#as it stands the only thing ive been asked to tag so far is just invader zim and i've done my best to tag posts relating to that

[rxzennia]

selfish atonement

– requested. 

✎𓂃 executing your duty perfectly, until it’s not so heavy anymore. less romance, a lot of lore. mandatory shoutout to @st4rrth0ughts and their bodyguard reader & oc. i really searched up oswaldo for this pls enjoy (i tried to cook but i might’ve burnt it y'all)

ever since oswaldo’s expedition on aeragan-epharshel, you’ve become certain of one thing – he is a brilliant businessman; the epitome of a profitable business. regardless of the mostly negative emotions you felt while you undertook missions under his orders, you could at least admit that he brought unparalleled results to the ipc. 

but, well, it does not take a good man to make a good businessman.

this marks the third amber era after your departure from the marketing development department… no, your departure from the ipc as a whole. you’ve changed your name, got yourself a new appearance, and distanced yourself from oswaldo’s name.

you’ve since become a sellsword who answers only to your current client

you’ve chosen to not have your loyalty freely auctioned off to the wealthy precisely because of your history with oswaldo

aka, you’re done with the type of problems that can be solved with money, and you don’t want to be someone that can be easily bought with money, either

not in the sense that money won’t make you more likely to take a job, but in the sense that money won’t bribe you away from any ongoing duties

that’s enough about you and your standards

in any case, your history with the ipc (that you’ve manipulated a little) has been very helpful in landing you jobs

and at this point, you’ve got a nice word of mouth going on for you that you don’t need to bring up that history anymore

who would’ve thought that you’d end up in the ipc again?

this time as a temporary guard for one of the ten stonehearts

you don’t know what possessed someone like diamond to ask for you, because you’re pretty sure he knows about your previous involvement with the ipc

and also, what the fuck does the ten stonehearts need a bodyguard for?

you’d pay a million credits to bet that diamond just wanted someone to be surveillance

but hey, a client is a client, so you agree to meet the one you’re supposedly “protecting”

you walk into the room, and immediately you want to walk out. diamond is doing this on purpose, he’s gotta be, he’s got to have done a background check on you and still decided to choose violence.

you come face to face with aventurine, and you thank all the aeons out there that you’ve made the decision to wear a mask whenever you’re out. you don’t know if diamond had briefed him on you or not, but judging by how warily civil he is, it doesn’t seem so. 

just so we’re clear, you were far too green to be directly involved when oswaldo launched his sigonia-iv project. while you did tag along on these trips and treaty signings, you have no personal involvement there except standing there like a statue and watching your superiors hammer out a treaty or something. unlike in aeragan-epharshel. where you were one of the combat pilots. oh, that’s another can of worms altogether.

at least he can’t see your expression right now as you shake hands

at least he doesn't hear your erratically beating heart

you introduce yourselves, and you bow out of habit

impression points +100 (your starting score is -10000)

that’s basically how you ended up involved with the ipc again

ugh, you just can’t leave them in the past, can you?

although, in your defense, they’re everywhere, and you can’t possibly turn down a job with such luxurious pay

so, now, instead of the marketing development department, you’re in the strategic investment department. diamond is also a good businessman, but… the ten stonehearts have such a weird dynamic. they’re all tangled together with office politics, yet share one authority figure that they ultimately obey – something you haven’t bothered to think about when you were last in the ipc. and something you won’t bother thinking about, because the mere thought of corporate makes you want to dig yourself into a hole.

in any case, your constant meddling in aventurine’s daily affairs begins today. he’s quite a guarded man, and you have no idea what diamond wants you to do by putting you next to him practically 24/7, but oh well, you’re getting paid.

you settle into a routine surprisingly quickly, and he doesn’t seem to mind your presence all that much

alarmed? yes. mildly annoyed that diamond put a walking tracker on him? also yes. 

dislike your presence? kinda (not really). 

at least he knows you won’t betray him for as long as your contract is in effect

even if you answer directly to diamond, you were tasked to watch over him

which means that you will execute your assigned duty to guard him and strictly only that duty

(truly, your reputation precedes you)

but what is worrying is how swiftly you can change sides the moment your contract expires

well, a problem for tomorrow. diamond’s got you leashed for a year.

he does run a background check on you himself

not that he doesn’t trust that diamond hadn’t vetted you, he just wants to know what sort of person he is now stuck with

guess who found out your name is probably fake but can’t find your real name

because he could only trace your name so far, and anything beyond that point is blank

the discoveries will shock you!! top 10 most scary facts you didn’t know 

all he got was a full report from your first job to this one

anything about your past before your current alias is completely untraceable

not that he intends to ask anyway; you haven’t given him any reason to dig further (yet)

he keeps an eye out for you though

even if he’s not suspicious of you at the moment, that could change in the blink of an eye

aventurine is surprised at how loyal you are to him. you’re under diamond’s orders, but you’re surprisingly putting in a lot to protect him. and to look after him.

to you, it’s just your job… and a selfish, twisted sort of repentance. it’s a thought you intend to take with you to the grave.

you’re not obligated to wake him up or bring him breakfast, but you do anyway

which, he realizes that you must’ve woken up like at least two hours before him

you coordinate his schedule with his assistant so that he doesn’t make pointless trips to five different locations just to end up at the same one twice

you, quite literally, hover over him

yes, even at huge conferences, you’re tailing him like his shadow

some kinda scary dog privilege going on

but of course, you give him space whenever he requires it and keep him within your sights instead

so far so good

but you know what spooks him still? 

that you get pissed when someone makes any nasty passing remark at him

no, you are not a feral street cat that scratches anyone who wrongs you (him)

what you do is you give them a scary confrontation

or you pick them out and lodge a complaint with their superiors afterwards, if they aren’t the top dog

one time he got his hands on a report that you’re writing

aeons, you blow it out of proportion without lying 

you like to call it a suitable amount of embellishing 

then you pull a lot of emotional appealing according to the opponents' company policy

which usually results in some sort of disciplinary action that is actually pretty satisfying to see

but also

damn, you’re merciless 

and also very adept at business talk

trust +100, doubt +25

(shady mercenary for hire with far too much experience type doubt)

you’re as good of a bodyguard as aventurine can get, especially for someone he didn’t hire himself… 

he quite likes you, actually! because how many people do you think asked him something like “why do you need a bodyguard” to his face? none! you’re as entertaining as they come. 

and so he finds joy in his boring executive work by pestering you

you know that, but you put up with him

in fact, this guy is so one of a kind that you don’t even feel pestered

you sometimes even drink with him

whenever he offers, of course, because you’re not too interested in drinking

you drink moderately on the job, but c’mon, when are you not on the job

okay, maybe when he’s just chilling in his office or in the hotel and not going anywhere

then there’s competitive drinking where he tries to coax you into talking about yourself by making you down shots

and guess who’s wasted every time? not you

“mr aventurine?” you ask, nudging the unconscious man next to you. “sir? earth to mr aventurine? hello?”

his empty glass of whiskey on the table, his face slightly flushed as he snoozes away on the table… yeah, it does not look comfy at all.

you sigh, he’s giving you more work again, and you carefully hoist him from the table. 

when he comes to again, he finds himself in his own room

his head hurts so much

he notices that he hasn’t changed from his usual attire – only his coat and accessories are taken off

okay, and the top button of his shirt is undone

did you bring him back? 

as always, you don’t even bother to change him

he sighs, you’re really not very good at reading signs

because he’s done this multiple times! and he’s whined about not being changed after!

more like you did notice but you choose not to do what he wants

that’s crossing a line in your books

and your books is something you stick to like you’re obsessed

at least you left him water and hangover medicine on the nightstand

why does he feel like you’re deliberately keeping him at arm’s length?

it’s been a while and you two have spent so much time together, yet you’re still a stranger to him

not even acquaintances 

like… like, you don’t initiate conversation when you’re watching him

both when he’s going somewhere (requires actual protecting) and chilling at home (does not require actual protecting)

and even after so many late night drinking sessions, he still hasn’t seen you without your mask

mainly because you’ve never been drunk enough for him to sneak a peek, but still

aventurine doesn’t know how to express affection. platonically, romantically, in general, pretty much. so he tries to do the one thing he does best, splurging. and he tries to splurge on you, because he’s intrigued and wants to make buy a friend, but…

but you don’t let him splurge on you! you don’t even let him give you gifts! he only knows how to win affection by spending money on others! 

sometimes he feels like you stick too strictly to your duties

just like his other subordinates… you take orders far too well

he’s tried to give you trinkets, designer clothes, even limited snacks

all of which were returned to him within 24 hours

though, with the snacks, you take it if he offers you a piece or two when he’s already opened it

and you let him treat you to coffee occasionally. very occasionally.

he eventually figures out that it’s a matter of principles

but what principles, exactly? you’re a sellsword, for aeon’s sake

he thought those are the people who have absolutely no principles???

anyway, won’t stop him from trying

“mr aventurine…” you pinch the bridge of your nose as you see the bags stacked on your desk. “i remember telling you that souvenirs are unnecessary.”

“what’s wrong with them?” aventurine laments dramatically. “i’ve picked out only the finest for you!”

you don’t deserve it, you think, but you don’t say that, of course

you don’t even know of his lifelong grudge towards oswaldo

you just know that you had a hand in the extinction event

not like hand hand, but you watched it happen… it doesn’t sit well with you

besides, you have the blood of almost an entire civilization on your hands

if you think too hard about it, the image of flames and carnage overlap with what is in front of you

then, you envision the records of sigonia that you’ve read through in the past

and everything blurs together, your actions, your inaction, and your unwavering loyalty that led you to not raise a single question at all

you squeeze your eyes shut tightly and purge the images from your mind

you are currently here, in the present

“i can’t take them.” you reply, finally, shaking your head. “it’s inappropriate for our standing. especially since there’s no reason for you to be gifting me so many things out of nowhere.”

“what, i can’t be nice to my bodyguard?” aventurine pouts as he sorts the bags in height order. “i’ve got a limited edition tie, an antique phonograph, a discontinued mug, some rare natural color ink for your fountain pen, a pure cashmere sweater–”

“that’s… that’s enough, sir.” you raise a hand to cut him off. “i don’t think i can accept any of them, really.”

aventurine makes a face, then pulls out a bag from the end of the queue. “fine, fine. what about this, at least? assorted cookies from an artisan bakery, using only the best ingredients sourced from all over the cosmos?”

you stare at that bag as you feel the expectant stare from your boss

maybe… maybe one out of these dozens of bags is fine

you’ve gotta think about his feelings too, after you’ve rejected so many gifts

you reluctantly, carefully take the bag and say a small “thank you”

you don’t want his fascination with you to develop any more than what he’s already showing…

but you also know that it’s not up to you

so what is up to you is drawing a line that you won’t allow him to cross

for his sake, and for your own… 

if he keeps pushing, you should keep pushing back

keyword should

but can you?

aeons, you truly are selfish

wouldn’t it have been better to keep everything professional from the very beginning?

it’s okay. you only have a little more than half a year to go before you’re no longer obligated to be here. you’ll run away before aventurine catches on, like how you ran away from your past.

it’s okay. it’s just been a few months, there’s still more than half a year’s worth of time. before you part ways, there are still chances to get to know you better. perhaps even time to become friends, in the most literal sense of the word.

and maybe by the end of it, “you” will reach a satisfactory conclusion.

[cheesit-notes]

Simon Riley + Hand Kisses

tags: kissing obviously, ptsd for simon basically, gn!reader, overthinking simon, simon getting violent at one point, a/n: sorry i was gone for a week! i want to say i worked on stuff but ive been busy with things and this was the only thing i did. im not all that happy with the time to result ratio of this tbh but i love the idea of Simonand hand kisses so enjoy!

Ghost who cannot stand any and all kinds of intimate touches. he doesn’t like intimate touches. no, actually, he loathes those touches. it reminds him of a time he’d really rather forget. there’s no way to really kiss him without having to slowly practice. underneath the mask, he’s nothing more than the emotionally scarred, vulnerable Simon Riley who went through far too much for any human.

the first time both of you technically kissed, you had asked if you could kiss him, he said yes because you looked like you wanted it so badly. the two of you stood awkwardly in his barracks. he’s wondering if he should’ve changed clothes earlier, he just got back and was still in his uniform, probably smelled fowl, but you didn’t say a word. ah, he thought he could handle it. he really did. but to kiss was a lot easier said than done. and he’ll never fully forgive himself for shoving you away slamming you against the wall, and he was choking you. he didn’t actually hit you, you tell him that everyday, but the fact he fully intended to hit you for the moment scared him. plagued with the thought that he truly was no different from his father; he could barely look at you for the weeks following that, much less talk to you. no, he refused to do so much as to stand near you; petrified he wouldn’t snap out of it in time, terrified he’d hurt you.

months later, he asked if it’s alright to try again. the kissing thing, you know? it was months after the previous attempt, you and Simon had already reconciled, as much as possible anyways, so the question left you a little confused. you were happy to, but only if he was really ready. and he said he was, he swore it. although.. looking at you, thinking back about the previous attempt, made him anxious. but he already said he would. so he should? he should stick to his words, right? youd probably think hes a coward. god, a man shouldnt be a coward. and he cant be a coward. and all these thoughts ran through his mind. he doesnt realize he’s zoned out and that you’re staring at him with a concerned look on your face. its not until you decide to speak does he snap back.

“are you sure you want to do this?”

he’s not even sure what to respond. what did he want?  he’s only really thought about what you wanted. it’s not like his wants really mattered in his eyes.

“you know, we don’t have to do this. we can still have a perfectly fine relationship without–”

“no! absolutely, no, we.. we have to kiss.”

he insisted, almost yelling like he’s afraid he wouldn’t be heard. and that you’d leave him because you’d think he couldn’t kiss you, because he couldn't give you of a normal relationship. and you deserved it. you deserved a normal relationship with someone who could give you what you wanted. and god, he wishes he were normal.

anyone could tell he was agitated. honestly, it isn’t easy for you. you could tell he wouldn’t handle it well if you kissed him directly. but if you didn’t then he’d isolate himself, thoughts spiralling like a roller coaster in his mind, and you couldn’t be sure when or where the ride ended. so, grab his hands, hold them in yours, and plant a gentle kiss on each. you hold his hands, looking into his eyes, and for what felt like hours, the two of you stayed put like that. until Simon told you to leave.

it caught you off guard, you’re a little taken back. but respecting his wishes, you leave the room. not even a minute after you leave, Simon slumps against the wall, he can’t stop the hot, burning tears from falling. maybe it was how soft your lips felt against his caloused hands or how careful you were with him, how you knew that he likely wouldn’t react well to either choice and yet you made the perfect one.

Simon Riley who sometimes holds your hand, silently hoping you’d kiss his hand again. he likes it when you give each knuckle a peck. if you bent down on one knee, you’d look like a knight kissing the princess’ hand, and Johnny would say this whenever he saw the chance. Simon Riley who still isn’t ready to kiss you directly, but he’s slowly working on it. Simon Riley who will probably learn to like different types of kisses, but right now, he's smitten over you and your hand kisses that make him feel oh so loved.

next time he holds your hand, give him a kiss, will you?

[interpolanticssuperfan]

nothing natural | ken x fem!reader | part 3 | 18+ only

hii everyone! thank you SO much for the incredible kindness youve shown me and sweet words so far! and thank you all for reading. i accidentally made this chapter longer than i intended to.. oops. i hope i am doing a good job at slow burning because ive struggled with that in the past. warnings: reader goes outside to smoke a cigarette. lol. enjoy and as always feedback fuels me!!

also, i wanted to let you all know that you can listen to the playlist i have been listening to as i work on this fic which is sort of a mix of stuff that reminds me of ken and stuff i think he'd like. idk i love when authors share what they listen to, so you can check that out here.

you can also reply to my posts or message me if you want to be tagged for updates. i am posting a masterlist today for ease of access.

tags: @heyareyoulistening @itsametaphorbriansblog @alyeria

In the span of one hour, you absorbed more information and somehow became more confused the longer Ken spent investigating every inch of your apartment. You explained to him that you did not own this entire building, and that only one unit was allotted to you, but this still impressed Ken.

“Are you friends with all your neighbors?” He asked, squinting closely at the magnets on your fridge, touching them and flipping frantically through the notepad you used for grocery lists, like he needed to see more of your handwriting, more of the things you used every day. Ken murmured to himself as he took in the words: flour, one dozen eggs, croissants.

You’d reinstated yourself at your dining table with your work laptop, creating an elaborate lie for your supervisor as to why you missed the weekly team check in. My cousin’s dog was assaulted by a rabid possum and we had to take him to the emergency vet, please excuse my brief absence… I’m happy to work overtime to accommodate this inconvenience… He was only a puppy…

So on and so forth. You were confident you could schmooze your way out of a write up. Ken couldn’t stand still, couldn’t contain himself – had whizzed through the front door when you unlocked it, bouncing off the walls with questions and comments that flowed freely.

“No, I’m not friends with all my neighbors. There’s gotta be at least forty other people that live here. Are you?”

“I know all the Kens. We are not all friends. But I know all of them.”

“You’re all named Ken.”

“No. There’s Allans.”

“Right.”

Ken gleefully picked up each cookbook stacked on top of a low hanging shelf, tearing through each one and making tiny astonished faces at each new dish he was introduced to. Recipes on the sweeter side piqued his interest – cinnamon rolls, pastries, cookies. You had suspended disbelief long enough to just let Ken do this, let him touch everything even if he moved your belongings out of place. It wasn’t typical for you to have a man over, let alone one who was learning how the natural human world worked. (And had to ask you with stars in his eyes what ovens were for.)  

“These pancakes look divine. They’re putting all kinds of stuff in these. I didn’t know you could put blueberries in them. They taste good, right?” You craned your neck to get a look at the recipe he was referring to.

“If you’re a decent cook! You just have to pay attention to what you’re doing, measuring, how long things stay on the stove. It’s like that for anything you cook. I’m not great with pancakes, for some reason I always tend to burn them.”

“So what’s your favorite food?” Ken asks, setting the book down and taking to the fridge, flinging the doors wide open and surveying each salad dressing, bottle of water, every can of cold brew coffee. He ran his fingers along the labels, as if reading braille, receiving telepathic information about these products from just handling them. It was an odd sight. Everything he held looked so small in his hands.

“Er… I guess I really like sushi. But I haven’t had it in awhile. Trying to save money, make a habit of eating at home. And I just like to make simple things.”

“What’s in sushi?” Ken’s rotating a banana in his hands, picking at the stem to see what it does.

“A lot of things. Usually raw fish. Rice that sticks together to make a shape, seaweed, different kinds of sauces.” It’s making you laugh, seeing Ken size up this banana with a puzzled look on his face. “Do you want to try eating that?”

He shifts uncomfortably, placing the fruit back down on the counter like it had offended him. “We have these in Barbieland but they are not nearly as squishy. Ours are rock hard. And not brown!”

Ken was right – that banana was probably past its prime, but you hadn’t cleaned out the fridge in a few days. You’d gotten sick of refreshing your inbox waiting for a reply from your supervisor, so you got up and pulled a knife from the drawer, setting the squishy banana on a paper towel to cut it.

“Here. Try this,” you cut through the peel and divide up a small end slice into two pieces, holding one out to Ken who seems frightened by it, squares his shoulders.

“There’s something inside that peel?”

“Go ahead, just take a bite! You might like it, how else will you find out what you like?”

“But (Y/N), I’m not… hungry.”

“That’s okay. It’s a very small slice, I promise it’ll be alright, Ken.”

His eyes flash with trust at the promise you’ve just made him, so he abandons his apprehension and plops the bit into his mouth. It’s like watching a baby bird clamor for its mother’s offering of regurgitated seed and berry mix. Ken doesn’t instinctively chew, he just lets it sit in his mouth like he’s waiting for the fruit to do something. You raise up the other banana slice, catch his eye and show him how to chew, slowly, and then swallow. 

Ken nods, although his movements are strange and exaggerated, but eventually allows a smile. “That was pretty good. Mushy.” He searches your face to see if he’s given the correct answer, which is even funnier to you than him trying food for the first time.

“Did you like it? Bananas are on the sweet side.”

“Definitely. I think I really like them. Can I have the rest of it?”

“So you can taste!”

Ken grins to himself, gives you a proud stance and swaggers to the side, popping his hip out as he starts cutting up the rest of the fruit. 

“Oh, yeah. I can taste everything. Nothing I can’t taste.”

“When I go to the store next I can get you some more sweet foods. But you can’t just eat sweets. Fruit is naturally sweet, but for example, you can’t just have ice cream and brownies all the time. Your body will hate you for that.”

“And I can make you pancakes with bananas.” Ken adds, cocky as ever, already physically spreading himself out in your kitchen like he owns the place, thighs open and easy and confident as he leans back. He adjusts quickly to new situations, you’re discovering, with none of the social anxiety most people might feel.

“Let’s save the cooking and… turning on the stovetop… for when I can teach you. It can be dangerous if you’re not familiar with what to do.”

“But what if I want to surprise you, (Y/N)? You wouldn’t want to ruin it, would you?”

“I’d rather ruin the breakfast than have you accidentally catch my apartment building on fire.”

Ken considers this, starts chewing at the rest of the banana slices while still committed to looking cool as he does so. “You’re so right. So, where do you think I should sleep?”

You put some distance between the two of you, since proximity to the blonde had begun to make you feel inexplicably self conscious, and sit back down at your laptop. You hadn’t gotten this far, hadn’t decided where Ken could stay and if he was even going to stay. Stay for what? A crash course in becoming a member of society? Turn him into the perfect roommate who’s convinced you’re dating now? And how in the hell were you qualified to teach him anything about life, fulfillment, health or success when you were far from the epitome of any of those?

“I thought you said you didn’t get tired.”

“There’s something I need to tell you about,” the sudden change in Ken’s tone caught you off guard, so after taking a brief glance at your emails again and confirming nothing of substance had arrived, you folded your hands in your lap and turned your body towards him, anticipatory and patient.

“When Barbie went to the real world, almost everything about her changed. She still looked like herself, but… it was different. She told us that she got a cold.” Ken gestured to his nose, crinkling it up in dismay. “Sniffling. She had to use tissues.” 

“You’re worried about getting sick?”

“No, not… right now.” Ken tried again, attacking it from a different angle. “Barbie said the longer she was here, the more she kept changing. Barbies never got sick before. But she had to see a human doctor, and she started making her own food and eating it. Sandwiches. And her flat feet never went away.” Ken’s distress was evident, but you weren’t sure what he was getting at, couldn’t see what panicked him so much about this topic.

“I don’t understand. What are you saying, Ken?” You tried to keep yourself casual, so as not to freak him out even further; he’d already begun pacing, boots clacking against your kitchen tile with each step.

“I’m saying that the longer I stay here, the less I’m going to be like… how I was.” He sounded so unsure, on the precipice of a conclusion, fearful of what he might learn. “Don’t you get it? I’ll have to brush my hair. Call the dentist. Pay taxes. Wear deodorant. I might get a breakout on my chin, just like Barbie did.” The last part sounded like the nail in the coffin for Ken, who looked weak just recalling the memory.

“Taxes? But you don’t have a job, do you? For all the city knows, you don’t even exist.”

“That’s not the point, (Y/N)! I’ll have to get a job.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry. So… it sounds like you’ll become less like a doll?”

“Exactly. And I’ll have to do it alone.” Ken was silent, pensive as you let his confession settle. Perhaps it wasn’t the changes that he dreaded.

It was doing it without any support.

“I see. So you’ll have to sleep. You’ll have to eat. Is that scaring you?” Your intention was to minimize these facts of daily human life, shrink them down to manageable tasks, not to trivialize his valid concerns.

Ken hollowed his cheek, bit the skin in between his teeth and looked around for something to focus on while he reflected on what you asked. Noticing the cage you had set up for your guinea pig, Ken crouched in front of it without so much as a knee crack, raising his eyebrows up inquisitively.

“Who’s this?”

“I should’ve introduced you to her earlier. She’s my guinea pig, her name’s Willa. See her long hair? It’s really beautiful, but she’s pretty high maintenance.” 

Sounds like someone else in this room.

Being so close to Willa appeared to calm Ken down, and you watched his shoulders drop slightly, saw the veins in his neck depress, growing less agitated. “Does she have to brush her hair?”

The cookbooks, grocery lists, the banana had inspired Ken to ask countless questions, but meeting Willa, Ken merely watched in quiet awe.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his purported  jab. “I help her with it every day. She’s got a special little brush.”

“Hers is longer than mine. At least she gets some assistance.”

Ken sighs deeply, not taking his eyes off tiny caramel colored Willa, who has no idea what’s happening, just lounges in the paper substrate fleece and wiggles her nose up at the blonde staring her down. He rubs meager circles on his knees as if to soothe himself, then sighs again, long and dramatic. From minute to minute, Ken’s moods shift so drastically – he could be lovingly describing his newfound obsession with bananas and then just as easily pivot to jealousy over a guinea pig receiving grooming services from its owner. Decoding him was like whiplash.

“Ken?”

“I’ve been putting off thinking about this part.”

“You mean losing your doll-ness?”

“Yeah.” Ken’s voice is small, terrified, unbefitting of how he presented himself. Put together, well dressed, toned, tanned, oozing with charm. It all dissipated with his answer. 

With your foot, you push out the dining table chair adjacent to you, the scrape spooking Ken as he jumps. “Why don’t you come sit here and talk with me? You can bring Willa, she likes making friends. Just be mindful of her.” Nervous, Ken obliges, sticks a hand into her enclosure and waits for Willa to crawl over to him. 

To your shock, she comes without a moment’s hesitation, nosing at his palm and blinking at him. Willa ardently disapproved of your last boyfriend, and she never seemed to like the odd hookup you’d bring over after your explosive breakup. She’d ignore any man in the apartment for the most part, but you couldn’t believe how easy it had been for her to warm up to Ken, snuggling up to him already. 

“Wow. She normally doesn’t like strangers.” 

“Looks like she prefers your friends. She’s so soft,” Ken notes, temporarily forgetting about the needling anxiety he’d been expressing to you, and sits down. At your table Ken seemed larger than life, so full of color and irresistible personality. The most interesting irregularity you had ever entertained. He flattened the backs of his hands on the placemat and smiled down shyly at Willa, gentle like he was convinced the tiniest movement could hurt her.

(A smile that had the power to devastate – could ruin your life, could make you want to throw it all away just to know him; a smile that Ken saved specifically for a defenseless creature that nibbed at his thumbnail.) 

“Go ahead and pet her! They like that,” you encouraged Ken, denying the lump in your throat, who obeys and brings a steady forefinger to Willa’s back, warily petting her in one stunted action. Willa rustles, but doesn’t flee or make any noises contesting his presence. “She might try to run away, so just make sure you keep an eye on her.”

“I promise I will, (Y/N). How old is she?”

“She’s two and a half.” You raise your eyes to Ken, who’s entranced by the small animal and her lustrous coat, indifferent to his surroundings now that he’s connected with this hairy comrade. “How old are you?”

“I have no idea. How old are you?” 

This shouldn’t have surprised you at this point. Nothing could catch you off guard now as you went down the list, dedicating yourself wholly to figuring out what to do with this guy. Given how unadjusted he is to the world, is Ken your responsibility now? What would happen to him if he went out, unprepared, unassimilated, and tried to do things like get a job, buy something from the store? Had he ever seen currency before? 

Would you have to teach Ken math? You failed calculus. More than once. This wasn’t boding well.

“I’m twenty five. You don’t have a birthday?”

“What’s that?”

“It’s how you keep track of your age. Could you look at me for a second? Maybe I can try and guess.” Ken’s reluctant to stop looking at Willa, but does as you say, and it strikes you to admire him overtly like this, free from the guise of contrived modesty, not hiding how strongly you want to see him. He’s open, almost tranquil, those wide eyes continuously following yours, every single aspect of his demeanor softening the more you drink him in.

You couldn’t help but freeze. Pinning him. You could hear the robins chirping outside on the patio. Buses shuttling along on the road outside. Your blood pumping in your fingers, the hot curl of desire in your stomach. At once, everything felt vibrant, felt… exceptional.

Because of him.

Blonde angel, almost porcelain. Kind with your pet. Enthralled with the simplest items you owned. Eager to assist you with any task, however minor. Naively trusting. 

Blind to the ways this world could twist and chew you up. Brand new.

You wouldn’t ever be the source of pain for Ken. In that moment, searching his stark blue eyes for an answer to a question you couldn’t articulate, you wrote it on your heart, that no matter what happened – whether Ken stayed in your life, as a friend or something more – you would never hurt him.

You don’t even remember what you were trying to do with him. Mesmerized, you simply just enjoyed the sight, at a loss for words. What was there to say that wouldn’t fizzle out and die on your lips?

How are you real? (He wasn’t.)

How did you get here? (He’d waited for you.)

Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

“(Y/N)? Did you calculate it yet? Maybe it’ll be easier if I unbutton my jacket. Willa, stay put, I need to do something,” It flew over your head, you couldn’t hear what he said, just gawked and felt your pulse thrum as Ken started to undo the top of his denim jacket. Deft fingers working, you had to be aware of how affected you looked. You couldn’t hide it.

To see more of Ken’s chest physically pained you – it hurt to look, hurt to squirm and act like it wasn’t overwhelming, burning you up. He showed off his defined, carved muscle, smooth and enticing like a joke or something. 

Willa sniffed the salt and pepper shaker, not moving even a millimeter away from Ken as he undid the last button with a muffled pop. 

Where wisps of blonde hair would’ve led down to the tip of Ken’s waistband, there was nothing, just more of that milky white skin, blameless and pure and teasing. Where ribs should have anatomically been, his chest expanded then deflated, ripples of flesh rolling, then relaxing.

All of him on display. All of him so… bare.

Well – not all of him. Not yet.

You hadn’t felt anything like this before, not ever. You were experienced – you weren’t uneducated when it came to sex, or… pleasure. Yet it was impossible that you’d felt true desire in the past, even for the man you’d fallen in love with and been betrayed by, because those memories shriveled in comparison to what you felt in this moment, seeing Ken like this, expectant and unrestrained and so fiercely magnetizing. You saw your future, you saw his body, you saw Ken’s long eyelashes fluttering and pretty like a girl’s, and it was too fucking much, louder than your heart slamming inside your chest.

You began to question if you were even real. If this was happening. Maybe you were the lifeless doll. Harsh stings peppered out along the slope of your neckline – for the second time since meeting Ken, did that really just happen today? – and you made the horrible mistake of telling him the truth just as he was starting to visibly fidget, awaiting your reply.

“(Y/N)? Is this helping? If not, I can –”

“You’re so goddamned gorgeous. Fuck.” 

“What?” Ken blinked, taken aback. He looked like he wanted to say more, to press you, but he couldn’t form a response. 

“I’m. Jesus. I am so sorry, Ken. That wasn’t appropriate at all. I’m… supposed to be helping you. I’m sorry.” Dizzyingly, you shot to your feet, dug your heels against the floor just to feel grounded, and reached over the table for your purse. 

Weren’t you the one supposed to be in charge of boundaries? Teaching Ken how to act, how not to rush things when you met someone you wanted to get to know? 

Ken had flushed a deep shade of peach, an obvious blush that mottled his neck and spread out to his clavicles, nearly reaching his shoulder tips. 

“Did I do something wrong? Can you please tell me what it was?” Ken urged, pupils the size of saucers and still dancing to follow your every move. His face was frantic, lips parted revealing more of his perfect teeth, just another element of his perfect face, everything so perfect about him, and your headache threatened to return in full force.

“No – no, you didn’t, Ken. I promise. I just need to go outside and smoke, it’s not your fault, okay? Can you please stay here with Willa? I’ll only be a minute.”

Ken clearly didn’t know what you meant, or what smoking entailed, but he stayed fused to the chair, biting at his lip again in fragile confusion and not daring to abandon Willa. Fumbling for your lighter through the fabric, you caught the unmistakable downturn of rejection swimming across his features, and the notion that you might have inadvertently let him down made you sicker than the intense wave of lust that had just crashed over you, almost crumbling you, reducing you to nothing but a star cursed to orbit a bigger, more important planet. 

[empressdede]

Wip Wednesday - untitled

Thank you for the tag😭😭 @harmshake cause I feel like Ive been lacking with my posts.

Past

"So, you’ll be able to go?" Jada asked, excitement seeping through her voice.

Sorai rolled her eyes. She was kind of regretting the terms and conditions that came with her going to this party. Especially since Sefa kept trying to tease her about her ‘schoolgirl crush’ as he would call it.

“Yeah. I can go but Joseph’s going to be there.” She explained and Jada’s excitement dimmed just a bit.

“How do you know he’s going to be there?” She asked and Sorai let out a sigh.

“He heard us talking a couple days ago about me wanting to sleepover at yours. I’ve been trying to get him to change for the past three days but he’s not budging.”

“Well…. At least he’s not as bad as his older brothers. Like, that could be way worse. Plus, if he goes that means Monica will be there and Monica is going to distract him for majority of the night.”

Sorai rolled her eyes again. Monica. She couldn’t fuckin’ stand her. But Jada was right, if Monica was there, Joseph would keep his attention on his girlfriend instead of her.

“You’re right; She’ll probably do what she does best and open her legs and keep him preoccupied for majority of the night.” Sorai agreed with a nod of her head but that caused Jada to burst out laughing.

“Girl, no way you just called Joseph’s girlfriend a hoe.”

“Only thing that ever comes out of her damn mouth is ‘He beat my shit up. Girl, when I tell you he sat me down and tore my shit up. Who knew Joseph could eat pussy like that.‘

Sorai mocked in a high pitched tone to mimic the girl she didn’t like, letting out a huff of annoyance when she was done. “I wish she would shut the fuck up sometimes, don’t nobody wanna hear that.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.” A teasing voice came from behind her. Sorai let out a sigh before she turned around to face the person. Joseph.

There he was with a smirk on his face as he stared at her. She wanted to smack it off of his face.

“Jealous of what?”

“All the experience she gets to have, that you’re dying to gain yourself.” He easily replied.

“Joseph don’t do that. Cause who knows, maybe Cameron will finally put the moves on her -“ Jada started but Sorai slapped her shoulder to shut her up.

But it was too late, the playfulness got wiped off his face as he stared at both girls.

“If I find out that he puts his hands on you, it’s over for the both of you.” Joseph stated, warning tone in his voice.

“Joseph, you can’t keep te-“

“I can.” He interrupted, the glare in his eyes showing he wasn’t playing with her. “The twins don’t got no plans as far as I know, so Cameron better be on his Ps and Qs if he knows what’s good for ‘em.” And with that he walked away.

________________________

No pressure tags: @msbigredmachine @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01 @visionarymode

[eepwriting]

Hi. Can you write something about how IV skillfully seduces one of his colleagues on stage (by touching himself)? He is interested in seeing the reaction, he loves to tease. How do you like my thought?

Watch Yourself ✶ III x IV

Warnings: some nsfw thoughts

I like your thought very much anon!! Thank you for this ask 🤍 I commonly tag iii and iv as the lovers because…they’re in love duh

!! mdni !!

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✶ It was no secret that iv craved attention from his fellow vessels.

✶ Always jumping at the opportunity to kiss and snuggle up to them.

✶ But iii…iii was his treasured.

✶ The taller man always happily reciprocated iv’s advances.

✶ IV often found himself wanting things to escalate further but he couldn’t bring himself to make it know to III.

✶ Until today.

✶ He couldn’t get III out of his mind. It didn’t help that they lived in such close quarters either.

✶ He was surprised III wasn’t annoyed with his constant teasing and sly remarks. He’d practically been all over the man for most of the day.

✶ When it came time for the show, IV felt a surge of excitement. He could really tease and prod at III and the crowd would love it. Eat it up even.

✶ If III had anything to say about it, IV could simply excuse his actions.

✶ “I’m appeasing the crowd, III.”

✶ So now here he was, using every opportunity between actually doing his job to get III riled up.

✶ The two had spent practically the whole first half of the show next to each other.

✶ IV could tell III was surprised, maybe even a bit confused with how many kisses IV demanded from him. He could only laugh under his mask each time he looked at IV, watching him tap a finger over his lips before beckoning him over.

✶ IV wanted more than just some friendly kisses though.

✶ He gets III’s attention once again and wraps his fingers around his own throat, pointing at the taller man. His hand slowly leaves his neck to train down his chest.

✶ III shakes his head playfully, striding over. He grabs up IV’s hand, dragging it back up to his neck, wrapping IV’s hand and his own around his throat. He thinks he sees IV’s eyes unfocus when he squeezes but it’s hard to tell.

✶ “Watch yourself, Ivy boy.”

✶ IV winks back at his warning, wishing he could see the potential smirk on the face of the man in front of him.

✶ They’re forced to pull away when it’s time to get back to work but follow each other on the stage, never standing far from each other.

✶ IVs’ back on him the second he has a moment, pushing III around with a hand on his chest, trailing it up to rest on his throat. IV’s own hand dancing on his stomach, slipping down to his thigh, dangerously close to the half bulge between his legs.

✶ He’s lucky his back is to the crowd, hidden in the dark, the only spotlight shining on Vessel.

✶ He takes note of III’s eyes following the movement of his hands. Lingering glances on his thighs and cock.

✶ III reaches out to touch him, a hand on his side pulling him closer, a hard thunk of a kiss landed. He really wished they didn’t have these stupid masks on.

✶ IV’s eyes are mischievous as he pulls away quickly, making his way back to his corner of the stage like nothing ever happened.

✶ It’s hard for III to think for the rest of the show. He’s lucky it’s second nature for him at this point. He’s not sure how he’s able to finish the show without pouncing on IV.

✶ Both men are quick to exit the stage after the last song, III moving with quick strides to reach IV.

✶ “What the hell was that about?”

✶ “I was just teasing III, you know how it is. You better watch yourself. I can make this so much worse for you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

GUYS WHAT IS THIS

I feel like this sucks but whatever 😔 your ask was chefs kiss anon thank you, I hope it’s somewhat okay.

K. Bye bye.

[vesselandmoon]

The Chalice

NSFW so please, 18+ for readers on this one. This has nothing to do with the main Sleep Token fic I've been working on, it's just smut for the sake of it I suppose. I wasn't going to post but @hookedhobbies has me trying to step out of my comfort zone haha. I appreciate it, truly. That being said, please read the content warnings and tags. If I forgot something, let me know and I'll add it.

CW: candle wax, rituals(sort of), bondage/shibari, spanking, cum eating, body worship, ice, sexually explicit content, breath play, blood play and knife things(mild), creampie, deep throat, edging/orgasm denial(mild), marking by way of paint, biting, raw sex, size difference (kind of)

When Celie is allowed to be an altar for an offering to Vessel, she gets pulled into a situation she didn't expect.

When Aracelia agreed to partake in a ritual, she thought she knew what to expect. She was aware of the terms well ahead of time. Given every opportunity to back out and yet there she was, standing at the back door of a club in a dark alley. A single light over the door was more ominous than she liked, but she knocked anyway, the hollow metallic sound echoing from brick walls.

A tall man in a mask opened the door and she flinched. III. The white and gold mask hid his eyes in shadow but the mouth was missing. The entire lower half of the mask was gone and instead everything was covered in deep blue body paint. She’d seen pictures of him before with bright red hair, but it was black now but just as messy and wild. Everything about his outfit felt tight. Restricted. Leather pants with lacing up the sides and a corset that bared more deep blue paint.

He’d been the one she’d had the most contact with in terms of discussing hard limits but seeing him face to face (so to speak) was more than a little intimidating. He cast his eyes down at her, then around the alley before moving aside so she could enter.

Inside was cold and dark, with only a faint red glow from lights along the ceiling. III closed the door, plunging them into darkness. He put a hand to the middle of her back and led her forward, guiding her through the narrow hallway. His hand was hot through her shirt, sending a shiver down her spine as the chill in the building had caused goosebumps to rise on her arms.

From somewhere far off she could hear the faintest music but III guided her into a room well before they got close enough to hear what was being played. Inside was silent and sent shivers though her for a completely different reason.

Intricate rigging in the center of the room told her that the bondage she’d been asked about referred to shibari and it would be likely that she’d be unable to move. A circle was drawn on the floor with symbols she didn’t recognize. Oh, so they were really taking it seriously as a ritual. Candlelight cast long shadows of other figures in the room. II and IV, who stood stone still, watching her.

There was an altar pushed against a wall, already set out with several instruments. A silver goblet, a dagger with a curved blade, unlit red candles, a bucket of ice, and coils of rope.

“Do you understand your role in this ritual?” II asked. The lower half of his face was coated in gold paint under his black half mask. Intense grey blue eyes followed her as she placed her bag on the floor near the altar.

“I am earth, right?” she said, looking to III who gave her a confirming nod.

II wound a length of red rope around his fist. His arms were bare to the elbow where his sleeves had been pulled up and skin hidden under the same gold paint that adorned his face.

“Earth is usually unmoving,” II said. “Solid. Centered. A balance between life giving, nurturing, mother,” his eyes slid to her belly, then back to meet hers, “and the unrelenting destructive force of… a woman scorned.” He grinned.

Aracelia wondered how much he expected her to live up to either of those ideas. She couldn’t have children; it was one of the reasons she’d been chosen. Hell, it was one of the reasons she’d considered what they offered in the first place. With all the other hoops she had to jump through to be here, this meeting had no consequences. At least none that she foresaw.

On the other hand, she’d not have the rage to be his scorned woman. She had no ill feelings toward any of them, but she kept her mouth shut. If they chose to see her as earth in this equation, she’d not argue.

“What do you prefer to be called?” III asked. “Aracelia?”

She shook her head. “Celie is fine.”

“Let’s get to this. Strip down.”

IV chuckled and II let out an annoyed sigh.

Why did it have to be to awkward? She was going to be nude, it was part of it, but stripping herself in front of them with absolutely no easing into it had her cheeks flushed. Celie tucked her clothes away in her bag and turned to face them, feeling the urge to cover herself but they were already eying her like a piece of meat and her mouth went dry.

“Come,” II motioned and IV began to circle the room. She could hear his leather jacket as he moved, his bare torse underneath painted red that extended all the way up his neck and face to disappear under his half mask. When he came into view again a smile played on his lips, their true color showing through cracks in the crimson.

Celie closed her eyes as II began to wrap her arms in ropes. The soft dragging across her skin along with the cool air on her skin made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She flinched a little as III came up behind her and began to gather her black curls to the crown of her head. His fingertips through her hair had her breath catching in her throat.

II took his time in wrapping the ropes, binding her arms so they bent at the elbow while III tied her hair in a messy but secure bun. His hands slid down her back and he nipped at her neck from behind when II shooed him away.

“Patience,” II scolded and III glared at him before joining IV in watching as Celie was bound. Every moment that passed removed more and more her ability to move as II connected her wrists behind her neck. He created a collar to bind her wrists to her throat, the intensity in his eyes speaking to his own self-restraint.

“Watch it,” IV growled as II lingered too long around Celie’s breasts, the backs of his fingers lingering on her nipples which were already erect from cold. And partially III’s bite to her neck. It had made her shake but II was intent on taking his time. Meanwhile, III and IV were practically pacing.

II was enjoying himself. A faint smirk on his lips. This wasn’t just about teasing her, it was about testing III and IV. Pushing the limits of their self-control. Once he had her bound down to her hips he motioned the others to assist him in getting her suspended at the right height and position.

Most of her weight was on her hips and shoulders but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She was looking down at the floor, back arched, legs apart. Her head was a little lower than her ass but not to the point that she could feel the blood rushing to her face. II knew what he was doing and she wondered how many of these rituals had taken place before she came around.

“Like a falling angel,” II said, tracing a line down her side, across the ropes that bound her thighs. “But I don’t like this.” He let her hair fall loose from III’s bun, then brushed it gently away from her face. One lst element he added was something akin to a chain dog choker which hung loose around her neck. Admiring his work, II backed away and motioned to III. “She’s all yours. Don’t ruin her before we even get started properly.”

III didn’t reply. He circled Celie like a shark, eyeing every inch of her. If she was earth, the blue of his paint meant he was water. III took the silver bucket of ice and placed a piece her throat, eliciting a small gasp. His hands were so hot they melted the ice on her skin, dragging it along the curve of her breast. Water dripped to the floor and II grumbled.

It didn’t throw III off, however, he got on his knees and used his tongue to remove the excess water from her skin. The mixture of cold from the ice and heat from his mouth made her shiver. He was like a thirsting man in the dessert, soft moans escaping his throat as he sucked her nipples, his tongue encircling them where the water gathered.

Blue paint smeared across her breasts from his lips. Every inch of her body craved more and yet the other two watching and not participating made her feel vulnerable. III’s massive hands slid up her throat, teasing her mouth with an ice cube which she gratefully accepted. His finger slipped in as she did, the taste of his body paint making her grimace.

He chuckled against her chest, easing up until he could kiss her. A piece of ice pressed against her lips and she took it greedily, trying to erase the taste of paint. His hair tickled her cheeks as she tried to deepen the kiss but he sat back on his heels with a mischievous look in his eye.

When he stood she could see his cock crushed against his body in his tight leather pants. He disappeared behind her with the bucket of ice, a pleased hum as he saw that she was wet. Celie’ blushed and bit her lip, unwilling to look at II and IV.

An ice cube against the bare skin of her pussy made her twitch as she tried to pull her legs together. Goosebumps covered her skin but III wasn’t concerned. He pushed an ice cube into her and she gasped at the sensation.

“Quiet her, would you?” III muttered and without question IV stepped in and dropped to his knees, kissing her so hard her teeth cut into her lower lip. Blood trickled from the little cut and he quickly sucked it away, locking eyes with her in a way that made her feel he was staring into her soul.

IV grabbed the chain around her neck and pulled, tightening it somewhat before II caught him.

“That’s mine,” II warned and IV stopped kissing her long enough to bare his teeth at II but stopped the moment II took a step toward him. IV cut his piercing blue eyes at II but released the chain, dragging his nails along her sides instead.

Celie moaned into his mouth, eyes gone wide as III began pushing piece after piece of ice into her. His pace was rapid and her insides already felt full of ice. IV grabbed her face and pushed his tongue past her teeth as III kept stuffing her with ice until water dripped into a puddle on the floor. Having one cube was a nice sensation but there were so many she wondered if it was safe.

III poised his cock to enter her and she tried to protest, to ask if there was room, but he pushed in and ice slid out around him, skittering across the floor. Celie’s eyes rolled back and her breath caught in as a whimper in her throat.

IV laughed darkly, thumbing her nipples. “Keep quiet and take him.”

“Fuck,” III moaned, grabbing her hips and keeping himself deep inside her. IV tilted his head, looking down toward her belly where he placed his hand.

“I can feel how full she is,” IV said, tongue flicking across his lower lip. With every thrust the ice melted around III’s cock which was blindingly hot mixed with the ice. Every inch inside of her was overwhelmed with sensations but she didn’t know if she wanted him to stop. They’d discussed a safe word long before she’d shown up but god she didn’t want to use it.

Her muscles tensed and released as she tried to squirm against the ropes. She wanted to touch, to grab and claw and stroke but was unable and it drove her crazy.

IV shuffled closer to her belly, kissing a line from her belly button to her clit where he greedily lapped at the water that gushed from her every time III drove his cock into her. It was too much all at once and she neared orgasm only for III to bury deep in her and stop moving.

“Listen to her whimper,” IV teased, locking his hands over his head and around her back, pulling her uncomfortably. “She takes you so well.”

“Fuck off and wait your turn,” III said, pushing IV away with his foot. He grabbed the ropes at Celie’s hips and began pounding into her without mercy. Her head swam and he pulled her higher to meet him and the blood rushed to her face. IV cursed at III and rolled out from under Celie, retreating to II.

III swatted Celie’s ass with a sharp strike and she cried out in pain but III groaned as her insides clenched tight around him with the impact.

“III,” II’s tone was dark, warning, but III was undeterred. He wrapped a hand around her throat and pulled her back into him, the ropes no longer holding her weight. Celie’s head fell back against his shoulder words lost on her. He supported her with one hand and struck her again with the other. Tears pricked her eyes and his teeth found her neck but they caught the metal collar, scraping against it. “III, that’s enough,” II demanded and III shot him a bird.

II wound a rope around his fist and stepped up to stop III an instant before III buried his cock deep inside her, his head pounding against her cervix as he came. Celie could feel it pumping inside her as II quickly grabbed her from III and guided her gently back down until the ropes held her once more.

The floor between III’s boots was soaking wet but somehow he’d managed to keep every drop of cum inside of her. Panting he stepped away, cock still twitching. Her orgasm eased away with much frustration.

“That was too far,” II said but III rolled his eyes.

“She didn’t safe word,” he said.

Celie’s heart was pounding, breath escaping her in shaky exhales. Her insides were on fire, her ass throbbing with every beat of her heart from where he struck her. III knelt way down to lift her chin and kiss her tenderly, drawing his thumb across her cheek.

“You took me so fuckin’ well,” he whispered as IV lit one of the red candles on the altar. III’s eyes cut over to IV. “Water has a crushing force, but fire consumes.”

Without explaining he stepped away, hand kneeding his cock through his pants as IV circled her. Candlelight flickered across his mask, several streaks of paint smeared down his torso from sucking water from her body. He licked his lips and stopped in front of her, freeing his cock and poising it at the level of her mouth.

“Maybe this’ll keep you quiet while you get used to what I have to offer,” IV mused, cupping his hand under her throat as she took him between her lips. “Just don’t bite me and maybe we can be friends,” he teased, a rumble in his chest as she sucked the head of his dick, swirling her tongue around it.

If anything, she didn’t want to walk away saying she could have done more. Not that she cried at being spanked. Hot wax down her back caught her off guard and she tensed, arching her back and taking his cock straight to her throat. She could feel the bulge against his palm and her eyes watered so bad she couldn’t see but she could feel his knees almost buckle.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, trying to laugh his way through it. “I’m not comin’ in your mouth love, don’t go so hard, fuck.”

“It’s not her fault you can’t handle some deep throat,” III teased. “She’s so pretty with tears streaking her cheeks.”

IV swatted at III’s hand when he got too close. “You had your turn.”

“And you were practically sucking my dick when I did,” III shot but II stepped between them, pushing III back.

“Don’t get greedy, IV,” II said but IV dripped more wax down Celie’s spine, the crimson beads racing down the curve of her spine before drying. She moaned in a mix of pain and pleasure, clenching and unclenching her fists since it was all she could do.

The scent of his leather jacket was overwhelming in her nose as he pushed in and out of her mouth at a leisurely pace. Her cheeks spread, throat expanded almost to the point of pain but the wax on her skin took some of the attention away from that.

“Don’t damage her larynx,” II said.

“I’m going slow, aren’t I?” IV snapped. “Fuck sake II, you act like I’m trying to suffocate her on my cock. She can’t breathe, she’s fine. It’s that right, sweetheart?”

Celie hummed with the head of his dick against the opening of his throat and his head fell back with a shaky moan. One hand found the back of her head, twisting into her hair as she took him deep, saliva welling up around her lips. He pushed too far, past what she was expecting and she gagged, the heaving sensation accompanied by tears streaking down to her chin.

“Sorry love,” IV said as II was about to scold him. He pulled out of her mouth, placing his thumb on the middle of her tongue. “Look at me.” She obeyed and he bit his lips as he looked down at her, mouth open as she looked at him through dark lashes. “Perfect. Fuckin’ perfect. I think we should keep her.”

“Add your offering and fuck off,” III said, taking IV’s place while he moved around behind her.

Taking III’s cock wasn’t going to work the same way as taking IV’s. It was too damn thick and the head wouldn’t be able to push past her mouth. Still she did what she could considering her mouth was stretched around him. How the hell had she taken him inside of her? The ice must have messed with her perception.

III rubbed the back of her neck, massaging into the hair at the base of her skull as she tasted what remined of their combined juices and water from his skin. She wished she could have come for him, but he didn’t seem to mind that she hadn’t.

IV was in to hurry to fuck her like III had been. He was too involved with dripping wax across her ass cheeks, adding to the burn of IV’s spanking.

“Don’t you fucking hurt her,” IV warned as Celie gagged a little on III.

“Says you leaving welts with your wax.” III arched a brow.

“Act like I don’t see these handprints. You bruised her.”

“Focus,” II said. He was growing impatient and frustrated, hands tight behind his back but she could see the hunger in his eyes. Why hadn’t he joined? Was there a rule she wasn’t aware of? IV had cut in on III’s time but perhaps his role as fire allowed for it?

Achingly slow, IV sank two fingers into Celie’s pussy, testing and teasing.

“Don’t push out my offering,” III warned.

“I just want a taste.”

Celie could hear IV groan and suck his fingers before the soft head of his cock pressed against her. Taking him wasn’t as overstimulating as III but feeling raw skin inside of her set her on fire. No intense heat, no intense cold. Just the velvety sensation of skin on skin and if she wasn’t mistaken, a piercing. Hard and unforgiving but rubbing all the right places.

III in her mouth, IV inside of her and holding perfectly still, hot wax gliding along the ropes. She needed him to move. Needed him to thrust and take her as III had but he buried himself and kept still until she moaned, frustrated, against III’s dick.

“This isn’t the time for cock warming,” II said.

“What happened to patience?” IV teased. He spread her ass apart to get a better view. “Hmm II, you should see how swollen her pretty little cunt is. I think you used too much ice, III.”

“I am going to make you regret this,” II said but III pulled away.

“C’mon,” III said, motioning II to a position at Celie’s head. He hesitated only a moment before stepping up. “And quit being a buzz kill already.”

Celie could take II like she took IV but there was a sense of desperation as if sucking him hard would make IV move inside of her instead of sitting still. Her thighs tried to tighten around his hips to push him into movement but to no avail and she was almost to the point of tears to get some sort of relief.

“My god,” II breathed, wrapping the chain around his fist. “IV, if you don’t start moving she’s going to devour me whole.”

“Who can’t handle head now?” IV smirked and III slapped Celie’s ass again, making her cry out and jump. “Mother fucker,” IV moaned as Celie’s pussy clenched around him at the shock of pain. “Evil bastard, get the hell away.” Wax flung across the floor as IV splashed it toward III, putting the candle out by accident.

II tightened the collar, cutting off air as his cock also pushed into her throat. Without warning, she had no time to take a breath first and her lungs were already burning. Her head swam and dizziness overtook her as she tried to swallow around him to no avail.

She squirmed, feeling a little afraid that she might pass out but as if on cue, IV drew back and pounded into her at the exact moment that II released the chain and pulled his cock away, allowing air to flood into her lungs. The rush was incredible, her pupils dilated, elation rushing into every inch.

“Whatever you just did, do it again,” IV said and II chuckled, pleased with himself.

“Ah, fire needs assistance from air?” II said darkly. IV drew his fingers in a heart shape over one of the handprints on her ass. She got the feeling they were leaving marks all over her body. Not just in the form of welts, bruises, and minor burns, but in the colors of their body paint which had begun to smear from water and sweat.

Celie wanted to beg them to let her come. She’d already been so close but with II’s cock in her mouth she couldn’t ask. IV’s nails dragged down her back and she arched to meet him. He chuckled and kneeded her lower back. Why couldn’t he put those hands to better use? Her clit had been untouched since he sucked it earlier and his long smooth thrusts were driving her crazy.

The collar tightened, restricting her breathing. “Good girl,” II purred, stroking her cheek as he cut off her air. “Don’t struggle, I won’t hurt you. Do you feel your lungs burning? Hmm, your throat is struggling against my cock. Your body craves air, hm?”

“You say I’m evil for a smack on the ass?” III asked IV as he circled and got on his knees, kissing along Celie’s ribs. He pressed his lips to her sternum, hands cupping her breasts. “Her heart is pounding.”

Too many hands. Too many cocks. Too much sensation and not enough air.

Just when darkness eased into her vision, II let go and pulled out again but IV didn’t stop as she gasped for air.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” IV whimpered, his rhythm becoming almost frantic. He was shaking, she could feel it in his grip around her waist.

“Let go, IV,” II said calmly. “Come inside her, IV. Stop delaying the inevitable. Vessel will be here soon and our little chalice in nowhere near ready.”

“Shut up,” IV breathed and Celie panted.

“P-please don’t stop,” she begged, needing some form of release. If IV could keep going just a little longer she could finish and be ready for II. “Please.”

“Listen to her beg,” III said, taking one of her nipples in his teeth. It hurt, sending a jolt of pain to her belly. “She keeps that up and I might agree with IV to keep her.”

IV couldn’t handle the begging and his legs nearly buckled when he came, holding onto the ropes for support but Celie withered, letting her head hang. So fucking close all over again and she was shaking.

“Please,” she begged, tears in her voice.

“Sorry love,” III nipped at her neck. “It’s not your turn.”

II dragged his thumb across her lips, then wiped her tears away, leaving gold paint across her cheeks. “It’ll be worth it in the end, I promise. Hold out just a little longer.”

“Should we get the blood ritual ready?” IV asked breathlessly.

“Yes,” II replied. “I won’t make her suffer much longer.” He leaned in close to her pussy, breath hot on her skin, making her writhe. “You two took too much time. I don’t think she can handle more.”

“It’s okay, I’ll let you tie me up later,” III offered.

“You know, if we keep her, you can have your own fun later,” IV said. They kept referring to keeping her and while she wanted to know exactly what that meant, she’d have done anything they asked for relief.

Celie ached for him to fuck her but all she could hear was him jacking off behind her, the head of his cock grazing her every once in a while.

IV and III sat near Celie’s face, taking turns kissing her while they prepared the blade. They dragged the blade across their forearms just enough for a little blood to fall into the silver goblet that had been on the altar before.

“Are you afraid?” III asked, kissing a line from her jaw to her ear.

Celie couldn’t think clearly enough to know if she felt anything other than sexual frustration. All she could do was shake her head as the blade met the flesh under her right collarbone.

“Take a deep breath,” IV said. “Focus on, III. That’s my good girl.”

III cupper her face and kissed her as IV drew the blade across her skin. She hissed in pain but after IV collected the blood he pressed a clean cloth to the wound.

“Perfect,” he said, him and III peppering her face with kisses. She almost forgot that II was still stroking himself behind her, his soft moans lost in the ringing in her ears.

II barely got the head of his dick into her before he came, twitching and shuddering as he did. She wished she got more time with them. That she could have been free to indulge in them equally and that was enough to bubble up a mix of emotions in her. She knew she’d feel better if they had allowed her to come with them, but they seemed much more intent on making sure that didn’t happen.

Celie didn’t hear the door open, but she did hear it close, the others scattering as Vessel approached. The room fell into silence as II, III, and IV cleaned their wounds and took places around the circle.

Vessel got on one knee to look her in the eye but she couldn’t see anything past the multi eyed slits of his mask. His mouth was relaxed, giving nothing away as to what he was thinking or feeling. Even his footsteps were silent as he backed away. The only sound he made was the gentle tinkling of his necklaces when he moved.

He motioned and the others immediately encircled her, IV and III holding her in position as II untied her. They came off with surprising ease. III held her up as IV covered the floor with a plush mat. Gently III eased her to the floor and helped her to her back without spilling their offerings.

She became the altar.

Vessel’s black painted hands hovered barely over her skin as he knelt between her knees. The others sat around the circle in silence. Celie shuddered, feeling she was breathing too hard. For the first time she could see parts of her own body, smeared with red, gold, and blue paint. She wanted to touch herself or at least to clench her thighs tight together but Vessel put a knee between her legs, but not touching her.

He leaned over her, bracing on his hands, his necklaces tickling her belly.

II tasted the blood in the goblet and kissed Vessel, lingering as Vessel traced his fingertips across II’s jaw. III was next, pushing against Vessel, which elicited an amused chuckle from him as he gently pushed III away, a drop of blood dripping onto Celie’s throat. IV was last but he was just as greedy with Vessel as he had been with Celie, blood spattering down on her as he crushed his mouth against Vessel’s.

“You lost control with this one.” Vessel’s tone was soft when he looked down on Celie, his tongue slowly swiping the blood from her throat before kissing her. She couldn’t help but slip her hands under his hood, feeling his hair between her fingers as she pulled him close, desperate for anything he’d give her.

He hummed against her lips, then pulled away, indulging in her body with a line of kissed down her throat, across the marks from II’s chain. Lips feather light between her breasts, dragging across her belly in a way that made her whimper in desperation. She needed him. Needed relief.

She thought she was going to black out when his tongue entered her. The urge to grab him was overwhelming but III said that during this part she wasn’t supposed to touch him. II took her hands in his own from where he sat by her head. Vessel drank of them. His tongue delved deep, searching for his offering in quiet desperation.

Celie’s legs shook, the scent of blood and incense clung to Vessel and made her feel dizzy. Long shadows across the ceiling added to the sensation of the room spinning.

Vessel’s mouth was on hers again so fast she didn’t know what to expect, the taste of cum and blood on his lips. II let her go and she put her arms around Vessel’s neck.

He sat up and pulled her into his lap. His pants were pulled down just enough to show where the black paint smeared across his pale hips and she willingly slid down on him, enveloping him entirely. He was as desperate with his kisses as III had been drinking the water from her skin before. Black smears covered over the colorful ones the others had left as he ran his hands along her body.

The warmth of his skin, the way he caressed her, the desire in his kiss, brought tears to her eyes. She didn’t think she could get behind it being a ritual. She didn’t think she could see it as more than an intense sexual encounter but after what she’d been though, only to be treated so lovingly by Vessel was the closest thing she could attribute to a spiritual awakening.

“What a beautiful altar,” he whispered against her skin. “You were too rough with her,” he said, tracing the line of II’s chain around her throat to a place where she’d been bitten and a bruise had begun to form. His kiss was light and gentle, fingertips sinking into the soft flesh of her thighs, feeling his way around stretchmarks that made her wince.

Celie’s hands went to cover the marks but Vessel caught her wrists, pressing his thumbs into her palms. He shook his head.

“Don’t be insecure,” he said. “The nature of the body is imperfection, that’s what makes it beautiful.”

He rocked her on his hips and continued to caress her stretch marks, moving up her ribs to her sides which still stung from IV’s nails. Vessel’s teeth grazed her jaw and he kissed a line to the bite mark and gave her a gentle nip.

III had mentioned that sometimes Vessel liked to bite but that he’d not go too far. She wondered if he was holding back because she was already sore and marked by those who came before. He was being gentle but there was a deliberate motion to his hips. He wanted more. Every time he pushed into her drove her closer to the edge. Whether he was ready or not, she couldn’t wait any longer.

Begging had done no good before and there was no fighting the chills Vessel gave her. How did it seem that his hands, his mouth, was everywhere all at once? The taste of tears on his tongue confused her. Were they hers or his? The others melted away as her body began to cave to his touch.

He cradled the back of her neck and pulled her close, allowing her to cling to him as she was finally allowed release. While he wasn’t as vocal about it as the others, he kept her close when he came, biting her shoulder as he did.

Every ounce of energy left her body and she went limp against Vessel. Her head swam as the others closed in, muttering things too quiet for her to hear as they kissed her and Vessel on the cheeks.

“So, can we keep her?” III asked and IV swatted at his chest.

Vessel smirked down at Celie where she was practically asleep against him, arms curled in close to his chest. “That would be up to her.”

[alphabetboyluvr]

Ok so I saw that long ass post that anon sent you about the vote thing on Wattpad, and while I don’t agree with some of what they said where they told you what to do (which they shouldn’t have done, they were rude) I do actually agree with them where they said people don’t tend to look at the votes when deciding whether or not to read a story. I actually think the whole vote thing is just something only authors care about, not readers.

As an avid reader on Wattpad, I do give votes just because authors like it- but I don’t actually give a shit about how many votes a story has when I’m looking for my next story to read. I look at the number of views- which I think you’ll find most readers do, even though the view count can be skewed.

Either way, I do think the whole vote thing should be taken off Wattpad as to the majority of readers, they really don’t care about it and it doesn’t give a good representation of how good a story is

I've been thinking about this all a lot ever since the last anon came in. I'll probably avoid answering questions about this topic again, but there does seem to be disconnect between the writer and reader standpoint, so I'll try and explain my thoughts as best I can without waffling for ages lol

my answer is to this ask, but also to the topic in general, and thoughts I've had regarding that last anon.

it's a really difficult topic to discuss because wattpad has an algorithm that is never really explained to writers. i cant say its important because xyz - i can just give you my own experience. ive been on wattpad for 11 years and have seen it through many changes. i used to use the activity tab to find new stories, and i honestly think getting rid of that was detrimental to the user experience tbh.

as it stands, we don't know what the algorithm favours, so we have to do what we can.

and what can we do? we can tag our work, we can acquire reads and votes, and then we can do more laborious things such as entering award books run by other users and engaging with our readers in various ways.

the tag system, and trending stories under those tabs, are really skewed. for instance, I don't think any of my stories have ever made it onto the fanfic tab, nor have I ever ranked highly under tags despite having really engaged readers and metrics which would suggest I would be.

so, unlike what the last anon said, my stories haven't always been 'out there'. word of mouth, and some stroke of luck tiktoks, are what's pushed them more than anything. so in that way, yeah the desire for votes is flawed—but personally I don't think read count is indicative of quality. if we're thinking about it from a marketing standpoint and conversion rates etc, votes a far more indicative of quality and I'd rather be known for quality over quantity.

the last anon also specifically noted the number of reads/follows I have on wattpad, and suggested that I shouldn't care because those numbers are high—which, respectfully I disagree with. if I didn't care in the early days, I wouldn't have pushed myself to make it to where i am. you can't just expect me to switch off that part of my personality. I'm ambitious and I really care about the things I create.

my girliepop oc's tend to have ambitious streaks and personal goals that they work hard for. they take after their mother, in that sense.

i think what confuses me the most is why it irks people, when you boil it down. its a tap on the screen for readers—and having just uploaded an 11k chapter that took hours to write, to edit, to craft, only to then be told its not worth it? i dunno man, it's just mean lol.

you can think these thing by all means, but don't come into my space just to be cruel. sometimes it okay to keep your opinions in your group chats.

the system is flawed, but I don't think you can blame a gal for just trying to work with it in the only way she knows how

[melit0n]

I read ur tags about the new ST masks and honestly, I agree, it's very different (very Slipknot and gore-ish) and right now, the discography and overall vibe doesn't match(like a handful of songs have a true metal quality to it) and unless they're gonna start releasing new stuff the vibes kind of...clash? And so far Vessel is the same, so I'm wondering if the others just wanted to stand out more and were given creative freedom or if everything is going to shift at some point :/ I also think its a bit been there done that (but the simpler black and gold mask I like) the others remind me of the Joker or a Shrunken Head

Thank you for the ask anon! To be honest, I saw 'I read it tags about the new ST mask...' and I panicked thinking I was about to get left-right-goodnighted in an ask, but I'm glad it wasn't so, lol.

Further, I'm glad someone agrees with me. I said what I said in my tags on twt and within the hour I had 20+ people in my replies quote tweeting me saying how I 'wasn't a proper fan for not liking the change', how I 'should leave and stop listening if I was going to be negative', and (my personal favourite because it was so absurd) 'you're so one of the people that found them through TikTok. Good to have a cleanse of the fandom if you were only here because you have a mask kink'.

Even had someone tell me to off myself! Which was, y'know, lovely. I don't have any screenshots because I was just sat there trying to figure out how to reply to them, then saw the one that told me to off myself and just had a little overwhelmed cry and deleted the tweet, in which I then got tagged in a now deleted tweet calling me a pussy. You are so loved my ass.

I deleted it because it made me feel really shit about myself (for obvious reasons), but it made me feel more shit when I woke up the next day seeing people say the same things I did (like hoping it was only a Wembly thing, but considering the amount of detail and effort that's been put into those outfits and masks, I think not), and getting nothing but acceptance and neutrality in the replies. I'm not particularly popular on twt since people are fond of copy and pasting my post about Euclid, not giving credits, blocking me when I ask them to, and when their mutuals see that I'm blocked by them they just have at me for no reason, but I think it says a lot about a fandom if they can go from getting everyone to hold up a three for iii at the concerts out of pure adoration to telling someone to off themselves because they don't like the new designs. (sorry for the rant about twt anon)

I'll repeat what I said in my tags; they feel very out of place to me. Again, maybe it's just the fact I'm used to the balaclavas since I've been around here for a while, so all I've really known is Vessel's custom mask and the collective of balaclavas, but they just don't match. They stick out more than Vessel does, both design and colour pallet wise. Vessel is in full black with white accents and a white, red and gold mask, the Esperas are in full black with white accents and a red mask. And then the guys are there, y'know? Don't get me wrong, the amount of detail and effort that's been put into the designs are amazing, and they definitely have to have given each member creative freedom because each mask and design matches the lad's vibe immaculately (especially iii's), but it doesn't match Sleep Token's vibe as a collective. I like IV's design best because his matches his stage presence and ST's vibe (as you said, the simpler gold and black mask), as well as ii's (minus the hair).

I think maybe the hair on ii's and iii's masks in general are throwing me off lol.

Furthermore, Sleep Token's only full on trad metal songs are Gods from Sundowning and Vore from TMBTE, so I got really surprised when I was basically looking at Slipknot masks curated for Sleep Token. ST are known to genre bend constantly, so maybe we will get new stuff. But, considering they've had the same vibe in their music since 2016, I'd be a bit surprised if their new single/new album was just all trad metal, or at least has a lot of aspects of it, but who knows! Maybe change for them is inevitable.

I think it's well known on this blog that the passing of time and change in literally anything is my mortal enemy so seeing this kind of randomly happen gave me whiplash. I don't think I can love the new designs as much as I loved the old balaclavas, but that doesn't mean I don't like Sleep Token anymore, y'know? All I can really do is apologise for having a non super positive opinion and hope people don't hound me on here for it (which, so far, they haven't, and I appreciate you very much for being really chill about this anon). Give me a week and I'll probably be on the boat of liking them and making analysis posts on all the little details, lol

[momojedi]

━ PINNED POST

This story happened long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

It is already over. Nothing can be done to change it.

It is a story of love and loss, brotherhood and betrayal, courage and sacrifice and the death of dreams. It is a story of the blurred line between our best and our worst.

It is the story of the end of an age.

A strange thing about stories…

Though this all happened so long ago and so far away that words cannot describe the time or the distance, it is also happening right now. Right here.

It is happening as you read these words.

This is how twenty-five millennia come to a close. Corruption and treachery have crushed a thousand years of peace. This is not just the end of a republic; night is falling on civilization itself.

This is the twilight of the Jedi.

The end starts now.

For my masterlist, please check this post here!

I. ABOUT ME II. RULES III. REQUESTS IV. TAGS V. SOCIAL MEDIA

Hello there! I'm Milo, or Momo, a 19-year-old freelance illustrator and writer from Germany. I'm a huge Star Wars fan and have been influenced by it as well as other scifi franchises ever since I was a little boy. I'm not very good at interacting with other people based on my interests or being social in general but I really wanted to change that, so I created this blog to share my love for Star Wars and its story on!

As many things, I too have a set of rules I'd like you to read through and respect, though I know I have little control over but then again, the block button isn't very far ;)

No real-life politics: Politics are an important subject in Star Wars considering it revolves a lot around, well, wars. However, this blog was made in order to be able to leave behind reality and escape into our beloved galaxy far, far away every once in a while and despite there being a lot of bad things in the world, I intend to keep it that way.

No bigotry/sexism/racism/etc. I'm aware that especially sexism is a huge problem in the Star Wars franchise and I'd like to make it very clear that I absolutely do not stand with that. I want my Jedi girls and trooper sisters to know, that they're loved and appreciated on here!

Be patient! As much as I'd rather be a cool Jedi, I'm afraid that I too have a busy schedule, especially considering I'm a physically disabled student who spends a lot of time either studying or going to various therapies. With that in mind, I'd very much appreciate it if you'd be a little patient with me when it comes to requests.

Regarding clonecest I'm aware that the topic of clonecest is a very heavily discussed topic in the fanbase. Despite me not being a shipper of such kind, I do not necessarily care whether you do interact with/enjoy it or not. Your interests don't matter to me as long as you don't harm anyone while acting upon them. (This however does not count for lolicon or anything alike.)

If you want to request something from me, please sent me an ask following this template:

Character Reader (gender, type, etc.) One-Shot or Headcanons? Prompt/Idea (can be a sentence, a scenario, etc.)

I write for the entirety of Star Wars, with an exception for minors where I only write platonic relationships.

I write all from fluff to angst to spice/light NSFW, except for full smut.

Usually my readers are gender-neutral but I'm willing to twist it a bit if that's what you're looking for

#my writing - everything I've written so far!

V. SOCIAL MEDIA

Ko-Fi: CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE! AO3: WHERE ALL MY FICS CAN BE FOUND! ART BLOG: @thepaintingjedi (potential nsfw) OC LORE BLOG: @sw-waterguns COSPLAY BLOG: @mossplay

[daedalusdavinci]

Eridave Fic Recs

im 99% sure ive already offered my fic recs for eridave but im going to do it again. i havent gone through the tag in a couple of years and it seems like its gotten more popular than it was back in the day, but heres my list of top fics

Lee Shore

by JumpingJackFlash (@jumpingjacktrash on tumblr i think?)

"I asked Egbert to ask you if you have Ampora's new contact information." "No, man, I didn't even know the old info was old. How can you not have a contact for him? It's not like he changed his chumhandle, email, and phone number all at once." "As a matter of fact, that is apparently exactly what he did. And deleted his Facebook and his photo blog." "Dramariffic." In the years after the game, the twelve trolls and eight humans have tried to stick together, because no one else would understand. When Eridan misses one of their yearly reunions, Dave makes an impulsive decision to go find him.

starting off so strong with THE eridave fic. i have reread this one very recently actually so i can tell you w complete confidence that this is the best one. this is THE one. if you only ever read one eridave fic make it this one. and then come back and read mine no but like im being so real rn its so good. eridans pretentious and a dickwipe and juuust whiny enough and daves complete no bullshit attitude with him works so well. their dynamic is peak in this, like. its everything.

Prince Unicorn (If There's Anything More Important Than My Ego Around, I Want It Caught And Shot Now)

by spritezee

After years spent mastering his job-hopping skills on the interplanetary level, a combination of chance and fortunate family ties lands one Dave Strider a job as a personal bodyguard to Eridan Ampora, prince and heir to an almost unparalleled fiscal empire. He assumes it’ll be just another job he’ll be able to leave behind when the time comes, another story to tell on slow nights where the man with the most tales is the king of the universe, but as all things in life, nothing is ever quite that simple.

spritezee writes some of the best eridave fics out there. this one in particular is my favorite. its not only a space au but its really a love letter to the scifi genre and you can tell just reading through it that a lot of care went into the worldbuilding. dave and bros relationship is a total mess in a way thats honestly really interesting, and zee always writes a great dynamic for eridan and dave. plus, you HAVE to admit thats a great fucking title

Little Brother

by spritezee

When John asked you if you were feeling any better yet earlier you told him you were fucking lonely as balls and considering changing your occupation to prostitute so you could find your own personal Edward Lewis to pay you loads of money for standing around and looking pretty. Then you told him you’d always wanted to have sex on a piano, so it’d all work out fine. The reference went straight over his head, which in hindsight should not have surprised you in the least because Pretty Woman isn’t really John’s usual genre, and even if it had been it’s not anywhere near obscure and shitty enough to catch his eye. When Rose asked you the same thing a few minutes later you told her you discovered the small store at the far side of your street carries penis-shaped candles and that you now swore by watching them slowly burn down right to the waxen ballsack as a therapeutic relaxation technique.

again, always a great eridan and dave dynamic w this author. if it wasnt really clear by the summary, this fic in particular is fucking hilarious and dave and his wandering metaphors are a lot of fun in it.

other than that, tho, all of my recommendations are just going to be more of spritezees fics, so i REALLY recommend that you just save me the time and go check out their stuff yourself. if i ever delve back into the eridave tag ill make sure to let yall know if i find any bangers

[the-kipsabian]

Yo hi there! I’m very sorry to bother you at this time of the day, just reaching out if you’d be so kind to check the post that I pinned on my blog and maybe give it a little help by boosting/sharing it? it’s for my cat :((( and we need help to get him the dental care he needs. It would really mean the world to me and I understand if you don’t, still appreciate you and stay safe! and btw, please do send me a msg to reply or answer the ask privately instead as I want avoid other blogs to think im a spambot or what, once again im sorry for asking this, praying you’d consider! 🫶🏽🥹

you know what

no 🙏❤

hey kids, lets play a game of spot a scam again!! (im copying the message ive replied with before here and the original is at the bottom if you wish to reblog that one :) just editing this a bit here to show the new stuff they are putting out there in this very message yay!!)

okay this is literally the same story ive seen before at least three times. its word to word the same. youre not even trying

reblogs only from original posts. they have gotten "smarter" tho as this blog followed me in attempts to try to show its "real". and yet they havent reblogged from blogs they supposedly follow, only from probably the top posts from some popular tags and only from the original posters. also please note literally all the posts in their blog have been reblogged today within the past three to four hours (apparently im so loopy i cant read times rn, its been about the past 15 to 16 hours but the point still stands, they are all reblogged within the last 24 hours)

also they try to act more human with a decent description and likes and follows turned off. dont try hun

their only original post as far as i scrolled (which admittedly wasnt very far as its obvious this is a scam lol) is the donation post. unsurprisingly

ive said it before and i'll say it again - they seem to target people in similar positions that they are supposedly in, trying to pluck that sympathy cord with "your pet is sick so you are sensitive and know how this feels". this isnt my case rn but i obviously have posted cat photos and i have a donation ko-fi link in my pinned post sssoooo

"pls consider answering this ask privately" lmao so what people dont know youre a scammer? NEXT (they literally say this now like lmaooo for real? so that people dont think youre a scam bot?? honey please are you even trying)

a simple search even within tumblr tells you people already know about this. the account, the story and the cat. you aint fooling anymore

if unsure kids, ask a friend and google things 👍 reverse image search, for example, is your best friend!! also googling the latter half of the given paypal name reveals immediately that this is a scam. plastered all over the first search page lmao

also kids, in case youre asking "well what bad could a one little me reblogging a post even if its a scam do if i dont donate :/" 1. im sorry what and 2. it makes them look legitimate which they are not. the more notes the more trusted the source cause tumblr is full of idiots (sorry not sorry ive been here for over 11 years i know what people are like) plus you put your friends, mutuals and followers in a risk of participating in a scam. and have your name associated with it as well. do i need to go on?

anyways hi go report this blog and always be hesitant if someone you dont know asks you for donations like this. unless its a beloved mutual on your dash, reconsider. stay safe, thanks 💜

looking forward to being unfollowed and blocked immediately after posting this, but i'll be sure to report you for a scam. :) also fuck you for using someone elses poor cat and their situation to literally scam good natured people out of money, what the fuck is wrong with you

peace and love, fuck you ✌💜

[postmodernbeing]

𝕺𝖚𝖗 𝕾𝖎𝖑𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝕷𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 - Chapter IV

𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Ominis Gaunt x Female Reader

Tags: Fluff, the slowest of burns, Angst (but not really because I’m too soft for that). Mutual pining. Also, the plot is plotting, so be patient.

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Amit and Garreth start working together to pry on professors' chambers inside the castle. They do find intriguing news involving Mirabel Garlick. Naturally, Imelda and you decide to investigate further, and somehow that leads you to Hogsmeade. Meanwhile, Natty and Poppy had and idea when investigating further on the Black Lake's situation. The dots are starting to connect, but more troubles appear when Anne confronts Ominis at the Undercroft, he needs your support quickly!

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 5,291 words.

✧❈Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5 (wip)

Chapter 4. Longing Warmth

September 20th, 1891. Hogwarts

Not a week has passed since Natty convinced me to team up with her band of lunatics and yet we’ve already made important advances. Frankly I’m not sure who’s crazier, them or me, who has put all his efforts on our quests. As a matter of fact, Garreth Weasley has become my partner in crime quite in a literal sense, and I’m truly impressed by his sharp mind and intuition. He has even influenced me into daring more since our tasks involve breaking into professors’ private chambers and stealing information one way or another. Of course, I’d never admit he’s been a positive influence on me, at least not in front of him.

Our labors are focused in searching for more of the anonymous notes. So far, we’ve found Ronen’, Shah’, Howin’, Hecat’ and Garlick’s. Every single one of them is written differently, and we’ve noticed some words are tinted bolder than the rest. I can only assume they’re meant to resemble a word when put together. Thanks to [Your Name] deciphering Madame Kogawa’s note, we’ve inferred those bold letters should indicate the direction to reply to and then, for the contents of our Flying professor’s answer, recipients should had received the details of a location outside the castle where they confidently reunited to discuss the contents of the note. Except, sure, that information could’ve been burned or destroyed after receiving it and there’s no way we could access to it.

Not everything is lost nor our efforts were in vain, though. For Garlick’s response made me believe she already knew the place and the aims of the reunion. If we must take risks to unravel this dilemma, I’d dare to say that Garlick is entirely responsible of all the notes. Although seems unlikely. Judging for what we know of her personality, it doesn’t seem like something she would do. But then again, maybe that’s the reason why she’s the most fitted person to exhort all professors to take action. And maybe Garlick’s not working alone but most certainly she's brave enough to stand against whatever she finds unjust. Owns initiative and she's unconventionally young for a professor which's been proven to imply a certain level of rebelliousness, and if that wasn't enough, she cares for all students deeply.

That’s why I asked Imelda to investigate her further (I'm still amazed that she agreed to work with us in the first place. One thing is certain: Natsai is exceptionally persuasive). Since I have access to Garlick’s schedule, I’m most confident Saturdays are the days she heads off to Hogsmeade to visit shops and The Three Broomsticks. This morning Imelda told me she would take [Your Name] with her. Although her recent popularity amongst students, professors, and journalists after last year events could prove counter-productive in their efforts to remain unnoticed, I didn’t try to stop them though. They make quite the team for a pair of Slytherins so different from each other. Or maybe they have more in common than they realize, just as I did with my now companion Garreth.

- Amit Thakkar

After Amit finished writing this new entrance in his logbook, he then positioned the freshly written pages just close enough to the candle beside him. Suddenly, the words began to disappear. A powerful yet unpopular enchantment; not even Headmaster Black will be able to guess the activities registered on it. Originally Amit used it to write scattered ideas for the history books he wants to publish as soon as he graduates. The enchantment had the purpose of hiding said lines so no one could steal his research from him. However, current events demand other uses for it. Finishing those labors, he realized how much time he spent working last night. Another sleepless night, he thought. The mirror that hanged from his wardrove reached his figure and casted the reflection of insomnia that he’s so familiar with. The bluish dark tones under his eyes seemed out of place from the sky-blue of his nightclothes, it told him it was time to rest; yet his grunting stomach demanded food as the first lights of dawn painted the windows of the Ravenclaw Tower. Breakfast it is, and with a silent salute to his still deeply sleeping roommates, his enchanted candle was extinguished.

As Amit was getting ready to finally leave his room, he watched through a window noticing a couple of figures, which he quickly assumed belonged to Natty and Poppy, even if he watched them just for a moment. They should be wandering around the shore of the Black Lake, investigating the recent fog the appeared out of nowhere that blocked any sight one could have of it from the castle, just as they arranged a few days ago. He couldn’t help but wonder if someday he'll be able to overcome his fears and worries and naturally give into the adventure, just like Garreth, Poppy and Natty do so effortlessly. He might call his new companions barmy fools but deep down he admires their traits such as bravery and loyalty. Not to mention they’re powerful witches and wizards too. Maybe their cause could bring them all together, maybe this is the start of the friendships he so strongly longs for.

Amit was right, those were Natty and Poppy, and yes, they headed moments earlier to the point where Amit watched them wander before the fog hid their figures again. This is what they know until now: The glowing creatures that attacked the squid were nowhere to be found after the incident, rather a mysterious cloud covered the entirety of it no longer after.

Natsai pointed this was the perfect scenario for Phineas Black to hide whatever is happening underwater, and Poppy believed pollution was responsible for it, “I’ve seen it in the muggle world with their so-called Industrial Revolution. Water sources are the very firsts to get compromised when dealing with machines or industrial processes.”, she said. The Hufflepuff girl holds that Black is probably working something along those lines with the Ministry; now that wizarkind recovered the control over gobblin metallurgy once again. Causing, by the way, that numerous organizations and unions both gobblin and wizardkind express their discomfort; for they assure nothing has change to assure equal treatment between magical kinds. Rather find in Ranrock’s death a solid argument about the Ministry's oppressive methods against anyone who’s not wizard-born (as evil as he might have been). Then again, Natty and Poppy only have their guesses about what’s happening under the Lake, merely assumptions with no further evidence; that led them to this moment. In any case, they both find intriguing that said fog emits no smell.

- “We ought to be careful. It’s unsure if this fog might harm the skin as other pollutants do.”

- “And yet, if this was byproduct of some sort of pollution under the lake, there are nor dead fish around the shore nor birds avoid flying over the area, they just adventure inside not sensing any dangers.” – Natty objected Poppy’s warning.

- “Perhaps there’s something more that we’re not seeing.” – Poppy added as she regarded around their backs looking for other curious students or professors. - “Speaking of seeing, do we have the invisibility potion with us?”

Natty stood from where she was extracting small tubes of water and dirt for examining later. – “I do have them with me, although we’re not staying any more time. We've already spent a couple of hours around the area, I don't think we'll be able to find anything else for now. I was actually expecting you to accompany me to Hogsmeade. We’re sort of meeting [Your Name] there, that’ll provide us an alibi too, just in case… Besides, we need to hand her these tubes, so she studies them later just as she did with Kogawa’s note.”

- “Now that you mention it, aren’t you curious how she manages to do all these things without Prefects or Professors noticing? I’d never doubt her abilities. It’s just…”

“Curiosity, of course.” – Natty realizes she’s feeling more comfortable with her new companion now that they stopped small talking and passed on to genuine questions. Sure, they've knew each other from classes from this last six years. It’s just that they’d never happen to coincide. Not really. – “Indeed, she has not mention something as a secret spot for her to study, and the restricted section is out of anyone’s possibilities, so one could dismiss the idea of classrooms or public places. I’ve just decided it was best to not know. If anyone but her knows about it, that would put them in danger of Headmaster’s spying ears; this is her protecting us. However, I appreciate you asking me this. If you’re friend of hers surely you possess certain sense of wonder. She was right that we would get along.”

- “Oh, really. What did she tell you exactly?” – Since Poppy is new making human friends, she blushed at the thought of you pairing her with someone you consider alike and approachable, someone that matched her interests and values. She imagined you had to meditate before making them the suggestion of working together a few days ago. This too, is you protecting your friends.

One thing led to another, and as Natty and Poppy made their way out of there, they shared stories about last year’s adventures beside you. Quickly finding Natty helped rescuing Highwing, Poppy felt a deep connection already, she will be forever in debt for that. “Now, any friend of Highwing is good friend of mine.” They both laugh thinking the credit to the intermediary in their friendship lay between a hippogriff and an ancient magic promised witch. Now, the deal for handing you the testing tubes was leaving them at the same place you found Natty’s wand when you both rescued Isko Rabe, at the small dock behind the Hog’s Head Inn. Once that was done, they leave for treats at Honeydukes. They certainly earn it, for they’re heroines from the Wizarding world, but teenagers too.

- “I think you’re right, by the way.” – Poppy said when trying the chocolate frogs while wandering the shop with stiff manners and low-pitched conversations. – “About what you said of having a spot hidden from vigilance of all sorts. It could mean putting us and [Your Name] at risk. But if she knows about somewhere we could gather all the information we find directly... on an assembly, if you will, this should reduce the rest of equally dangerous communications we’re having at halls or grounds secretly and individually. We could also get rid of burning notes that potentially could fall into the wrong hands. Even if they’re charmed.”

- “Not only to gather after making advances. Lately I’ve been thinking the risk that means to our cause that all of you are still using wands that could be tracked. I was planning on teaching Garreth to cast magic with his bare hands after what happen the first day at Charm’s. But now that you mention it…” – Natty admitted.

- “…We could train together. Of course, we’re not sure if such place exists. But we should ask her. Or search for one ourselves. We could do that on our own, don’t we?”

Natty offered a conspiratorial smile. – “I like the way your mind works.”

September often favors its days with sudden temperature changes that only those able to foresee it -with or without magic- appreciate it fondly. It’s like a treat if you’re well sheltered. As the firsts drops sing their ballad over rooftops Imelda thanked that she took the time earlier this morning to spear a light coat for the evening. You couldn’t say the same and now you’ve found yourself in the predicament of shielding from the rain with the velvet jacket you wear only on weekends. Your favorite one, no less.

– “There they are. These samples should be enough.” – You said with an already damped hair whilst putting the tubes safe on your satchel.

-“Alright, it's done, where are we heading? I already lost a perfect morning to your secretive rendezvous. Now that is raining Merlin knows how long must pass until I’m able to practice again. If rain doesn’t stop soon…"

–“Yes, yes. The quidditch season already started and you need to practice, you made sure I was aware of that. I shan’t take more of your time, Imelda. As a matter of fact, you could simply leave and I could take it from here.” – You stated firmly already impatient from listening to Imelda complain from the previous hours. It surprised you how all it took to make her annoyed was the simplest fly that passed by or the indifferent carts pulled by thestrals (even if she’s not able to see them). Made you wonder why she would agree to work with you at all.

But the moue she made proved she too understood why it was best to not be left alone now of all times. As irritated as she is, Imelda owns a strong sense of fairness and her judgements are reasonable, she’s just unfathomably passionate. – “Just lead the way.” – The plan was simple: search for Garlick with the sole purpose of finding about the places she frequents. Soon enough will come the time to interrogate those people. Except for Sirona, of course, she mustn’t know a thing about this. Hopefully these contacts will provide with clues to follow about clandestine meetings between professors. Truth to be said, your expectations were realistically low for the risks you’re taking by spying on Mirabel Garlick. Yet, her partaking is the only solid evidence you possess for now. Thus, the search started.

For a while, the solitary alleys covered in puddles and the shops emitting warmth from the inside were all you'd meet. Hogsmeade felt like a maze on days like this. Imelda suggested the crowd must have hidden inside the establishments or perhaps went straight home now that is pouring. This is unfortunate for two wandering students since in such circumstances you can't pass unnoticed. You were about to point this to your companion when a tall figure trailed a shadow on the corner you both were about to cross upon. You stopped on your tracks already opening the flask of the invisibility potion you carried (a mandatory item to all the members of your group). Imelda assured you there was no need for that with a hand movement, you both watched the owner of said shadow instead: Ex auror Aesop Sharp.

His gestures implied a certain clandestineness, he too was being cautious, not wanting to be detected. Even though his dark raincoat covered from his head to heels, you were sure it was him by the distinctive limping of his leg. You forbid yourself from following him, rather trying to catch something from the picture in front of you at a safe distance. Watching for any sings of what was he carrying under his damped garment, searching for someone following him, looking for the reason he seemed so uneasy. Whatever it was, it stopped him from noticing the two Slytherin students he’s so familiar with. Now that you think about it, surely Sharp interacts constantly with Imelda being your Head Girl and all that. As for you, well… As Head of the House, he’s been keeping opportunistic journalists away from plaguing you with interviews that they search so eagerly to get just so they publish blatant lies about the Hero of Hogwarts anyways. Such desperate vultures, he thinks. Any type of reaction you could have on that moment flew out of the window when Imelda dragged you from your thoughts yet again, - “I swear you’re away with the fairies, aren’t you? I’ll definitely leave you here if you can’t pay attention. Look!”.

The too familiar auburn-haired witch crowned with a green hat nearly escaped the corner of your eyes. Mirabel Garlick finally made her appearance holding a fair number of gray sheets of paper under her arms. Interesting. Could that be the papyrus from which the subversive notes are written over? You need to come closer to catch the details. – “The potion, now.” – You commanded, ready to stop taking any more chances. You recognized the establishment Garlick just entered although you’ve never been inside. A printing house, popular for innovating the rudimentary methods form the Muggle world. The spells used to fasten the printing process, or the enchanted ink to change color, texture and design once captured onto the sheets are great examples. And forget not their most recent invention: The Howler, for urgent and imperatives messages. You both follow Garlick inside quickly huddling together at the corner with the tools for special commissions, listening the exchange of words between Mirabel and the manager.

- “Well, hello Professor. Right on time, we’ve just arranged the supplies for your order. Those are the sheets you’ve told me about; I presume?”-

- “You're correct as usual. I'm glad the place's empty. Mind if we keep this between us, thought? It would be… unpractical to explain to students. You know how these things are.” – Imelda punched your arm as telling you “It’s exactly what we are searching for.” The only problem: you were not expecting her gesture and your reaction made a few pots of tint spill on the floor calling the attention of your informants. The tension rose as Garlick took a few steps closer to you. What else could you do but to stop breathing? She got so close you can see the weariness in her façade, was this state new to her? You’d certainly failed to notice it before, Garlick has always give the impression of a healthy and energetic woman. Before you could draw conclusions, she decided to drop her interest on the corner of the shop and handed silently the gray sheets to the manager. The whole printing process passed with no more details about this special request. Instead, you learnt she meant to pay Sirona a visit just so she returns to the greenhouse again. A dedicated herbologist, no doubt.

Leaving the workshop was easier than expected and the rest of Garlick’s errands were ordinary at best. Her interactions were short and cordial; not ideal, as if she knew she was being listened to. That didn’t discourage Imelda, so she kept her guard on and followed your professor as close as possible. Not that you knew, since both of you were invisible to each other too, of course. Speaking of which, you guessed the potion could give you a solid half hour of its effects, but you much rather be far away from curious eyes when your figures appear again. Down the main bridge should be fine, you decided. The sign for you to gather there was decided earlier as well: casting a simple spell on the opposite direction from which you wanted to go. Nothing prepared you, however, to the lonely situation you’re in now. Still imperceptible, you called Imelda a dozen times with no results.

On such a moment, your voice echoing around the arches of the bridge felt as the most distressing sound in the world. The river growing from the recent rain hid your calls to anyone that could’ve listened, although you were irreparably alone, no doubt. The level of the canal ran wilder with each passing moment, and you opted to dissolute the spell and just get over with the mission. Oh, you couldn’t wait to take a warm fragrant bath and turn the heather on, get under a blanket, drink warm beverages… The Room of Requirements will spend a few moments arranging those petitions, that's for certain. But that must wait a couple of more hours. For now, Imelda needs your help, a charmed note that she took from the printing shop made sure to notice you.

“Sirona”, was the only word she managed to send, probably registering it with a whisper.

The Three Broomsticks looked fairly different from the last weeks; more people visit it during classes after all. The only protection you had this time was your unkempt hair and a muddied nose. A shy inspection of the establishment with revelio showed you Imelda’s footprints, and they led to the cellar that you now know as the back of your hand. So there you are, first thing you see down there is Sirona holding one of the freshly printed posters Mirabel carried. You hid as best as you could, dissillusionment spell should be enough for now.

- “I’m telling you; this will improve the situation my students are now dragged into. They need it.”

- “Always so thoughtful, but what if your Headmaster disapproves? I’m quite impressed you’ve come so far without him noticing. Or is it because he’s so busy bothering students?”

- “Whatever reason, it has bought us some time. I’ve been planning this the whole summer and the rest of Professors find it imperative, now more than ever. Not to mention the other issue that…”

- “Expelliarmus! Accio!” – Sirona interrupted and Imelda was pulled to your informants with no form to scape. – “I apologize, Mirabel, for disrupting you, it’s just I’m used to detect this type of intruders. Usually, they’re the kind of whom we’re witnessing: students.”

- “I demand you to let me let me go. This is just a misunderstanding. Where’s my wand?”

- “Miss Reyes, spying on your professor on the weekend! You have no idea how lucky you are. Imagine if you’ve listened any other word from our conversation, what if I was someone else?”

- “…That could only mean that we were right to assume that our professors are hiding something from us.” – You pronounced emerging from your hiding place ready to help your partner and with your wand ready. – “There’s something wrong with Phineas’ methods, and that worries you too. What I don’t understand is why won’t you tell us. We surpass him in numbers and power.”

Sirona finally put Imelda down so she could run to her wand while your next motion was quite the opposite, lowering your guard. – “It’s such a sensible matter, I don’t think I’m the right person to tell you.” – Garlick meditated.

- “But you’re the one that started all this, don’t you just say that?” – Imelda was ready to tell her about your quest collecting the notes and answers but chose not to since that would compromise the rest of your team. They don’t have to know that just yet.

- “Oh, this you mean? Ha ha ha ha” – Mirabel and Sirona’s expressions changed from worry to uncontrollable laughter. – “Oh, my dear, come see.” – The poster clearly exposed the words ‘YULE BALL, December 1891: A winter tale’.

- “A ball you say?!” – Oh, Imelda is pissed, disappointed, angry, exasperated. She rather had snitched the rest of the operation. A ball?

- “Well, of course. We’ve been organizing them every three years for generations. This year's was certainly a mystery. I was almost certain it'd be cancelled. Oh, that would have broken my heart.”

- “Professor Garlick, I hope this doesn’t come out as rude but… Nowadays’ circumstances may demand other priorities on our actions.” – You added softly to Imelda’s comment.

- “I understand you could find this a senseless frivolity, but maybe you both should open your minds to the possibilities. Maybe this is the precise moment where you need it the most.” – Sirona offered a warm smile, one of the very same that she gifted you all the restless nights you’ve had these past weeks. 

- “Maybe is best if we don’t give you any more information. It’s a surprise after all, and I won’t be the one to spoil it. Also, if you don’t mind, I recommend you great discretion about our Headmaster’s situation. Until is safe to expose it to you students, you must trust that we’ll handle this. Do we have an agreement? Not a word.” – Mirabel was never severe, but she was firm and persuasive. There was no other way but to agree and walk away.

The road to the castle you made it with an awkward silence. Not for each other’s company, which now you find it at an easy affinity to be around, but because you felt ashamed of your whole operation. Mirabel and Sirona’s words were reminders of your age and inexperience. Now you’re doubting yourself. Were you so wrong to play detectives and risk more than your grades? Is it fair to demand to professors a few answers about the measurements they’re taking when the circumstances seem so overwhelming and incomprehensible? Your mind gathered insecurities, but Imelda knew you could do better than that. As if she could read your thoughts, she saw fit to stop.

- “Hey, do listen to me, and really listen, since I won’t be repeating myself. Garlick can be the best teacher of magical gardening in the world…”

- “Herbology.”

- “…But she’s not the bloody Hero of Hogwarts. Don’t you get it? You’re probably more experienced in defense of Dark Arts and combat than most of the aurors in the Ministry.”

- “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. But I must admit that last year was difficult to convince authorities to take satiating actions to investigate Harlow and Rookwood.”

- “There you have it. That didn’t stop you, did it? I can only guess they’re taking things the diplomatic way. We know better than that.”

- “What are you suggesting?”

- “We finish this game finding the writer of the notes and ask them to step aside but first they’ll tells us all they know. Maybe we’re making them a favor, they’re probably worried that all professors will lose their jobs. Well, then we don’t have much to be worried about. We’re just students after all. What can Black do to us? Send us to Azkaban? Imagine: The Headmaster that sent a whole generation of kids to prison because he felt threaten. Whole Wizarding world will laugh at him.”

- “I say you’re actually right, Imelda. Except for one thing.” – She arched her eyebrow distrusting whatever you’re next to say. - “I believe we’re not just students. We’re the very reason places like Hogwarts exists. We ought to defend that.” - This fresh dynamic with your partner sits well with you both. Who would have guessed, being the right opposites from the Slytherin’ spectrum.

- “Well, spokeswoman of the students and Patron Saint of the rebel youth, what is our next move?” – Imelda teased with renewed excitement.

- “Maybe we should go back to the beginning. Do you fancy contemplate some portraits?” – Just like that you’re back on track.

The Undercroft was considered by the Gaunt’s a necessity inside the castle more than an eccentric commodity. Ominis’ parents constantly comment in every family meeting that “The common room of our House can’t provide us anymore of a safe place for the kids. Not to mention the state of the rest of the Castle.”, implying that the ancient House of Slytherin was made exclusively by and for their kind, of course. As if Salazar was a man of family, Ominis laughed at the thought. In any case, the Undercroft isn’t as comfortable as his relatives swear it is. Not that he complains. After all, his cousins and siblings decided he could keep it to himself to hang around to his equally weird friends with the sole condition that they’re not mudbloods, or else… But they forget of his stubborn personality, for he does not give a single care to please any of them. However, Ominis wields no resentment for the youngest members of the Gaunt’s. On the other hand, the older ones were plain disgusting at the very least. Entire lives wasted with null questions about one’s background, system of beliefs, prejudices and sad excuses birthed from hate and ignorance that they dared to call ‘evidence of The Natural Order of the World’. He sometimes wonder if his aunt Noctua and him were mistakenly born in such a family since even the most reasonable ones of their kind give into the peer pressure. No one talks about how lonely the road of the rightfulness is when everything around you is profoundly wrong. He’s certain, nonetheless, this is the only way for him.

That’s why he doesn’t understand the cruelty of the words he’s listening to right now. One of his closest friends -the family he chose for himself- was demanding him to give account of his new accomplice… you. He should had known this would happen, instead he hid behind illusions; for whenever he’d bring Sebastian’s regret, Anne spared not a single trace of empathy, or so she tried to show. When she gathered enough words without her voice cracking, Anne would suggest that Sebastian could’ve never fall onto Dark magic’s tricks if not for the influence of your presence. You were permissive and encouraging with him at best; she says. Alas, if she only knew he already had darkness on his mind, for light and shadow lives inside every person she’s an acquittance with. No, it must be something else, Ominis noticed from the first time he met you that whenever Sebastian is around you he feels stronger, more confident, profoundly daring. But confessing to Anne this truth would break both of their hearts, as if admitting it out loud turns it a reality. He’s hiding again.

- “Your silence proves me right, Ominis. If not for her abilities, Ranrok would’ve never turn his sight to Feldcroft, allying with Rookwood, cursing me thus Sebastian obsessing with Slytherin’s manual of madness.”

- “Unless this curse allows you the art of reading minds, don’t assume my reasons for keeping my lips closed.”- The Undercroft felt colder than ever. - “I can understand how scared you are, Anne. I’m quite aware, perhaps more than anyone, the deep deception that is to witness the closest people to you turn into a sad mimic of the potential and warmth you see in them. But have ever occurred to you that I used to have a sister? Brothers too? To me, for the things they’ve arbitrarily done, they’re worse than dead. I’m as much as an orphan as you.”

- “Do not dare pronounce death as if you could recognize it on your very composition! As if its irremediable claws have ever lingered over your skin, its haunting howls and seas of sorrow. What do you know about death?” – Anne said feeling the same freezing breeze that Ominis experiences on the room thinking that is probably time to pay a visit to the Hospital wing again as dizziness wash over her from her wrath. But then again, if Anne only knew that he thinks of his aunt Noctua from sun to sun as her bones and notes were all he keeps of her. Soon enough both becoming but ashes.

Death, irremediable and redemptive, all he could think of. Solomon’s cruel qualities were trifles under the cloak of eternal slumber, and Anne decided to forgive and forget it all. Judging the dead is the highest frivolity for the living after all. But is it really? On the other hand, Noctua Gaunt has never been as enchanting and honorable as in death. A heavy stone made of guilt posed on Ominis’ shoulders from the moment he knew of her tragic passing until his elder years. But back to now, the trail of his thoughts landed on you yet again.

Are you remotely aware that you’re the relief he runs to when things becomes unbearable? Can you hear the very blood in his veins calling for you on moments like this? You better not, for his heart would break if he knew that -you- being unapologetically knowledgeable, decided to spare him from your aid. Ominis knows, of course, he can’t keep hiding under the excuses you make for him. You wouldn’t call them that, it’s just that the empathy you keep for him is simply peerless, an anomaly for him... You could let him know that the friendship you both share, you made sure to craft and curate it just for him. But are you remotely aware?

Tag list for updates: Spotify playlist

@aurora-starwars

[whosthatdccharacter]

Heyo! We've done six of these so far and it's been fun running this little game for yall. I hope its entertaining for you!

Now that we've got some under our belts I wanted to open up for feedback on a few different points. Im going to go over how ive done stuff so far, so if you have any thoughts on aspects of it you can chime in.

Putting the rest under the cut since it's kind of long.

1. Timing

So far I've tried to post new ones at sort of random times in the day so it doesn't give any one a consistent advantage. Im US Eastern and posts might go up anytime between 8am and 2am. I might even use the queue to schedule round the clock.

Another timing thing is that when someone guesses right, I give at least a few hours more before posting the reveal. It's just to give people a little more time to play, even if someone gets the answer right away. That's not to say you cant play after the reveal posts go up, but if youre anything like me, as soon as the ability to see the answer is available im clicking that link lol.

And since the reveal post tags the winner, I wait at least a few more hours for the next silhouette post so the prev winner doesnt have the advantage of being notified of the next one.

So a question here is should I wait longer or shorter on any of these areas? Do you like that its only one unrevealed at a time?

2. Difficulty level

This has been the hardest because it's a learning curve to find what's easy, what's hard, and why. There are SO many characters and runs, so it's hard to know if something I thought was memorable was even a blip on other people's radars. So ive tried to do a mix of difficulties.

Easier ones mean more people have the satisfaction of guessing and maybe getting it right, but if it's too easy then it might feel like these are puzzles for babies.

Harder ones mean a challenge and a lot of satisfaction if you figure it out or know that it's some niche thing. But if it's too hard then nobody gets it and it can feel kind of bullshit.

So what im wondering here is, do you feel like these have been too easy or too hard? Do you like it being a mix?

3. Character and image selection

If I put up a straightforward silhouette of Etrigan, everyone's going to get it and there's no challenge. On the flip side if i did a silhoutte or jason blood standing in a contextless room its like that could be literally any random man, so itd lead to random guesses. So ive been trying to find the sweet spot of the silhouette being somewhat familiar but not completely unique, and the rest of the image with some stuff going on. I think that's been going well but it does mean it relies on me and my ability to make a good little puzzle of it. So i hope I've been doing an alright job in that area.

Choosing from particular runs is interesting. I usually think of a character first then go find something they were in. Im finding the stories with other characters and team ups are good options to provide that extra context. But then the tricky part is that i have to be at least somewhat aware of whats popular and whats not. I dont want to use a panel from a run nobody read (unless its really good), and I also dont want to do one so infamous that everyone knows it like the back of their hand. So as with choosing particular images, I hope my choice of titles I'm sourcing these from has been fair.

4. How to guess

I went with tags so it encourages people to reblog and hopefully spread awareness of the blog. I think its also the easiest way people are inclined to interact per post. We couldve done asks but sometimes those get dropped by tumblr, and all the reveal posts would be answers to asks instead of standalone posts.

I like the idea that even for old ones people can still play and have fun with guessing on their own. Not sure if theres a clever way to encourage that.

And i hope the leaderboard is fun. Just a small incentive to participate. Its like saying nice job, thank you for playing.

5. Hints

As mentioned previously, if over a day goes by and nobodys got it ill post a hint. I've only done one hint so far and i was really not sure how subtle or overt i should be. Idk if anyone has thoughts about it?

--

So that's it. That's the process behind things and kind of where my mind is on it. I want it to be fun and chill, so if you ever have feedback about something you can always send an ask. It can be about the topics here or really at anytime about anything.

Thanks for playing everyone! Keep it up!

[concealeddarkness13]

WHG 20 Prompt 1 - Triel

Content warning for mentions of rape and suggestive themes. Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses, @drabbleitout (thanks for Ives!), @grailfish, @forthesanityofsome, and @pied-piper-of-hamlet!

I twirled the key for the room I had “paid” for to have alone time with a victor. Ives, to be precise. He had been a tribute with Nesri, and we hadn’t been able to rescue him, but that was all going to change now. We had plans and backups and nothing would go wrong enough to stop us from getting tributes out and rescuing Ives.

The Capitol was selling his body for shits and giggles, and I had half a mind to kill anyone who touched him, but I didn’t have enough time, unfortunately. At least I had been able to send the person who paid for the ticket for Ives’s time tonight to a hospital instead.

The hotel they had people meet him in looked fancy on the outside, but once I got into the room it was all dark and dingy and sad. Except for the fucking bed. Of course. Bastards.

I closed the door softly. “It’s been a while, Steelheart. You don’t have to worry about someone coming to rape you. I totally didn’t beat them up within an inch of their life to get their ticket.” He was standing farther in, and I couldn’t see well enough, so I turned on the light.

He flinched at that, curling in more on himself. Damn, he looked like shit. I had to hurry up and rescue him. He looked at me, but not up into my face. And his movements seemed slow. “I…I don’t understand,” he said quietly, tilting his head. “Did you want their ticket to take their place? I don’t mean to ask too many questions, I only want to know what I should adjust for the evening. What matters is that you have a ticket. How would you like to proceed?”

Fuck. Nesri had warned me how completely the Capitol probably unraveled him, but he was acting nothing like he had before. I walked a step closer, taking off my hat. “It’s Triel Reeves. Do you remember? The Games three years ago? I failed you then, but I want to help you now.” He still looked lost. “I’d like to talk.”

He finally looked up at my face when I removed my hat but winced and looked away. But then looked back. He blinked rapidly and looked away again, giving a small nod. “Would you like to sit?” He sounded shaky. “Can I get you anything?”

“No thanks. You’re not a servant. I’d actually ask you the same thing. My engineer sent some things with me just in case you were doing bad. And Nesri sent a letter. Do you remember her at least?” I sat down far away from him. I wasn’t about to make him uncomfortable by being close.

“I remember,” he whispered. He sat down, keeping the distance. “I’m doing well enough. They keep me…functioning.” He glanced around the room.

“Then you’ll probably appreciate these.” I set out the mechanical parts Shine had given me and the letter from Nesri. I didn’t remember all of it, but it basically said that she missed him and that we were coming to rescue him now, after we failed him.

He picked up the letter first, slowly reading over it. “Failed me…? I don’t understand. You got yourself and the others away. I’m property of the Capitol. This is what I’m meant for.” He didn’t let go of the letter though. “You’re putting too much at risk here.”

Of course I had failed him. Ryker had died, and he had gotten trapped by the Capitol. I leaned forward and clasped my hands. “I did fail you. You and Ryker. And I can’t make it up to him, but I am planning on making it up to you. We have a plan. I’ll be the tribute this time, and I’ve gotten better and have more comprehensive plans. I won’t let that happen again. And if something does happen and tributes I recruited get captured, I have plans for that. I want to help you and get you out of here. You’re no one’s property, Ives. You’re a person, and I really want to help.”

He winced, looking at the floor and setting his jaw. “And if you’re captured?” he said lowly. “Am I supposed to lose you too?”

I smiled. “I have plans for that too. The Capitol won’t be ready for what I have in store for them.”

“Should you be telling me this?” he whispered. “Am I not a liability?”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe you are. The Capitol has abused you. Don’t you want to fight back? I can help with that. Please. Let me help you, Steelheart.”

He didn’t speak for a while, and I waited patiently. “The Capitol has taken advantage of all of us,” he said lowly, looking over at me. And I would never admit it out loud, but it looked like he was about to cry. “What’s your plan?”

I smiled, wanting to reach out and hold his hand, but that would probably make him uncomfortable. He had enough people touching him. “I volunteer for the youngest kid in my district. I recruit as many tributes as possible. Shine, my engineer, is making a teleporter that I’ll sneak into the arena. Nesri will also have one just in case I am captured so she can still get you out. The teleporter will be used to fuck with the Capitol and then to get everyone out. If there are any people captured, we’ll raise hell in the Capitol from the safe place I have. Then we’ll truly escape once we have everyone.”

Ives nodded slowly and folded the letter up. “What would you like me to do? How can I help?”

I shook my head. “I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t have to do anything for me to help you. But if you want to do something, I’ve heard that you’ll be a mentor this year. Please watch over the tribute you have. They’ll probably need it.”

“A mentor?” He frowned. “I don’t…I…” He fell silent, wrestling with himself for a bit. “I’ll try,” he whispered.

“And me, Nesri, and Shine will be there to help, so if you need anything, please let one of us know. Oh, and Shine has been taking good care of Niner. She’s excited to see you.” Niner was the Synthetic Doberman who had been with Ives at first, but he had begged us to take her with us to protect her.

He nodded, stilling at the mention of Niner. “Thank you. For all of it. I don’t deserve all of this.”

I nodded. “I think you do, but I also think that it doesn’t matter whether someone deserves it or not. That’s not a good measure of anything, really.”  I paused. “Do you want me to stay so we can chat? Or would you rather me leave so you can have a quiet night tonight? I might just go and find some other people who bought tickets for you and totally not beat them within an inch of their lives too.”

“You shouldn’t do that,” he whispered. “You could put your plans at risk.” He leaned over his knees. “Which I know you’re probably busy with. I don’t want to keep you. How long is it until the Games start? Maybe, if they’re planning to use me as a mentor, they won’t be giving out as many tickets.”

Of course not. They were way the fuck too greedy. “Only about a week until the Reapings happen. And no worries. I have the perfect disguise for that.” I winked. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve gotten good at making plans by now. And do you want me to stay and chat? It can be about anything. I have a lot of good stories too.”

Ives nodded. “I do want you to be careful. But I think, maybe, I should try and get myself ready for things.” He glanced down at the mechanical stuff Shine sent. “I have a few repairs I should do.”

At least he was going to take the help! I nodded and stood up. “I’ll see you, and I’ll help get you out. I promise.” I put on my hat and bowed with a flourish. “Please stay safe.”

“You as well. And, Triel, no picking fights,” he whispered.

I grinned. “Don’t know if I can promise that, but I’ll try.” And with that, I left. And totally tracked down at least some ticket holders before I headed back to the ship to see my crew.

When I got back on the ship, Nesri walked straight up to me and even Shine looked up from what they were working on. I grinned and waved at them before hugging Nesri, giving her a kiss on the cheek and feeling more of a thrill when she blushed.

Shine walked up, handing us wine glasses and signing once their hands were free. “How did the meeting with Ives go?”

I took a sip and walked over with Nesri, sitting down next to where Shine was working on something for the mission. I signed back. “It will take some work to convince him, but I am not going to give up on him.”

Nesri chuckled and chugged her wine, leaning against me afterwards, signing as well. “I will talk to him, and then he will totally change his mind. Well,” she deflated a little. “I failed him. I will not fail him again. Steelheart is going to be safe by the end of this. I promise that.”

I looked over at Nesri and held her close, kissing her forehead. “I failed him too. It is not just on your shoulders.”

Shine snorted. “I just want to learn more about his machines and help him out.”

We laughed, and I relaxed against Nesri. “This will be the last time I will be able to relax for a few weeks.” I stared up at the night sky. I was going to miss the ocean. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

Nesri nudged me before she signed. “They are not the only things that are beautiful.”

Shine sighed. “Not to break up your flirting, but just to check one more time, what is the plan for the Reaping day?”

I nodded. “There are no planned volunteers. Ashont doesn’t have anyone to force to volunteer, so I’ll volunteer for the youngest person I can.”

Shine nodded and finished with their work. They handed it to me. “The teleportation device. I will make it small enough for you to be able to sneak it into the arena.”

I grinned and clasped their hand before signing. “You are a genius. Thank you so much!”

I leaned back and sipped my wine as Shine waved it off. Nesri leaned against me and whispered in my ear. “You want to have a good night before the Reaping?”

A smirk pulled at my lips, and I looked down at her. “Always, love.” I checked with Shine to make sure they were good and walked with Nesri to my quarters to have a nice night.

[agonyaster]

brain said ‘what if they just talked’ and i ran with it

kind of a brain dump but lots of fun anyway! tried to fit as many refs to art ive seen, especially @pigdemonart’s submas and nimbasa trio stuff <3 bonus points if you can spot all of the refs and double bonus points if you go look at their art rn

blankshippers dni, please. you will be blocked.

…

Emmet stifled a yawn and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, nearly stumbling over Galvantula as she skittered around his legs excitedly. He crosses into the living room and Archeops tumbles off of the couch at the sight of him, his claws scraping against the floor as he trailed after Emmet as well. Emmet is grateful they live on the first floor; surely no downstairs neighbors would tolerate routine disturbances this early in the morning. 

While he contemplates how to stop Archeops from destroying their floors every morning, Emmet enters the kitchen where to his surprise, Ingo was stood at the counter. Chandelure floated idly nearby, chittering and hissing at her trainer, who was nodding along like he could understand her. 

“Hello, brother. It is early.” Emmet nods to the window for emphasis, where the sun was just starting to peek above the horizon.

“It is indeed,” Ingo agrees. “Did you sleep well?”

Emmet hums in affirmation, opening a cabinet as he sticks his nose high in the air.

“Liligant tea?” he guesses, grabbing a battery and tossing it to Galvantula, which she catches in her mouth before scuttling away.

Ingo nods and Emmet puts the brakes on full-stop to sit and watch. Ingo grabs the tag dangling over the side of the cup in front of him and bobs the teabag up and down before whisking it away. His other hand reaches for a jar on the counter and spoons honey into it.

“You take your tea with honey?” Emmet asks, breaking his self-imposed silence as he stares at the jar. “That is new.”

Ingo twists the lid back on and nods. “Yes. It… it was how Lady Calaba always prepared tea. I find myself quite attached to the flavor now.”

“It is good to see you’ve acquired some taste while you were away.”

His brother chuckles and they fall into comfortable silence as Emmet prepares coffee for himself. 

In the domestic air of their kitchen, Emmet is grateful for how quickly they got back on track. Balance is a verrry difficult thing to find on its own and Emmet cannot imagine what it would be like to try and discover a new balance with Ingo. They never had to think about it before— when they existed as a two-car train, moving in tandem no matter what came their way. 

He was worried about that in the early days of Ingo’s return. Three years was too long to be apart from someone you’d spent your whole life standing beside. He knows things have changed and he knows it is ignorant to believe otherwise, but despite that, they were in sync once more. Not perfectly, no, but moving forward nonetheless. Together all the same.

Emmet finishes adding the sugar to his coffee and clears his throat. “Calaba… she is the leader of the Pearl Clan, correct?”

“Close, but no.” Ingo shakes his head. “Lady Irida was the clan leader, while Lady Calaba was a warden; the same as I.” 

“Ah. I see.” Emmet pauses. They hadn’t talked about this yet. For all of the time they had together since Ingo’s return, it had been spent settling back into normal. Getting their lives back on track. The only past they ever talked of was the one held within the photo albums Elesa brought over, not the one within a Sinnohan history textbook.

Emmet knew a few names and the general story of Ingo’s arrival and departure, but the in between was where things started to blur.

Hisui had changed his brother in many ways, far beyond the honey in his tea. It was the reason he woke before the sun had risen every morning; the reason he looked so lost when he stared up at the stars, hidden as they were by the light of Nimbasa City. Its horrors left pronounced dark circles under his eyes which didn't leave for weeks since his return, and had etched lines into Ingo’s face that shouldn’t have come for another five years, at least.

Hisui was the reason for the notebook Ingo kept tucked within the inside breast pocket of his coat, filled with photos, neat drawings and lines of writing— of the things he’s scared to forget again. The letters to and from the professors assistant who disappeared for months and came back alongside Ingo, the wooden pokéballs Emmet found scattered around the apartment, the trips out to Pinwheel Forest or Twist Mountain, the scars that were peppered across his hands and up and down his arms— all were because of Hisui. Even the haunting flute music Emmet heard echoing off of the walls when he woke in the middle of the night. It was just another way Hisui left its mark. 

Perhaps it was finally time to learn more. To figure out the how and the why. 

“What was it like, your life in Hisui?”

Ingo pauses at the words, frown deepening ever so slightly as the cup of tea stops halfway to his mouth. 

“That is a complicated question.”

“We do not have any scheduled stops today."

Ingo pauses. He is tempted to deflect, Emmet knows. Emmet will not let him. He stares, and Ingo relents. 

“Then I suggest we get comfortable.”

“All aboard!” Emmet cheers, and they head into the living room. 

Archeops rises into the air sloppily and perches on the back of the couch as his trainers sit down, tail thumping against the wall happily as Ingo scratches under his chin. Emmet sets his mug down atop a sleeping Crustle, and the Joltik resting on her carapace scatter like a flashbang had erupted. Some dart under the couch, others flee to the kitchen in search of Galvantula, or head towards the TV stand where they are bound to chew on the wires.

Emmet looks at his brother, and again is reminded of the impact Hisui left. The faint lines around Ingo’s eyes deepen in the low light; his shoulders tense and hunched, unable to shake the habit even after his arrival in Unova. 

“What was Irida like? You have mentioned her often.”

Ingo snaps to attention and processes his brother's words before pressing his lips together into a thin line. “Lady Irida was strong,” are the words he decides on. “Too strong someone her age needed to be. Without that strength, I doubt I would still be here to tell you about her.”

“Oh.”

“She battled her own father in an attempt to keep me within the clan, despite being an outsider with no memories. I’m still not quite sure why she trusted me so much, but I am forever in her debt for it.”

“She sounds like a lovely lady.”

“She is. Was.” Ingo slumps even further in on himself. “They all were.”

Emmet picks up Ingo’s tea and takes a sip before handing it off and washing the taste from his mouth with a swig of coffee. “You said you were a warden. What is a warden?” 

“A warden is someone who tends to a noble of the clan. They try to keep the peace within the noble’s habitat, tend to their children, evolve the next noble when the time comes— things of that sort.” Ingo stares down into his tea. “Before you ask, nobles are the descendants of the pokémon used by the legendary hero of the Celestica people, and which have been blessed by Arceus.”

“I see. Is the Sneasel…?” Emmet’s voice trails off as he looks around for the pokémon, yet another remnant of Ingo’s life lived in the past.

“Yes. She is the child of the noble I tended to.” Seeing his brother’s failure at attempting to find the Sneasel, Ingo starts to whistle. 

The tune is short and low, long high notes starting it and a sharp trilling repeating at the end. It makes the hair on the back of Emmet’s neck stand up. 

There’s a scuffling sound in the distance before a purple streak of a pokémon shoots out of Ingo’s room. Her claws scrape against the hardwood floors as she bolts towards the couch and leaps up onto Ingo’s lap. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to simply call her?” Emmet asks, reaching out a hand; the Sneasel sniffing at it and nipping the tips of his fingers.

“I suppose it would be, but I do not want the young one to forget what the song means to her.” 

“What is it supposed to mean to her?” 

“Home.”

Emmet pauses before asking his next question. “What does it mean to you?” 

Ingo scratches under Sneasel’s chin and tilts his head to the side, lost in thought.

“Home," he says again, firm in his words.

“I see.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I don’t see why it should.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

He cannot look his brother in the eye, so Emmet stares at the teacup held within his hands instead. It is painted to resemble a Chandelure, though the orange color and leafy handle gave away its Kalosian origins. It was one Elesa had bought for him years ago at a festival in Kalos. He wonders if Ingo remembers that.

“Were you happier there?” he asks, staring into the painted eyes of the teacup. They stare back, soulless. 

Ingo is silent for a while. Emmet fears he has said something wrong, which is strange. He has never had to worry over things like that when it comes to Ingo. 

“I don’t think I ever could have been satisfied," he finally says, which only leaves Emmet more confused than before. 

“What do you mean?”

Ingo draws a breath that is long and low, like the ones he takes before he bellows out congratulations to a challenger for emerging victorious. 

“At the start of my time in Hisui, despite my lost memories, I could tell something was… off. Seeing a Zorua in the icelands or an Electrode tumble out of a tree— they felt wrong in a way I didn’t have the words to describe. I wanted to know more but simply couldn’t. It didn’t seem within my ability to learn more about my life before the rift on my own, and now I know it wasn’t. My truth only returned when Lady Dawn arrived.”

Ingo scratches under Sneasel’s chin, who purrs in delight.

“My first memory to return was of a person. A man in white who shared my face, and who loved winning more than anything else.” 

He smiles to himself, the Ingo version of a smile that doesn’t change much about his expression at all. Not many people would be able to tell, but Emmet could. He sees the happiness in his eyes.

“That was what kept me going for a long time, this mystery man. I needed to know what he meant to me.” Ingo’s voice grows softer. “Even when some of my other memories started to trickle in, it was always you who kept me going.”

“You did not know who I was, yet you left your home in Hisui to find me.”

“It’s as I said before: I could never be satisfied. Perhaps if every last one of my memories had been stolen, I would’ve been. But they were not, and not knowing was so much worse than anything that could have awaited me beyond the space-time rift.”

“I see.”

Emmet cannot stop himself from asking the next question, even if he wanted to. He barely knows he is thinking it at all before his voice rings out. 

“Will you ever go back?”

He sounds scared, even to his own ears.

Ingo looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “To stay for good?”

“Yes.”

“No.” There is no hesitation.

“Why not?”

“Hisui doesn’t have you.”

They are quiet for a while. Ingo drinks the last of his tea. Emmet watches as Durant stomps after a pair of Joltik who are chirping at her excitedly. He can hear Chandelure and Galvantula talking to one another over in the kitchen.

When Ingo speaks next, his voice is quiet. He sounds small. 

“Is it wrong of me to miss it, sometimes?" He sounds small. Emmet doesn't like it.

There is no hesitation when Emmet shakes his head.

“How are you sure?”

“What I do. What I say. Always the same.”

Ingo sighs heavily, the kind of sigh Emmet hears a lot more now than before. He looks so tired. Emmet wishes there was more he could do. 

"I can tell that I belong here in Unova, but sometimes it feels like a piece of myself was left behind in Hisui.”

“Of course you do. That is what happens when you love someone.”

Sneasel leaps out of Ingo's lap and starts to chase after Durant as well, the Joltik squeaking in delight. Durant gnashes her mandibles in annoyance. 

Ingo watches her leave, his eyes glowing eerily in the light of the early morning. 

“They gave me so much. A home, a purpose, a family. Even the freedom to leave, when I wished it so.” Ingo screws his eyes shut. “They gave me everything and now they are all gone.”

His voice breaks on the last word, and Emmet has never felt so helpless. He is good at battling. He is not good at emotions. But this is Ingo, and he’s never been the best with emotions either. 

This is Ingo, so he has to try. 

Emmet reaches out and takes his brother’s hand in his. It is shaking. 

His fingers curl around to hold onto Emmet’s hand more securely. Ingo’s grip is strong and it reminds Emmet of when they were children, screaming at the top of their lungs in a mixture of fear and delight as they fled from the army of Venipede scurrying after them. Ingo’s hands were different back then, so small and delicate. Now his left pinky sticks out at an odd angle and his palms are rough with calluses. 

It is still Ingo, though, so Emmet doesn’t mind.

He brushes a thumb over a thin white scar that has sliced its way across Ingo’s knuckles. He wonders how it got there.

“Everyone says things get better,” he murmurs, thinking back to the woman with kind eyes who Elesa forced him to visit when things were especially bad. “They do not tell you how hard it is in the beginning.”

Ingo’s grip loosens the slightest bit. 

“I was not myself when you were gone.” A beat passes, and Emmet knits his eyebrows together before correcting himself. “I didn’t know how to be myself without you.” 

How could he? He never had to be without Ingo, even in the earliest time in his life. Ingo was older, after all, even if only by seven minutes. Living in a world without Ingo was something he never had to think about, before. He never wants to live in one again. 

Emmet swallows. “The Ingo that came back is a different one that left, and that is okay. You shouldn’t have to leave him behind because you are back in Unova. That Ingo is still Ingo. I am sorry if I ever made you feel like he wasn’t.”

“It is alright.”

“No, it isn’t.”

They fall silent again. Ingo’s voice is quiet when he speaks.

“Perhaps… I should ask Lady Cynthia to look through some old records of Sinnohan history. It would be nice to know where they all ended up.”

A smirk overtakes Emmet’s face. “Perhaps we can find more photos of you.”

He can’t help but laugh when Ingo reaches to pull his cap down to hide his eyes in embarrassment, only to realize it isn’t there.

When Excadrill waddles into the room and Archeops launches himself off of the couch to wrestle with her, the gears in his head start to turn. 

“You know… We could go to visit. Hypothetically speaking.”

“I don’t think Almighty Dialga would allow such a thing.” Ingo watches as Elektross twirls around in the air merrily. “Besides,

the Diamond Clan would be very upset with us for using their god to go on vacation.”

“Dialga isn't the only pokémon with control over time.” Emmet reminds, grin turning sly. “Perhaps we should put a stop to Ilex Forest on the schedule.”

“I do not think the depot agents would appreciate our departure.”

“They will get over it.”

Ingo snorts at that. Elesa would’ve compared him to a Tepig, but Emmet disagrees. It is too loud not to be a Pignite. Perhaps even a timid Emboar, if you were generous.

His face turns somber once more as he lets out a long breath. 

“I think…” He pauses, still deciding in his words. Emmet’s leg starts to bounce in anticipation, but he forces himself to stop. “I think you would’ve liked them.”

Emmet does not need to ask who. He knows. 

“I think I would have too.”

[zymple]

w. what