#at least the good news is that the green i got is darker than i expected which is very positive!

[the-kipsabian]

hmmmmmm

[simplyholl]

The President’s Pet

Summary: Trying to survive in the Void, you find yourself in President Loki’s possession.

Pairing: President Loki x F Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. minors DNI. CNC. Dom Loki. Rough sex. Biting.

This is darker than what I usually write.

W/C: 1.3K

A/N: This idea came from the wild WhatsApp ramblings of me and @wheredafandomat

See my Masterlist here

You run as fast as you can, Alioth was too close for comfort. You had survived two days in the Void, and you intended to make it a lot longer. “Follow me!” A tall man said, running beside you. “I’ll help you.” You look behind you, the giant cloud monster was gaining on you. You didn’t have a choice.

You follow him underground to his hideout. As soon as the entrance door shuts behind you, two other men surround you, tying you up. “She will do nicely. I heard the President is bored with his whore. She will make a great addition for him. She will ensure our protection for at least a month.”

You struggle against them, but it’s no use. The man you shouldn’t have trusted leads the pack as they carry you across the vacant land. When you reach their destination, you’re thrown to the ground in front of a man sitting on a makeshift throne. He’s wearing a suit with a tear near the shoulder, horns on his head, his dark hair frames his face so beautifully. You notice a button on his suit jacket that says “Loki for President”.

You wonder what his story was before he got pruned. He looks at you with a sinister smile. Rising to his feet, he grabs your hair at the nape of your neck lifting your face to meet his gaze. “Oh, I like her.”

With the clap of his hands, another woman is brought out. “Give her to Alioth, I’ve grown tired of her.” Your new captor continues, “Bring this one to her new room.” You’re lifted to your feet and brought to a tiny room. A bed and a cage are the only furnishings in the room.

You sit on the bed waiting for the man who now controls your fate to give you instructions. He keeps you waiting for what feels like hours, but it could be mere minutes. Time seems to move differently in the Void. He enters the small room, strutting over to you.

“I am President Loki. You belong to me now. What happens next is entirely up to you. If you sign this paper-“ A flash of green shines in his hand as a sheet of paper and a pen appear. “And you’re a good little pet, I will care for you. You will be fed, safe, and rest assured, I take care of what is mine. Any jewelry, clothes, sweets, any frivolous thing your heart desires. If my men find it out there, it will be yours. If you disobey me, you will be punished.”

He gestures to the cage. He hands you the paper. You take your time reading it carefully. Basically it says if you please him sexually, you will be safe, more importantly alive. “Apparently, you run this place. What’s with all the paperwork? You could just have your way with all the women who turn up here.” He thinks about your question for a second before answering.

“Consent is still important, even here darling. You make the choice. You can agree or be Alioth’s next meal. I need you to satisfy my needs. You need me to stay alive. We could have a mutually beneficial relationship here.”

He smiles and you see the politician in him. How he used his charisma to climb social ladders in his own timeline. You take a moment to study his face. He is the most handsome man you have ever seen. You weigh your options. It could be a lot worse. He could be hideous. This will ensure you’re alive for a little longer. You sigh, “Give me the pen.” You reach toward him as a wolfish grin appears on his face.

You hear the thud of his boots on the floor outside your door. This is the second time he’s come in to bed you. He was rough, leaving bruises scattered all over your body. You were still sore from last night, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

You want to be the best he’s ever had. That way, he won’t get bored of you so easily. You quickly strip your clothes, laying on the bed spread for him like a feast. He spots you immediately, nodding his approval.

“My perfect little slut, this is how I expect to be greeted from now on, understand?” “Yes, sir.” He removes his belt from his pants, slowly pulling it from each loop. You place your hands in front of you, ready to be tied up. He did the same thing yesterday.

He fastens the belt around your wrists tightly. You watch as he undresses. He gets on the bed, presenting his fingers to you. “Suck.” You take them between your lips sucking and licking them. When he’s satisfied, he pulls them out rubbing your clit with his saliva covered fingers.

“So wet for me.” He observes. “Yes sir, only for you.” He drags his cock against your lips, and you open for him. “Let me use your pretty mouth, pet.” You take him in slowly, your wet tongue traveling his thick length.

You moan around him as his fingers explore you. He grabs your head, making you take him all the way to the back of your throat. Your nose hits his pelvis, drool drips down your chin. He watches as you struggle to take him. You choke when he thrusts forcefully.

You let your jaw go slack, letting him fuck your face. You whine when he removes his fingers from you. “You look so beautiful choking on my cock.” He tells you, his thumb caressing your full cheek. You feel his cock pulsing on your tongue. You know he’s close. You suck your cheeks in and he empties in your mouth.

You swallow most of it, leaving some in your mouth. You stick your tongue out, showing him the release you saved before swallowing. “Thank you for cumming in my mouth, sir.”

“That’s my good girl.” He praises. “Good girls get rewarded.” He pushes you against the mattress, raising your belt restrained hands above your head. He licks a stripe up your neck, rough fingers pinching your nipples. He bites down on your shoulder, you cry out reaching for him.

He slings your arms back up with force. He spreads your legs, settling between them. You gasp as he buries his face between your thighs. He tugs on your clit, you writhe underneath him, bucking your hips up into his face.

President Loki’s large arm lays against your stomach, holding you down. He dines on you like you’re the first decent meal he’s had in ages. Considering where you are, it’s probably true. His tongue lashes against you, he’s not gentle. It’s almost like he’s punishing you with the skilled muscle.

You feel your orgasm building. You look down at the beautiful man between your legs, wishing you could hold onto his horns for support. The band low in your belly snaps and you fall apart, shouting his name. He bites your inner thigh as he removes his face from your center. You shutter with anticipation as he parts your legs slowly.

He plunges inside you, bottoming out immediately. “It’s too much.” You tell him, feeling way too full. You’re still sore from last night. “You can take it.” He confirms by pulling out and thrusting back in harder this time. He lifts your leg to his broad shoulder, this new angle making him drag deliciously against the special spot inside you.

“Tell me you love taking my big cock.” He commands. You moan as he looks over your bruised covered body, appreciating his handiwork from the night before. “I love your big cock, sir. It’s all I can think about.” You stroke his ego as he sets a brutal pace. “Good fucking girl.” He growls.

“I want to see this pretty pussy dripping with my cum.” He reaches between you, pinching your sensitive clit. “Please cum inside me. I need you to fill me up, sir.” You beg him. His thrusts grow sloppy, then he spills inside you releasing with a grunt. He pulls out quickly, rough hands spreading you apart.

He collects the cum dripping out of you with his long fingers, pushing it back into you. “You were so good for me.” He coos. “Don’t clean up yet. I’ll be back to do it later.” A hot plate of food and mouth watering desserts appear with a green flourish. “Don’t tell the others I can do that.” He winks at you, magically putting his clothes back on before leaving.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @lokisninerealms @wheredafandomat @peaches1958 @loz-3 @freegardenbanananeck @chantsdemarins @lokidokieokie @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lokischambermaid @lamentis-10 @muddyorbsblr @itsybitchylittlewitchy @anukulee @xorpsbane

[geminiwritten]

i’m yours ; billy butcher

fandom: the boys

pairing: billy x reader

summary: you find out that butcher slept with maeve, and attempt to ignore your feelings by going m.i.a. and going home with a complete stranger, only to awake the green-eyed monster living inside of butcher

preface: this isn’t set in canon timeline, it’s basically just using the bit where butcher sleeps with maeve as a bit of a jealousy catalyst

notes: this man has a hold on me... and i feel like this got a little rushed at the end but i still kind of like it, please let me know what y’all think! (also, i’m sorry all my stuff has the same formula, i promise i’m trying to mix it up!)

warnings: a lot of swearing, the ‘sewer-slide’ word, google-translated french, sexual content, and some soft smut

word count: 5315

Things are good, too good, but you’re doing your best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Hughie and Annie are happy, MM is content, and Frenchie is excitedly creating new methods of blowing up Supes almost daily. Butcher is… well, Butcher. He’s grumpy and brash, but seems to be feeling a little more positive lately, focusing more on recon and intel rather than running in with guns blazing.

For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you had managed to go grocery shopping without anyone stumbling home bloody and bruised. Frenchie is humming along to the song that had been playing on the radio, carrying most of the plastic bags while MM carries one with you on his back. You were all in such high spirits that he had let you jump on his back at the bottom of the apartment stairs, carrying you up four flights as if you weighed no more than a hiking backpack.

Frenchie chuckles at the two of you as he unlocks the apartment door, entering first and pushing it open all the way. You have to duck a little, giggling and holding on to MM for dear life as he starts jogging toward the couch. He drops the bag on the floor before falling into the sofa, and you squeal as he squashes you.

“Hey,” you exclaim, still laughing, “what the fuck? Steeds don’t sit on their riders!”

“You want to ride me next, petit ange?” Frenchie calls from the kitchen.

You writhe until MM moves, standing up with a satisfied grin across his lips. You flip him your middle finger as he turns away, ushering Frenchie out of the kitchen so he can put the groceries away. You find the TV remote buried in the couch cushions, and just as the old screen flickers to life, Kimiko emerges from the hallway. She looks at Frenchie with a small smile, signing hello before her nose crinkles, and she signs another sentence you struggle to catch as your attention is called toward the master bedroom doors.

Frenchie frowns curiously, “She says that it smells in here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you lot are stinkin’ up my fuckin’ apartment,” Butcher says, running a hand through his hair.

He looks like shit. His shirt is wrinkled and the buttons are fastened crookedly, his hair is standing up in all directions, and the circles beneath his eyes are several shades darker than usual.

“It is our apartment, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “it is the least you can after making me blow up my last two places, eh?”

Butcher rolls his eyes before dropping into one of the dining room chairs, holding his face in his hands as he takes several deep breaths.

Frenchie looks to Kimiko again before translating, “She says it smells like alcohol and sweat, and a perfume that she has not smelt before.”

“I don’t wear perfume,” you note, “every time we have to haul ass and run, the bottles end up broken or missing, so I gave up.”

MM raises his hands in defence, “Don’t look at me, I haven’t seen anyone but you lot in the past twelve hours.”

“Perhaps it is something we picked up at the shops,” Frenchie shrugs.

Kimiko signs again, and you watch her to listen.

“You can smell a stranger?” you ask with a frown.

“To reiterate,” MM says, “I stayed at a motel alone last night, I was too tired to drive all the way here after visiting Janine.”

“I stayed with Annie,” you point out, “is that who you can smell?”

Kimiko shakes her head, and your heart begins to race anxiously. Neither she nor Frenchie stayed here last night either, opting for one of his old hideouts after scouring the city for any possible missed traces that Vought could use to find you all.

MM turns to Butcher, “Was there someone here last night?”

“Why would you not tell us that there was a break in?” Frenchie demands, his face a mixture of irritation and concern.

Butcher sighs, “There wasn’t a fuckin’ break in, calm down.”

Kimiko pads quietly around the room, subtly sniffing the air around MM and then Frenchie before moving toward you. She inhales above your head and grimaces, before moving to the side and taking a deep breath over the couch.

You shoot up from your seat and stumble toward the kitchen, “Me or the couch?”

She points at the sofa.

“Butcher,” MM says, his voice demanding, “explain before I slap your hungover ass.”

Its only then that you notice the two empty bottles of whiskey, one on the coffee table and one laying on the floor. You back up slowly toward the kitchen, a fresh wave of panic washing over you.

“Someone stopped by,” Butcher mutters into his hands, “that’s all.”

You reach the kitchen bench at the same time Kimiko does, still sniffing like a police dog, and her face twists into a disgusted frown. You startle again, jumping back from the bench as if it had burnt you.

“Care to elaborate?” MM presses.

Butcher sighs, and you can feel a lump growing in your throat.

“We all sleep here too, Butcher,” Frenchie states, “and we deserve to know if it is still safe to do so.”

“‘Course it’s fuckin’ safe,” Butcher says, finally turning his head to face the room. “Maeve came by, alrigh’? Just her, ‘n’ she had some information, so we had a chat and a drink. Is that alrigh’ with you nosey bastards?”

A weight drops in your stomach, anchoring you to the floor as moisture begins to blur your vision.

Kimiko stops sniffing when she reaches Butcher, cringing and stumbling several paces back until she is beside Frenchie.

“You slept with a Supe?” MM gasps.

Butcher huffs and pushes himself up from the chair, “No fuckin’ privacy with you lot, is there?”

MM raises his hands again, “Hey, I’m not judging, just shocked.”

Frenchie’s concern melts into taunting smirk, “No need to be defensive, Monsieur Charcutier, we all have our needs, and I am surprised that you managed to woo such a beautiful woman.”

“Fuck off, Frenchie,” Butcher sighs, dragging his feet toward the fridge.

Their voices blur into white noise as you focus on the slow inhale and exhale of your breath. You wriggle your toes in your boots, forcing yourself to feel your physical body instead of the whirlwind of emotions swirling through your head. It feels like your skull is fracturing with the effort that it takes to contain the storm, but you refuse to let your feelings win. You find a bottle and push them inside, jamming the cork in just as Frenchie snaps his fingers in front of your nose.

You blink, “What?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft crease between his brows.

“Yeah, sorry,” you blink again to quell your watery eyes, “what’s up?”

“Are you hungry?”

You glance over his shoulder at Butcher, his head in the fridge as he ignores MM’s demands to get out of the way.

“Not really,” you reply, “I was actually thinking about going back over to Annie’s, I think I forgot my… my socks.”

The concern between Frenchie’s brows deepens, “You forgot your socks?”

You nod, “My favourite socks.”

“Didn’t know you had favourite socks,” Butcher mumbles as he steps out of the kitchen.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” you state, plastering on a smile that you know doesn’t reach your eyes.

You can feel their curious gazes on you as you turn, retrieving your wallet and keys from the couch before striding out of the apartment door without a second glance. You pull your phone out of your pocket and text Annie to let her know that you’re on your way before switching it to ‘do not disturb’ and zipping it inside your jacket pocket, determined to forget about it until you’ve got a handle on your emotions.

The sun is setting by the time you reach the familiar street on which Hughie and Annie’s apartment is located, and you’re rather proud of the fact that you managed to focus on nothing but your steady steps the whole way here. You look up at the brick building on your left, but instead of turning toward the front steps, your feet carrying you across the street toward the park, not stopping until you’re standing in front of an empty bench.

“Something wrong with that one?” a voice asks, and you startle toward the source of it.

A young man is standing beside you, clad in running shorts and a tight exercise jacket. He doesn’t look menacing, but your whole body tenses as your fight or flight instincts battle for dominance.

“I’m sorry?”

He chuckles, “The bench, I mean. You’re frowning at it as if it’s diseased or something.”

“Oh,” you look back at the moss-ridden seat, “no, I just- I don’t know.”

“Are you alright?”

He buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and you let yourself relax, deciding that he isn’t a threat, just an overly friendly stranger.

“I’m fine, sorry,” you sigh, “just had a weird day.”

“That’s nothing to apologise for,” he says, sitting on the bench and looking up at you. “I know the feeling.”

You sit beside him, watching his side profile and slowly realising how attractive he is. His hair is cropped short, shorter than you usually liked, but his eyes are a stunning green and the faint shadow of stubble across his jaw is definitely something you can appreciate.

“Do you often approach strangers in the park?” you ask.

He laughs again, his eyes sparkling under the orange sky, “No, not really, especially not strangers as gorgeous as you.”

You blush at the ground, deciding to focus on your fraying shoelaces rather than the handsome stranger.

“But I figured,” he goes on, “that if I didn’t ask this pretty girl if she was okay, I might not be able to stop thinking about her for the rest of my life.”

You actually giggle, immediately cursing yourself for being so easy, “That’s a long time.”

“I know, right? I didn’t fancy the risk, and hey,” he smiles at you, “looks like it might have been worth it.”

“Maybe,” you smile back, “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Nate.”

You’re not sure if you’re an idiot or if you’ve just given up on your own personal safety, but you sit and talk to Nate until the sun is well below the horizon. You learn that he’s a journalist and a dog person, and lately he’s been more afraid of Supes than comforted by their presence. You tell him you’re a freelancer, because it isn’t technically a lie, and that you’re in between gigs at the moment but questioning whether you’re really doing what you want to be doing. Also, not a lie.

“I know that this is probably very forward,” he says, his knee bouncing nervously, “but did you want to come back to my place for a drink? I would suggest a bar, but I’m not really dressed for it, and I just get this feeling that as soon as we say goodbye, you’re going to disappear forever.”

You frown, “You’re a real long-term guy, aren’t you?”

His cheeks flush pink, “I don’t have to be.”

As you walk alongside the man you met mere hours ago, you come to the conclusion that you must be suicidal. In the current state that the world is in, who in their right mind goes home with a complete stranger? You, apparently.

His apartment isn’t far from the park, which is a little comforting, knowing that you will have a speedy escape to Annie’s place if this guy does end up being a psycho serial killer. The buildings all look the same as you approach a row of tall brick blocks, climbing the few concrete steps up to the lobby doors before scaling three flights to reach his apartment door.

It’s surprisingly well decorated inside, and you can eye a few expensive items that make you wonder if he really is a struggling journalist, or perhaps a shady underground arts dealer. You take a seat at the kitchen bench as he babbles about how crappy his landlord is and how much money he’s had to spend on the place to make it liveable. The glass of wine he places in front of you is gone within two gulps, and he happily pours you another.

“I feel like I probably should have asked this a few hours ago,” he says with a sheepish smile, “but you aren’t with anyone, are you? Engaged or married, or anything like that.”

You choke on your mouthful of cheap wine, coughing the burn away while he hurries to get you a glass of water.

“No,” you finally reply, “I’m not, at all.”

“Good,” he replies, his earnest grin returning, “I mean, it’s surprising because you’re incredible, but I’m glad.”

You offer him a smile that you hope appears coy and not at all forced before drinking down the rest of your second glass of wine. He moves into the lounge room, and you take the opportunity to pour yourself another generous glass, quickly swallowing the two mouthfuls left in the bottle while his back is still turned. You gingerly place the empty bottle in the sink before following him, dropping onto the soft leather couch as he turns on the television.

A news broadcast lights up the screen, and fiery images of a truck collision flash behind the breaking news banner that reads: ‘QUEEN MAEVE SAVES THE DAY’. Your stomach twists into a knot as the bottle of emotions you had managed to almost forget about begins to break, the glass fracturing and threatening to send you into a full-blown mental breakdown.

“Damn,” Nate sighs, “I know the Supes are pretty sketchy these days, but Queen Maeve is just gorgeous.”

With one last burning gulp of wine, you turn to the man beside you and take his head between your hands, crushing your lips against his. He gasps, but responds quickly, his hands finding your hips and guiding you onto his lap.

The rest of the night is a blur as you attempt to give all of your attention to this stranger that you barely know instead of confronting the green-eyed monster roaring in your belly. He finishes once on the couch, pretty quickly, but you’re not one to judge, before you drag him into the bedroom and away from the incessant news broadcasts of Queen Maeve’s heroic act.

It isn’t your alarm that wakes you, or the sound of Frenchie and MM arguing about how to cook eggs, but rather the unfamiliar scent that douses your breath. Your body trembles with anxiety and your eyes snap open, darting around the strange room as your thoughts scramble to remember how you got here.

“Fuck,” you sigh at the sound of someone snoring beside you.

You gently roll over and slip out of the sheets, cold air immediately nipping at your naked body. You find the nearest item of clothing and slip it over your head before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the lounge room. Nerves and hunger mingle inside of your stomach, making you overwhelmingly nauseous by the time you find your jacket thrown over the back of the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter as you retrieve your phone from the pocket.

Dozens of missed calls and text messages fill your lock screen, several from Annie and Frenchie, a couple from Hughie and MM, but the majority of them listed under Butcher’s contact name, ‘Big Willy’. You thought it was funny a few days ago.

You quickly text Annie that you’re okay, you’re incredibly sorry, and that you’ll fill her in as soon as you see her. You find your jeans and wriggle into them before finding your panties and tucking them into your back pocket. You scoop your bra and your shirt off the floor on your way to the kitchen, and check your phone again for a reply from Annie. Nothing yet.

You drink the glass of untouched water from the kitchen bench before splashing your face and trying to calm the vibration of nerves coursing through your body.

“Hey.”

You startle at the sudden voice, turning to find Nate in nothing but sweatpants as he emerges from the bedroom.

“Hey,” you murmur.

He frowns, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-I’m fine, just- uh, my friends have been calling me,” you gesture to your phone, “and they’re pretty worried.”

“Oh,” he lets out a long breath, “I didn’t even hear it ringing last night.”

You smile weakly, not bothering to explain that you were intentionally avoiding your phone all afternoon.

He steps forward, “So, did you-”

The apartment door bursts open, splinters of wood scattering across the floor as you squeal and Nate jumps away from the blow. Your heart is racing, but your body reacts as it was trained to do, and you dive for a knife from the block beside the stove before freezing as you recognise the figure stalking through the broken door.

“Butcher,” you say, “what the fuck?”

His head snaps toward you, the crease between his brows softening and his eyes looking almost vulnerable as realises that it’s you.

“I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you and why did you just break my door?” Nate speaks up.

Your stomach sinks as Butcher’s attention is turned toward the shirtless man, murderous intent returning to his face.

“Who the fuck am I?” he spits, “Who the fuck are you?”

Nate looks tiny compared to Butcher, his narrow frame absolutely dwarfed by Butcher’s broad height and intimidating stance.

“I-I’m Nate,” the smaller man says, “and this is my apartment, that’s my door that you just destroyed.”

“Yeah?” Butcher taunts, stalking forward, “An’ what’re you gon’a do ‘bout it?”

Nate looks at you, his eyes frantic and begging for help.

“Butcher, calm down, he’s-”

“Calm down?” he whirls toward you, “You want me to fuckin’ calm down?!”

“Hey, man,” Nate says, “we can talk, you don’t have to-”

“Nate,” you put your hand up, “I’m sorry, but please shut up.”

“Nate,” Butcher repeats mockingly, “if you value your life, I’d listen to ‘er.”

You drop the knife on the bench, “Butcher, can we just leave, please?”

“You don’t get to make any requests right now, sweethear’,” he says, taking a heavy step toward you, “not after the shit you put me through for the past twelve fuckin’ hours.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls sarcastically, “maybe ‘bout the fact that you fuckin’ disappeared! You didn’t answer your damn phone, didn’t tell anyone where you fuckin’ were! I got a call from Hughie askin’ if you were back home, ‘cause you texted Annie ‘n’ told her you were comin’, but didn’t fuckin’ show up!”

A pebble of guilt drops into your stomach, but you ignore it, squaring up to him with a scowl.

“So?” you shrug, “I’m an adult, I can do as I fucking please.”

“Not without tellin’ me!” he exclaims, “Not if I don’t know where you fuckin’ are or if you’re even fuckin’ alive!”

“You’re not my fucking father, Butcher!” you shout back, feeling another fissure in the bottle of emotions. “I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission to live my own fucking life!”

His jaw twitches, a tidal wave of emotion crashing through his eyes all too quickly for you to try and discern any of them.

“A-Are you Y/N’s boyfriend?” Nate asks timidly.

You and Butcher turn to him in unison, exclaiming at the same time, “No!”

A beat of silence passes, and Butcher’s glare doesn’t falter. You take a deep breath to try and sooth the storm of frustration threatening to consume you.

“Butcher,” you say softly, “can we please leave?”

His head snaps back toward you, his eyes scanning your body as they fill with realisation.

“Did you fuck her?” he asks, turning back to Nate.

He doesn’t respond, his mouth hanging open as he takes several steps back.

“You gon’a answer me?”

“Butcher,” you say again, “cut it out.”

He takes another menacing step toward Nate, “I asked you a question.”

“W-We slept together, yes,” Nate stammers.

The laugh that leaves Butcher’s lips is chilling, sounding almost mad.

“Oh, pardon my French,” he says, “perhaps I should’a asked if you made sweet fuckin’ love to this gorgeous woman right ‘ere.”

“For fuck’s sake!” you shout, “Stop it, stop whatever the fuck this is, and let’s just fucking go!”

“You’re tellin’ me that you fuckin’ disappeared so you could hide out with this fuckin’ twat?” Butcher exclaims, “You let me worry myself fuckin’ sick so you could get a lousy fuck?”

The bottle explodes, shards of glass cutting you from the inside and sending white hot waves of frustration and anger, and despair rolling through your body.

“I can fuck whoever I want, Butcher!” you scream, startled by the volume of your own voice.

His eyes narrow, but his lips don’t move.

“And you can fuck whoever the fuck you want,” you spit, “obviously.”

You snatch your phone off the bench and stomp toward the door, turning to Nate with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, about… this.”

You continue down the hall and the three flights of stairs, not bothering to check if Butcher is following until you’re outside. The temperature is significantly lower than it was yesterday, but your stubbornness doesn’t let you show it as Butcher strides past you toward the car haphazardly parked at the curb.

You climb into the passenger’s seat, sitting as close as you can to the door and hugging your clothes against your chest as you stare out the window. Tears fill your eyes, your nose growing hot and your cheeks undoubtedly red as you use every ounce of self-control you still have to stave of the inevitable. All you need to do is make it home and make it to your bedroom, and then you can cry. You can curl up with your face in your pillow and sob, and admit that you’re jealous, that you’re hurt, and that you love a man who doesn’t even understand the meaning of that word anymore.

“You look like shit,” he grunts.

You sniffle, keeping your face turned away from him, “So do you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get much fuckin’ sleep,” he says as the car comes to a halt, “I was up all night worryin’ ‘bout whether or not you were fuckin’ alive.”

“Well, I didn’t get much sleep either,” you retort, before pushing the passenger door open and stumbling out.

You hear the car door slam as you hurry up the stairs and into the building, taking the steps two at a time until you reach the apartment door. To your great relief, it’s unlocked, and you let yourself in before Butcher has even made it into the hallway.

“Oh, my goodness, mon amour,” Frenchie gasps, “you’re alive! You’re okay… are you okay?”

You don’t realise your crying until you try to look at him, your vision blurred by heavy tears as they fall in fat droplets down your cheeks.

MM steps forward, “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you wipe your eyes with the back of your hand, “I’m fine, I was with a-a friend.”

“A friend?” Butcher echoes, the door slamming behind him.

Your blood sizzles in your veins, heated by the overwhelming frustration coiling in your chest.

“How the fuck did you know where I was?” you demand, spinning around to face him.

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you have my fucking phone bugged?”

Butcher blows a long breath out of his nose, the thick vein in his neck throbbing under his red skin. “Look,” he says, “I know that whatever the fuck just happened wasn’t ideal, but why can’t you fuckin’ see this from my point of view?”

“Our point of view,” MM corrects, “we were all worried.”

“I get that!” you exclaim, “I fucking understand that, but what I don’t understand is why Butcher is still acting like such a fucking cunt. You can see that I’m fine! I’m alive, so what’s your problem?”

“What’s your problem?” he snaps, “Why didn’t you answer your fuckin’ phone? Why didn’t you tell anyone where you fuckin’ were? And why the fuck did you go home with a complete fuckin’ stranger?”

“Oh, shit,” Frenchie murmurs.

“Maybe I just needed a fucking break.”

The room falls quiet, the only sound being Frenchie’s soft footsteps as he backs away. You use the clothes in your arms to wipe the fresh fall of tears from your cheeks and try to ease your shaky breaths as you wait for another onslaught of reprimands.

Butcher sighs, “Go shower.”

“What?”

“You need to shower,” he says, stepping forward.

You frown, “Why?”

“You look like shit, and you sm-” he stops himself, pausing when you take a small step back.

“I look like shit and I smell,” you finish for him, “thanks, Butcher.”

You drag your feet toward the bathroom, dropping your clothes on the floor and staring at your wrecked face in the mirror. Your hair is a mess and your face is blotchy and red, with streaks of black painting your cheeks. The shirt hanging loosely from your shoulders is unfamiliar, and something akin to disgust settles in the pit of your stomach.

“Give me your clothes,” Butcher says as he appears in the reflection behind you.

“Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

He sighs, “I’m tryin’ to help.”

“I don’t want your fucking help,” you turn to him and lean against the vanity, “go offer it to someone else. I’m sure Maeve would love to see your fucking name pop up on her phone.”

His frown disappears, and you can feel the air shift. Fuck. Now you’ve done it. The shards of glass sticking you from the inside have cut right through your chest, slicing it open as your ribcage cracks and unfolds, presenting your pathetic heart to the man who already held it in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back with determination.

“I-Is that what this is-” he struggles for words, running his hands through his hair, “for fuck’s sake, Y/N.”

Your breath comes and goes in short gasps, the lump in your throat crushing your windpipe as it demands to be felt.

“For fuck’s sake!” he exclaims, before taking one step forward and slamming the bathroom door shut.

Fear sparks through you, and you whimper, “Butcher, please don’t-”

Before you can finish, he pulls you against his chest, his arms wrapping around you in a vice hold as he rests his chin on the top of your head. You sob into his shirt, tremors wracking your exhausted body as every bit of fear and frustration tears you apart from the inside. You’re not sure how you let yourself get this emotional. Maybe it’s the fact that the world is falling apart, and you’re supposed to act like you’re ready to save it? Or maybe it’s because you’re fucking tired of having everything you love ripped away from you, every chance you think you might have at happiness taken from you by the cunts in the sky who call themselves ‘Superheroes’.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

The turbulence inside of you quells simply because you finally acknowledged it, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Butcher,” you croak, looking up at him through tear laced lashes, “kiss me?”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts it up, leaning in to meet you the rest of the way before his lips brush yours. It’s hesitant and soft, barely a touch, and he pulls away too soon.

“You need to shower.”

“Oh,” you try to wriggle out of his arms, but they’re too strong.

“I can smell that fuckin’ twat all over you,” he growls, “an’ it’s makin’ me fuckin’ sick.”

Realisation slaps you across the face, giving you the strength to remember how to hold yourself up as he pulls away. His fingers curl into the material at the neck of your shirt, ripping it apart right down the middle before pushing it off your shoulders and tossing it on the floor.

Another growl rumbles through his chest and the air in the room shifts again, now thick with a tension that has your heart throbbing in anticipation. Your mind races, your thoughts riding rollercoasters as you struggle to catch up with his fast hands. Your jeans are unbuttoned and pooled around your ankles in less than a second, and he takes another moment to devour your naked body before moving to turn on the shower.

You stumble out of your jeans as he quickly sheds his own clothes before wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you under the warm stream of water and holds your body against his, the feeling of his bare skin making your head spin. He takes the bottle of bodywash from the small shelf and pops the cap with one hand, turning it upside down and squirting a ridiculous amount all over your chest and his.

You giggle and he grins, returning the bottle to the shelf before crushing his lips against yours. The soap makes your skin slide against his in the most delicious way and you can feel your core clench, eliciting a wanton moan from your open mouth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth and claiming you with hungry, sloppy kisses.

“Didn’t think you’d be jealous,” he murmurs against your mouth, “didn’t think you fuckin’ cared about me.”

You slide your hands across his bare shoulders and behind his neck, finding purchase in his wet hair and tugging gently as you kiss him with every ounce of passion that you have.

“I do care,” you sigh when his lips leave yours to lap at your neck, “I am fucking jealous.”

“Sweethear’,” he whispers, his hands moving to your breasts, “you’ve got nothin’ to be fuckin’ jealous ‘bout.”

His mouth leaves your skin as he turns you to face the wall, pressing his body against your back before pushing you into the tiled wall. You gasp first at the sudden cold, and then at the feeling of him grinding himself against your ass.

“I’m yours,” he growls, his lips against your shoulder, “always fuckin’ have been.”

You still manage to speak despite the pleasure of him threatening to overwhelm you. “Then why?”

One hand wraps gently around your throat while the other splays across your lower belly, teasing the place just below that aches for his touch.

“‘Cause I never fuckin’ dreamed that I’d have you,” he says, his lips at your ear now.

You reach back with one hand, holding the nape of his neck as you turn so that your mouth can meet his in a messy kiss.

“You’ve always had me,” you murmur, “I belonged to you the day I met you.”

His hips buck against your ass, pressing you against the wall and making you whimper.

“You’re mine,” he says, moving back just enough for you to turn around.

You nod as you lean down to kiss his neck. Your tongue laving at his wet skin before your teeth sink in and he hisses, one hand squeezing your hip as the other smacks against the tiled wall.

“All yours.”

You place your hands against his chest, pushing him back enough for you to drop to your knees, your hands trailing down his body until they reach his hips. You dig your fingers in and look up at him through your wet lashes.

“Show me who I belong to.”

END.

[blues824]

Hello again! I don’t know if you remember me but I requested the Black Butler characters x Shinobu! Reader and came back to request another. If isn’t too much may I ask for a Morticia Addams! Reader for Malleus, Lilia, Azul, and the Tweels just imagine them with a Morticia! Reader with them being seductive, elegant, and very motherly. They take care of their carnivorous plants and can see the beauty behind everything.

Hello, again! Did you like the new Wednesday show? Because I loved it so much. Truly a work of art.

Azul Ashengrotto

Somebody’s blushing~ Nah but for real, the first time he saw you he fell hard and fast for you. You were just so elegant and kind, and so unusual compared to the other humans around NRC. You were able to see right through him and help him through his insecurities.

He finds it comforting for you to be there waiting for him after a long day of school and running the Mostro Lounge. You would walk with your arm in his as you looked like you were glowing in the moonlight. 

The first time you brought your seductive side out to play, he was super flustered. He’s having trouble breathing, he feels very warm, the tweels are teasing the living heck out of him. He’s very overwhelmed. However, he can’t say that he dislikes it.

Once, when he went to visit you in Ramshackle (which you obviously feel right at home in) he saw you taking care of a few Venus Flytraps. It wasn’t unusual to see someone taking care of plants here, but to see you snatching a fly out of thin air and feeding it to the plant was definitely out of the ordinary.

It’s refreshing to see someone with such a positive outlook on everything. He tends to see things in a more negative light, so you brought a new perspective into his life. He returns the favor by getting you many gifts that remind him of you.

Jade Leech

The Gomez in this situation. When he looks into your eyes, all you can see is pure love and adoration. You both dance the nights away as you enjoy being close with each other. He thinks you’re absolutely beautiful as you both sway together.

It leaves a warm feeling in his heart when he sees you enter the Mostro Lounge and request to be seated in his section. Once you got your food (which he paid for), he would take his 15 minute break to spend time with you.

The first time you brought out your more seductive nature, he reciprocated it immediately. He would do the thing where he starts kissing your hand and slowly moves up. It makes others so envious because they wish they had a relationship (with you) like that.

You both have a green thumb and offer each other tips on how to allow your plants to flourish and thrive. You’ve gifted him a few Satan’s Bolete mushrooms and he’s given you Nightshade seeds. It gives you both a reason to visit each other often.

I would say he’s fairly positive. More so than his twin, at least. Of course, your positive view is more macabre than normal. Once, while you were dancing, a sparrow landed on a nearby branch and you whispered that it would make for a good trinket. He smiled, glad to finally find someone like him.

Floyd Leech

He would most likely call you ‘Dolphin’ because you’re graceful, intelligent, friendly, and most importantly… you have a darker side to you. Another thing he has noticed is that you're loyal to those you love.

Whenever he has to work a late shift at the Lounge, his bad mood is almost immediately lifted when you walk in the door. He will run over and give you a big squeeze, telling you about how much he missed you. You have a very strong pain tolerance, so only you can handle his hugs.

When you first start acting like your seductive self, he is both flustered and entertained. If he sees you being particularly affectionate, he will pull you into his lap where you both will act all lovey-dovey with each other.

As silly as it is, he gets jealous about how much attention you give your beloved plants. He will sit and pout as you whisper positive affirmations towards the Flytraps you love. Of course, once you finish, you turn around and start cooing at him lovingly and he just melts.

We all know that he has intense mood swings. However, whenever he’s with you and you’re giving him attention he remains happy and content. You’re the one he goes to whenever something upsets him, and sometimes you even come to him because you both have an emotional connection with each other.

Lilia Vanrouge

You both make a very playful couple. He immediately warms up to you as you do to him. You remind him of royalty: elegant and graceful, friendly and charming. Even Sebek is happy that the two of you found each other.

He loves trying to scare you because it never works. Instead, you put your hands on the side of his face and pull him in for a kiss. Since you do this every time, he makes it a point to try and ‘scare’ you at least twice a day.

He is mostly amused when you bring out your more seductive side. He smiles as you sit yourself on the arm of his chair and run your finger up his neck and move your face closer to his while whispering how much you absolutely love him. He leans even closer, whispering back. Your lips never meet, but it’s enough to make everyone else jealous.

He loves the concept of being a ‘plant parent’, so he will co-parent with you. You have a lovely bed of Nightshade, some Venus Flytraps, Hemlock, and a couple of Ghost Orchids. The orchids are especially valued as they are as odd as the both of you.

You both tend to be very positive. You even have the same macabre interests that you bring up. A lot of the others see you dancing together out of nowhere. No music, just enjoying the time spent in each other’s arms. 

Malleus Draconia

The fact that you 1) aren’t scared of him and 2) are actually quite like him makes him fall so freaking hard for you. The chemistry between the two of you is unfathomable. You can just look into his eyes and he’d look back just lovestruck.

He loves to see you waiting for him to get Ramshackle for your nightly walks. He thinks you look absolutely divine underneath the moon’s pale glow. The things you say are very interesting as well. You have plenty of stories to share about your time with your family, and he has all the time in the world to listen.

Bringing out your seductive side can do one of three things: confuse him, amuse him, or make him flustered, sometimes all 3. If you use human ways of seduction, he will be confused. Thankfully, you had read up on dragon courting rituals. You would wear the emerald that is the heart of his horde as a necklace and would remain close to him at all times. Others would often see you with your arm in his.

He’s glad that you were able to find a hobby that wasn’t destructive. He’s surprised to see that Ramshackle was turned into a sort of greenhouse in itself. He’s also noticed that the plants at the normal greenhouse were thriving more than ever. 

His view on the half-empty-half-full cup changes depending on what happens that day. However, when he’s with you, he can only see the half-full cup. You turn him into a puppy and he longs for you whenever you have to be away. The absolute look of adoration in your eyes puts anything to shame. The way you hold his face in your hands and he holds your waist as you both go in for a soft kiss brings a warm feeling to both of your cold hearts.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here and this is part fourteen! Yes I messed it up this morning yes I had to wait all day to correct it it's all goooood

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off... Bart is a good egg who is having a Bad Time waiting for his friend :(

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny wakes up with a gasp.

He’s—where is he? Everything hurts. He can barely think. Danny groans, long and loud, and lifts up an aching hand to his temple.

His fingers come away green. Aw, fuck. What happened to him? What’s going on? Why is his hand…blurry? Is he concussed? Is something wrong with his eyes, or with his head??

(He hopes it’s not his head. It’s waaay easier to heal from one than the other.)

Danny tries to sit up, and— NOPE. Ow. Bad idea. Suuuuuch a bad idea. His arms and hands and his neck and his back are screaming at him, now that he’s awake enough to pay attention. Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

He lays back down. His eyes don’t—well, they don’t shut all the way, which part of his brain labels as very bad, actually, but the world does turn darker and greener as he tries to shut his eyes, and that’s close enough to closing his eyes that Danny can mostly zone out past the pain.

He licks his sore lips. They taste like copper. And battery acid. …And Pixie Sticks.

Ugh, ecto-blood. His own, he assumes.

Everything is blurry and everything kind of hurts and he doesn’t know how he got here or what’s going on. Danny tries to roll over, tries to get more comfortable, but something starts dragging on the inside of his arm, which means intravenous lines.

Ugggghhhh. He hopes it’s got pain meds at least.

Awake him can deal with this later. Danny zones out, his labored breathing evens.

He’s asleep before he knows it.

*

Danny wakes up next to quiet murmuring, and to weird sensation of something moving in his arm.

He yawns—and his jaw cracks apart farther than usual, with more clicking noises than his jaw usually makes. Weird. His arms come up, his eyes unblur…

The tugging sensation doesn’t go away. Danny sniffs blearily. Blinks.

Two white-coated humans(…?) in PPE pause at his bedside, a half-dissembled IV shared between them.

Danny stops breathing. He can’t—is he—

His eyes go to the ceiling. The floor. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in. He doesn’t understand. Is this the Guys in White again? Is he— Did he never leave? Is he trapped? Danny doesn’t—he can’t—

—One of the white coats starts making worried noises, which. Danny’s never heard that before. It’s usually threats. They raise both their arms, and Danny flinches back—

…And so do they. Huh. Hm. Are the Guys hiring scaredy cats now? That would be a change of pace, if they were as scared of Danny as Danny is of them.

The second person clicks the new IV bag into place. Danny stops focusing on number one and starts focusing on number two.

They don’t make any overt tells either. The IV line is already in him, and the bag is… Well. It’s not red and Danny’s not in any pain, and it’s not green either. It’s just. Kinda opaque? Milky? The person doesn’t start cackling evilly or telling Danny how screwed he is, either. They both just sort of…tidy up?

The first one doesn’t get closer, either, but Danny can mostly tell that they’re scanning him visually. Their attention goes from his face, to Danny’s visible arm, to the puncture point in his elbow for the IV needle.

Danny also eyes his IV point. Well. It looks like a needle. Doesn’t hurt all that much.

Someone says something he doesn’t catch. But the tone isn’t…mean, or anything. If anything, it sounds quiet, and low, like they’re trying to keep him calm.

Danny doesn’t understand.

He moves as far out of the way of them as possible. It only has the effect of a few inches and it's so painfully slow. If that. He— he remembers. He’s supposed to be scared of— something. No, he knows it—

The labs. He’s supposed to be scared of the labs. The smell is rank there and there’s always screaming and Danny had been hurt there; really, really hurt.

He’s still hurt. He’s still in a lab. In a room. In some sort of too-small prison, and now his barely-sewn together lungs are trying too hard to keep air in his body and it’s not working, and—

Danny barely pays attention when the first doctor leaves. He sees the other back into the door and reach for the phone line, and he can’t stop breathing and he can’t calm down because that means that they’re calling for help and they’re going to hurt him all over again. Tie him down. Cut him open. Shock him, until he can’t breathe without screaming—

Someone new comes in. They look— rushed. Danny can see her actively tying up long black hair, threading a mask up over her face, pulling on one of those paper shifts the doctors wear. The only difference is that she doesn’t put boot covers on.

She has big, bright boots that go all the way up her legs. With his green vision, they look kind of…greyish? (Maybe they’re pink..?)

Either way. They look…ridiculous. Danny doesn’t exactly forget to be scared, but also…what the fuck.

The woman sees that Danny can see her. She waves.

Danny presses back against his— cot. Bed.

That doesn’t stop her. She pulls latex gloves from out of the paper slip she’s wearing and snaps them on, revealing a thin layer of something shiny underneath her elastic-bound sleeves. Once that’s on, she does a visible body checkup of herself: boots, gown, gloves, mask, hair.

…No hair net, though. Or goggles. The Docs in White always wanted to be fully covered when they saw their victims. Being able to see her eyes is a lot…friendlier.

She figures herself out. Straightens. Gives a double thumbs up.

…Danny's eyes roam around. There’s no one nearby. There's only a wall behind him. Is she looking at…him? Is that directed to him?

She doesn’t move immediately— and once she’s in, the second doctor leaves the room entirely.

…The new person takes over. She goes from monitor to monitor, getting closer, but with none of the focus on Danny, per se. She reads his stats, verbalizes them out loud, which, doesn’t sound like…English? But enough to confuse him? It’s kind of like trying to discern Esperanto when he's not thinking about how it's not English.

Ancients. The pounding in his head is getting worse. Maybe Danny has a concussion or something.

The woman doesn’t…get. Him. In fact, he seems to be the least interesting thing in the room to her. Her time is spent on reading the charts and the machines waiting around him, putting something into a…fridge? A Cabinet? In the corner of his room? And otherwise, she leaves him alone.

Until. She does get up and look at him, and all of Danny tenses up painfully. He can’t move. Something’s holding down his legs, his body’s stiff, and all of him is so tired that he genuinely can’t tell if his waist is tied down or if he’s just that exhausted.

He can hear his heart rate monitor kick up. He can’t move, not really. He tries to go intangible but his core just throbs with misery, and—

She mostly just pats his sheets. Not his person, even. Apparently the torture is being held off for now. “Eow eart wel?”

…Danny squints. That is almost English.

“Eom hebbjan yift,” she adds, leadingly, as if Danny is a friend she can tease and not a subject under threat of the knife. He doesn't like it. It hurts. Nothing is real and everyone hates him and all he wants to do is leave but his body is rejecting him and—

Something light and plastic thumps down onto the bed.

Danny blinks. He looks—down. (His neck makes him regret that.)

Is that a…is that a space shuttle? No, ‘cause Danny thinks he recognizes it. It’s Discovery? Isn’t it? That’s the one they just retired. He tries to grab it, but— ouch, oof, his fingers can’t even stretch, bad idea—

The woman gently guides the shuttle into his hand. It doesn’t even hurt. And.

It’s cold to the touch. The model is plastic, it shouldn’t be so cold, but the sensation is distinctly cool and kind of familiar.

…Oh. Danny struggles to flex his fingers around the thing.

It’s him.

Or. Well. The shuttle is his. It has his ectoplasm imbued all throughout it. He can even sort of feel the sensation of carefulplayingcareful he’d have felt while near it. The feeling is weak, and timid, but it’s still there.

So. Then. When did he get it? And…why? Why was it allowed to him? How did he get it?

Is this how they’re feeding him now? Instead of showering him with poorly filtered ectoplasm every time he gets rowdy, are they actually trying to feed his Obsession? For real?? That’s—that’s brand new behavior from the—

Danny blinks. Wait. That’s not it either. Because there’s an IV in him. So…they know he’s getting human food.

So. Uh.

Hm.

Danny doesn’t want to get his hopes up. But this…might not be the Guys in White.

Of course, they might not be better than the GIW either; it’s a total possibility that Danny’s getting suckered into some scheme where every gentle permission and soft voice is a debt he owes…some new reason to take…

His eyelids twitch as they try to shut. He’s so tired. Fear kept him mobile, but now…everything is so heavy.

The lady carefully shushes him, ever so gently. She pulls up his blanket for him. Pats it down.

Danny shivers. He’s so, so scared.

“Ræste þiht,” the woman whispers. The words sound fond. Danny’s so scared, but he’s so tired. His heart is beating so fast. “An freond becymþ hraðe.”

It’s reassuring.

Danny doesn’t want it to be.

He falls asleep the way the desperate do—clawing at the last traces of wakefulness, only to have his consciousness ripped from him.

[darkdemeter]

— PREVIEW — THE CONVICT WOLF

Material is featured as a preview/loose prelude for the upcoming project and is subject to potential alterations for narrative purposes.

A/N: just as a word of warning (this will be mentioned in the reader discretion as well) that this series as a whole is intended for 18+ readers due to very strong and sensitive content that will be featured in it, as it takes a more gritty, angsty and darker approach. This preview serves a little more as an introduction to reader and a little bit of a loose prelude before the actual first and “official” column of the series.

Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader

— READER DISCRETION —

Depictions of death and gore/violence (description of consumption of human flesh by werewolf) — depictions of graveyard/deceased desecration (grave digging) — dark!reader — strong narrative (adult) language — overall this preview and the series as a whole is intended for 18+ readers!

Enjoy the preview!

—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟖𝟖𝟖 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤

Muddy cobbles slosh beneath the heel of your boots, scuffed from their long and working age. New York, the prize-to-be-metropolis, was no better than Boston - in your professionally critical opinion. For talk of progressive schemes, New York remained the shithole it had always been. The only thing they did only pissed you off: more law. 

But muddy puddles and a law infested nest of humans were the least of your troubles. 

Silently, amidst the shroud of fog, you slide one last bullet into the cylinder of your revolver. The fog parts as you step through it to continue tailing your target. The barking of stray dogs fills the dark and empty streets of New York, a fine indicator that you may have a moment of peace in your hunt. If there was something on this green earth to top the greater nuisance than civilian intervention whilst you worked, you were unconvinced of its existence to prove you wrong. 

Nothing made your fuse burn out faster than folk who didn’t know to not scramble into the way of your path. 

Your eyes take in the shadowed alley you pass through, a hidden filter for scum to flush out into the streets and become inconspicuous with the crowd. That was during the day, however, not at night. That trick of aversion may have worked with petty criminals and the law, but not with you. 

With you, nothing got away.

Something clatters in the distance up ahead and you turn your sights to it. Your bounty was sloppy, not very good at covering his tracks to ensure his survival. It took you no longer than three days to track him down. Of course, your handler had a knack for picking up leads fairly quickly, resources and old debts of favours went a long way when in your time of need. 

You pick up your pace, your bounty well aware they were being followed, your jacket kicked up when a winter breeze breathed down the throat of the dimly lit street. 

The bottom of your long, dark coat kicks up as you surge forward with purpose, hand bearing one of your firearms as the other pulls the second twin from its holster. You have him cornered now. 

You come to slow down at the end of the short strip next to the occupying building. Some wealthy man’s brick estate no doubt. Sheets of white obscure most of the way, hanging from the wash lines above, but you could make out his silhouette. A large, towering and muscular physique covered in coarse fur. His tail sits in the mud to only further his savage and beastly appearance, ears folded back as his maw ripped into whatever meal he found. A maid. 

Blood covered her from chin to chest. Her throat torn out but she remains on the cusp of life with shredded vocal cords whimpering in her demise. 

She is beyond saving. You’d learnt that much long ago. 

Through her lidded eyes she sees you and her blood covered hand stretches out. Your eyes move down the wet crimson fingers to her pleading, fading eyes in the dark before they land on the beast engrossed in his meal to know the danger behind him. At first.

With a final plea for help, she tries to scream for you until she grows quiet completely in his arms. He becomes still and the fur along his back and shoulders bristle, ears perked up in awareness. Now he knows. Slowly he turns his large head to stare at you with blaring, amber eyes that intend to scorn you for your intrusion. You match his stare with as much disdain as he. 

“I smell your past sins, vânător de rude.” He points at you with an accusing, claw tipped finger. “You have no jurisdiction to judge me.” 

Your shoulders move up in a shrugging motion. “If only those words actually meant something to me.”

Your arms swiftly have risen up as the hammers flick to unlock the safe fire. The barrels of your twin revolvers blink white as you take the shot. The cracking of bullets meeting muscle and flesh is enough evidence to prove you hit him, blood splatters bleeding into the murky puddles and onto the street. 

With a grunt you push yourself up from the dirt and pursue him over steel enforced fences and more white sheets left to air out. They only serve as canvases to a blood smeared trail of your quarry. 

New York had made its progression into the modern world. From landscape and brick buildings, the city excelled more than a few schematics; onward and upward they always say. To this day that same nuisance stuck with you. Civilians and a plethora of them swarmed the streets alongside the line up of traffic. Busy. 

New York is constantly busy. And it tends to make your work harder to conceal when your targets flee into the open. Finding them within the crowd is never really the problem, but it’s the excessive bodies that don’t know to stay out of your way. 

Your bounty is simple, dare you say it, cliché it feels. You’ve played this narrative time and time again. This dance of execution one they try to escape by treading on your toes and running only to have you loop them back into the waltz of the hunt. 

Countless times you’ve seen the eyes of your prey widen when they realise there is no escape. 

You don’t get yourselves involved in the sob stories of the client or intended quarry, you were after the money that keeps you in that safe spot. All you dug up on your target is that they’re an ex-Hydra agent gone down the path of righteousness and betterment. Someone who finds peace in the work they’re involved in, cares for the people around them. A real advocate for being a humble hero. 

‘Alright.’

They venture down the stairs into the subways below. Oh, this is going to be a treat, you’re sure of it. A tight spot. Many witnesses. Hands clenching at your sides as you swagger after them, people knew to avoid bumping into you. Hidden beneath the thick layer of your coat, the one you’ve worn all this time, were your holstered twins. New York is unaware for the time being. 

Give it time, they would know. Your eyes of scarlet red would be plastered all over and your visage identified as the nightmare parchment and ink always captured you to be. Give it some time and it would be all over the news: The Convict Wolf strikes again. 

“Six bodies,” you grunt with a heave of the shovel. Your handler is quick to duck out of the way, a gas lantern in her grasp illuminating you several feet in the resting place of a half eaten merchant. Not even three days cold in his grave and the fiend had taken to him like flies on shit. 

Your handler’s other hand presses a clean, bright yellow handkerchief to her nose. But the smell filtered through given the glassy fog in her eyes. The smell of death rendered her weak in the gut and in constant battle with the bile that climbed her throat for release. 

“Wh-what does th-this mean?” She coughs into her handkerchief, bile and spittle at the edge of her tongue, you were sure of it. You shake your head rigorously akin to a dog shaking off water. Dirt falls from your hair in small forms of clouds. Your eyes find your handler’s uncertain gaze as she stares down at you; unnerved by the calmness you exude whilst standing in a grave. 

Any passers-by would suspect nefarious acts against the dead. Grave robbers and worse. 

“It means, my dear handler, that he is probably desperate for food and is too shy to make a move on living humans.” You hoist yourself up with a deep grunt, your handler bows down to loop a hand around the crook in your arm to pull. “Will he…” 

You hear your handler gulp the remainder of her sentence. You raise your brows in a knowing fashion. “It’s only a matter of time. Dead flesh doesn’t satisfy the shy for long.”

“Then we must hurry,” she says with great urgency to rid the city of this parasite. You pull something from a pouch on your belt. You hold the small box up in offering to your handler who only shakes her head fervently in horror. You shrug with a huff. “Suit yourself.”

You and your handler glance down at the corpse as you raise the flame-tipped match to burn the end of your cigarette. A father of two and husband to a meek, gentle tailor. The same one who’d fixed up the patches in your coat just a day ago. 

If only he could have afforded to be buried in the mausoleum. 

The lighting is shoddy at best down below in the subway, the mechanic hissing and howl of the train fast approaching indicates that you have maybe a minute at most to locate them. With a shallow breath you inhale their scent. 

Kin. 

It seems your nature as a hunter of your own never outgrew you. 

‘Is this a nasty habit?’

You don’t let it eat away at your conscience. You have a job to do and a client to satisfy. They’re waiting on the platform, hands tucked into the pockets of their jacket and chin forced down. You knew that scent that rolled along the back of your tongue with another inhale. 

Fear. 

Their heart rate picks up as you make to move after them just as the train rolls to a stop and the doors open. Your shoulders move in tandem with the power of your strut. Focus on your target leaves little regard to the rest of the world around you. Oftentimes you have shoved others aside, stopped traffic to downright mauling interlopers who had no right to involve themselves in your affairs; but thought themselves the hero. 

How well that turned out for them, their next of kin and nosey investigators could ask the medical records or the tombstones. 

They board the train in a hurry with the crowd around them. They won’t lose you that quickly. As you head for one of the doors down the train cart to avoid giving away your position, you bump into something. 

“Watch it,” you growl lowly as your arm sweeps around her waist to catch her against you before she is knocked off balance. 

She’s smaller than you. Dressed in a baggy, tan coloured zip up jacket and dark blue skinny jeans. Her hair is brushed back and her eyes take a moment to look at you from under the black cap. 

“Sorry, I–” You’ve already let her go. You don’t give her the chance to memorise your features to use as a testimony against you when your next killing goes public. You dare to peek over your shoulder at her, catching her eyes as she stares at you. The doors close behind you just in time as you board the train. 

With a roll of your eyes, you discard the clumsy girl to the back of your mind. Your eyes wander down the narrow path of the train cart. There they were. Your target. Another wolf. You always charge extra for these bounties. 

Their nervous eyes meet yours and the corner of your lips quirk up. The scent of their fear pollutes the train, it masks over the humans. Unaware, unsuspecting humans. You reach a hand to unholster one of your revolvers, thumb caressing the hammer as you calculate the right moment. 

Mother Nature had always been just as cruel as she was kind. Even to her finest killers. It was the beauty of her, really. 

In the world your kind lives in, a chain of command exists. Even if it will further taint your already sullied name, all will know it. That clumsy girl with the bright green eyes whose smaller body you held pinned against your solid front. She will know your sullied name.

The Convict Wolf strikes again.

You think about that girl again and you see eyes once filled with fear turn to anger. They glow a bright scarlet, just as yours do. As they always do. There was no use hiding what you really were. 

Because in the world werewolves live in, there is a hierarchy; and you’ve always preferred to be on top. 

(◕ ᴥ x)

TREEHOUSE TAGLIST —

@alexawynters

[sentientgolfball]

you and i share a dangerous obsession with phantom its dangerous!!! anyways may i request a hurt/comfort type of scenario. everywhere i look its just phantom angst and being excluded from the ghoul pack so why not contribute to this trend!!!!!

reader is out in the woods taking a stroll when they're suddenly charged at by a dog but hearing their scream, phantom comes in and chases the dog away. reader and phantom havent had much interaction with one another given how badly the ghoul pack shoves him away and when reader realizes this, they take him back to their room where they ease phantom with affection and phantom basically MELTS

hes being given more attention by a human than his pack :[

sorry for the lengthy request!!!

Never apologize for a lengthy request ! I hope you like this one I kinda made it a mutual hurt/comfort. Everyone gets to be sad and everyone gets a hug

My requests are open !

The crunching of the leaves underfoot comes to an abrupt halt. You stop and slowly scan the wilderness surrounding you. It’s green and lush, teeming with life and the sweet smells of blooming wildflowers. The whole forest is cast in a golden glow as the setting sun pours through the foliage. You close your eyes and throw your head back and let out a deep sigh that’s been stuck in you all day. You feel the prick of tears in the corners of your eyes but you will yourself not to let them gather. You were out here to feel better, not worse. 

You really don’t know what got to you, but for the past few days you’ve felt like absolute shit. You didn’t understand it, everything was going pretty good in your life you knew that. You got promoted to lead your job at the Ministry, you’ve made a cluster of new friends from the influx of Siblings, and you still maintained close ties with your friends who volunteered to go to different branches. But something struck you every so often. Normally you had enough around you to distract you, but one night one off handed comment that was meant to be more of a joke than anything made something within you bubble. You tried so hard to make it go away, to not focus on it, to rationalize with yourself but you just couldn’t. It put you in a slump for the whole weekend. You had to force yourself to chip away at the project you were tasked with. You had to force yourself to shower. You didn’t have enough left in you to do your laundry or clean your space by the end of the day. You needed to get lost in something that wasn’t your mind. That’s what led you out into the middle of the woods. You remember something about nature being good for mental health. 

You walked for a while, stopping every so often to take a picture of a mushroom or leaf that stood out to you. When the forest got darker you decided it was time to head back to the Ministry, you didn’t feel much better but you couldn’t stay outside forever. You started walking back the way you came letting your feet drag on. You really didn’t want to have to return to the real world, but you knew you had to. You continued a bit farther before stopping. 

Didn’t I already pass that stump?

You take out your phone to check your pictures only to realize it had died. How did you not realize it was so low before coming out into the middle of the woods? You cursed and looked around in an attempt to get your bearings, but it was only getting dark as the sun sank before the horizon. You felt sick as the realization that you were lost starts to sink into your mind. You looked in each direction briefly considering picking a path and following it, but it would do you no good. Everything looked the same in the fading light and it made you disoriented. You hang your head in defeat and try to convince yourself that sleeping outside for one night wouldn’t be so bad. 

Well…at least it can’t get any worse. 

You should’ve kept your thoughts to yourself. You hear a howl in the distance and you freeze, tensing. You forgot about the hellhounds. How could you forget about the hellhounds.

 To be fair, the hounds only appeared at night to act as guards for Ministry grounds and you typically were not out and about after dinner. The issue now, though, is you have no idea what to do. If the hounds catch you you’re definitely dead. If you stay put they’ll find you easily. If you run they’ll chase the scent and you’ll just get more lost. 

You don’t have a lot of time to think before you hear a twig snap. You whip around to find the source and see two red pinhole eyes creeping out from the brush. It’s growling low, drool dripping from its maw. It snaps its teeth and you feel your heart pound in your ears. You slowly start to back up from it before your back hits a tree. You stare wide eyed at the beast and send a quick prayer that whatever it does will be quick and painless. You see the way its hind legs shift and you know it’s rearing back to pounce. You screw your eyes shut and hope for the best when you hear its growl turn into a full bark. You wait for the burn of claws and teeth…and you wait. 

When the tearing of flesh doesn’t come you crack open your eyes to see a soft purple glow and a tail waving side to side. You watch the hellhound creep closer to the figure, sniff it, and then turn and dart into the bush it first came out of. The second it’s gone the glow disappears and the ghoul hunches over with his hands on his knees. 

“Lord’s below that was terrible. The puppies are so cute I don’t understand how they grow into that.” 

“Uhh…”

“Oh!” He turns around suddenly “Are you alright? It didn’t bite you did it? Oh what am I thinking if it did you wouldn’t be standing here.” 

You stare at the ghoul in front of you. The left half of his face is cracked with lichtenberg figure scars that dip below the neckline of his top. His eyes are mismatched, one the typical color for quintessence, the other looks almost hollow with the pupil glowing faintly. He has a shock of white in his hair that perfectly lines up with the end of one of the branches of his scars. But all that isn’t what catches your attention. No, what you notice is the very obvious streaks of dried tears on his cheeks. 

“Yeah…yeah I’m okay. Uh are you?” 

“Hm? Oh yea! The hellhounds won’t attack ghouls. We smell like the Infernal to them.” 

“That’s not” you pause and shake your head “You’re Phantom right? One of the new papal ghouls?” 

His posture goes rigid when you say this but he nods anyway. He asks for your name and you give it to him and you are suddenly very aware of the tension in the air. After a moment he clears his throat. 

“If you don’t mind me asking…why are in the woods? I thought humans couldn’t survive outside for long.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the statement. The way he said it was filled with such genuine curiosity it made your heart warm. But then you remembered why you were out there and your face fell again. His scars seemed to pulse dimly with light and the ghoul suddenly looked panicked. 

“No, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by that I was just—“ 

You shake your head “No it’s not anything you did Phantom. I just…had a rough couple of days. Needed somewhere to go.” 

His eyes scan over you for a moment before he wraps himself in a hug, tail curling around his leg. 

“Yeah I…I don’t know much about humans, but I think I know exactly what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

You look up at him and your heart breaks when you see just how small he looks. You tentatively reach towards him and you’re taken aback by how quickly he jumps into you. You freeze for a second not really sure what to do with a ghoul wrapped around you. You know ghouls are pack creatures so this is normal behavior. You slowly bring your arms up and around him, patting his back softly. That seems to do the trick as you feel his tail wrap loosely around your leg. You shudder feeling a zap of quintessence ripple through you. He pulls back just enough to look at you. He looks like he got punched in the gut. 

“I can make that go away. It’ll be easy and you’ll be happy again.” 

“What?” You say astonished before mentally slapping yourself. Quintessence ghouls can sense emotion, and in rare cases read minds. 

“Just let me make someone happy please.” He sounds desperate, almost afraid. 

“Phantom you can’t…make me happy. Well okay technically yes you can, but that’s magic. It’s going to change what’s wrong.” 

He hesitates “What is wrong?” 

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before sighing and untangling yourself from him. You slump down against a tree and close your eyes, resting your head against the trunk. A quick smile flashes onto your face when you feel him sit next to you, tail now twining around your arm. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. Something about the way he looks at you makes you feel safe, seen. You feel your throat burn and you cough before you begin to explain what’s been causing you so much grief. 

You were lonely. 

“I know it must be such a silly thing for me to complain about…especially to a ghoul.” You say finishing out your tangent. 

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head “No I get it..”

You look up from where you had been playing with his fingers and gasp seeing the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Phantom what’s—“ 

You were cut off by him pulling you into another hug, but this one was filled with something deep. 

“Why do they all hate me? I didn’t ask for this! I try so hard to be everything they need so maybe they’ll keep me around.”

“Phantom?” 

“But they don’t! They always pair off and I’m the odd one out every time! I know they’d rather have Aether. I’m not stupid, but why won’t they just give me a chance?” 

“Phantom.” 

“I know I’m just a waste of resources to them. I know none of them would bat an eye if I just disappeared.”

“Phantom!” 

He stops and stares at you wide eyed, tears running down his face. You gently reach out and hold his cheek in your hand. He melts into the touch as a sob wracks his body. 

“I want you here.”

“But…we just met. Why do you care? Why would you want me?” 

“I could ask you the same. You came to help me without even knowing my name.”

He sniffs “I wasn’t gonna just let you get ripped to little fleshy bits.” 

You cringe a little at his choice of words but continue “I don’t know the full extent of what’s going on but…it sounds like you could use someone to help fend off those bad thoughts.” 

“Like a friend?” 

“Yeah” you smile “Like a friend. We can be alone together. How about that?” 

“I think I need that.” 

You pull him into you and let him lay his head on your chest. You two sit like that for a long time, silently bathing in each other’s presence. You let a few more tears fall from your eyes. For the little ghoul that was so shunned by his pack he had to find comfort in a human who barely knew him. For yourself who had so many people around them but still felt this hole deep inside of your soul. For both of you who found each other. 

You run a hand through his hair when you hear the softest of purrs vibrate through him. It sounds a bit scratchy at first, but soon it turns into an even rumble. You gently shake him.

“Hey it’s getting cold…we should probably find our way back inside.” 

“Oh” his ears droop “Yeah you’re probably right.” 

“Do you wanna…would you maybe wanna stay with me for the night.” 

He instantly perks up “Really? I mean I would love to. I yes I would yes.” 

You both stand and he leads the way once you explain to him that you actually have no idea where you’re at. You take over, though, once into the Ministry. You both curl up under your mound of blankets and spend the rest of the night going back and forth about the things that plague your mind, about the stupid things that make you smile, about each other until you fall into a deep sleep feeling content with the weight next to you, but also the weight that disappeared from your shoulders.

Maybe being alone wasn't so bad if it led you to him.

[rriavian]

Do you think Morpheus knows deep inside that Corinthian is his mirror? The reflection of his own darkness and desire?

Jessamy my beloved! I love getting asks from you! They are always the most interesting questions to really make me think about how to put my thoughts into words! <3 Sorry it took so long to answer this one (think I broke my record for time taken to answer an ask eek)!

I had this typed out nearly ready to post but got very distracted by Corintheus week! Can't believe it's February already, I hope you’re having a good New Year so far 😊

Does Morpheus know that the Corinthian is his mirror?

I think that Dream does, and that in some ways he holds himself responsible for the difficulty of it, because I think we can all agree that it’s a lot for any singular creation of his to embody. On the flipside of this you could argue that Fiddler’s Green is supposed to be a reflection of the light—the ‘heart’ of the Dreaming, a representation of pure life giving creation—with Gault as the fluid, transformative, link between all three of the major arcana. I think I’ve talked briefly about this before but it’s relevant again for this question.

Her place as a link between the two extremes, and her transformative powers, makes sense for why Gault would want to become a dream (and perhaps another reason why Dream agreed in the end) but it also suggests how complicated the facets of Dream’s identity are.

(I could probably make an entire separate post on this but! Moving on!)

All three major arcana reject him just as the rest of his creations do, are the last to return to the Dreaming and none of them do it by choice. Even Fiddler’s Green needs to first be tracked down. The Corinthian is found at the convention where Dream takes responsibility for making him the way he is, designating his rebellion as his own failure. The Corinthian was his masterpiece but I think Dream might now consider that as designing too ambitious a spec, the coding perfect but corrupted in the end. I think that assessment could be why he highlights the Corinthian’s purpose as being a dark mirror for humanity instead of one for himself, despite how closely those two things seem to be bound.

Not necessarily changing his mind, just changing the emphasis.

But, as I said, I also think Dream made the Corinthian for it. To be able to take it. Or at least hoped that he would—another reason why he might have said that he’d had so much hope for him, why Dream was so disappointed—not constructed to be given a burden, not supposed to be that at all. In many ways I think that’s why he’s a major arcana. But the Corinthian also has his own unique darkness, perhaps finding its origins in his creators but without its place in Dream’s larger puzzle it expresses differently, the exploration of what happens to a counterpoint to a dream that isn’t held internally.

The Corinthian is far more selfish with his darkness, lives out all that desire and need the way Dream can’t (and won’t), can embody it wholeheartedly because he’s not supposed to be balanced in the same way.

Yet in doing so he offers balance; can offer that to Dream, the same way he allows darker human impulses a chance to take center stage.

An outlet for it all.

All of Dream’s creations in some way seem to be that, a combination of the restriction of a role and the individuality of personality, might have a set purpose but have choices in how they carry out what they are. The same as Dream really. They are concepts personified, ideas and emotions that might originate in another, whether it be humanity or their creator, but they’ve been given their own voice.

It's no one way dictation…a dialogue with humanity because their function is to speak back.

So yes, I think that Dream knows that the Corinthian is his dark mirror far better than the Corinthian himself does. I think he knows how important he is in a way the Corinthian doesn’t see (the way the rest of his creations sometimes can’t see about themselves either).

I think the existence of a dark mirror (and other such representations) are a way in which Dream keeps emotionally healthy, just as they are a way for humans to keep emotionally healthy, and you could even argue that it’s how his creations keep themselves healthy too. Change and growth are certainly positive aspects of life, but like anything that’s not necessarily universal, because so is embracing what you are. Who you are. Without referencing my own neurodivergence too much, I think we can all understand circumstances where forcing oneself to change is far from a good and healthy thing.

Acceptance of the parts of oneself that we struggle with/have a tricky relationship with is a big part of what dreams and nightmares help humans to do.

It’s a big part of what a nightmare does.

Ok, this is getting long, so I’m going to make one final point. So I think that Dream could have spent centuries living vicariously through the Corinthian’s nightmarish nature and then finding that crucial mechanism corrupted, poisoned, when the Corinthian suddenly started killing dreamers in the Waking World. I don’t think that’s one of Dream’s desires at all, secret or otherwise, and I think it repulsed him to the point of potentially threatening to destabilise the rest of the system.

Perhaps Dream found his own darkness felt tainted by a reflection that (however intentional the rejection was) no longer wanted to mirror him.

In killing dreamer's the Corinthian was showing how he no longer wanted to mirror humanity (wanted to take from them instead, thought that a better match for what he was made for) and in doing so denied not only Dream, but his own identity too in no longer wanting to be what he was. For someone like Dream I think killing the dreamer’s would have been deeply offensive, an incredibly personal insult, a perversion of his function and an attack on what agency he has to fulfill it.

Whatever disgruntlement Dream may have with his role, he was then faced with the result of how instead of having a healthy outlet, those feelings could have been twisted/warped within the Corinthian's own unique mix of individuality and function. Perhaps in many ways it felt like being forced to kill his dreamers with his own hands.

And I think that was why when Dream found him in Berlin he was so quick to decide to unmake the Corinthian on the spot.

[writingforatwistedworld]

Feedback would be great as I am still very insecure in my skills writing longer fics.

You can find the first part here on AO3.

Otome au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, stalking, obsession, possessiveness

Sweet poison-Pt. 2 (preview)

If Vil could turn back time he would.

Hearing something tear the young King looked down at the paper laying in front of him, his writing feather piercing through, leaving a giant tear in the document. If he had known how hard it would have been making sure that he would survive and come out as the winner, the survivor, on top was something he had imagined a bit easier. And it was easy, at the beginning at least.

When Rook told him that smaller Nobles were starting to get dissatisfied with their as good as non-existing influence over the political happenings he had laughed. This had been the moment when he had thought that thing would come and go. Fast and without any trace once this was over. But no. A new player had entered the stage, involuntarily involving themselves with the plot, his plan.

He had started watching you out of pure curiosity. You had become something unpredictable in all of this. A green contrast to his own purple. But ok. Good. He was flexible. Vil thought that you would be just like any other servant, minding your own business but then you got close to Neige. And you didn’t even mean to.

To show his brother that the world was much darker than he thought it was, always seeing everything in a good light, Vil had ordered him to work. Being the shunned one out of the half-siblings Vil had always known that the servants would use you whenever they saw it fit and you would let them. Sooner than later he was instead of just polishing silverware cleaning the entirety of the courtyard. Foolish brother of his.

And then you came and helped him. In the beginning it was just a nice gesture. Helping him collecting all the small branches that had broken off of the trees but soon there was something akin to a friendship between the two of you. Neige, in his usual ignorant ways, brought books to read with you after the two of you were done.

Usually, commoners weren’t able to read so Vil thought that Neige ended back then his only friendship, you seeing this as something offensive. As if the young man was trying to put himself over you in social standing. But there you were, reading it to him without any struggle. That was when Vil saw that you weren’t like the other servants.

And this was also how he started to watch you more and more, through his mirror of course. You could only stare at a person so long until they noticed. Soon this became one of his daily activities. Laughing at the jokes you made, listening to your worries and making sure that you were at least treated politely by the others. Not like anyone was rude to you in the first place but one does never know.

Then the day came. The day on which Neige gave you his name. Only his first one, even his brother had enough sense to stop himself from giving you his family name since those were only reserved for people with titles. But Vil saw that you knew. That small slip-up was enough for you to realize that the person in front of you was at least of somewhat importance. He also knew that you would be even more of an enigma for him if you didn’t share things about yourself with Neige, and also with him, Vil.

The small distance the dark-haired male had to you was something that ignited the fire in his stomach even more. He as an onlooker could only dream of getting this close to you but it wasn’t like he could change anything about that. “Rook, I know that you are there. Come out.”

Appearing seemingly out of thin air the famed hunter made himself present. Vil never showed it but as always he was impressed with the skills of the blonde. If he didn’t know any better he might have confused him with an assassin sent after his head. “Oui? Is there something I can do for you?”

Placing his hand against the glass the king looked down at his brother and the individual he was so interested in. “Separate them and whilst you are already on your way, bring Epel here. There is something I need him to do.”

And oh, was it a glorious moment when your gazes crossed for the first time. To be fair, it couldn’t be a good thing for you, panic evident on your face, stumbling back into the castle all whilst thinking that you would be safe from his gaze in there. But you weren’t. You never were. All those times he watched you, you being oblivious to the eyes gazing through the mirror upon you whilst you traveled through dreamland.

And even Vil could see that his behavior wasn’t exactly “elegant” or “gentleman-like”. In fact, he sometimes was disgusted by himself but a desperate situation calls for desperate measurements. Apparently watching you like a hawk was one of those. But this couldn’t go on for all eternity (or rather as long as the two of you lived. Not everyone was like the king beyond the roses).

Turning his gaze towards the servant in the corner he took note of his position. But of course, he was close to him, always ready to do what he wanted, and easy to monitor. Perhaps this was the solution. Perhaps he just needed you as one of his closest servants. Perhaps this waste of space behind him was not as loyal as he claimed? Well, not that Vil card anyways. Soon that position would be free and you were ready to fill in.

Motioning with his fingers forward the poor soon-to-be framed commoner stepped closer. “I think it is time for us to allow others to rise in their qualifications. Did you see them? Train them. Do not waste time. I do not want to hear an excuse why you can’t.”

As he heard the door shut behind the man another standing right beside Vil took his attention. Smiling he focused on the violet-haired individual. “Epel, I think there is something I need you to do and prepare for…”

[weregularlytalkaboutbruno]

Breathe, Mi Amor-Bruno x reader

Request: yes (anonymous)- “can we please have a protective Bruno after discovering someone giving the reader some very unwanted attention?”

Warning: contains themes of sexual harassment (brief) and angst

Pronouns: she/her

Warnings: creepy behavior (with intoxication), long writing, google translate

Another party? Sheesh, Bruno didn’t remember there being this many before he left. Granted, the children were little and most already had their gifts, but still. Now it was practically a bi-weekly tradition. And every party was just as excitedly talked about around town as the last. It never got old apparently. Well, it did for Bruno. After the small celebration of his return, followed by the housewarming party after Casita was finished, his social battery was pretty much empty.

He adjusted his rauna in the mirror. Mirabel had demanded to make him a new one, considering he had been wearing the same one for the past ten years or so. It wasn’t too far off from the last, just a deeper, more forest-ey green and a much darker pattern. Plus, Mira had made the old one into a pillow, which his little rodent friends enjoyed sleeping on. In an attempt to look nicer, he tied his hair up loosely. He was so used to his old rauna and hair in his face that it almost made him feel exposed in a way. His neck felt colder, that’s for sure. He fidgeted with his clothing more, looking over his appearance in almost a nervous manner. He glanced over at one of the rats, who of which was staring at him from their seat on his dresser. “What are you looking at me like that for?” He asked, tilting his head a bit as he scratched the back of the rat’s neck. The rat almost mimicked him, climbing onto his hand and up his arm. Settling on his shoulder, the rodent’s little hands pawed at a few loose curls. Bruno smiled softly, looking at him from the mirror. “Yeah, I don’t know how I feel about it either.” He shrugged, gently scooping the rat in his hand and returning him to his dresser. “Y’know, I would ask that you and your little buddies don’t raid the snack table again. Or at least please wait until everyone has left. You guys are lucky Antonio took the heat for you guys the last time and said that you could.” His expression was unamused as the rat almost seemed to smile, hopping off of the bed and into one of the little holes in the wall.

Bruno rolled his eyes as he huffed and straightened his posture, making his way towards the door. “Oscar, you’re in charge.” He gave a serious nod towards a smaller rat with silvery-brown fur, earning a sniff and a blink in response. “Good enough”, he said with a shrug as he closed the door behind him, taking a deep breath as he began his descent down the hundreds of stairs. As Casita was rebuilt, a much faster pulley system was introduced to his cave as a way to get up and down. The people were curious as to why Bruno still insisted on keeping the stairs, as he claimed it was simply for aesthetic purposes. In reality, he used the extra few minutes to gather any last-minute thoughts before he faced the world again. The soft sand crunched under his feet as he made the final stretch to the door, hesitating a bit as his hand rested on the doorknob. Though he wasn’t given much time to think, as the door flung open and the tiles under his feet tossed him forward. Thankfully, there were no longer stairs between his door and the main balcony of doors. “Hey! Knock it off, will ya?” He regained his footing and dusted himself off as his door slammed behind him.

“Hey tío! Lookin sharp!” Mirabel rushed past him in a blur, followed by Luisa with several crates stacked in their arms. One sister obviously struggled more than the other, but she definitely had the enthusiasm. “Oh! Uh, gracias.” He gave a nervous chuckle, stepping out of the way. A plush ball of orange material bounced off the top of his head, dropping down by his feet. “Sorry! Could you pass that back?” Camillo shouted up to his uncle, motioning to the ball of streamers that he had been tossing in between the rafters. Bruno chuckled as he tossed it back, making sure to wrap it around the banister a few times to make his nephew’s job just slightly easier.

Looking around the room, Bruno could see every family member buzzing around the house. Carrying platters, tossing rugs, lighting candles, you name it. It was honestly rather overwhelming, the the excessively loud volume that neither he and most likely Dolores didn’t appreciate. He debated just turning around and heading right back into his room. The thought was short lived as he heard his name called from the kitchen doorway. “Aye! Bruno!” Julieta stepped from the doorframe, dusting her hands on her somehow pristine apron. “Mind running to the grocer’s? I didn’t pick up enough tomatoes this morning.” Bruno gave a bit of a stuttered nod, heading towards the stairs. An incredibly strong floral scent flooded his senses as he reached the main floor, Isabela not far behind. “Plus, you’ll get the chance to visit your novia.” Isa gave a genuine smile, despite her teasing giggle. Bruno quirked a brow, Isa falling into step beside him as he headed towards the front doors. “Who are you referring to?” Isa rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t play that game. Literally everyone in town is aware of your little crush on seniorita (y/n). I wouldn’t be surprised if she realized it too.” Bruno only shrugged her off as they passed through the doors. He supposed she was coming with him then. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Isa huffed as the doors closed behind them, beginning their walk towards the market. “Oh come on! The stares? Your face is always red when she’s around? Last time she even looked at you, I watched you trip on your own feet and land in a bush!” Bruno immediately stiffened, shaking his head slightly. “Hey! It was one time, my allergies were peaking because of your pollen, and I couldn’t see. It’s not my fault!” He raised his hands in defense. Isa only snickered. “You’re a bad liar, you know that?” Nothing was said for a few moments. “We’re here to get tomatoes. Nothing more.” A firm statement that the conversation was officially over. The rest of the walk was silent, the passing conversation of townsfolk really the only sound.

The silence was finally broken as Bruno opened the door, followed by a small “after you,” as he followed his niece in. “Welcome in!” The two were immediately met with a madhouse. Supply was flying off the shelves faster than they could be stocked, children ran around the tables in loud and excited conversation, and a line for the register was stretched nearly the entire span of the store. And at the front of the line, behind the counter, was her. Hair once tied back, now falling from the blue ribbon that held it tightly in place. Her movements were frantic, but no less friendly. Simply a bit more professional than they normally were. Sunlight leaking though the windows from behind framed her neck and shoulders perfectly, appearing almost as if she were a portrait. A portrait that Bruno could sit and admire for hours. “Uh, tío? The tomatoes?” Isa urged, pulling Bruno from his daydream. “Right! Right…” Bruno quickly straightened himself up, speeding past his niece and the the table containing only about half a dozen tomatoes. “Hopefully these will be enough.” He scooped them into his arms, receiving a nod from Isabela. “We better get in line before it leads out the door. “ Bruno nodded, hesitantly shuffling towards the line. He would be unlike himself if he didn’t rehearse any possibly conversation in his head, growing more and more nervous as the line grew shorter and shorter.

“Good morning Señor Madrigal, Isabela. What can I do for you?” (Y/n) gave a smile that, despite how warm it appeared, failed to hide how tired she was. “Aye, you work yourself too hard, Señorita.” Isa smiled as Bruno set the produce on the counter. (Y/n) shrugged. “Just making a living.” She huffed a laugh, writing down the sold tomatoes for inventory. She pulled a small burlap sack from under the counter, gently setting the tomatoes inside and tying it shut. “Seems like everyone is preparing for tonight just as much as you are.” Isa hummed in agreement, hoisting the sack into her arms. Her uncle, on the other hand, just listening to the conversation. He felt awkward, of course, but it was outweighed by his curiosity and observations. The way she span the pen in her hand as she was caught in conversation. Her hair falling across her eye, followed by her tucking the loose strand behind her ear. Isa glanced over, and she subtly elbowed him to grab his attention. She supposed she would spare him the embarrassment of getting caught staring. Bruno jumped just slightly, giving a small, awkward laugh and wringing his hands. “How much do we owe you?” Bruno couldn’t tell if he was talking fast, or he was just over-analyzing. (Y/n) shook her head, waving them off. “Oh don’t worry about it, you have enough to worry about with the party planning. Besides, Julieta is one of my best customers.” She said, pinning her previously written note to the shelf behind her. “It’s really no trouble, you’ve had a busy day and you deserve the profit.” Bruno urged. “Really, it’s alright. I’m getting a new shipment tomorrow morning anyways.” Another warm smile that made Bruno’s thoughts fuzzy. “How about a trade instead?” Isa suggested, earning a raised eyebrow from both the store clerk and her uncle. Bruno’s gaze quickly flicked down as he felt a small vine climbing up his arm, settling against his palm. Suddenly, a bouquet of variously colored cattleya orchids erupted into his grasp, Bruno almost instantaneously holding his hand out in shock. “A gift for a gift”. Isa smiled sweetly, looking between (y/n) and her uncle. The pair stared at each other wide-eyed, and Bruno felt his posture shoot straight up. Of course he couldn’t just pull his hand back and hurry out the door, after nearly smacking the poor woman in the face. A sharp kick in the shin helped clear Bruno’s mind just enough to somewhat form a sentence. “Uh- yeah, uh, a gift for a gift.” He gave a shaky laugh, gaze shifting from her eyes to the floor. (Y/n), though, had no problem composing herself, gently taking the flowers from his hand. “Oh, gracias! I actually just emptied a vase a bit ago.” She beamed, giggling as she grabbed an empty vase from the windowsill. Conveniently, she had just disposed of the previously dead plant and refilled the vase with water for the next plant to arrive. “They are absolutely beautiful.” Her smile was contagious as he watched her slightly adjust the arrangement. Bruno was a bit conflicted, unable to decide if he was upset with Isabela or not. Was it his ideal course of events? Absolutely not, but he supposed it worked out. He simply nodded, becoming a bit more comfortable with the situation having a positive result. “See you tonight?” Isa asked, a faint hint of accomplishment present in her voice. “Of course, I was planning on closing up a bit early.”

“We’ll see you there.” Bruno slightly winced at the small shake in his voice, though (y/n) didn’t seem to mind. Her smile instead widened a bit. The trio was interrupted by the clearing of a throat. Isabela stiffened as a rather tall man stepped forward, resting his hand on her shoulder as he set his goods to purchase on the counter. “My apologies, but I’m in a bit of a rush.” (Y/n)’s expression dropped slightly as she turned back towards the register. “Er- yes, sorry. Just lost in a good conversation.” Isa politely stepped out of his grip, and closer to her uncle, who of which frowned slightly at the sudden interruption. “No worries, you’ve always been a fan of flowers.” The man, Hugo, leaned an elbow against the counter, nudging the pair of Madrigals out of the way. He was a regular around the marketplace area, seemingly always just roaming around. He was from a rather well off family, resulting in a bit of a spoiled brat. He was an attractive man, and he knew it, flirting with just about any woman he came across. “Cabrón”, Bruno had heard his sisters refer to him as on several occasions. (Y/n) gave a polite nod, writing up a receipt. “I suppose you’re right.” Bruno glanced between the two, and he couldn’t help but feel out of place. “Let’s get going.” He spoke quietly to his sobrina, giving (y/n) a nod in farewell as the two slipped through the remaining line and out the doors.

They were nearly halfway home before anything was said. “Hey, that went well.” Isa shrugged, glancing over at her uncle. Bruno only returned her shrug, his eyes trailing across the ground. “Appreciate the help, but it’s pointless.” He nearly mumbled, tripping slightly as the began up the hill to the house. “What do you mean? She seemed to love it. Plus, you have more of a reason to talk to her tonight since we had talked earlier.” Bruno sighed. “But you saw the way Hugo looked at her. One look at that guy and I don’t stand a chance.” Isa stopped in her tracks, looking over at him with a confused expression. “What in the world are you talking about? Hugo just acts like that because he likes the reactions of people. He also probably saw you give her those flowers, and wanted to stir up a bit of drama.” She rolled her eyes. Bruno shook his head, taking the bag from Isa’s hand as she held it out to him and opened the door. “Let’s just focus on the party, yeah?” Again, a bit of a cold conclusion.

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

A few hours later, and the party was in full swing. Music filled Casita, the entire town flooding the halls of the house. Bruno had spent most of the night joining the conversations of his family members, yielding surprisingly encouraging outcomes. Despite the populace’s general weariness with his return, it seemed that the idea of him being around again was being warmed up to. He was still far from comfortable, but it was definitely the most enjoyment he had had at a party yet. He was currently pulled into a debate with Mirabel and Camilo, deciding how long it would be before Parce broke out of Antonio’s room. The cat had developed a bit of an attachment to Antonio, her loud wailing occasionally being heard over the loud conversation. “I think you two are overestimating how easily she could get out. Casita definitely wouldn’t let her get too far. Neither would Mamá, to be completely honest.” Camillo shrugged, resting his hands on his hips. “I think that Parce would liven the place up a bit.” Mira snickered, adjusting her glasses. “Yes, because an entire-town party isn’t enough- (y/n)!” Mira exclaimed with a gasp, immediately abandoning the conversation and hurrying over to the woman. (Y/n) laughed as Mira threw her arms around her shoulders, returning the hug. “Before you ask, we get our next sewing supply shipment on Wednesday.” Mira beamed, giving an excited nod as she stepped back and instead took her hand. “You know me so well. Now! You have to try Mamá’s empanadas, she tried a new recipe and she wants as many opinions as possible!” She pulled the woman along with an iron grip, the pair soon disappearing into the kitchen. “You may not get to hang around your esposa much with Mira around.” Camillo teased his uncle, Bruno’s face immediately flushing red. “Oh cállate!” Bruno huffed with a chuckle, playfully pushing his shoulder. Mirabel and (y/n) quickly exited the kitchen, a few plates piled with empanadas balanced on the woman’s arms. Mira charged towards her tío and primo. “Eat!” Mira took two of stuffed bread pockets and shoved them into their hands. “You’ve been here for maybe two minutes and Mira’s already put you to work, huh?” Camilo asked with a raised brow, Bruno snickering as he took a bite from his empanada. “Actually, (y/n) offered to help me and Mamá out. So if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got deliveries to make.” (Y/n) shrugged as she followed Mirabel towards the next group, smiling at Bruno’s friendly wave as she left. “I don’t get how you can be scared to talk to a woman that just got told what to do by a fifteen-year old.” Camillo snickered, popping the snack into his mouth. “Are you just going to bother me with this all night?”

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

It wasn’t long before the plates were nearly empty. The empanadas, expectedly, were very much a success. “Geez, it’s kinda hot in there with so many people around.” Mira leaned against the banister from the second floor balcony, taking another empanada from the plates that had been set on the bench behind them. “No kidding, my arms were getting a little tired after a while.” (Y/n) giggled, stretching her arms a bit before matching Mira. “Mamá will be glad to hear how it went. She was a bit worried about them. I hardly understand why though, she’s probably never made a bad meal in her life.” The two laughed. “Buenas noches, señoritas, mind if I steal a few empanadas?” (Y/n) stiffened as Hugo stumbled into the room, wrapping an arm around her waist. His words were noticeably slurred as he smirked down at her. Alma greatly limited alcohol at parties with so many children around, so he must have arrived already intoxicated. “Uh, yeah. Behind you.” Mirabel looked between his hand and (y/n), obvious discomfort written across her features. She shifted uncomfortably out of his grip, grabbing a plate and using it to create a bit of distance. “Take as many as you’d like.” She stated firmly. Mira stepped up behind her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“Mira! Come here for a second! Señora Guzman wanted to ask about making a skirt for her!” Isabella called up the stairs, Mira’s lips forming a tight line as she looked at the doorway. “Go ahead, I need to speak to (y/n) about ordering something for me.” Hugo smiled widely, swaying slightly as he stepped out of the way of the doorway. (Y/n) rested a hand on her’s, nodding. “It’s okay, go on.” She gave a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She absolutely did not want to be alone with this man, but her number one priority was getting Mirabel away from him. Mira stayed firmly in place, glaring up at Hugo. “I can talk to her later about it.” Hugo sighed, motioning towards the door and taking a step forward. “C’mon, beat it kid. The adults need to have a conversation.” (Y/n)’s grip on her hand tightened. “Mira, go.” Her voice was much more stern this time. “Please.” Mirabel hesitantly let go, looking back at the two before quickly hurrying out the door. “Mirabel, Señora Guzman was needing a skirt for a birthday present for her sister. She’s very impressed with you-“ “We need to get Tío Bruno.” Isa’s smile faltered slightly. “What?” Isa rarely saw Mirabel so serious. She was immediately concerned, since Mira was always more than thrilled to make anything for anyone. Especially when it came to sewing. “We need to get Tío Bruno. Now.”

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

“Now, what can I get for you? Fair warning, the next big shipment won’t be coming in for a few weeks.” Strictly business, she wanted to make that very clear.(Y/n) took a small step back, Hugo took a big step forward. Well, stumbled forward. “My order’s already here.” The man reeked of alcohol. She ducked out of the way of his hand as he reached for her, though she didn’t have much more room to move further back. “I-I’m flattered, really, but I’m not interested.” Hugo chuckled deeply, backing her up further. “Oh don’t be like that, I hear the way you talk to me.” (Y/n) raised a brow. “When you come into the store? When I simply ask if there’s anything else you need before your purchase? I apologize for any misunderstandings, but again, I’m not interested. Really.” she took a step around him, heading for the door. She felt a large hand wrap around her wrist, whipping her back around and towards him as he backed her against the wall. “Let go!” She gripped desperately at her own arm, attempting to pull herself out from under him. “You work far too hard, cariño. You need to relax. I can help with that.” His head lowered, his breath felt on her neck.

☾---------------------------✵----------------------------☽

“Tío!” Bruno’s head whipped in the direction of his sobrina’s frantic yell, turning towards her from the drink table. The loud music, along with the general conversation buzzing around the room made it hard to hear much of anything. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched Mirabel practically climb over guests, earning a few looks and glares. Even Isabela’s normal care-free disposition was completely abandoned. Mira swiped the drink from his hand, slamming it down on the table and taking his arm. “Woah woah woah! Slow down! What in the world is going on?” “We don’t have time! It’s (y/n).” And with that, Bruno had no problem being lead. In reality he was nearly pushing Mira in front of him. “Where?” “Upstairs.” Isa and Mira had to follow him after that, hurrying up the stairs behind him. “What happened?” “Hugo-“ a loud yell and the crash of a tray had Bruno sprinting up the stairs two at a time. “You two stay down here!” He called over his shoulder, panic very much present in his voice.

“Get off of me!” He heard (y/n) plead with the man as he skid around the corner, and in a few long strides he had a grip on the back of Hugo’s shirt. “That’s enough!” He was a bit impressed with himself, how easily he tore the man off of her. “You stay the hell away from her!” He stepped in between the two, shoving Hugo back further by his chest. Hugo only rolled his eyes. He looked down at the seer, quite a bit taller than the Madrigal. “Patético. You’re just mad that I got to her first.” Less than a second later, Bruno’s fist was colliding with his jaw. “Bruno!” (Y/n) yelped in surprise recoiling slightly at the sudden excitement. Hugo grunted as his knuckles made contact, his hand coming up to hold his already bruising jaw. Bruno found himself a bit taken back by his own actions. He’d been punched before, sure, but never had he initiated it. Hugo gave a bitter laugh, swaying a bit as he regained his balance. “Estas muerto.” Bruno quickly urged (y/n) back. He veered out of the way of each strike Hugo attempted, though it wasn’t too difficult, considering how intoxicated he was. He did his best to keep from backing up further, glancing back at (y/n) as she rubbed her bruised wrist. Her eyes were locked on Bruno in panic, unsure of what to do. She knew jumping in wouldn’t help, considering that this fight surrounded getting her out of this. “Aye! Someone, Ayuda!” She desperately called out, praying that anyone would hear her. She looked around the balcony, hurriedly taking a hold of one of Julieta’s trays. It seeming a bit weighty, heavier than she expected at least. Bruno swiveled away from another punch, and (y/n) took the opportunity to swing. A loud clatter echoed as Hugo fell against the banister, holding his head. The tray wasn’t nearly enough to cause major damage, but it definitely could stagger someone. That and the alcohol held him there for a moment, long enough for Felix and Augustin to get a hold and restrain him.

“That is enough!” Alma came storming out, Mira and Isa not far from the doorway. “You not only come into our home intoxicated past reason, but attack both one of my guests and my son. You will never find yourself welcome in our home again.” She spat after the two men had dragged him to his feet before motioning them to get him out of there. By now, the main room below, and the party, had gone nearly silent. Augustin and Felix hauled him down the stairs, small “excuse us,” and “pardon me,”s heard as they made their way though the parting crowd. By now, the rest of the family had arrived. Each face filled with concern as Julieta made her way past and towards her brother. “Are you two alright?” She asked, her brows furrowed as she looked over the two. (Y/n) gave a nod, with a small smile and a shaky breath. “Thanks to Bruno.” She shuffled a bit closer to the two, handing Julieta her tray. “I’m sorry about the tray. It shouldn’t be too bent.” Julieta quickly shook her head, gently taking the tray from her. “That is the least of my worries, querida. I’m just glad you are both okay. Now, Bruno, you two head to the kitchen and grab something to eat, just in case.” She cupped both Bruno’s and (y/n)’s cheek affectionately for a moment before nodding towards the door. “Camilo, Dolores, I need you two downstairs to reassure everyone that everything is okay. Mirabel and Isabela, could you clean up this mess? And Luisa, I need you on music.” Alma leaned over the banister, checking in to catch Felix and Augustin tossing Hugo out onto path before heading back into the Casita and closing the doors. With that, the Madrigals hurried off to their respective tasks, and it wasn’t long before cheery reassurances were heard from not only the the two grandchildren, but Felix and Augustin as well. Alma finally turned to Bruno and (y/n), her previously stern expression finally relaxing. “Thank god the two of you are alright. I should have had him thrown out the second he arrived.” She took a deep breath before clasping her hands together. “Now, you two go ahead and calm down, I believe we’ve had enough excitement for this evening.” She gave a small smile, glancing once more at her son before heading back to the party. By now, the music and the sound of voices had picked back up. Mira and Isa quickly hurried in after, stepping over the scattered empanadas. “(Y/n)! Did he- what happened after I left- I’m sorry” (y/n) quickly hushed her, taking her hands in her own. “Mira, why are you apologizing? Im okay thanks to you and Bruno, what could you possibly have to be sorry for?” Mira found herself unable to speak for a moment, trying to form any kind of sentence. “For leaving-“ “Hey, I told you to leave. I didn’t want you here either.” Mira sighed, finally launching herself towards (y/n) and wrapping her arms around her. “I’m glad you’re okay.” The woman smiled, holding her just as tightly “I’m glad you’re okay too. Now! Let’s get back to the party; huh?” Mira smiled up at her and nodded, unraveling her arms and slipping past her to grab the remaining tray. (Y/n) gave Isa a “thank you” as well, the girl matching her sister’s warm smile. “Of course, and I’m hoping to see you around here more.” She giggled, glancing over at her uncle before joining her sister with the cleanup.

“Ready-uh, to head down?” Bruno offered a hand, and (y/n) finally realized how much he was shaking. Then again, she realized how much she was shaking herself. She nodded, smiling warmly as she took his hand. “Ready when you are.” Bruno nodded, somewhat returning her smile as he lead her towards the kitchen. His hold on her hand was incredibly gentle, so much so that it felt like a whisper of a touch. Thankfully, most of the party attendees were distracted as the pair slipped along the edge of the room, having no troubles making it to the kitchen. The countertops were still lined with mounds and mounds of food. Julieta had really outdone herself. “What can I grab for you? Don’t worry about seconds, because we clearly have plenty-“ “thank you.” Bruno felt her grip on his hand tighten. He looked over at her, his focus no longer on the food. “You don’t need to thank me, I would do it again in a heartbeat.” Her smile really was contagious. “Well, I hope you don’t have to do anything like that for a long while.” She giggled. “Though you did look quite intimidating.” It was Bruno’s turn to laugh as he huffed out a chuckle. “I’ve heard that one before, but this is the first time I’ve heard it in a positive context.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, heading over towards the counter and taking a couple arepas from one of the large piles. She handed one to Bruno, taking a bite of her own. “But people are starting to realize the kind of person you really are. Especially after tonight.” Bruno took a bite of his own. “The Encanto’s punch-happy recluse?” (Y/n) snickered, shaking her head. “A charming, caring man who truly cares about the people of this town.” Bruno couldn’t help the warmth that spread to his cheeks as he looked down at his arepa, pulling off another chunk and popping it into his mouth. “I really appreciate it, but you’re giving me too much credit.” “Por dios, Bruno. You fought a man to protect me without hesitation.”

“Because you’re my friend” the woman was clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

“And you would do it for anyone else in this town, wouldn’t you?”

“Well yes but-“

“Then I’m right, aren’t I? Why is it so hard for you to admit that you’re a good person?”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Bruno felt his mouth go dry as the words fell from his lips. His eyes widened as his gaze snapped up to her’s. It was painfully silent for what felt like ages. “A-and you deserve more than someone like me.” His voice shook. “Doing one good thing doesn’t make you an upstanding citizen. In my life, I have caused more harm than good, and this doesn’t right all of my wrongs.” He was the one to break their tense eye contact, his stare moving to the floor. “Bruno, what could you possibly mean by that?” Bruno shakily sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve heard the stories, (y/n). You know my reputation. My gift has brought nothing but trouble.”

“And none of that is you’re fault! You didn’t decide what was shown in your visions. The rumors were just the result of people unhappy with their results. You have done nothing but help the people of this town, whether they liked it or not.”

He couldn’t bear to look at her, her presence nearly suffocating him. “I need a vision.” Bruno was caught a bit off guard as she set her pastry on a napkin, dusting off her hands. “If the man I love is such a bad person, what does my future hold then?”

“I-… what?”

He had never dared to view her future, absolutely terrified of the thought of seeing her with someone else. At first he convinced himself he would see Hugo, but in reality he was worried about seeing anyone but himself. Of which he was sure was impossible.

“If you’re so sure that you don’t deserve anyone, prove it.” Bruno found himself truly at a loss for words. He hadn’t realized how close she was getting until she was just a few inches from him. Bruno’s breathing hitched. He began noticing little details he had never noticed before. A few beauty marks that littered her skin. The slightly-darker circles under her eyes displaying the long hours she worked everyday. Her lips, still stained just slightly darker from the pigment she had applied before she had worked. He found himself unable to look away from them. He brought a hand to her cheek, stopping just before making contact. He hesitated, though was encouraged as (y/n) rested her hand on top of his in reassurance. “I am in love with you, Bruno Madrigal. You do not need a vision to know that.” And with that he closed the remaining gap between them, their lips softly joining as he brought his other hand up. He gently brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. A shiver ran down his spine as her hands made their way to his rauna, her fingers running along the embroidered material. A million thoughts ran though his head, and yet he couldn’t describe the feeling of her lips on his as anything other than fireworks. His chest felt warm, her body pressed against his in an embrace.

He rested his forehead against her’s as they parted. They took a moment, simply absorbing each other’s presences. “I love you. And I have for years.” She rested her hands on top of his, kissing him once more.

“Well, I think I’ll need to pick up a few things from the store tomorrow.” (Y/n) giggled. “I would like that.”

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Beach Vacation Intro

The Bad Batch lands on the tropical resort planet of Spira.  A contact of theirs is helping you all out by letting you lay low in a private beach house on one of the islands.  You and a certain Bad Batcher have been secretly dating for a little while, and you hope to make the most of the romantic setting.

Choose your own ending!

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: None

   You gazed out at the golden sandy beach that stretched on for miles beneath the Marauder as Tech maneuvered it to land among the green palms that lay farther inland.  On the other side of the sandy shore, there was an endless expanse of blue shimmering like topaz in the sun.

   “So,” you spoke up, stealing a glance at the Sergeant who was in the next seat over taking in the scenery just as you were.  “Are you sure we can trust this contact of yours?”

   Hunter folded his arms.  “He’s all we’ve got right now.”

   “That sounds promising.”

   “He hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him.”

   You shrugged, grasping at your safety restraints as Tech’s landing became a little too rough for your liking.  “This just seems too good to be true.  It looks like a vacation spot.”

   “It technically is,” Tech replied, flipping a series of switches to shut down the Marauder.  “Spira is a well-known trip destination.  Some of the islands are far more populated and filled with luxury hotels.  The island we’ve landed on is sparsely populated due to this side being privately-owned.”

   “I read that there’s a town with a market!” Omega spoke up from her seat.

   Tech adjusted his goggles.  “That would be on the other side.  It’s a bit of a hike, but according to reviews on the holonet, it’s worth visiting.”

   “We’re supposed to be laying low,” Echo reminded, walking up to the cockpit.  He rested his scomp arm on the head of your chair.  “This place is practically run by the Empire now.  I don’t like it.”

   “Now there’s something new,” Crosshair muttered.

   “We get our own bungalow and our own beach!” Wrecker pointed out with a grin.  “I say we at least try to have some fun!”

   You removed the safety belts and stretched your arms up over your head.  Hunter stood from his chair and turned to brief the squad.

   “Remaining undetected during our stay here is top priority,” he said.  He caught Omega’s hopeful gaze.  “But I don’t see why we can’t have a little downtime too.”

   “Yes!” she whispered under her breath.

   “We’ll set up some ground rules at the bungalow.  Alright, squad.  Let’s move out.”

   You moseyed to the back of the ship to grab your pack, taking a quick peek inside to make sure you didn’t forget anything important.  Extra clothes, a few basic toiletries, and a holopad.  It was all there.

   You filed down the ramp and smiled instantly at the lovely rush of salty air that filled your lungs.  A warm breeze ruffled your clothes and kicked up particles of sand against your skin.  To your right, palm trees and other greenery were swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the shore.  Omega was already kneeling in the sand, letting a handful of it slip through her fingers curiously.

   “It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet.  Her eyes wandered the scenery.  “Where’s the bungalow?”

     “It’s just up ahead,” Tech replied.  His face was practically buried in a holopad.  “Farther down the beach.”

   Wrecker lifted Omega onto his shoulders with a cheery laugh.  “Let’s go, kid!”

   You fell in step between Tech and Echo while Wrecker and Omega went ahead of the group.  Their excited chatter filled the beach, and the rest of the squad couldn’t help but be amused at the youngest member’s enthusiasm.  Even Echo cracked a smile out of the corner of your eye.

   The beach house came into view.  The exterior looked as if it were constructed from materials gathered near the beach itself.  The walls were made of faded wood boards with darker frames to outline the windows, and the whole place was complete with a thatch roof.  It was much larger than you had expected with an additional two shacks, identical in appearance but smaller in size, that connected to the main structure by a porch that wrapped around.

   “Are you sure this is the right place?” you asked, mouth falling open.

   Tech nodded.  “This would be it.”

   “It’s amazing!”  Omega exclaimed, and Wrecker set her back down on the sand so she could run over and investigate.  The first thing you did was climb the stairs to get a peek at the view from the porch.  It was midday, so the sun reflected brightly off the sand and the water, and it was absolutely gorgeous.

   Hunter knelt down and picked up one of the conch shells that lined the front walkway.  “Just where he said they’d be,” he said, lifting a pair of key cards.  “_______, take the other one?”  You held out your hands to catch it.

   “Don’t mind if I do.”

   You went to the front door with Omega at your heels.  She was nearly bursting with excitement as she waited for you to unlock it.  The key card registered, and the door slid open with a rickety woosh.  As charming as the outside of the bungalow was, the inside took your breath away.  The main room was bright and airy.  You had the ample number of windows to thank for letting the lovely sunlight in.  The kitchen was immediately to your left with aged wooden cabinets and gray stone counter tops.  On the right, there was a spacious living room with wicker furniture to add to its beachy charm.  The couch had turquoise cushions and sat opposite two matching chairs, separated by a low caf table.

   Omega started exploring right away, tossing her bag aside at the front door and hurrying into the living room first.  You shook your head in affectionate amusement as she sat in each of the chairs as if to test them out before stretching out on the couch momentarily.  Then, she went on to look out the nearest window.

   “This one has a nice view of the beach!”

   “Yeah?” you joined her at the window and rested your hands on the sill.  “That water looks so refreshing.  We should definitely swim later.”

   “Well, the conditions are certainly ideal,” Tech informed you.  “At this time of year, the water isn’t too cold.”

   “Aw yeah!”  Wrecker plopped down on the couch, brows shooting up at the snap and creak of the wicker under him.   Fortunately, the thing held it together.  Hunter was walking through and doing his initial survey of the surroundings.  He opened one of the doors straight back to peek in.

   “Bathroom’s here,” he called.  Next, he glanced in the other room.  “This is the master bedroom.  There are three bedrooms total and two beds to each one.”

   “Someone’s going to have to take the couch,” Tech said.

   “I will,” Echo volunteered.

   “_______ and I will share a room,” Omega added, and you nodded in agreement.

   “Sounds good.”

   Wrecker grinned at Crosshair, who had gone into the living room to scope it out for himself.  “What do you say, Crosshair?  Want to share?”

   The slender sniper rolled his eyes, his face scrunched up in a dramatic display of disdain, though you knew it to be an act.  The two brothers were known to stick together more often than not.  “Fine.”

   “Then me and Tech will take the last room,” Hunter decided.  “Glad we got that settled.”  You and Omega got dibs on the master bedroom, so you both headed back to check it out and drop your belongings there.  It was roomy and with simple decor reminiscent of the sea.  Omega claimed one of the twin beds, so you set your things down on the remaining one.

   “What do you think we’ll do first?”

   “We should probably get something to eat,” you said.  “Then maybe we can see if the guys want to take a look around.”

   “And go swimming?”

   You laughed.  “Yes, and go swimming.”

   Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Omega hopped off her bed and headed out the bedroom door, most likely to see what the group had planned.  You took a few moments to compose yourself in front of the charming vanity mirror.  While the squad’s stay on Spira wasn’t technically a vacation, you couldn’t help but get excited over the opportunity to spend some quality time with a certain Bad Batcher at a romantic place like this…  

   The two of you had been keeping things on the down-low, which is very hard to do on a crowded ship like the Marauder.

   You had ditched the armor before landing and changed into an extra set of clothes Suu had gifted you with.  Being that the Lawquanes were leaving on a transport on such short notice, they couldn’t bring everything with them.  She gave you several short- and long-sleeved tunics that were adjustable to the wearer’s size, just as Cut had passed on some of his things to the others.  It was very fortunate since you and the squad had to stop at a variety of planets and ports every now and then to fuel and stock up.

   You smiled at your reflection in the mirror.  You felt beautiful and ready for the day.

- - - - - - -

   “Got you!” Omega exclaimed, pointing.  You splashed her right back, laughter from both of you ringing out in the salty air.

   “Alright, break it up!” Wrecker hollered as he ran waist-deep in the water until he was close enough to make a huge splash that hit you right in the face.  He roared with laughter as you and Omega teamed up to go after him.  Hunter waded into the water, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand while observing the shenanigans.

   Echo was sitting comfortably in a chair under the protective shade of a beach umbrella.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wouldn’t be moving from that spot for the next few days by how he leaned back with his arms folded behind his head.  

   Crosshair was perched on another beach chair with a pair of dark shades over his eyes as he surveyed the scene.  His expression was short of a scowl, which meant he must have been enjoying himself. 

   Tech was still in the process of applying sunscreen.  It was amusing to see just how invested in the task he was, though it didn’t exactly surprise you considering the lecture he gave the entire group about the importance of protecting oneself from the harsh rays of the sun.  Eventually, once he was satisfied with the coverage, he shuffled down to join Hunter as he ventured deeper into the water.

   “My data was correct. The water is rather nice.”

   “Yeah, not bad,” Hunter agreed.

   You were having a blast.  Everyone was having such a good time.  Not to mention you kept catching the gaze of a certain Batcher.  Several times.  It was subtle, and anyone who wasn’t paying attention wouldn’t think much of it…but for you, it was making your heart race.  You couldn’t wait to spend some time with him…

- - - - - - - 

   Bright afternoon sunshine softened into orange light that washed over the water.  Everyone had their good times, but the day wasn’t quite over yet.  You emerged from the bathroom with new clothes to see the squad having a discussion in the living room.  Wrecker leaned against the wall casually with arms folded.

   “I saw these little lanterns glowing in the jungle on our way back in the house,” he said.  “I kinda want to explore and see where they lead.”

   “That’s cool, Wrecker!”  Omega nodded.  “What about you, Crosshair?  Want to go see the lanterns?”

   Crosshair removed a toothpick from between his lips to respond.  “No, thank you.  I’m going to take a walk on the beach.”

   A curious decision on his part, considering how disdained he looked earlier while on the beach with everyone else. 

   “There’s an old telescope in the shed,” Echo said from one of the chairs.  “I thought I’d dig it out and take a look at the stars.”

   “That sounds fun,” Omega nodded.  “What about you, Hunter?”

   Hunter glanced up.  “The village sounded interesting.  Tech said there’s a path that leads to that side of the island.”

   “That, I did.”  Tech confirmed, raising his pointer finger for emphasis.  “I also read that there is a series of caves nearby.  It seems like something worth looking into, so that’s where I’ll be headed.”

   “________?” Hunter asked, and you froze on the spot.  “What are your plans?”

   “Oh, um…”  You paused, catching a certain someone’s attempt at a casual glance in your direction.   He made a point to let you know where he’d be.

   All you had to do was follow.

   “I think I’ll…”

   “...go to the village with you, Hunter.”

   “...check out the caves with Tech.”

   “...explore with Wrecker.”

   “...stargaze with Echo.”

   “...go back to the beach with Crosshair.”

[whitestopper]

Ranking Lego Ninjago protagonists' design changes

Cole - It seems like a good maturation of his boy band hairstyle without wildly changing its texture or colour. Good of them to keep his eyebrows too!

Lloyd - Also decent, but I feel inclined to rank him lower than Cole because of the eye colour change. We get it, he's the green ninja. Eyebrows were a change about which I don't care much.

Kai - I certainly recognised that it was Kai. I know this is a kid's show but his new hairstyle felt... overly childish? Idk if that was about wanting a less pointy design for the toys, but plenty of lego figures have/had rubber hair, so I don't know what they were trying to fix. At least they kept his hair colour? I like the little details on his face too.

Zane - Again, I certainly recognised that it was Zane (mostly because surely they wouldn't give two guy robots the same hairstyle). But also again, we get it, he's a robot. I think this is extra heavy-handed with the vocal effects.

Nya - Quite a wild change, I didn't really recognise her. I think if they had kept her straight bangs, it wouldn't have felt so weird. I like the beauty mark on face rep, I guess.

Jay - The freckles? The darker hair? I'll be really honest, I got back into Ninjago because I saw a Tiktok joke edit about Jay fucking femboys and then it cut to his redesign - y'all, I thought that they were two different characters. BOO! 🍅🍅🍅

[avirael]

I got tagged for another thing a while ago, so here it finally is...

A'viloh Tia

Nickname: A’vi (by anyone he considers a friend), Vi (only by Laqa!) Age: 23 (at the beginning of ARR) Nameday: 6th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon (6. December) Race: Miqo`te – Seeker of the Sun Gender: male Orientation: gay Pronouns: he/him Profession: Adventurer I guess (he needed the money), Warrior of Light

Physical Appearance

Hair: long, fire-red with orange strands Eyes: bright green Skin: I don’t know how to describe it, not really dark-skinned but certainly sun-tanned Tattoos/Scars: none, only freckles and the Miqo’te face markings

Family

Parents: A’vanoh Nunh and A’tahja Linh, both deceased

Siblings: Brothers: A’vett Tia (older, deceased), Sisters: A’tehmi Vanoh (older, alive?), A’tahli Vanoh (younger, deceased)

Cousin: A’aba Tia (the one from the Waking Sands)

Boyfriend: U’laqa Tia (deceased)

Skills

Abilities: good people skills • diplomatic • good at crafting and cooking

Traits

Most positive trait: A’vi is very compassionate and kind, despite all the bad luck and unkindness he endured so far. He would never deny someone help and can be very caring for the people he considers his friends.

Most negative trait: He is extremely shy and easily scared, in a way that it often even holds him back. He can also be very naïve sometimes and easily gets disheartened or pessimistic when things go wrong.

Likes

Colours: all of them! Smells: flowers and fruits, spices, scents of freshly cooked or baked food Textures: soft and warm Drinks: he’s not picky as long as it’s not bitter or alcoholic, but he’d prefer fresh selfmade lemonades or cocoa

Other Details

Smokes: no Drinks: not really because he gets easily drunk and he doesn’t like the taste either Drugs: none Mount Issuance: Canonically I think only his Chocobos, the yellow one he named after Laqa and the black one he got from Haurchefant (which I haven’t named yet) Been arrested: Only if being kidnapped counts, ah and that one time they thought he and Rael killed the sultana sort of…

***

Rael Hyskaris

Nickname: try giving them one, I dare you! Age: 23 (at the beginning of ARR) Nameday: 6th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon (6. December) Race: Viera – Rava Gender: non-binary, agender Orientation: asexual Pronouns: they/them Profession: Oracle-in-training, Warrior of Light

Physical Appearance

Hair: medium length, snow white Eyes: amber Skin: a tiny bit darker than A’vi Tattoos/Scars: none

Family

Parents: Mother: Rena Hyskaris, Father: Yurhee Rehw-Gilda (probably deceased) Siblings: none

Skills

Abilities: good with herbs and healing magic • intelligent • good survival skills • adapts quickly to new situations • occasional prophecy

Traits

Most positive trait: Rael knows a lot of things and always has a clever idea to solve any problem or at least knows where to look/ask for help. Rael is brave and has a strong sense of justice in the way that they can’t stand someone being unnecessarily cruel or injust towards others.

Most negative trait: Rael sometimes has issues with social situations or to connect with people. They picked up a lot of “skills” during their travels but still often are perceived as ill-tempered, arrogant or rude.

Likes

Colours: deep green like the forest, other than that mostly greys and black Smells: the smell of the forest, as well as the scent of rain, and also herbs and potions Textures: not really any preferences, as long as it isn’t itchy Drinks: mostly tea, preferably herbal, or just water

Other Details

Smokes: no Drinks: no Drugs: does one bowl of age-stopping, hallucination-inducing forest-nectar count? Mount Issuance: Same as A’vi I think, just the two Chocobos from MSQ. The yellow one is names Rufus (after Rael’s pet cat) Been arrested: Not apart from the sultana-incident

***

I was tagged for this a long while ago by @koijikido but entirely forgot about it until I redid my intro post and tags yesterday! Thank you for tagging and sorry for the wait! If I ever don’t do one of the things I was tagged for, it is not because I don’t want to do it and simply because I forgot…

I'm tagging anyone who hasn’t done this yet but maybe wants to do it, show me your OC's! 💕

[zelphin124]

DISCLAIMER: I do not know much about Therapist!Sans, but I was bored so I thought I'd write a lil script with him giving therapy to Ink!Sans (which I think would be very chaotic)

Also, I've never been to therapy before so I don't know how this technically works 😅

Therapist!Sans belongs to @tehrogueva

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet

Enjoy!

The room was still. There was no breeze, no sound, and no darkness. Every part of the room was lit with a dim light overhead, erasing the shadows from all of the objects. There was only a wooden chair to the left of the room which was accompanied with a small desk by its side. In front of this chair was a maroon sofa. A rectangular carpet with a pine tree design laid between the furniture.

There wasn't much to observe. In fact, the tan walls of the room were quite barren. Occasionally, there were small papers with green and brown designs hung across the room. There was a small billboard above the desk with a few drawings on them. The door was darker than all the browns in the area. It reflected off the yellow-tinted light. The lights themselves were small lightbulbs hung by a single chain on the ceiling. The air would've been heavy and filled with stench if it wasn't for the air conditioner in the corner.

The dark brown door opened as Ink stepped inside. His eyes lit with curiosity as he observed the room. He wasn't sure why he needed therapy. Heck, he didn't even remember how he got there. Why was he here again?

He checked the notes on his scarf. He tried to make out what he wrote. Ah, there it was. He had gone to therapy because _____ told him to go. He couldn't make out the smudged word of who told him to come here. However, Ink trusted whoever it was; he wouldn't have written it down if the person wasn't someone he trusted.

Or did Error tell him to go to therapy as an insult and he wanted to remember it?

Ink patted himself down when he forgot what he was thinking about. Where was his sketchbook? Did he leave it in the doodle sphere again? He didn't like being bored and had no intention to stay bored. He would've started to draw on the billboard, but he couldn't find the right markers to do so.

The room reminded the guardian of the Anti-Void. He didn't care for big open spaces. He wanted to fill such empty expanses with light, color, and beauty. At least, that's what he wanted to do if he drank his vials.

To his relief, it wasn't completely barren. However, the walls were lacking any decoration. Maybe it was to keep people from being distracted, or it was a new office and it hadn't been decorated yet.

No matter! Ink loved making decorations. He could assist with drawing the pictures and hanging them up! This place would look more vibrant in no time. All he needed was his brush...

His brush that he left outside the office.

Why did he leave it out there again? Ink checked his scarf again. Something about it being too big and whacking things... As well as covering the area in paint...

He eyes glanced back down to the notes he previously read. Someone had told him to go to therapy after he burned down an AU.

Wait... I did WHAT?!

"Good afternoon," an unfamiliar voice said softly behind him. "I apologize for being late. Please, take a seat."

Ink spun around to find a skeleton he had never seen before. He was a variation of Sans like himself. He had large eyes and a genuine smile. Green glasses rested on his non-existent nose; Ink noticed they were taped to the side of his head. Ink could tell he was tired, but not the sleepy kind of tired. It was more the-past-week-has-felt-like-one-giant-day tired.

Ink loved the soft colors that bounced off the skeleton's attire. He wore an off-white wool cardigan and dark brown gloves. His green turtleneck shirt complimented his glasses. The blue shorts on his legs possessed green stripes and visually led onlookers down to his pink slippers. His small hands held a clipboard and a pen made from a small bone. Although Ink saw that he was more expressive than Classic, he could tell the skeleton's shoulders were tense despite his fatigue.

"Hello!" Ink greeted, waving his hand before extending it. "I'm Ink! It's nice to meet you, what's your name?"

"You can call me Doc, Ink," Doc shook Ink's hand before signaling for him to sit down. "Tell me a bit about yourself. I heard that you love art."

"Who told you that? Because loving art is a total understatement," Ink adjusted his clothes as he sat down on the sofa. "I adore it! It's one of the best things in the world! In fact, I wouldn't be here without art! Creativity is a beautiful thing that should inspire others and be shared!"

"Indeed it should," Doc nodded as he wrote something down on his clipboard. "What else do you like to do?"

"Well, I love to inspire others. When I'm not battling Error or chilling with Dream and Swap, I adore going to different AUs and observing people's creations! Sometimes I talk with the creators of the AUs themselves to help them out. Like one time I inspired my friend named XGaster..." Ink trailed off, glancing at the billboard with the small green and brown drawing. "What were we talking about again?"

Doc scribbled more things on his paper before giving a warm smile. "I'm asking some ice-breaker questions before we get started on your therapy," he answered. "I'm here to help you with your problems."

"What problems?" Colorful question marks glimmered in Ink's eyes. Why was it so hard to remember simple things today? He knew his memory was bad, but surely it wasn't always this bad. Is it getting worse? Ink asked himself in his head.

The therapist stared at Ink for a long time. To Ink's surprise, he didn't find the silence uncomfortable. He was perfectly content with the skeleton staring at him and not saying anything at all. Had it been anyone else, Ink would've started to become nervous.

"I have an idea," Doc set his clipboard down. "Why don't we draw something to hang up on my walls? I would love to display some of your art here. Plus, while we are drawing, you can tell me what's been happening in your life recently."

"Oh that would be great!" Joy surged through Ink's mind. "I was going to comment about the emptiness of the room. I wondered why it was so barren."

"This office is new, so I haven't had much time to hang things up yet," Doc answered before he informed Ink he would return with art supplies.

When the therapist returned, Ink wasted no time, grabbing the acrylic paints as quickly as he could. He had so many ideas on what he wanted to draw. He eventually decided he was going to draw a pine forest to match the aesthetic of the room. Doc sat his clipboard by his side as he watched Ink's brush fly across the paper.

Doc didn't even have to ask any questions. Ink started to ramble about his day... At least what he could remember of it. He talked about having tea with Dream and Swap before mentioning his battle with Error. He went on and on about how beautiful OuterTale was before he lost his train of thought.

Doc listened intently, drawing a cliffed landscape and taking notes. "You mentioned Dream and Swap, are these your friends?"

"Oh yeah. We are the Star Sanses. We fight for the AUs and their happiness. We work together a lot," Ink stroked the brown paint on the trunks of his trees. "Although we've been separating lately."

"How does that make you feel?"

Ink glanced away from his art up at the therapist. What an odd question; no one had asked him that before. He started to twitch with his fingers before replying. "I don't know how to answer that question, Doc. I don't really feel anything about it." He glanced down at his vials. "I don't have emotions. I'm given emotions through these vials, but they're fake. Nothing that I feel is actually real. I don't have a soul to feel things."

"I see," Doc picked up his pen and wrote it down on his paper.

"Me and Dream have different motives and intentions for the AUs sometimes. Swap wanted to go home and assist his brother more. I spend most of my time bugging Error about his love for chocolate and the truce he forced me to accept. Although we both kinda broke that recently."

"Tell me more about Error."

Ink told the Doc all that he could recall about the glitched skeleton. He described how they met, how they became enemies, and how the truce was agreed upon. He backtracked to find moments with Error and memorable fights between them. Ink tried to explain to Doc how Error was the only skeleton who could understand him, and yet they were complete opposites, driving them apart.

About an hour had passed. The therapist listened to the guardian closely, however, he stopped Ink when black tears started to run down his face. Ink had gotten emotional when he recalled how Error destroyed most if not all the AUs.

"I... I didn't feel anything at the time," Ink wiped his face. He glanced in confusion at his fingers. Am I crying? "I didn't drink my vials so I felt nothing when Error destroyed the multiverse. But now... It hurts to even think about."

The Doc sat his drawing aside and picked up his clipboard. "Why do you think that is?"

Ink's tears fell onto his drawing. They covered the trees in various patches. He wondered how he could incorporate them into his forest drawing. "I guess... Because I love the AUs and their creativity. I wouldn't want anyone's inspiration to be crushed. I wouldn't want to harm an AU..." He glanced at his scarf. "It says on my scarf I came here because I burned down an AU though..."

"What do you think about that?"

"It doesn't help my reputation..." Ink wiped his face again. "I'm portrayed as a villain now. A lot of people don't like me after certain actions-" He wiped his face again. He didn't like crying. He didn't even know why he was crying, let alone in front of a Sans he didn't know. He didn't feel sad on the inside, but it was as if something inside him had shattered. Did he regret his actions? Was he mourning for the loss of the AUs? Was all the talk about him being a murderous psychopath with no emotions getting to him? He couldn't say. His emotions were confusing as they were. If he couldn't figure himself out, how could Doc Sans figure him out?

"This is good for you to acknowledge all of this," Doc Sans broke his thoughts. His voice was soothing and slow. "There's a lot to unpack here. I would love to meet with you on a regular basis so we can work through all this. Can you meet the same time next week?"

The tears had stopped flowing from the guardians eyes. "Time is a little hard for me to grasp since I love outside of it."

"Oh, yes of course," the therapist replied. "In that case, I'll talk with the office to find a way to signal you to come back when it's time. But might I reassure you in one thing today?"

Ink shrugged. "Go for it."

"You don't just drink one of your vials, right? You drink all of them at once."

Ink glanced down at his paint vials. They glowed with intensity according to their designated color. All of them were nearly empty. "Yeah, I drink all of them."

"So that means you feel all the emotions and they can alternate your mood depending on the situation. I wouldn't call your emotions fake. You're not forcing yourself to drink one vial to feel that way. You drink all of them at once, making your emotions as real as anyone else's; constantly present."

"Really?" Ink exclaimed before he vomited a bunch of ink from his mouth. He stared blankly at the Doc before looking back at his drawing. Whew, the ink missed his paper entirely.

"I'll uh... call someone to come clean that up," the smile on the therapist's face faded. He glanced over at Ink's drawing. "You're very talented, Ink. Can I hang that on my wall?"

Ink nodded. Doc knelt down and picked up the drawing. The smile returned to his face. "Look at these black streaks across the trees that you made with your tears."

Ink was quite proud of how we wove his tears into his art. They created shadows across the forest and shade between the leaves. There were millions of shades of greens and browns in the pine forest that he drew. The painting would look lovely under the dim lights of the office.

"That's what we are going to do with everything you've bottled up," Doc explained. "We are going to take that pain and weave it into the beautiful story of your life. No story is complete without suffering. Here's your first lesson, Ink."

For the first time in his life, Ink had nothing to say. He wanted to listen to Doc talk. His fingers twitched as he waited for the therapist to continue.

"Suffering is necessary in our lives. Because without it, the happiest moments of our lives wouldn't be so sweet as they are," he explained. "Our lives will never be perfect. Just like paintings are never perfect. But our lives, like these paintings, aren't supposed to show us perfection. They reflect who we are, and the progress we made."

What an interesting take. It was as if Doc was talking like they had run out of time.

Wait... they had run out of time.

Was the session already over? Ink didn't feel like he spent an entire hour talking. Was that what therapy was? Just talking until stuff comes up?

Ink wasn't sure how to feel about the whole therapy thing. He enjoyed drawing and talking to the new Sans, but it was odd for him to feel things so raw when he recalled memories. He never felt such strong emotions about any memories before, why had it struck him now? What was all of that hidden pain Doc was talking about? Did he really have bottled up pain like all the rest of the Sanses?

He lost his trail of thought, only remembering what the therapist had said Ink grabbed a pen and started to write down what the therapist said on his scarf. "I bet all of that was important, I just don't understand it right now."

Doc chuckled softly. "You'll understand more as we work through your life together. I'll be in touch with you shortly, thank you for coming."

Ink finished writing down what the therapist had said. "Thanks for having me, Doc! I'll see you next time!"

The guardians gaze went from Doc's warm smile to the painting Ink drew within the hour. It wasn't perfect, no, but it reminded Ink about what the therapist had said before he exited the room.

It's not about about perfection... But about the progress I make.

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay Visuals: Valhalla Calling

This could be a bit of a long one (though still probably not as long as my post for Hide And Seek/Ding Dong)

Valhalla Calling was released on the 8th of April, 2023, and is kinda-sorta a sister video to My Mother Told Me. But Voiceplay didn't restrict themselves to just standing in front of greenscreen backgrounds this time, no no no! They worked together with some production studios/group called Vū, and usually I give credit shoutouts as I go through the video, but I think it might just be easier this time if I show you the credits in the description instead:

Yeah, this one was massive. (And wow Eli did a lot for this one! Shoutout to Eli!)

Voiceplay didn't see a return of Jose Rosario Jr for this one, but we got J None back for it! Woooo! So anyway, let's get into this!

I will get to everyone individually, but check out the set! I like the shields in the background.

J None! The man, the myth, the legend.

J has got the same kind of rune/symbol on his forehead as he did in My Mother Told Me (I'm using the video thumbnail for MMTM for comparison purposes), but brighter white on his cheeks, and of course a fresh new haircut. His shirt(?)/top is the same as well I believe, but the fur is different to that of his original costume.

Cesar of course didn't join Voiceplay till sometime after My Mother Told Me (fun fact: Valhalla Calling was release just a couple weeks shy of when My Mother Told Me was released, two years' prior), so nothing to compare against, but I love his makeup here!

Appreciation for the visual effects/design!

Geoff has swapped out the grey fur over one shoulder for a brown fur cloak/cape thing, and ditched the purple-ish lipstick he was wearing in My Mother Told Me as well, making him look a bit less terrifying 😝 (also, his hair in this one has a bit more fluff/volume to it (love that for him <3)). He does however have the same/similar tattoo designs on his face that he had in My Mother Told Me.

(Also I know I'm meant to be sticking to just the visuals, but you can't just expect me to talk about Valhalla Calling without talking about the B0 subharmonic that Geoff holds for 15 seconds!!!)

Layne seems to be wearing almost exactly the same (if not the exact same) outfit as he did in My Mother Told Me (see the first screencap above), and the same kind of face designs as well

Eli still has tattoo designs on his head like in My Mother Told Me (though whether they're the same or not I'm not sure), but the makeup around his eyes is darker, and of course, he now has a full beard and mustache! (Very impressive, might I add)

"shields and s p e a r s"

(For someone who is ridiculously modest when talking about himself ("baritone with a bass range" I mean REALLY), Geoff sure knows how to look incredibly smug in videos when he wants to be 😅😂)

Actually scratch what I said about nothing to compare Cesar's outfit against - the cloak he's wearing is the same one (or at least very very similar to) the one that Jose wore in My Mother Told Me!

Also shoutout to Cesar for being able to do literally anything when it comes to characters, acting, and performances! Multifaceted is an understatement honestly (and yes I will be talking about Creep, eventually)

He's coming!!!

He is here!!!

(Love Geoff raising his alehorn(?) to J in greeting here)

Outside group shot! Makes costume comparisons a heck of a ton easier.

Layne is basically the only one that stuck with basically his whole original outfit. J kept parts of his and still stuck close to the original concept (with the fur and stuff), Eli definitely got an outfit upgrade (though his tunic/shirt is a pretty similar green colour to what he was wearing in MMTM, and Geoff just basically went with a brand new look (Good For Him). He's still got one arm uncovered/exposed like in MMTM, but it's the right arm this time, not the left! (And J none has more of his arms exposed than he originally did!)

Very smooth hood flip! (which somehow I never noticed before this)

More appreciation for Cesar's makeup!

Everyone of course gave this performance 110%, and J None absolutely killed it with his original rap solo (hey, it was a visual performance too!), but also look at Geoff, looking like some sort of powerful and intimidating sorcerer while delivering another B0 subharmonic held note!

J None trying to rival Layne in Hoist The Colours with his Fierce/Crazy Eyes look I see!

Also whoops I think I just spotted a minor editing/continuity mistake. See Cesar in the background in the above shot here? With the hood off? Well this is the next frame:

Cesar with the hood still on. I shan't hold it against them (editing this must have been a nightmare, at least partially), but I am here to talk about visuals, and so if I see something of note, then I will mention it!

A very small and very blink-and-you-miss-it eyebrow quirk/raise from Geoff (y'know, just to kill us further 😆)

The original creator of the song, Miracle Of Sound, commented on this video, saying "Well done, lads. Definitely one of the more creative covers I've heard! I rate it ten raised alehorns out of ten." And the video currently sits at 4.2 million views on YouTube, which is pretty dang impressive considering the video isn't even a year old yet (UPDATE: as of the 20th of March, it's now at 4.6 million! Goddamn!)

Incredible video, incredible arrangement, incredible vocals, it's honestly peak Voiceplay (but not Voiceplay at it's peak! They don't have one!). I have a good handful of videos to keep going through, so stay tuned!

[slightlytoastedbagel]

Bagel decided to review the new outfits because why not: Leo/Need

I know there will be a lot of people doing this I've just decided to also do it. The general consensus I've seen from the new outfits is... mixed to say the least. For me, the old outfits and new outfits both have their strengths which I'll be going through in this series of posts. Starting with Leo/Need for the sake of order.

I'm just going to say it outright; Leo/Need got the best upgrade of an outfit. The school uniform motif getting expanded upon is great and plays into the School Sekai wonderfully. I do think the blazers could have been darker (however as someone who has to wear a dark blazer to school I would NEVER wish that upon anyone) but other than that I enjoy their new designs a lot. The way they all look more unified and all of them now smiling is definitely the icing on top. They've all grown so much...

Going into individual designs, I'm so happy Ichika got to keep her thigh straps and the shirt and tie not being fully fastened is a great touch. I'm also just really happy she gets to smile now. I sort of wish she got to continue having her blazer wrapped around her waist but that would have made it too similar to the og so I respect the decision to have her wearing it properly.

Saki's yellow works best with the blazer and skirt. I love the double belt and the little star on each of her socks. The choice to give Saki and Honami bows while Ichika and Shiho have ties is a nice differentiation. That's... all I really have to say here. I'm happy the keyboard is no longer in the way.

Honami's (and also Ichika's but I only noticed now) skirts only being half pleated was a good way of making the girls' outfits not all look the same while still keeping the more unified feel of them. I think Hona is my favourite of the group. The star on her arm along with the half belt and buttons on her skirt are great touches. Her old outfit just looks so bad in comparison to this one.

Shiho also got an improvement as she no longer has that bright lime jacket!! It's interesting to note that her skirt and blazer use different shades of green, maybe they thought the darker shade would look better with the blazer? Either way I like it better than her original. Her shirt hanging out is also a nice touch.

L/N Miku is the only one I'm not fully sold on. I like the skirt and think the jacket makes her different enough from the girls but I miss her safety hair clip so much. Oh well...

Overall, I think Leo/Need do the best job of what the outfit redesigns should be like. Showing the development of the unit while keeping their representative colours and themes present enough. In the case of the former this does mean just making the outfits look like they go together but still.

I did say in the tags of that post about Rui facing with his back to us that I liked L/N and WxS the same amount, but looking at them now I definitely like L/N more. My only real complaint is that the blazers would have looked better in a darker shade but it's not a life ending difference.

In terms of if I think it's an improvement to the original, this is the only one I can confidently say is (but I am writing this before Nightcord's release so that may change). Their first outfits may have been more individualised but Honami and Shiho look so much better here.