story I was talking abt! The most basic summary being that Eros decided to prank Anteros by shooting a woman to fall for Anteros. Knowing full well that Anteros would have to poke himself with an arrow to fall for her (he is the avenger of unrequited love afterall)

2nd pic: Anteros finding out abt Perimedes.

3rd pic: Anteros comforting his wife after telling her abt Polites’ death.

4th pic: Eros and Hemaphroditus’ failed attempt to cheer up Anteros (His wife drowned herself not long after hearing the news abt Polites. Can you tell how nice I am to this family :] /silly)

Bonus silly “”comic”” of Eros being a great brother /sar /lh

[mochinomnoms]

Besides ramshackle and octavinelle I’d love to hear how the new dorms are settling in ptm! I imagine the transition from Malleus to Silver must be new for the existing and new diasomia students (i wonder if Silver will get a fanclub just like how Malleus did). There’s also savanaclaw that’s got a new leader after leona (finally) graduated. We haven’t heard much of pomefiore ‘s new vice leader other than he’s very dependable or ignihyde’s dorm (is it still very introverted?). I’d love to hear any rambles or blurbs you have :D

-🪸

Sure! So Pomefiore and Ignihyde have unnamed NPCs for their vices and housewarden in Ignihyde's case.

For Pomefiore, they have a very reliable cat beastman as the vice who sort of makes up for Yev's overzealous behavior. Yev has the potential to be a great housewarden, he has the diplomatic skills and charisma to do so, but he is full of himself and is rather self-important. He also has the tendency to be mean to his underclassmen, so the cat beastman smooths things over. He is highly respected for his skills in potion making, and was under Vil's tutelage, as well as beautiful, which are the only reasons he hasn't been challenged for his position yet.

Ignihyde remains mostly unnamed due to them not having any impact on the story. But when I was making OCs, I was imagining that the roles of housewarden and vice housewarden got mixed together and a pair of twins based on Pain and Panic took over for the dorm. They often exchange responsibilities, but the dorm remains mostly introverted. Though now that they have more social housewardens, the dorm's members have been easier to get along with.

Savanaclaw has housewarden and vice! Ruggie was appointed as housewarden by Leona, and Ruggie recruited Jack as his vice. It came as a surprise, as usually Savanaclaw would have a somewhat brawl at the end of the year, in which the winner would be appointed the housewarden. At first no one questioned Leona, and Ruggie did a good chunk of his duties and chores anyways, he's generally respected, especially for his actions during Leona's overblot. However, the incoming freshman haven't taken to him, or some of the more spiteful dorm members. Jack, however, highly respects all his upperclassmen, Ruggie especially due to their share experiences, and so Ruggie almost uses him as a guard dog. If anyone wants to get to Ruggie, you gotta get through Jack first, and Jack is a very hard man to beat.

Octavinelle of course remains the same, though there are rumors that Azul has a little brother amongst the incoming freshman! According to gossip, Azul would like to appoint his little brother as the next housewarden, but one of the second years named Marino Del Reyes, is also a highly likely contender! Of course, Azul neither confirms no denies these rumors, as it's no one's business but his own!

Scarabia has been the center of much gossip and speculation, as their housewarden and vice switched places! It was a well known 'secret' that the brunt of housewarden duties fell on to him, despite Kalim holding the title. But after the events that occurred winter break, no one was anticipating that he'd ever take Kalim's place. To everyone, including the faculty's surprise, Kalim officially stepped down as housewarden and asked that Jamil take his place, as well as determining who his vice would be. To add to the ever growing shock, Jamil had Kalim take his place as vice! The rumor mill says that Jamil must have used his signature spell to get Kalim to hand over his title, while others say that Kalim was being threatened by outside forces and needed to step down to protect himself. The reality is that after Jamil's overblot and months of self-reflection, Kalim has become more aware of his limitations, and combined with being old enough that his parents want him to start learning the ins and outs of the family business, believed it would be best to step down and use his spare time to try and better himself. As much as Jamil was happy to finally be recognized for his hard work, he was still upset that he didn't really earn it himself, so out of spite he appointed Kalim as his vice, thus sort of making him a subordinate. It was an area of tension with their parents, but Kalim insisted that this was what he wanted, and what Kalim wants he gets. There's a lot more to the story, but I'll end with this: Kalim enjoys that he can actually be helpful and do tasks for someone else, rather than having everything be done for himself. Jamil finally gets to put his skills to use, and is the first step to perhaps a taste of being someone other than a servant. He does have to tend to Kalim as a retainer, but it's strictly separate from his duties as hosuewarden.

Diasomnia is being run as normal, though Silver and Sebek are highly respected as housewarden and vice due to their positions as Malleus's retainers. After all, who else knows the values of the Thorn Fairy better than he? And it's to be assumed that his retainers, the ones by his side, who will become great knights to the Thorn Fairy's birthplace, would be similar. Silver is seen as rather gentle, but firm, while Sebek is mildly feared but respected. Both support each other's strengths, and make up for each other's faults in wonderful ways, what else is to be expected of the two who are practically brothers?

With Riddle as the housewarden still, it's no mystery that his dorm retains the same high standards, though he's become more lenient and understanding since his overblot. Everyone desperately misses Trey, or his baking to be precise. They of course have more than enough people to make up for his skills, albeit none of their treats are as good as his, but his replacement, Timmy, is a new and welcome sight. Timmy, compared to Trey, tends to challenge Riddle and brings him back down to earth when he gets angry. People say it's because Trey specifically asked Timmy to do what he couldn't at first, and to not let Riddle get too out of hand or overwhelm himself, but of course no one but Timmy can confirm or deny that. One thing that amuses nearly the entire student body is how Timmy is always running late to things, much to Riddle's annoyance. When they see the rabbit beastman running across campus parkouring and scaling the side of the castle, bets are thrown to see if he'll actually be late this time. He hasn't, though no one knows how or why, especially when he manages to cut down a 15-minute walk across campus to 3.

[k--havok]

Find the Word Tag

Aight so shoutout to @writingpotato07 for tagging me! 

Since I’ve been working on my still yet unnamed D&D story, I decided to pull from there. I only have roughly 12 pages written for it, tho, so it may be slim pickings for me, haha

Words that cannot be found will be replaced with funfacts about the characters instead! 

Anyways, my words are: Touch, Embrace, Kind, Phone, Easy

Touch

“Here,” she said. She moved slowly, so as to not startle him. Her left hand glowed a soft, silvery light. Gently, she ran her palm across his forehead. 

He jerked back at her touch, but she had already sunk a healing glow into him.

Embrace

Rane is my original D&D character and is actually the first character I made 100% on my own. I made her back around 2017, altho her original version is very different than her current version. Some tropes/inspo for her include: fairytales, folk heroes, magical girls, the damsel saves herself, bright lights cast dark shadows, and small beginnings. 

Kind

When Korzan returned, he found Rane had set up her small tent. She was crouched down next to her pack, taking out what looked like traps of some kind. 

“What are you doing?” Korzan asked as he started setting up the campfire. 

Phone

Korzan is my partner’s OC and is his first D&D character (he’s a very old character... not even sure how old tbh). Korzan is actually a 3.5 character, which is also the “version” he comes from. Since he is dropped into what is basically a 5e world, a lot of things are different for him, even though some things are the same. Korzan wasoriginallyl a Sorcerer in 3.5, but my partner has some issues with the sorcerer class for 5e and thus he is a warlock in his 5e version. 

Easy

Rane trailed a few paces ahead of Korzan, keeping her head forward. She walked with a lax and easy stride, her pack still clinking and clanking with her supplies. 

Korzan watched her back for a second. She had pulled the hood of her starry cloak back over her head. A few stray wisps of white hair flew away from the front of the hood, and the silver caught the fading golden light of the afternoon. 

Some of it may be a little clunky since I haven’t written in a while and I am attempting a voice/style I do not use often. I hope to revise and smooth everything over once I finish the novella, of course. 

Anyways! I am going to go ahead and tag @space-cadead @moondust-bard @rachaellawrites @wildswrites @dogmomwrites @winterandwords 

Your words are: Face, Music, Hurt, Very, and Enough. 

[spooky-fm]

Phantom Thief

Gotta love prewritten chapters.

Ao3. Part 1. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8.

AN: Because this somehow became a fluff/found family fanfic (i set out to write an Angst and No Comfort fic but what can you do), everything is just a little nicer, and the WC team is great and communicates, and Peter and Neal are both actively working on having a good, trusting relationship. There are conversations and hugs, can you imagine. That said, this isn't exactly canon Neal - he kinda is, but he is also very shaken by his past coming back, confrontation with an old enemy, and generally a boatload of barely-addressed trauma. So beware OOC all around <3

Part 2. Neal Caffrey actually calls for help

They are starting to move back towards the house when Peter's phone goes off again. He nearly drops it for the second time in one morning when the caller ID says 'Neal Caffrey'. He frantically presses the green button to accept the call and puts it on speaker.

"Hello? Neal?" he asks, effectively capturing Jones and Diana's attention.

There is a relieved sigh on the other end of the line.

"He-ey, Peter," Neal drawls with the tone he often has when Peter catches him sneaking off with El's muffins. Peter frowns. The tone may be light, but he does not like the rough quality of Neal's voice. "I may have a bit of a problem," he continues, voice cracking on the last word.

"Neal, are you safe? Any injuries? Where are you?"

There is a moment of quiet before Neal takes a deep breath and slowly releases it.

"That ... depends on your definition of those words," Neal answers unhelpfully, deepening Peter's worry. Jones opens his mouth to say something, but holds his thoughts back when the conman keeps talking. "I am ... not in need of medical attention. But you might want to come over and see for yourself. I am not sure where I am, but you can probably track the phone to its location. I shouldn't be too far away, since I was out for a pretty short time. He couldn't have brought me far."

Well, that confirms the kidnapping theory and maybe its connection to the mysterious Vlad Masters.

"Alright, Neal, I will do that. We should be there as soon as possible with an ambulance to look at you— "

Peter doesn't get to finish his sentence because there is a sharp gasp on the other side of the conversation, and Neal almost shouts into the phone.

"No hospitals! Or ambulances! Peter, please, don't call anyone. I can't, I don't know if I, if they-," he stammers out. "Just, please, come alone." Caffrey's response makes Peter freeze in shock. Neal Caffey doesn't stumble over his words, not even when he is facing angry thugs pointing their guns at him. Whatever he got himself into this time is definitely serious. "Bring Jones and Diana if you want," Neal continues, his voice sounding uncharacteristically small and wobbly. He is breathing faster than normal. "But, please, nobody else. Please, Peter, I need you to trust me on this."

Peter takes in a ragged breath. Neal is actually begging him, it's not an affectation or a manipulation — he knows what his partner sounds like when he is pulling one over someone. This is real, and Neal is actually scared right now. Peter hates the idea of a scared Neal Caffrey with every fiber of his being.

"Hey, Neal," Peter says, and even he is surprised by how gentle his voice sounds. "Breathe, alright? I'm going to come over and get you as soon as I have your location. I have Diana and Jones with me, but we are not taking anyone with us, ok? Just tell me, do we need to bring anything? First aid supplies or something else?"

Jones, who has been on the phone with Agent Blake since Neal called, gives him the all-clear sign, indicating that they have the location of Neal's phone. Something unclenches in Peter's chest, and he motions for him and Diana to get into his car, letting Jones take the wheel.

Neal's breathing has evened out a little, and he sounds less frantic when he replies. "Thank you," he answers with a rare show of true emotion in his voice. "No medical supplies needed, but if you have some food and water, that'd be great. Maybe a hoodie or a scarf?"

Peter grunts an affirmative and mentions his spare T-shirt and sweatpants in the trunk to make Neal complain about his fashion choices. The conman just hums and takes several deep breaths again.

"Peter?" he asks in that small voice that Peter is starting to really hate coming from his normally cheerful and self-assured CI. He makes a sound of encouragement, hoping to settle some of Neal's fears. "It's just, I—," there is another deep breath on the other end of the line, and Neal continues in a steadier voice, "I'm going to explain it, I swear, but it's going to be pretty weird, and it will probably sound insane at first. Please, just give me a chance to talk, I'll show you everything and answer all your questions, just," Neal chokes on the rest of the words he wants to say, and Peter's heart clenches at the sound.

What's happened to his partner that he is that scared of Peter's reaction?

"Neal, I don't know what is going on, but I promise you not to freak out until you've had the chance to explain everything."

There is a slightly hysterical laugh, and a muffled 'that'll make one of us' that Peter decides not to acknowledge. He glances at Jones to ask about their ETA, but doesn't get a word out before the agent is talking.

"We will be there in ten to fifteen minutes, depending on the traffic. It's an industrial building, currently empty due to code violations and the owner filing for bankruptcy. Leland Pharmaceutical."

Peter has the best goddamn team in the entire Bureau. He smiles gratefully at Jones.

"Thank you. You hear that, Neal? We will be there soon. Do you know which part of the building you are in?"

"Uh, I think the basement? There are no windows, and it's a, it's a little cold, like we are underground. Or, I think it is. It's kinda hard to judge that accurately right now."

Peter doesn't quite understand what he means by that, but pushes that to the back of his mind.

"Alright Neal, hang in there, we are coming in soon. Is your kidnapper around? Was he alone?"

"He was definitely alone, and he is, he is here, with me." Neal's words force Peter's fists to clench, and his spine straightens involuntarily. He glances at the clock on his phone's screen. Seven minutes left. He is sure that Jones will shave it down to five. "I kind of, maybe, sort of knocked him out a little," Neal continues in that guilty tone of voice that he uses when he regrets doing something that he thinks might get him sent back to prison. Peter lets out a tired sigh and catches Daina's commiserating grin in the rear-view mirror.

"That's good, Neal. You did great."

"So, I won't get in trouble for fighting?" Neal audibly perks up.

"No, Neal, you will not get in trouble for fighting off your kidnapper. I can promise you that."

"Thank you, Peter," Neal answers softly.

They pull into the parking lot of the building. It's time to get his conman out of here.

[centrally-unplanned]

On a recent trip home I picked up my dog-eared childhood copy of The Crystal Shard, the first-ever appearance of trope-defining dark elf Drizzt Do'Urden:

As my partner remarked on seeing the cover, "do you really need the whole wolf? The pelt ain't enough?" Darn right it ain't, when I was ~10 and playing basement D&D every weekend with my friend circle I fucking loved Drizzt, like all nerd kids back then did. Even better, this book was one of those things where he isn't even the main character, no one thought this would become the "IP" that it did. It is pure Early Installment Weirdness. So I was curious how cruelly the passage of time would affect this 1988 fantasy pulp novel.

Anyway we are 112 pages in and our first named female character has finally appeared. I am not exaggerating or even ignoring bit characters for that point. Women as a concept do not appear in the first 30 pages, until this line:

"Fetch the wenches!" he commanded.

And you occasionally get some mind-dominated sex slaves who are, again, unnamed, until Catti-brie (the named girl) shows up. As barbarian boy Wulfgar's romantic interest by the by.

This isn't, like, a gigantic bash or anything - Catti-brie herself is a primary character and well-realized and all that, and as always you can tell a story about a group of guys if you want. But back then the pulp fantasy landscape was just fucking rough my dude; this book spends a lot of time on the "societies" of Icewind Dale, governance & trade and war, and women just do not contribute to that society, in any way, beyond token references to mothers-and-lovers as a concept.

There is a line Wulfgar, someone from the "barbarian" nomadic tribes, makes - as a comparison to Catti-brie - about women in his society:

Barbarian girls were raised to keep their thoughts and opinions, unimportant by the standards of men, to themselves.

And I get it, like Catti-brie is headstrong and wilful and Wulfgar is Learning to Respect Women. I grok that this is an arc moment and depiction is not endorsement. But I think that idea works a little better if the author had put a single female character from the barbarian society on the page to help with that point! The book shouldn't agree that they are unimportant, right? I'm looking at George R.R. Martin's portrayal of the Dothraki in A Game of Thrones - published in 1996! - and seeing it for the progressive act it is now lol, that is a low bar. I have read later R. A. Salvatore books and he would never do this today of course; it was just how the genre worked back then.

Progress is just good sometimes I guess!

[s-dei]

"Druzhok" is a Russian for "little friend"/"buddy", when applied to a person you're not close with is usually joking/sarcastic. Also a popular dog name

Alrighty, bringin context here

Me and fellas were discussing dif AU possibilities, and somehow "Nikolai babysitting Nemesis before Jill" became obligatory point for any option😅 At least for me. As always it started as a meme and then went wild, and I consider it hella hillarious. And smexy

I can't say it's some solid and thoughtful plot, just a "written in canon" (at least till RE5) with a bunch of situations to let the Tyrants flex. And even if some topics are treated seriously, it's all for the sake of fanservice. I also alterate stuff to explore diff situations, so don't expect me to follow single story all the time or somethin :D

Comin back to the pic, Nik and Nem had to work for some time (~2yrs) for unnamed organization postRE3. They both weren't enthusiastic at first, but in the end it was nicey (amount of 'nicey' depends on my mood in the morning xD)

The reason I rarely draw said stuff is coz I have to think on the clothes different from canon options. (Nem is havin his cool OG limiter, but he's going to wear it later in AU). And I'm not really confident with designing clothes, but I decided - who the fuck cares, if you don't have a resource to design, just slap something at a moment, and at least you have a base to develop for later. (yep it's me who cares, but stfu Lily)

Anyway I'm a sucker for "two intimidating chars are stupid dogs with eachother" in any amount. heh

[project-sekai-facts]

hello!! i was wondering if you have a timeline of rui’s school life? like what happened between him and nene and mizuki? and when did he change to what school,,,? im trying to write smth and really confused about that :,D

In Revival my dream it's mentioned that he and Nene attended elementary school together, but they didn't go to the same middle school. He attended the same middle school as Mizuki, and according to Kamikou Festival! they didn't meet until some point during Rui's final year there before moving to high school.

He went to an unnamed high school for his first year and possibly some of his second year. It's never made entirely clear. WxS main story presumably takes place during August (or maybe Autumn), and in chapter 5 one of Rui's classmates says that he recently transferred there. School year starts in April, so either Rui was a new transfer at the start of the school year and the student considers 4+ months to be recent, or Rui transferred like a few weeks before main story. This is the only information we've been given about his first year in high school. We do not know why he transferred (personally I think the evidence points to it being willingly rather than expulsion), nor like, any information about the school itself other than it being an "prestigious school".

There's also an area conversation with Toya unlocked after his wedding event where Rui says he's unfamiliar with the area since he only just transferred, which suggests none of his previous schools have been around kamikou.