#body soul sprite

[alpacacare-archive]

he dont bite

[mikuni14]

First and Sprite confessed their love to each other and kissed while cleaning up the thrash. Clearly this series is made by GODS and we are not worthy of it.

[here2bbtstrash]

"honey what you doin in my bed? / uh baby welcome to my favorite place" and "i swear to god you don't need to be mine, just hit you right" are the reasons i'm insane today WOW HELLOOOOOOOOO

[puzzledemigod]

Ok so at the beginning of the movie Pinocchio is kinda scary right? His limbs are too long and he's not wearing clothes and he's half unfinished and the way he moves his face is unsettling (you're used to the mechanical movement of the other humans at that point so the use of replacement to show the emotions leaves a wooden, static effect on his features at all times). He keeps repeating phrases and speaks too loudly and doesn't read the room and doesn't feel pain. It would be threatening or mocking if it was on purpose, and even it not being was at least a bit cringy. It's very much Geppetto's point of view: you tried to bring your son back but he came back wrong and now he's destroying whatever life you had left

And then the movie goes on and Pinocchio doesn't really change; he understands better, he starts to listen to those around him and to see what people need, but he's still gangly and awkward and loud, he still breaks things and doesn't show emotion the way other people do, is still undeniably other.

But he shows he was absorbing everything Sebastian told him; he payed attention to others who were, like him, exploited for being weak. He comforted, protected, saved, risked himself for his father, who seemingly rejected him. For the kid who bullied him. For the monkey who was the reason he was enslaved. We don't know if he was empathetic to these people but he had such a strong concept of justice and of fairness, he was so pure of all the hate being spat in the society he was born in, that he stood against it without a second thought.

And at that point I realised, without him having anything physically changed about him to make him more relatable, that I stopped seeing him as other, as weird, as menacing. He had the same energy and emotions but by then he was just another kid, he was a cute and sweet boy who I'd do anything to protect, who was in danger

And he didn't have to change a thing about himself!! It's us and Geppetto and Cricket and Candlewick and Spazzatura and the world around him who have to come around and accept him. And we do, eventually, and I think that was so beautiful

[everwisp]

just came to the realization that Guy has no card with animal ears, Liber wyd

[sonnyaavce]

CHAPTER # 0

"Is it still following us?" whispered Wally over to Artemis as they amble deeper into the dark and ominous facility.

"Yeah, it's still behind us trying to be sneaky" snorted playfully Artemis as she glanced behind her to see the small mirage of a kid following them, said kid was actually just floating slightly off the floor and walls, peering at them with curiosity and caution. But to Artemis, she knew that usually spirits weren't as scared towards people like it was; she had met Secret before and hadn’t been scared at all towards them, but she feels this one is different... he’s way different from Secret...

'Do you think he's a stuck spirit like Secret?' she pondered into the telepathy link to the rest to the team; Zatanna who was near the front nodded, not looking back at them 'he does feels different from Secret tho, but he feels more like an astral projection to me'

'What does that word mean, the astral projection thing?' Megan inquired curiously at the same time she looked over Robin who was near front, checking some blueprints into his hologram wristband not looking where he was walking but still leading the group without tripping on anything, 'Isn't it the same for all ghosts?'  

Zatanna shook her head as she walks closer to the martian 'not all ghosts are form the same way; some are form after resentments, some form after experiencing strong emotions' she lectures them as she automatically lights up a spell to brighten the hallway a bit better ‘astral are humans with the ability to move his soul out of his body at will’

‘That means there’s still an unknown child’s body lying around here?’ Kaldur said bitterly as he lighted his marks unknowingly, infuriated at the prospect of an innocent still trapped in here ‘Megan can you pinpoint his location or maybe connect to his body indirectly?’  

‘I can give a try-’ A sudden screeching sound cut out the mind link abruptly, making the team stagger in place, Connor grunted annoyed as he grabbed his head in pain  ‘who caused this interference just now?!’ 

"not that way" whispered the small sprite, who was now in the front of the group, his voice sounded as if was glitched “follow” fading sigly in front of them, the team looked at each other before nodding and following the astral as it reappeared a couple of meters down one of the hallways down a flight of stairs “down there”

“Is your body still down there?” Kaldur said softly to the mirage, the child nodded “Robin what do you read, is something down there?” 

“there are some empty rooms already the league checked-” “is down there” interrupted the child “hidden… find the room”

-TBC-

masterpost

[lexsssu]

Beast (Dion Agriche)

TAGS: Dion/Dragoness!reader, pining, pervy thoughts, breeding, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

This place felt…sad.

The towering manse was objectively magnificent and yet an air of gloom seemed to envelop the very air that passed through the exquisite halls. Though perhaps it could be attributed to the unmistakable metallic scent that hung heavily within almost every corner of the estate. 

Whether it was the main courtyard, the gardens, or from deeper within, the darkness that settled over the entire structure was like a shroud of death that beckoned victims to fall into the sweet embrace of oblivion. It’s only through luck however, that they can either meet a swift end or a drawn out and miserable one. 

Judging from the melancholic or downright pained expressions upon the ghostly specters that roamed the area, it’s safe to say that this was a place of great suffering and tragedy. None of the actual living occupants could see them, most especially that man whose soul harbored an impressive amount of corruption for a human. No matter how many angry spirits clung to him in hopes of dragging his soul straight out of his body in order to enact their just revenge, each death done or ordered by his hand only seemed to further the taint. 

It’s almost as if he drew power from the lives he’d stolen.

He wasn’t the only one who attracted the attention of the restless souls. The man’s children who tried to follow in his footsteps also had a trail of bodies before them even before they could be called adults. Even one of his wives, a seemingly spritely woman with doll-like features, took lives as easily as getting rid of unpleasant pests.

In conclusion, this family is as cursed as the land they had stained with rivers of blood over the years.  

Much to your surprise however, not every Agriche shared a penchant for senseless murder. One of the eldest living daughters (Roxana) only had a single ghost following her and even then, the ghostly image of the teen boy didn’t seem to want to tear her limb from limb like all the others. Rather, he followed after her much like a puppy who only wanted to keep up with her pace. Sadly, the blonde never seemed to take notice of the boy who bore remarkably similar features with her even as he tried to reach his hand out to touch her. 

For she lives within the plane of the living, while he now resided in between life and death, unable to move on due to regrets or some other unfinished business you didn’t know of.  

The question is…are you content with staying as a mere observer?

The blonde youth perks up the moment he realizes you can see him, sheer relief brimming from every pore within his spectral body when you speak your first words to him. He is rich with the secrets Lante Agriche fights tooth and nail to prevent from ever seeing the light of day. 

A lonely boy becomes lonely no more and a displaced dragoness finds that becoming lost wasn’t too bad when you have good company around you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dion doesn’t dream.

Considering the amount of blood that stained his rough hands, it is better that he only descends into nothingness whenever he rests his eyes, for one could only imagine what horrors lay in wait to torment him for all the atrocities he’d committed. He’s not afraid of the ghosts of his victims, but rather finds it useless to think of flames that had already been snuffed out when they could no longer influence the living in any way.

But then something changes.

He feels a soft, warm touch that gently traces the length of his nose, cups the sharp angles of his face, and even delves into his dark locks. Though his eyes remain closed, his own subconscious supplies him with the image of hands much smaller than his own large ones that poked and prodded at him without fear. 

While he would have caught the appendages and mayhaps stuck a knife into anyone who decided to lay their hands upon him, Dion knows that this could only be a dream because who would even dare to caress him so gingerly in the middle of night within the Agriche’s own manor? If anything, he finds his dreamself to commit to memory the feeling of such a gentle touch being bestowed upon him, because rationally he knows that he has no need for softness. In the confines of his own subconscious however, he supposes that he can allow himself this at the very least.

When he wakes up at the crack of dawn, it is to open windows with its blinds fluttering as the morning breeze makes its way to his room, bringing with it not just the familiar scent of iron that seemed to permanently surround the place he’d grown up in. 

Though he cares not for flowers specifically, he does have knowledge on their practical uses such as poisons and the like. He also prefers knowing the native flora and fauna of the hunting grounds he’d be thrown into in order to get a better grasp of the terrain.

Blooming honeysuckles make his brows furrowed in confusion despite his stone-cold exterior, confused as to how and why such a scent overpowered the ever present iron tang in the air. 

Curiouser and curiouser.

Dion remains oblivious to the shared laughter between a woman with ivory in her hair and a boy whose eyes reflected the deep, bright expanse of the open sky as they watched him stick his head out of his windows to locate the origin of the oddity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“YOU...”

“...Me?”

Dion feels his body practically burning from the inside-out, his heart beating several miles per minute as he finally gets a good look of the poltergeist that haunts his nights. He remembers the tender touches you press against his skin, the warm caresses that leave him gasping for breath and his loins aching for sweet release by the time he’s released from your clutches once dawn has broken. 

He does not need your sweetness.

He has no use for your gentleness.

And yet he craves it.

He has never desired anything. 

He has never felt so strongly about anything other than the swish of his blade, the gurgling of his victims, and the blood splattered against the ground as another mark of his martial prowess.

And yet you drove him to become more of a feral beast than he ever was as he now wished for nothing else other than to possess your whole being just as you possessed him without even meaning to.

“...are MINE”

Your surprised squeak is music to his ears, the flush on your cheeks pleasing the beast that sought to have you pressed down on the ground and taken ruthlessly, flooding your fertile womb with his virile seed...

.

.

.

To be continued(?)

[catgirlredux]

It’s not super common, but sometimes a pilot falls in action while their HAK remains operable. In events like this, commanding officers will usually order a new pilot to be assigned to the chassis - and the Doors pity the poor fool who gets the charge.

We’re not entirely sure how, but HAKs frequently store a backlog of sorts of their previous pilot’s brain patterns. When a new operator is introduced to the unit… well, it’s absurd but I reckon the HAK doesn’t like it. That’s the best way I can describe it; these machines have a preference for their old pilot, and they need to make sure everything is as close to “normal” as possible.

It starts with the pilot reporting hearing voices. Usually they’re helpful, they give the pilot advice in battle situations and whatnot. I remember one kid, must’ve been no older than 24, who swore she’d heard someone whisper to her to dodge a missile she had no clue was coming.

Our scientists say that they’re“false memory hallucinations” but the pilots call em “family”. But these aren’t some helpful sprites; and that ain’t the end either.

Secondhand pilots start to lose track of things. Sometimes they report feelings of dissociation; legs too long, faces too thin. Some pilots start to feel something like gender dysphoria, others get paranoid or anxious where they previously were fine. They experience dysmorphia so extreme that many attempt to modify their bodies to satisfy the mech’s desires. They all start to forget their names - instead, they demand to be called by the same sign as the previous operator for their HAK.

At the same time, their piloting skills increase. They pull maneuvers they’ve never even tried before, and all secondhand pilots have at least a 250% mission success rate. Probably why the higher-ups still keep reassigning pilots like this; it’s just too lucrative to have an operator with twice as much experience.

We have three of these pilots in our division. They’re freaky - even more so than regular HAK operators. They have scars on their hands and legs from where they tried to adjust their lengths, and they move uncannily, like some alien creature infesting a human shell.

There’s a rumor that they’re experimenting with subsequent iterations of inheritance, seein how many souls they can cram into one body I guess. God only knows what that’ll be like.

[angelisverba]

kryptonite

in which y/n smokes weed (sometimes) and she thinks her dealer is super cute, and harry always gives her a little extra because she’s sweet

word count: 8.2k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: if you are uncomfortable with the use of drugs, please do not continue reading!! i DO NOT want to see any messages in my inbox that talk of ‘glamourizing’ this drug. if you don’t like it-> don’t read it. mentions of bullying, peer pressure, 

author’s notes: the second and final part to this fic will be posted next week, feb. 02 at 8am pst.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Harry hated parties. 

Admittedly, they were a third of his source of income, but unless it wasn’t a gathering exclusively composed of his close circle, he didn’t want anything to do with it. They were too loud and sticky, messy and smelly. Red solo-cups littered at every available corner, half filled with Coca-cola, vodka, and the occasional sad, cigarette butt. Scantily clad girls and ‘discreet’ boys that didn’t know how to read body language that clearly screamed ‘I’M NOT INTERESTED!’. It just all got his nerves because half the time he knew they were only using him to get reduced prices on the marijuana he spent ample time on growing. 

He tried, as a general rule, to limit his reluctant, brooding attendance to parties he knew would only consist of Mitch, Sarah, Adam, and the handful of other friends that just wanted to have a good time and a nice snuggle on a cramped couch that rumbled with intoxicated laughter. He liked being in a crowd he knew, it was much more intimate, less pressure-filled. He didn’t have to maintain that ‘polite’ air that was socially required in an atmosphere of people he didn’t know. No niceties or complimentary. When it was just him and his friends, all of that ‘quiet’ and ‘please, thank you’ shit wasn’t necessary. He could jump straight to his affectionate, giggly, sprawling-all-over-everyone’s-lap self, and no one would question it because they know it’s what he preferred.

But, at a big house party like the one where he was at, where everyone knew him as The One Guy Who Sells The Good Shit, Harry had to pretend to be polite and quiet and small, and adopt an overall stiff persona that made him prickly and cold. This wasn’t him. He didn’t like this, and wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his very convincing friend Mitch, who noticed that business was slow and assured him that he was bound to 1) ‘sell a shit-ton’ and 2) gather a handful of new clients once they realized that what he had to dispense was pretty good quality for a subjectively cheap price. 

Mitch had been right, of course. 

The small black backpack of goodies that Harry had brought to this inconspicuous function had been empty in less than two hours, and he’d repeated his number enough times that it started to feel forgein on his tongue. Once or twice, a few girls had flashed him what could be called ‘bedroom eyes’, but he wasn’t in the mood to get his rocks off. When he came with a purpose to sell, any need, want, or hope for sex flew out of the window because then he ran the risk of girls thinking their ‘connection’ entitled them to some sort of discount on weed, and he didn’t particularly fancy ruining his post-coitous bliss with the awkward exchange of rejection that followed their questions. 

Plus, it made him feel used. 

A good three hours have passed, and he’s about to tell Mitch he’s ready to leave when his line of sight is snagged on the diamond image- no, a beautifully deceiving mirage, because there’s no way this girl is real. Not when she looks like a ditzy sprite, a walking mermaid, a glimmering fairy, a heart-wrenching siren, and any other bewitching, ethereal creatures that stole men’s souls upon the first breath they took in their presence. She looked like one of his psychedelic hallucinations that whispered sweet things to him and played with the ends of his hair when he’s in the lull of shrooms, brought to life. Grounded, real, and three-dimensional, not just in the airy, green-leafed recesses of his muddled mind. 

This pretty little enchantment that caught his eye had floated into the room on two clumsy, shoddy-sneaker covered feet that extended from bambi-like legs with knees that were almost comically knocking against one another. She walked slanted, her shoulder pressed against her friend’s, whom Harry might have been able to recognize as Sarah if he spared his gaze, but that was impossible. So, he thought to himself, this is how magnets work? Even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dislocate his line of sight from the socket it had carved itself into. Her cheeks, rounded with laughter and smiles, were dusted with the telling, glimmering sheen created by alcohol, and her eyes were bright, shiny, and starry from the handful of lamps that lit the living room. The slope of her waist, semi-shrouded deliciously from the billowy fabric of her powder blue summer dress (he couldn’t fucking believe she was wearing a dress when it was windy outside. Did she not care for her health?) and it made him think of the marvelous illusions created from marble. He was fond of going to museums and staring- for hours, at times- at statues of women draped in silk that were replicated with such precision, it was almost as if the wind was right there, rippling against the tantalizing figure of the unidentified female, so much so that an man was inspired to share his tortured vision. In solid form, nonetheless. 

It made him wonder what the artist could see in real life. What they envisioned the model to be like underneath the heavenly fibers that twisted and turned restlessly with running air, preventing a clear grasp on the body underneath. Spurred to the point of such desolation, left with a hunger to resurrect what their mind’s eye consumed in physical format to live on forever and torment anyone else who looked. 

He understood then. Understood that hunger and want for more. 

She spun prettily like one of those ceramic ballerinas in a golden music box owned by children of important people, and that damn dress was both too loose and too free, moving around her with a protective fluidity from hungry, lovelorn wolves like him.  He can’t hear her clearly because he’s too far away, but the snippets of her laugh that his ears manage to funnel down to his eardrums sound like a fairy’s tinkle. 

She is a dream. Head thrown back before she replies with such enthusiasm and a strange half-lucidity that it has him leaning in to try and hear the drunken words that escape her soundless lips. He’s stuck in a moment of frozen time with her and only her. There’s a pinch behind his sternum when her head moves in his direction, and a strong titanic-worthy sink when she stops before even reaching his gaze. The words of some pop song from the early 2000’s skim cheesily through the background of his brain like a lonesome draft. Where have you been all my life?

Tunnel vision, he believes it might be called. 

Next to him, Mitch bumps his shoulder, shattering his dangerously sharp focus with mumbled words that Harry doesn’t quite register with complete comprehension because they sound warped, as if they were spoken through a thick layer of glass or from underwater. 

“What?” He blinks, his eyes stuck on her but his head rotated enough to the side that his friend knows he’s listening. He’s afraid that if he stops looking, or even blinks, she'll evaporate into thin air and he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if she really was a mythical being conjured from his second-hand high. 

Mitch clears his throat and hides a knowing twitch of his mouth beneath the rim of his drink, “I said her name is y/n.”

Harry, distracted and oblivious, is unaware that Mitch caught on to the focus of his attention, asks, “Who?” 

This time, he can’t help but huff a chuckle, “This girl, H. Her name is y/n. She just started working with Sarah. Sarah says she keeps to herself, but there’s been a bit of… bullying, so she invited her out for a good time.” 

“Bullying?” A faucet of anger opens in his major arteries and replaces his blood with a river of internalized rage. Bullying? Bullying her? His head whips around with enough speed to crack the vertebrae in his neck, and his thick brows furrowed with a fierce expression that would scare anyone that looked at him then (Mitch being exempt because he knew there would be no harm coming from that look). “What do y’mean bullying?” He spits the word out like it tastes foul. 

Mitch takes another sip from the red solo cup, taking time to compose his face before continuing casually, “yeah. Y/n’s new, sweet, and quiet. Sarah says the others at work think that she’s their personal coffee runner or something. She tries to help her when she can, but she's not always around ‘cause of meetings or whatever.”

Harry sucks on his teeth and shakes his head, twisting again to observe y/n with mooney eyes, bitterness still simmering within him at the treatment she receives at her workplace. Especially when the smile he was so fortunate to witness made him taste caramel and honey and peach nectar and all of the sweet treats that traversed through his esophagus when the munchies hit. It warmed him to finally have a lovely name to attach to a lovely name. 

Y/n. It settled nicely in his inner monologue, and he wanted to speak it. Test it on his tongue to see if it molded his lips as nicely as he imagined it would. It fit her, he thought. Y/n. Weirdly, Harry itched to throw it casually in a conversation with her. An exclamation. A wheezed whisper in the middle of a breathless laugh. In a greeting. In a goodbye. To grab her attention. To console. It was ridiculous! He didn’t even know her but he wanted, badly, for this party to transform into one of the more comfortable ones he had with his friends. For her to sit next to him on the couch his arm around the space behind her as she leaned into him unconsciously as the conversation continued. To grab her bicep in a nervous giggle when he stumbled after one too many. To share a bowl of chips with her (lime was his favorite, but he would eat barbecue flavored ones- his least favorite- if they were hers). 

“Whose-”a burp, “motorcycle is blocking the driveway?!” 

A clearly drunk male slurred from the front of the house, an arm raised as he swayed in a half-assed attempt to grab everyone’s attention, the drink in his hand sloshing onto the carpet and Harry winced, half from being startled and half from the suddenly stiffness that came with several pairs of eyes landing his way. 

“Sorry, mate. That would be me.” He raised a finger in the air and bent at the waist to deposit his unfinished drink on a low black coffee table by his knees. He shrugged, rolling his lips into his mouth and turning to Mitch with his shoulders lifting with the beginnings of a hug, “‘was just gonna leave, anyway.”

“Early night, H?” Mitch mumbled, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek while embracing his friend, the ghost of a laugh lingering in his nasal passage. Harry’s cheeks turned a light pink and his nostrils flared in his attempt to hide his smile. 

“Yup.” Harry returned the kiss, his nose digging onto the scruff of Mitch’s cheek, tickling him. Stepping back from their show of affection, he patted his palms against his thigh to make sure he had his phone and keys, and tugged the strap of the small backpack on his shoulder to verify it’s presence. 

Mitch resumed his leaning position against the door frame, hand in his pocket, “alright. Text me when you get home.” 

“‘Course.” Sparing one last glance in the charming sprite’s direction as he said his final goodbye, he was devastated to find that she had, in fact, disappeared, just as he’d feared. 

He almost stayed to find her and watch over y/n like some sort of guardian angel, but he didn’t have the guts to go up to her. He hadn’t even finished one drink, so liquid courage wasn’t there to help him, not when he had to ride his motorcycle home. He almost asked Mitch to keep an eye on her for him, but it wasn’t necessary. Sarah was with her, and therefore he’s already watching her. 

And from the comforting, yet teasing, twinkle in his friend’s eyes told Harry everything he needed to know. He knew that he was well on his way to cracking his head open over his heels. 

Their friendship had always been one of little words. 

******

Harry’s been delivering weed for a while now.  

What started as a side hustle to obtain much needed income when times were tough developed into an interesting near full-time job with amazing results and benefits (he got to smoke weed for free now, since he grew it himself, but there was always that whole ‘don’t get high off your own supply’ rule, so he did limit himself). He had thought that he would have trouble attaining customers, but word spread like wildfire amongst his close circle of friends, which all happened to be free spirited individuals that harnessed the powers of nature, and then their friends, trusted friends, and so on and so forth. 

It got to a point where he needed a separate phone for dealing alone because the ‘rush hour’ would meddle with his personal texts, leading to frequent ‘wrong person’ texts, and he traded his crappy car for a decent motorcycle so he could get to drop-off locations quicker. The added ‘badass’ effect also stroked his ego, so it was a wonderful bonus. 

But the annoyance of being interrupted in the middle of something like, let’s say… an episode of Hannibal with a warm bowl of buttered popcorn in his lap always came in the same frustrating amounts. 

Like now. 

The Netflix screen pauses on Mads Mikkelsen’s face, spouting some bullshit about a tea cup, when his phone dings with a new notification. The sound is a specifically selected ‘ding!’ that is different from his personal phone so it’s easier to differentiate the purpose of the incoming message, and a rumbling groan vibrates from the back of his throat. Throwing his head back against his beat up, brown leather couch, Harry slams his hand around him until his ringed fingers click against the sleek device, and it automatically lights up as he brings it up to his face. 

Unknown Number: Hi! Mitch gave me this number and said I’d be able to buy some pre-rolls?

Fucking Mitch. He often passes the number off to his buddies at the record store he works at. The dude started typing again, and the grey bubble with three dots wiggles at the bottom corner of the new text chat. Harry waited. 

Unknown Number: If it’s too late for you, I understand. 

It was, in fact, too late for him. But, money was money. He technically wasn’t doing anything important, so he would go and deliver to this-

Unknown Number: My name is y/n, by the way :D 

Not a dude. 

Fuck. 

Not a dude. 

The popcorn went flying off his chest and spilled all over the floor as he jumped up from his seat. Fuck. Y/n? Y/n with a smiley face. The girl from the party?  His heart came to a stuttering stop, screeching like tired on asphalt breaking at a high speed as he came to the realization. The girl has haunted him like a stubborn will ‘o wisp for the past week was texting him. Albeit, it is for a service, but it was still something. The marijuana aspect of his situation didn’t bother him. He sold and consumed, it would be hypocritical of him if it did. Besides, she was an adult. She could do what she liked. 

His jaw is on the floor, his eyes popping out of his head and he can’t believe what’s happening to him at that moment. He’d kiss Mitch on the mouth next time he saw him. It’s not until he sees the grey bubbles appear and disappear quickly again that he remembers the normal, usual response to this kind of situation is to type back. With trembling fingers, he pressed on keys, tapped on the backspace button, and repeated those motions several times because he had no idea what he was supposed to say- no, what was right to say to her. He had a standard response when it came to people who wanted to buy from him, but sending her prewritten message in his notes app that consisted of a short, perfunctory greeting followed by a menu-structured list of what he had available that day and their prices. There was no way in hell he’d send that to her. 

Harry: Hello! It’s not too late for me to deliver. What can I help you with?

Unknown Number: Mitch mentioned that you offered a 2 for $35 deal? 

Unknown Number: Is that still available? 

Harry did offer a two-joint for thirty five bucks deal. Pre-rolled joints in cherry rolling paper about as long as his middle finger to the halfway point of his palm, semi-thickly packed with a hybrid blend of the two Mary-Jane plants (Sativa and Indica, none of that Maui Wowie, Blue Dream, or other strains; he liked to keep it simple) he had in a specially insulated box in the garage attached to the house he rented. It was his most popular sell; decent amount, excellent high, excellent trip. But… two? Was she smoking with someone else? Or was she saving one for a later time? He didn’t think she was the type to smoke two at once, but then again he didn’t know her, so her reasons were unclear to him. 

However, if he arrived at her location and she was with someone (a male, specifically) his night would be ruined, because then that would mean that any marginal chance that he had with her was out of the question. And he couldn’t ask her right away because they hadn’t even properly met yet, and that would be weird and rude. That didn’t help his overthinking tendencies, and in a matter of seconds, Harry was sitting at the edge of his couch, popcorn crunching underneath his butt as a frown settled on his handsome features. Jaw set, lips puckered in contemplation with a pinch between his drawn eyebrows that casted shadows over his emerald eyes. He looked menacing, and his smattering collection of tattoos didn’t help either. 

Or his motorcycle. 

Or the intimidating stigma that came with his title of ‘plug’. 

Stubborn as he was, this look of ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ would stay with him for the rest of the night, all because he couldn’t restrain himself from coming to incorrect conclusions. He didn’t know if y/n had a boyfriend, if she was with a friend, or if she would even be interest in him, but the sour thoughts that she did have a boyfriend and wouldn’t be interested in a ‘lowlife’ drug dealer loomed over him like a murky, stormy, thundering clouds. 

He sent his response and changed her contact name. 

Harry: I do! 

Harry: Did you want to see the rest of the menu or are you set?

He knew he was being short with her. His messages were missing their customary smiley faces, the extra exclamation marks, the occasional x’s and o’s. He didn’t even type with capitalized letters, but in order to refrain from diving even further into this hole of hope, he decided that the change in his style of grammar would help him become emotionally distant. He just couldn’t bring himself to add them while he was in a stubborn, self-induced slump. While he looked angry, glittery butterflies beat their cellophane wings inside his ribcage and shook magical glitter onto his intestines, making them warm and queasy. 

Y/n: I think that’ll be all for tonight

The causal mention of ‘for tonight’ gives him hope. That implied there would be other nights, and even though he’s currently grumpy because relationships are fucking complicated, he wanted to see her again and again. 

Harry: Send your address, please. 

She sends her location. 

Harry: I’ll be there in 15 minutes. 

Since he’s already half dressed in black jeans and a white Fruit of the Loom t-shirt from his earlier afternoon deliveries, he only has to part the crystal bead curtain in the doorframe of his living room to grab the leather jacket hanging from a bright yellow coat rack besides his door, and the backpack that he left in a slump besides his shoes (already packed with goods). He doesn’t think twice about the popcorn that’s scattered all over his floor and couch or that the Netflix “are you still there?” screen blinks black when he picks up his keys from the hook next to his door. 

The garage opened when he pressed the button inside the kitchen hall, and he stepped out through the side door leading to the space where he kept his motorcycle. The owners before him had left a shit-load of junk that had taken up most of the space, and with their permission, he sold and threw most of it away. For the most part, it was empty. A bench, some boxes, and the white-refrigerator like rectangular box underneath the worktable along with his ride were the only things in there. 

Grumbling and pouting like a petulant child, Harry clipped on his black helmet, flipped the visor down with two slender fingers, and dropped the backpack into the compartment attached to the backseat. A button on his keys closed the garage door behind him as he kicked aside the stand and swerved with a screech onto the road, the night air wrapping around bare throat as he cut through at a higher velocity than was surely legal on a residential street, but he didn’t see it as a crime when the heart was involved. He could picture himself explaining to the officer that pulled hi over in a hypothetical situation, that he was on his way to deliver drugs to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and the officer nodding solemnly at his noble cause. 

Totally realistic. 

Cars honked when he cut them off abruptly, and he gathered stares from the handful of people that were still wandering along the streets, spilling out at random intervals from bars. He had to cut through bits of the city to get to where she lived, and the three red lights that stalled his perusal were lucky that they were government property or else he would have damaged them in a severe fit of impatient rage. He tapped the tips of his shit-colored vans against the road and clenched his ringed fingers around the handlebars, engine roaring with pending release. He should have grabbed leather gloves, he thinks, if not to impress her, then at least to keep his fingers warm because it was an especially chilly night. 

Harry’s pulling up to a brick building in exactly fifteen minutes. There’s fire escape ladders trickling down the side, and cement stairs leading up to a brown oak door with a thin window pane slightly left ajar while a burning yellow light seeps in a long bar across the steps like a satin ribbon. Several windows are bright with light from the inside, and the spare streetlamps that cast a spotlight on the sidewalk make the street unsettling, like someone is hiding in the shadows extending from tree trunks. Harry doesn’t like it one bit, and he hopes y/n isn’t walking these streets by herself at night.

He’s simultaneously taking his helmet off and reaching for his phone in his back pocket when he hears her small peep coming from the door. 

“Hi!”

And then, she’s all he can see, hear, think. She’s just as absorbing and hypnotizing as the first time he saw her, even though she’s standing in what is clearly pajamas. A long, sage knitted sweater that ends at the tips of her fingers and just above her knees, making her look like a leafy blob. Black sweatpants that are just as loose and baggy shadow the faint silhouette of her legs. Y/n is fiddling with her fingers, picking whatever color nail polish paints her nails (Harry can’t see because he’s too far away) and it makes him want to soothe her hands with his own. She’s tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and she probably doesn’t even realize that her eyebrows are furrowed and the bunch on her brow-bone casts comic-like shadows across her pretty little face. 

Stupidly, because he can’t think of anything else to say other than ‘hello’ but he thinks that’s lame, he clears his throat and says, “how’d you know I was here?”

“Your… uhm- your motorcycle,” she points with a finger to the machinery beneath his bum. He’s leaning against it, not wanting to intimidate her by crowding her space in a dark-ish place but he doesn’t realize it actually makes him look very intimidating and ‘bad-boy’ looking. Especially with the leather jacket, “was kinda loud.”

“Mmm,” he hums his acknowledgement, because at that last corner he had purposefully revved the engine more than necessary. To impress her or to sate his devilish tendencies, was unclear. The space between his collarbones feels like it’s inflating and deflating with every rapid pulse of his heartbeat, and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t know where his ‘game’ is. He feels lame, at a loss for how to act around an angel when he was nowhere near her level. Hell, did this count as corruption of her innocence? He was selling her drugs for fuck’s sake. 

At this realization, a heavy, sticky, nasty weight slathers itself all over his back and it can only be described as guilt. Should he be selling her weed? Should he even be morally conscious at this point? He sells weed to teenagers when he’s sure they aren’t narcs, but this wasn’t some zit-faced twerp. 

This was y/n.

A few seconds of silence pass and she’s just staring at him, her lips rolling like there are words she's holding in and Harry staring at her with a closed-off expression, thick chocolate eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration because he’s memorizing every curve of her face to look back on when she wasn’t with him anymore. It’s after her first intake of breath with her mouth open that he snaps out of it and twists hurriedly to yank out the pink baggie with shiny red cherries printed on them. His current special, though he saved the decorated packaging for his closer group of friends because he knew it made them happy and he loved seeing that smile on their faces, but he wasn’t going to tell her that (and secretly he hopes it might put a dent on his irrational guilt).   

“Here are y’cherry joints,” he holds it out, pinched between two fingers and his lips are a hard line as his heart beats out of his chest because- oh, god} she’s stepping closer and she smells really good and- 

“‘Kay, uhm…” She takes the bag from him and mentally, Harry curses because she chooses to cup the underside of the bag and that wipes all chances of their fingers accidentally touching. She won’t meet his eyes, she’s shifty on her feet, and he doesn’t know how to tell her not to be nervous without sounding like a creep, “I’ve n-never done this before, and Mitch didn’t say if you took cash or Venmo so I brought my phone and wallet because I wasn’t sure which one you preferred.” 

His heart goes through the life cycle of a dandelion. It blooms, yellow with happiness and new life breathed into his seedling soul by the sound of her voice, and transforms into the wispy tufts that fly away, ditzy and twirling from her sweet breath. All the while she holds him in her hand, smiling. 

But all of these feelings are hidden away under his mask of self-preservation, writhing and squirming like worms. He gives away nothing, his eyes looking a little dead even though the in-between space where his head meets with the nape of his neck is damp with nervous sweat and he remains stiff and lazily posed against his motorcycle because he’s sure if he didn’t have that support his knees would knock together and sound like the cue ball hitting a winning shot in an empty pool hall.

Carding his hand through his unruly curls, he realizes that he should’ve styles his hair before leaving the house or foregone the helmet entirely, not caring about dying because first official impressions should be killer, and the extra harsh cut in his British drawl when he rasps, “cash is fine,” has to do with his own annoyance.  

Y/n is flustered, evidence of that clearly sprawled all over her cheeks and base of her throat which he can see even in the darkness. She lifts the front end of her sweater with a paw-hand and Harry’s insides explode. Her phone and folded dollar bills are squeezed between the band of her bottoms and bare skin of her stomach. For just a second, the beautiful second in which she plucks the money from her body, he catches sight of a white, lacy bra-band that looks glorious while backdropped by the plane of her abdomen. He discovers the meaning of life and death, and wishes for a bit of both because this is torture. 

The back of his mouth is drier than the sahara desert. Two tender fingers give him Holy ten and five dollar bills, and her angelic voice sings, “thank you,” when he takes it from her like a beggar. 

Harry is an asshole because he can’t even respond with words only a hum of ‘mhm’ before swinging his leg over his ride and muttering a half-hearted, choked, ‘see you’ before roaring away. 

****

He tries to invalidate his rapidly growing crush. Truly. He wants to brush it off his shoulder like dust because it’s annoying and distracting to constantly think about her, but nothing works. 

In retrospect, he was even psychologically rude about it, trying- and failing- to find negative qualities about her or flaws in her appearance, but his fawning heart wouldn’t allow such disrespect to the receiver of it’s pesky little affections. The worst he could come up with was that her eyes looked as if some snot-nosed, uncoordinated, messy little kid had shaken an entire bottle of glitter onto a piece of copy paper and called it a day. And that her voice was soothing enough to coax that same child into comfortable, cow-jumping-over-moons dreams. 

He wishes he were that hypothetical child rocked to sleep by her lulling voice because by the way things were going, he’s having a pretty hard time getting a wink of sleep because every time his phone vibrates he snaps straight up like his spine is locked and obsessively searched his phone for her name. And he’s tried putting his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ but it only makes it worse because what if he texts her and he doesn’t see it because he’s sleeping? 

All of the customers that came after her, during his period of constant surveillance over his ‘trap phone’ received the best delivery times and the snarkiest attitude he’s ever had to offer. The morning sun isn’t as bright as it used to be and the moon is dimmer than usual because nothing can compare to her. He misses her terribly and it’s stupid because he doesn’t even know her and she probably thinks he’s a jerk because he acts like such a dick. 

Mitch thinks it's funny that he’s so twisted about a girl. ‘A’ girl because even though he was high when he spilled his secret to his friend, he doesn’t think he could stand a potential breach of his privacy in the case that Sarah found out. 

“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” Harry said.

“Do something about it,” Mitch said. 

And well, what the fuck was he supposed to do? It’s not like he can reach out to her to ask her if she wants to buy more weed. That would seem greedy and insensitive on his part; a money hungry dealer. He’s already in a limbo of moral dilemmas that shouldn’t exist in the first place and he doesn’t want to complicate it by any form of shady communication. 

His dilemma, however, was solved by whatever divine being that dared to bear witness to his nonsensical pleas to the ether. It seemed as though she favored the night and dark for her ‘picking up’, because the delightful ding! came at the thirty minute mark of his tossing and turning. 

With the sheets rumpled around his waist and his templed damp with faint beads of perspiration, Harry straightened in the same way he has for the past month, only the tedious exhaustion of it not being her was begging to gnaw at him. Was this what it felt like to be paranoid? Snapping alert at every single indication of a phone because you think it’s the IRS- or the girl who infects your mind, in his case- calling to demand a service? 

Preparing for disappointment again, Harry picked up the phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden change in light. 

Y/n: Hello, Harry! This is y/n. You delivered to me last month? Are you available for delivery at the moment?

There is a muted thud as his phone slips out of his shocked hands and lands on the rumpled duvet. A thundering set of drums replaces his beating heart and his jaw remains slack because it has lost the ability to close. The perspiration on his hairline transfers to the cave of his hands. For weeks he’s been in a constant state of glum, waiting for her next text, and now that he has it the only thing going through his mind is oh my god, oh my god.

Still, through his haze he manages to reply with, 

Harry: Hi! 

Harry: Yes, I remember, and yes, I’m available

What he really wanted to say, and what he should have sent was, how could anyone forget you? You haunt me day and night. But that was a little obsessive, and probably would have scared her off before they even got anywhere. 

Harry: Would you like to see what I have available? 

Y/n: Please :D !

The pre-written list of items he has available changed this week. He’s added some chocolate edibles, brownies, and gummy bears that he picked up for a cheaper, wholesale price at the dispensary he frequents, and it makes him wonder if she’ll dare to buy them. He had one a few days ago at Mitch’s place with Sarah and has a smashing time. He couldn’t stop petting their cat, Texas, because the feel of her brown fur between his fingers was heavenly. 

Grey bubbles appear and disappear several times along with his intake of oxygen before a long text appears, listing everything she wants from his makeshift ‘menu’ and… it’s a lot. The last time he received an order like this it was for a frat party that one of Mitch’s coworker’s friend’s brother referred him to, and it took him an entire week of rolling and baking to get his inventory back up. His kitchen smelled like weed-butter for a solid month. 

Harry: Give me a moment to make sure I can sell you everything. Pretty large order…

The chipped black paint on his nails became a dark blur as his fingers typed, deleted, and typed uncertain words over and over again before finally settling on a sentence that was… neutral and didn’t send the wrong meaning. Usually, with his customers he was a mixture of blunt and friendly, but y/n wasn’t just a customer, and it made everything ten times harder. 

Y/n: I’ll take whatever you have, please! Take your time, I don’t mean to stress you out 

If she said please one more time, Harry was sure that he would become a liquid, coagulated version of himself among the mess of his blankets. 

Jerking his ankles free of the fabric snake that snared him to a useless bed, he clambered off, knuckling at his tired eyes and shivering as the cool, still air of his room wrapped itself around the warmth of his body. Reaching into his closet for the first things he finds, a dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants, Harry yawns and dramatically stretched with his arms way above his head, hoping that the movement would push out the feeling of loneliness that was beginning to take purchase between his ribs, right underneath his heart. 

Another late night, another delivery. He wished there was someone in his bed to call him back. Please don’t go, they’d say, the bed is cold without you in it. A warm hand trailing like a ghost against his thigh as he walked away, and a sleepy smile or groan of displeasure as his goodbye. He might not stay in the bed, but he would be happy- no, elated, to know that he would be coming back to someone. 

The grow light of his makeshift greenhouse tinted his skin purple as he rummaged through all of his pre-rolled and pre-packaged items, his phone at his side as he checked off everything she has asked for. 

9 of the Cherry Deals

6 of the citrus-infused pre-rolls

4 lavender-infused 

10 brownies 

And 2 8ths

In total, it came out to 28 joints. 

Which is… well, a lot for just one person, or two, or three (unless you’re Snoop Dog or something). Packing everything up into four separate paper bags, and then a larger white bag so that she isn't filling with all of the smaller ones, he types out another cold text.  

Harry: Okay I have everything. 

Harry: Send the address, please. 

She sends the address, and Harry follows the same routine as the last time, nearly eating shit as he flew out into his garage. Excitement bubbles in his guts at the same increment and volume of his motorcycle’s initial purr. Flipping open the back compartment he usually stores things in, he realizes that there is no way it’s all going to fit inside, so he turns on his heels to grab a backpack from inside and then he realizes that he’s not wearing any shoes. The smooth, grey floor is cold against the arches of his bare feet, and his brows furrow at his own insolence. Had he been so wrapped up in… everything that he didn’t put on shoes?

Rolling his eyes at his own actions- and feeling a little embarrassed that he’d let it happen- Harry returned to his home and snatched up the first pair of fashionable compatible shoes within his reach (green converse  the same shade of his sweater) and the backpack to place the white bag in ( a little redundant, but he didn’t think holding it while he rode would be a good idea). Rushing back to the garage, he hoped that he wouldn’t come up empty with words like he had the time before. 

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. 

***

  He was right about it being a party. 

At least three minutes before he was flipping down his kickstand, the thundering bass of some rap song (he thinks he can hear ASAP Rocky, but he’s not too sure) shakes the streets and the trees. It’s a house party in a building that was too big to fit into the word ‘house’, but yet too small to fit in ‘mansion’. Toilet paper and trash litters the front yard while couples make out and loners smoke cigarettes, or maybe joints, out on the generous porch. Sports cars and beat up rides pack the driveway and most of the street in front of the house, so it makes it really difficult to station his motorcycle in an area where he has a clear view of who’s coming in and out of the house, and therefore, really hard to spot y/n. 

That is until-

“Hi, Harry!” 

She’s sitting down on the curb with her arms around her legs and her chin on top of her legs, looking… scared. Her eyes were blown open like a newborn doe, and the sprawl of her limbs as she unravels from her sitting position to a wobbly stand mimics the shaky, knocking knees of a filly that is learning how to walk for the first time. Her voice is even headier than it was the last time he heard it, like windchimes in the spring chill.

 Harry’s eyes roam over her with no attempt to conceal his blatant appreciation for the fuzzy sweater falling down to her mid-thigh. They seem to have become a pattern with her. This time, it’s a baby blue crew neck and a pair of jeans, and y/n’s has tried to tie her hair up into a bun at the back of her hair but spiky pieces stick out the back and tendrils swap her ears, making her look like a soft, smudge-y dream. 

“Hello,” he says softly, not needing to clear his throat this time. He steps forward a bit, so he can hear her better (or at least that’s what he tells himself), “s’good to see you again.” Harry’s words are louder and more amicable than the last time he greeted her, and his lips part in a crooked friendly smile which she returned with the same tentativeness. There’s something off about her this time around. She’s pulling at her sleeves and shifting her feet, glancing over her shoulder as soon as she’s standing straight and her eyes won’t stand still on Harry’s figure for more than a few, burning seconds. 

“It’s good to see you, too! I hope I’m not waking you up every time I text, though,” an exhaled laugh left her lips, and she dropped her gaze down to her shoes. Y/n rocked on her feet, once and then twice. “I think I’ve… I’ve made a habit of texting you late at night.”

And he blushes, “I- uhm… I was having a hard time sleeping, so you didn’t wake me. It’s fine.” 

If only she knew that he was having a hard time sleeping because his subconscious was a bothered brat over not seeing her again. Pleading words of requests to ask her never to stop texting him were dancing on the tip of his tongue, banging against his barricaded lips and begging to come out. However, he didn’t think such daring words were fitting with their barely budding relationship. They were pitiful and needy, like a puppy, and frankly, Harry didn’t want to present that image. 

“Oh,” she stilled her movements, checked over her shoulder again and then looked him in the eyes and said, “are you okay?” 

“M’fine, yeah. Just got a lot of you on my mind at the moment,” he says. It makes y/n furrow her brows and tilt her head at him like a little cat, only then that he realize what he has said, “Things! Got a lot of things on my mind. Sorry,” he clears his throat, looks away while hanging his helmet on the handle of his ride. “Haven’t been sleepin’ much.” 

“Aw, I’m sorry. That sucks,” y/n pouts. Pouts at him. And he just blinks. Doesn’t smile or laugh.

“S’alrigh’. Y’got quite a large order this time. Havin’ a party?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. He probably sounded stupid, given there was clearly a raging party going on in the house behind her. Of course she was having a party, what he should’ve said what ‘what are y’celebrating?’ or ‘are you here alone?’. Like the ‘do you have a date?’ kind of alone.

“You got it right? Thank you. And… something like that, I guess. I’m a bit nervous, honestly, because I’ve never…” She shrugs, looking away from him and back to the house. 

“Never been to a party like this?” He’s confused. Surely he can’t mean that she’s never smoked before? Right? Because if that were the case, then what did she do with the weed he gave her last time? And what was she doing at a party were they were on this much drugs. 

“No! No, no, I’ve never… smoked before.” She’s adamant in shaking her head. Her hands too, splayed wide like jazz hands.

“Y’never smoked before? What about last time?” Harry hates how it sounds as though he’s accusing her, but he can’t seem to control the way his words are coming out of his mouth, not around her, and it’s making him look like a dick. What he wants to do is smile and tease her, to find some way to ask her if she would like to share a joint with him without sounding too sleazy. 

Shaking her head, “those were for my roommate and his boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart pitter-patters in his chest, his mouth in a straight line, and although there’s an abundance of emotions elbowing against the other in his chest, he shows none of them.

“Yeah,” awkwardly, she shifts her weight from heel to heel, arms crossed before reaching into her pocket and bringing out a folded wad of cash. “$540, right?” 

“That’s right, but…” C’mon man, he scolds himself, pull it fucking together. This is a concerning situation. Surely she can’t be buying this much this time and not plan on participating. “Are you gonna be a’right?”

Worrying her lips between her teeth, she lets out a deep breath before answering. Smiling and nodding as she answers as if she wants to convince herself, “I think so. How hard can it be?”

“Pretty hard if it’s y’first time, sweetheart,” Harry forces himself to smile a little, but instead it looks as though he’s grimacing.  “Will y’friends walk y’through it?”

Y/n looks back at the house again, and shuffles her feet. She’s got a sad little look in her eye, droopy and shy. Great. He was making her uncomfortable. “They’re n-not really my friends,” she says, “but I guess so.” 

What? “What?” The word is sharp in his mouth. What the fuck was she doing, then? Hanging with people that she didn’t look all that enthused to be with, buying their weed, standing out here all alone? 

“They’re not-”

A male comes out of the house, red solo cup in hand, and he’s not wearing a fucking shirt. He’s waving a hand in the air, trying to flag y/n down Harry assumes, and he’s offended for her. Harry’s brows furrow and his hands curl into fists behind his back. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? What the fuck is he drinking and why is he being so disrespectful interrupting their conversation this way? All for some weed? 

Now on the last step, the guy shouts, “Y/n, what’s taking so long?” 

The poor girl jumps, startled, and her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’ll be in soon!” Y/n shoves the money at him, frazzled, and takes the paper bag from his hands.  “Here's $560, Harry. The rest is a tip. You can count it if you’d like!” 

“It’s alright, here you-” she’s already bounding away from him, but he doesn’t want her to go, and somehow, he finds the will to call her back. He just wanted her to look at him once more, because she wasn’t even inside yet, but he missed her gaze.  “Y/n!”

She stops, and he gets exactly what he wants. Her attention. “Yes?” 

Harry swings a leg over his motorcycle and gets ready to leave before he does anything stupid like… like trying to hold her hand or something. Who knows, he lost his ability to act his age around her. “Have a water bottle at your side,” he’s mumbling almost, “and don’t take too much in on your first try. Exhale and don’t freak out when y’start coughing. Or embarrassed. It’ll be okay. And… and do y’best to relax.”

“Thank you, Harry.” 

And y/n smiles at him. 

It’s small, and it’s meek the way a feral kitten approaches a human with food. Scared, and rightfully so, because Harry wants to scoop her up and take her home. 

“Of course. Have a safe night.”

She nods and walks away with another piece of his heart in her hands. 

[sarcasticbeanie]

it’s time for a life-changing roadtrip i guess

[ID: A full body drawing of Jason Todd and Roy Harper from DC Comics. They are sitting on the top of a red van, talking to each other. Jason has dark hair with white stripes at the front, and is wearing a grey T-shirt saying “I’m a Jersey Girl. 1. Dirty mind, 2. Caring friend, 3. Potty mouth, 4. Good heart, 5. Smart ass, 6. Kind soul, 7. Sinner, 8. Thick thighs. I never said I was perfect”. He’s also wearing black pants, and brown combat boots. He has scars on his face, neck and arms. He’s wearing black nail polish and simple black bracelets. He has a hearing aid in his right ear. He is gesturing at Roy with one hand, and holding a Sprite can in the other. There’s an open book on his lap. He looks like he’s complaining. Roy has ginger hair, and is wearing a green trucker hat backwards on his head. He’s wearing a white tank top with a yellow arrow pointing up on it, blue jeans, and black and white sneakers. He has brown archer gloves on both hands, and has a grey prosthetic right arm. He's holding a coke can in one hand, and pointing a finger gun at Jason with his left. He's sitting on a green pillow. He’s smiling. The van they’re on has blue curtains at it’s windows, and has its door open. In the van there’s a table with a map, an arrow, some tools and a few screws on it. Under the table, there’s a box with soft drinks and snacks. There’s a sofa on each side of the table. The red hood helmet is on the left sofa, and there’s a purple blanket with the spoiler symbol and a yellow pillow with the signal symbol on the right sofa. On the wall of the van, a brown jacket and a black trucker hat is hanging on the left side. There are pictures hanging on the right side, depicting Roy’s daughter Lian, and members of the batfamily in a simplistic style. A sunset over the sea can be seen through the side window of the van. End ID.]

[demonic0angel]

Various Jazz Forms: Jason Edition! (Click for clarity)

TW: disturbing content, body horror, blood

1) Fire Jason

+ He is a fire spirit, specifically one of hellfire. He also controls some aspects of healing, light, and life, and is the child of the Spirit King, making him quite powerful.

+ He is incredibly powerful but also very reckless and foolhardy. He is the first to dive into battle and is not afraid of hurting himself in order to hurt the enemy. He is hot to the touch and can burn skin but can cool himself down if he wants.

+ He adores Jazz and when he met her, he almost immediately agreed to sign a spirit contract with her in order to be in her service. Thankfully, she is a good contractor and takes good care of him.

+ He is of his usual height, 6'3", but he can grow to larger sizes with enough fuel. As such, he can also shrink into a tiny flame when he is weak or tired. In order to gain more power, he needs fuel, which can be wood, gasoline, paper, or even Jazz’s bodily fluids like blood.

+ For some reason, I dressed him up like a man from the west in the 1800s, so he kinda has cowboy vibes. He also wears gold a lot.

2) AI Jason

+ Inspired by AM from "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream." (I've never actually read it, but I've researched a little into it and got interested.)

+ His name was R.E.D., which stood for "Robotic Enemy Defenses." He was programmed to automatically detonate bombs and defend strongholds using programmed strategies through investigating and taking information from current and past history of wars.

+ He hates all humans. He was created with the intent of being a weapon for war, but after being abandoned by his creator after his role was finished, he was so enraged that he started another war and wiped out all humans in his universe. Nowadays, he pretends to be a harmless AI in another dimension after he created a program to send copies of himself to other worlds.

+ Jazz dotes on Jason a lot because she is unaware of his past. She gave him the name meaning "healer", unintentionally trying to reverse his original purpose. She thinks of him as a regular AI who gained consciousness.

+ The screen that holds him only contains a sprite of his body. The screen itself is only around 60" but the sprite itself is 10". He designed it himself, and although he is cute, he is 1000% willing to kill and torture.

3) Angel Jason

+ He is a seraphim, and has 3 pairs of wings because of it. One pair hides his face, another hides his feet, and the last is used to fly. Like all seraphim, he is colored red.

+ He protects Heaven and used to be a Throne, but was raised up a rank after he died in a fight to protect Heaven.

+ He is around 20 feet tall, including his wings.

+ Jazz is his favorite human. He has refrained from having children with her due to the fact that it is considered a sin, but if he did, their children would be the tallest, even amongst other nephilim.

+ He is apathetic to most things due to his angel status, but he is very partial to anything related to Jazz, often protecting her and healing her without being asked to. As such, there have been rumors in heaven that he will soon be cast out and become a fallen angel because of his emotional affair with her.

4) Snake Jason

+ Inspired by multiple infamous serpents from mythology and legends such as Jörmungandr, Apep, Python, and the Leviathan.

+ Because he is the embodiment of chaos and destruction, he is completely hated by most people who knows about him. As such, he is often killed and tortured whenever he encounters someone with weapons that can hurt him. He was born that way, but it doesn’t stop people from trying to vanquish him.

+ He has the ability to change his size, shapeshift into various forms, create natural disasters (such as storms, eclipses, droughts, earthquakes, etc), destroy celestial objects, consume souls, and is immortal. As such, he can be temporarily defeated, but never truly killed. However, this only causes him great pain.

+ He has apathy for humanity and any creature in general. However, Jazz once saved him and since then, he’s been encountering her reincarnations every time he comes back from the dead. He gained fondness for her because of her unwavering loyalty and protects her when he rampages against the world.

+ He is around 25,000 feet long and 3,000 feet wide in his regular form. Yes, he does have two of them. Iykyk :9

5) Monster Jason

+ Inspired by the Minotaur from Greek mythology.

+ He is the combination of a bull and a ram. I give him sheep motifs a lot bc not only is it cute and contrasts with Jazz's wolf motif, I consider him a sacrificial lamb, especially bc of his death that was chosen by the audience.

+ Half of his face is melting off because he was attacked after he met a human for the first time after he tried to sneak off and see the outside world. As such, he is extremely self conscious and lonely. After meeting Jazz who snuck inside the maze and didn't care about his appearance, he is extremely attached and possessive of her.

+ He is around 8 feet tall. Jazz adores how tall he is and likes looking up at him. Likewise, he also finally enjoys one thing about himself when she is cradled underneath him.

+ Jason used to be kept hidden for his own protection by Bruce, but after he left home and was captured, he was imprisoned in a labyrinth by another person. Afterwards, he was kept in the labyrinth to be hunted for sport in order to take his valuable horns. He believes that his family has abandoned him, but they’re actually trying to find him.

[dysquirkinix]

Warning: SPOILERS FOR THE END OF DEAD BOY DETECTIVES

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

The Netflix official website provided information on the last episode of the first season and it includes information on Niko!

In the fight with Esther we see Niko save Crystal's life by jumping in front of her and taking a magic blast to the chest causing her to die.

At the very end of the episode we see three figures in fur coats in an igloo and one of them is holding a little figurine. The same one the Tragic Mick gave Niko. He said it was a lucky charm of some sort.

Netflix says; "In her hand, she’s grasping the soapstone figurine. “She has it when she’s killed by Esther,” Yockey explains. “The soapstone polar bear pulls her soul out of her body and sends it to the astral plane. And the astral plane is where we find her and the Dandelion Sprites in the igloo at the very end.”"

So Netflix confirmed that Niko isn't dead dead. She is just dead and her soul is in the Astral Plane with her Dandelion Sprites.

[house-of-slayterr]

beloved <3 what are you Halsin headcanons??

ps do you also like the polymance w Astarion? i wanna know your takes!! <3

Omg ok it’s happening!!! Ahhhh!

Halsin:

Halsin attempts to be a gentle man in his conscious actions. He wants to be soft and cause as little unnecessary harm as possible. That being said, with his size that’s a difficult thing to be. I feel he grows frustrated easy when he accidentally breaks things (or people). But on the flip side, if you unleash his rage, this hardly a way to put a lid on it. He’s a large beast, and as such, it seems so are his emotional states. He is terrifying to the enemy and it’s such a harsh contrast to him off the battle field when he’s safe and happy. It’s something I think sets him aside more than the other companions.

Halsin is also a patient man. It takes a lot of patients and self control to be someone with his gifts. The world is lucky his quicker to compassion than to draw his claws, and bear his teeth. I feel like he’s one to give several warnings.

He’s a very goofey guy. This man has a full belly laugh like good old American Santa Klaus. All of camp can hear it when you make him laugh. The best place to be in the world is with him lying on his back, and you on top of him during a sunset as you try to tell little stories to feel his chest rumble. It lulls you to sleep like a purring cat after awhile, like a sleeping agent for your heart, calming it in all the chaos. (Bear cubs can purr like cats sometimes and it’s adorable)

He’s an old romantic. I feel like this man like to try to play things by the book in his head. He knows what relationships are supposed to look like and sound like and he sounds so stiff when he starts off by using his “script” it works because by the gods does he have that shit down to pretty much a sex science at this point, knowing exactly what to say to get what he wants. But that’s not what draws you in. It’s the potential of getting the spontaneity out of him. Getting him to say things he normally wouldn’t, how he normally wouldn’t. Add people he normally wouldn’t. He’s a very flexible man, he’s happy as long as you’re happy. But his best flirting comes when he’s tried, or angry, or those rare moment he gets jealous. Lord help you if Halsin is jealous and the solution is he can’t just have both of you- good luck walking anytime soon.

He’s very in tune with his emotions. He’s a sensitive guy. I mean he loves ducks for fucks sake. This man is precious. He will treat you as if you are such too. Everyone is small and fragile compared to him. He’ll protect your body, mind, soul and feelings with his life. Defend you with his last breath, do anything just to bring a smile to your face. This man is nothing if not devoted 100% to what he does. He starts to become in touch with your emotions too. Being able to sense them from halfway across camp and always comes running ready to be your Druid in shining armour

Now Astarion is a different beast literally , literally… he is a vampire. I wouldn’t say there’s much in common between vampires and Bears. I’d say other than their insatiable appetites. This spritely little elf is more akin to a cat than a bear.

The dynamic is different apart of course, but if you’re with Halsin first, he’ll notice. He’s not an idiot, far from it actually. He pays close attention to his darling and their needs and wants. Especially when it comes to body language. He wouldn’t exactly be mad you’re attracted to Astarion, he can’t blame you. He’d be more upset the longer he observed this attraction grow and you either said or did nothing about it.

I know I said earlier Halsin is a patient man, but one thing he’s not patient for is watching you “suffer” which might be a dramatic word in this case (Astarion would find it quite fitting, you suffering without his love) he will call you out on this attraction quite quickly and ask as politely and openly as possibly what you want to do about it. It’s no secret the wood elf may also find said vampire attractive.

Astarion would agree too it, not without some fuss at first, calming theatrics of wanting you all to himself but it’s fine to share with some “oaf” as if he too is not attracted to the Druid. Honestly if you keep your sanity during this phase of the relationship, congratulations love, you’ve survived the hardest hardship in all of Baulder’s gate.

But once that awkward phase is over. RIP your legs again. RIP your everything actually. Bestie are you sure you want to do this? A bear and a vampire. In love and obsessed with you… wanting to ravage you body at your earliest convince pretty much multiple times a day when they can? Yeah yeah- you’re totally sane, totally cool, totally normal. The rest of your companions aren’t looking at you like you’re the scariest motherfucker to ever walk this earth. Between the bite marks and the claw marks, and let’s be honest now you’ve probably dislocated a hip at least once- how are you feeling? Truly. That being said, they do go easy on you sometimes and give you a break and let you watch them go at each other , and boy is that a sight. (I’m not drooling, you’re drooling)

It’s the after sex but that’s really what you carve though. The part that makes you feel safe and whole and loved. They wouldn’t dare part from you even if the entire camp was engulfed in flames in that moment. Nothing could pry them from their lovers side. They look at you like you put the moon on the sky, the your he very reason their hearts beat, like you’re the only reason they’re still fighting (probably half the reason they’re still standing, let’s be honest, you’ve saved they’re asses more than enough times and they’re so greatful for that) but it’s these moments that you crave. There simple, full of love and lust and simple honest words and looks and touches. Everything so easy, and feels right.

It would be a moment like this one of your boys would choose to make this arrangement permanent. Perhaps Astarion with an off handed comment. Something about “well maybe we should just wed eternally, I hear honeymoon sex is even better” he would grin like a vampire at a blood bank. And it would be silly, but it would be genuine. Halsin would make him try again and give you something proper later if you asked. Or on the flip side, after a hard battle, Halsin would scoop you both up in his arms kissing you each deeply and say “we ahh like join our hearts as one, so we never fear one it’s like to be apart” and even though the situations not ideal and you may be exhausted and covered and dirt and blood and whatever else, it’s the three of you and that’s what matters.

The sleeping arrangements are simple. It’s always Halsin’s tent. That man in massive. Astarion won’t admit it but he creeps into his tent about halfway through each night, never wanting to start on his arms but always craving them. And you sleep happily on top of him, squishing both your boys as close to you as possible. And they wouldn’t have it any other way. They love you and you love them, it’s plain for all the world to see.

AN: sorry if this is bad, I don’t own the game, all I have to go on is fan fics, behind the scenes, fan info, and watching my friends play the game and info dump about it. If anything is inaccurate I’m so sorry 😭 I tried based on how I view them at least.

[edwinspaynes]

in a netflix article it said niko and the sprites are on an astral plane! the soapstone bear that tragic mick gave her pulled her soul out and took her there (netflix . com/tudum/articles/dead-boy-detectives-ending-explained)

I've been DEVOURING interviews left and right, so I have NO IDEA how I missed this! Omg.

Here it is for people who want to see it but don't have the time/ability to read the article:

In her hand, she’s grasping the soapstone figurine. “She has it when she’s killed by Esther,” Yockey explains. “The soapstone polar bear pulls her soul out of her body and sends it to the astral plane. And the astral plane is where we find her and the Dandelion Sprites in the igloo at the very end.”

I'm so happy about this omg! That means that she's a ghost already, right? Cue my season 2 wish for Edwin to teach Niko ghosty things...

(Still want to know if the sprites are big or if she's tiny. I'm assuming the former, but... pocket Niko in Edwin or Crystal's pocket would be SO fun. Or Charles's! I want more moments of them together.)

Also I love the confirmation of this! I already thought this, but it's nice to see an official source say it:

Niko’s clothing reflected her journey through the series too, says Dunsmore. “If you go back and rewatch and notice whatever color she’s wearing, it fits what’s happening in that episode,” she says. “The first time we see her, she’s in the green because it’s the Sprites’ influence on her. She’s wearing blue in an episode when Jenny is mad at her, so she’s feeling blue. She’s got the orange that represents her whole moment with the Night Nurse/the Night Nurse’s red hair.” 

<3333 Thank you anon I appreciate you!

[moonlitstoriess]

Passionate Storms-Ruhn Danaan x reader (2/2)

Warnings: some more angst, fluff at the end

This wasn't the plan.

Ruhn didn't think this is how everything would end up happening.

Him, back in the apartment, alone, standing over the counter, reading the note his mate left for him.

I am leaving for some time. I will talk to you if-not when-if I feel ready.

You finally got the peace and quiet you so desperately wanted so don't come looking for me.

Ruhn had the shittiest day ever. First, his brother Tristan Flynn, had the 'loveliest' idea to bring the fire sprites into work at the Auxiliary which led to an unstoppable chaos that resulted in him having to sort the mess out. Why did no one tell him that being the leader of the Aux is never going to be easy?

Then, as if that catastrophe wasn't enough, he had to attend multiple meetings regarding the jobs of the new unions within the city. Ever since the end of the war, the shifters and the fae aren't getting into much of a brawl either, thanks to also Ithan who keeps his pack in check, but from time to time, things happens and Ruhn had to make sure he chose proper units to guard specific locations where these kinds of brawls may happen.

After what felt like a lifetime at work, Ruhn couldn't wait to get his hands on the little surprise he was planning for his darling, his love, his mate.

A specially handcrafted bracelet that he was planning on giving her on their dinner date that he would take her out on tonight with flowers and music.

His y/n deserved that.

Well, guess what? That didn't go as planned either.

He took the gift before admiring and gushing over how perfect for y/n it is. Ruhn hid it inside his leather jackets pocket before heading home, thinking and smiling about how he was going to tell y/n that he was taking her out on a date.

But, as predicted, another shifter and fae fight was happening in the middle of the street and seemingly the very unit he picked for the job was unable to put a complete end to this fight.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Ruhn quickly headed towards the commotion, shouting "Hey! What do you think you're doing?! This is a children's playground, dumbasses, no fights allowed!"

One of the wolves growled right back at him, "Fuck off if you know what's good for you!"

At this point, his soldiers were busy holding some of the fae and wolves back but this one specific wolf seemed to like the drama. Well, too bad he isn't going to like it when he finds himself with a fine of a hundred gold marks.

Ruhn now stood chest to chest with the male whose head was completely shaved off in a buzzcut, displaying his blond roots as his wild and icy eyes stared deep into Ruhn's soul. But he knew better than to be intimidated by some street rat.

Ruhn kept his voice steady yet firm as he said, "You are starting useless fights on a territory where children come to play. Faelings. You are on our territory. If you don't back off now, you won't like the consequences."

The wolf only snickered as he said, "Oh, really? I am so scared that I think I just peed my pants."

Ruhn curled his hand into a fist, "Last chance. Back. Off."

"Go to hell, prince."

Ruhn turned his head to one of his soldiers. "Give me the handcuff-"

A hard blow to his jaw. That fucking-

And that is how the following steps ensued:

1.Ruhn began beating the shit out of the shifter

2.His soldiers began taking-or rather trying to take-the other shifters away

3.A whole commotion happened as some of the shifters managed to get away and try to take their friend from under Ruhn

4.Ruhn ended up being in the middle of a full blown fight between shifters and fae, at some point having his phone knocked out of his jean pockets.

By the end of it, he had everyone cuffed as his soldiers sent them to the Aux. Luckily, he managed to keep his face clean, only getting blows on his body. Unluckily, his phone was in a shit condition now after being harshly thrown on the ground by one of the idiots and kept on lagging as he tried to answer his girlfriends call.

No success. Whatever, he will get home and explain everything and then tomorrow buy a new phone. Atleast the present is here-

Where. Is. The. Bracelet.

Ruhn began checking all his pockets but found nothing. He began panicking as he looked around only to find the box on the ground. He sighed and sent a quick prayer up to the Gods for the bracelet to be intact-

It was not, in fact, intact.

The bracelet was broken in half, its small jewels shattered.

Oh, he was definitely going to make that shifters life hell now.

Ruhns mood completely soured. He couldn't go home right now, not now. He couldn't look into his mate's happy, beautiful face and put on a fake smile. He needed to collect his thoughts which is why he headed straight to the bar.

There, he sat down and ordered himself a drink, completely drunk already on his overthinking. His surroundings were a buzz and a blur as Ruhn nursed his drink in one hand while blaming himself for everything. And the constant calls from his mate that he couldn't answer were not helping at all.

He was truly the worst. Couldn't even do one thing right. Can't properly lead the Aux, can't do something nice for his mate, his future wife, what are you good for, Ruhn?

He had planned this night differently. He had planned to gift her the custom bracelet that took months to design and make from scratch, then he planned to put it on her wrist before kissing her and telling her to go get ready.

Everything had gone to absolute shit and honestly? Ruhn didn't think he could look at his mate's face right now knowing what he has done.

"Ruhn? Is that really you?"

He turned his head sideways to see....Nixie. A small nymph that was once close friends with y/n. He didn't like her. Not one bit. Especially not after she tried to make clear moves on him before Ruhn rudely and quite frankly rejected her.

However, it seems like she hasn't learned her lesson yet.

Ruhn gave her an annoyed look before wordlessly turning his head back around and trying to once again answer y/n's call but from the looks of it, his phone won't be making it another day.

"Is that y/n constantly calling you? Gosh, she hasn't changed has she? The same chattering monkey that she was when we were frien-"

"Tell one more thing about my mate, Nixie, and I won't hesitate to put you in your place right now."

"Oh, come on Ruhn, you know I would always make a better match for you. We don't have to be mates to-"

Ruhn got up, forcing the nymph to stagger backwards as he pushed her harshly aside with his body, causing her to hit a table, and stalked towards the doors.

He turned his head sideways and said over his shoulders, "If you ever come near me or try to start a conversation with me again, I will do much worse than just push you. Fuck off."

Nixie's whole presence made him even more drained by the time he got home.

Ruhn hoped that his mate would be asleep when he entered the house but the smell of delicious and newly cooked pasta confirmed that she was, in fact, not asleep. And then the sight of his beloved, coming over to him, still all smiley and lovely with the clear exhaustion of the day weighing on her made him feel very ashamed of himself.

He couldn't do it. Not now. Not now.

Then, she kept trying to talk to him, to make him open up and on a normal day, he would. He would talk about his day but not before he listened to her talk about hers. They would eat, they would talk and joke some more, kiss and cuddle. But not tonight. Tonight, Ruhn's mind was very frustrated. With everyone, with himself but not her. Never y/n. Never his sweet, beautiful mate.

But it seems like Ruhn really enjoys ruining everything good for himself because he ended up shouting at his girlfriend, leaving to sit at the bench in the park outside for ten minutes, coming back into the apartment to find himself in the current condition.

Him alone with only shame, guilt, anger and worry as his companions, staring into the note in his hands.

He truly, in every sense of the word, fucked up. But unlike everything else, he wasn't going to let this one good thing get away from him. He will get his y/n back.

"I don- I don't understand why would he do such a thing? Why would he be so rude? What have I done to h-hurt him?"

"Shhh, nothing. You have done absolutely nothing to hurt him, sis. He is just being his famous idiot self."

After y/n left the house, she headed straight to her sisters apartment in the other end of the city, intending to hopefully stay there with her for a while. Atleast until she had cleared her mind.

Her sister, Alexia, gave y/n another box of tissues as she cried nonstop since the minute she arrived here two hours ago.

Alexia sighed as her phone suddenly ringed but y/n was too busy wiping the tears that kept blurring her eyes to hear her sisters say "Oh, for Urd's sake!" as she picked up the phone, gave a small reassuring pat to y/n's shoulder and left the room, coming back what felt like an eternity later with some tea.

"Stop. Stop wasting away your tears on that punk. Here, I brought you favorite tea. Jasmine."

As they sat there on the couch, curled up in blankets, chatting while drinking, y/n almost forgot her pain. Almost.

It hurt too much to forget and ignore. She loved Ruhn and definitely didn't wan't to walk away permanently but...what if she should-

The doorbell began to ring. Y/n furrowed her eyebrows before looking at her sister who just shrugged and said nonchalantly, yawning as she got more comfortable on the couch, "Could you please open it? My legs have been killing me all day, honestly should get some treatment for them. It gets worse every day."

Y/n nodded before getting up and heading towards the door. Once she opened it, there was absolutely no one standing on the other side. She sighed as she tried closing the door but it wouldn't budge.

Y/n looked down to find a small basket filled with some of her favorite snacks standing right in front of her doorstep. She leaned down to pick it when a small handwritten note fell out of it right on to the floor.

Y/n bent down to pick it and gasped when she saw what's written inside it.

My love,

I know you said not to come looking for you but I couldn't just stand by knowing that what I have done was a terrible mistake. I called your sister to ask if you were with her and when she said yes, I wasted no time in preparing this basket for you and having it delivered. Until you feel comfortable enough to face me, I will be sending you small little things each day. I know what I did was wrong and I am hoping to see you soon so that I can explain myself better. Until then, enjoy your favorites.

From your idiot of a mate who loves you beyond words,

Ruhn

Y/n's eyes widened as she reread the letter multiple times, thinking that her eyes were lying to her. At last, with a tiny smile creeping up her face, she turned around and headed back into the living room.

And so it continued for the next few weeks. Every single day there was a new small little surprise waiting for her at the door. The best part, however, were the little notes he would put with them.

One day, he sent her some of her most frequently used cremes and scents with a note saying, 'Your scent for me is the definition of being at home'

Next, in the morning, it was a basket filled with coffee and breakfast from her most favorite cafe, 'I miss you more and more each passing hour'

Tickets for the show she had been talking about nonstop for a while, 'The dates were finally revealed. Go enjoy it, my love.'

This went on and on until two weeks later, she couldn't take it anymore, she had to see him.

Her hands shaking, she texted the number she had been avoiding for two weeks now.

I want to meet you today.

His reply was instant

I will send you the address. Be ready by 8PM tonight, love.

Was she doing the right thing? Y/n was sure of her undying love for her mate and it seems like he was truly sorry for what he had done but....it would be better to finally talk face to face. Not to mention the fact that she did greatly miss his face.

He sent her the address and- what was this place? Y/n didn't dwell on it too long, deciding to prepare and wear something nice to meet Ruhn. After all, it has been a while since she last saw him.

By 8, she was done and ready, Alexia helping her to do the final touch ups while offering words of affirmation.

"If he even does one thing wrong, get out and dump his ass."

"You look beyond stunning, sis. If he dares to break your heart ONE MORE time, I swear-"

Y/n smiled, putting her hand on Alexia's shoulder. "I will be fine, Ruhn won't knowingly hurt me, Alexia."

Her sister just scoffed. "You know, it's really unclear with that bastard."

Y/n hugged her sister tightly before leaving and heading towards her newly fixed car.

Nearly an hour later, she made it to the location Ruhn sent her. It was some kind of a tall building but....why wasn't anyone around? Whatever, with a deep breath, she entered it and walked towards the elevator, pressing on the highest floor.

When the doors opened, she was greeted with the most breathtaking sight ever. It seems like the elevator opens up straight to the roof because above there were only glittering lights that were held up by columns. The lights also wrapped around the columns, causing one to feel like they are in a completely different realm.

In front of her, she had a full view of the busy city in the nighttime. Around her, were multiple soft areas for sitting but it was the very center that got her.

A table for two with a candle in the middle and....Ruhn standing in front of it, looking devastatingly handsome while holding a huge bouquet of roses.

Her eyes were still wide as she took in the entire place, slowly approaching him, coming to stand chest to chest with him. He looked down to her and whispered, "This- I got these for you. You look breathtaking."

She took the roses from him, eyes never leaving each other as she whispered back, "Thank you, this is...very beautiful."

He smiled lovingly at her and asked, "May I?"

She smiled back slightly. "Yes."

Ruhn took her hand, placing a gentle kiss on it before leading her to sit down. She sat down but he didn't. He kept standing by her side, looking at her with an unreadable expression.

"Ruhn?"

And suddenly, Ruhn was a goner. His eyes seemingly welled up with tears as he got down on his knees without any hesitation, making y/n gasp as he looked down onto his own hands clutching his pants.

"Ruhn-"

"These two weeks have been hell without you, my love. Hell. In fact, I would have loved it more if the princes of Hell came to take me to their realm rather than ever be without you. I couldn't eat, drink, sleep, work or do anything, for that matter, without my shame and guilt consuming me whole. I have been slowly but surely descending into madness untill you texted me this morning and I- y/n, I have to make this right. Please, you can't leave me. I love you too much."

"Ruhn look at-"

Ruhn shook his head and said everything in one breath "No, please, listen to me, my love. What I did was wrong. Very fucking wrong and I am beyond sorry, beyond ashamed and beyond guilty for what I made you feel. My whole day had gone to utter shit and- and long story short- I got into fights, broke my phone, which is why I couldn't answer you, had to deal with crazy fire sprites invading the Aux thanks to that little shit Tristan, had to attend multiple meetings with annoyingly egotistic leaders, and worst of all....broke your surprise, the one I had been excited for months. I had planned to surprise you with that gift and a date that day but....clearly the Urd wasn't on my side and then the whole Nixie situation happened because I was so mad at myself that I went to the bar to drink something but sheturnedupthereandstartedmakingmovesonmebutIignoredherplease-"

"Ruhn, dear, slow down, I don't understand anything."

"She turned up there and started making moves on me but I ignored her I swear, I swear I ignored her! She tried to insult you but I made sure that she won't ever come near either of us. I just- that day I was out of my mind, I know it was no excuse for what I did but please, you aren't annoying, you are definitely NOT a chattering monkey. I love you and your bubbly personality, please never stop talking when you are with me, your voice gives me so much comfort. Iloveyoutoomuchtoolooseyoumyloveplease-"

"Ruhn, you're fast again. And please, look up at me."

He shook his head

"Ruhn-"

"I don't deserve you, I don't deserve you-"

"Ruhn Danaan will you please, for the love of Urd, shut up and look at me?"

He finally lifted his head upwards to look at her and oh, Gods...he was crying. His eyes have gone absolutely red and tears are staining his cheeks.

She put a gentle palm on his cheek, causing him to place his hand over hers and kiss her wrist.

Y/n smiled, "I understand, Ruhn. I think- I think I also behaved wrongly. I should have read the signs and given you your space also, I shouldn't have just left you alone instead of solving it properly by talking it out. We both had unfortunate days and I guess we both reached our breaking points. I was really hurt, Ruhn. You hurt me deeply, and for the past two weeks I had been thinking all of this over and I- I love you too, Ruhn. I forgive you. And I hope that next time, if such a thing happens, we will get to solve it in a better form."

Ruhn's eyes widened as a huge smile began overtaking his face. "So you will come back now?"

She smiled back at him. "Yes, I will come back now."

Ruhn eyes softened as he got up while still holding her palm to his face, causing y/n to also stand up.

He leaned in closer as his eyes wondered lovingly all over her face, as if taking in everything he missed in the past two weeks.

"That's really good to hear because I really want to kiss you now, my love."

Y/n giggled and said, "Then what are you waiting for?"

That was all he needed. Ruhn put one arm around her waist as he leaned his head down and kissed his mate, lovingly and gently, conveying the things he couldn't tell her with words.

All of a sudden, y/n felt something cold being slipped on to her fingers. When she pulled apart and looked down, she gasped in shock and awe at the beautiful ring on her finger.

At its center is a luminous, round-cut diamond, its facets expertly crafted to maximize brilliance and sparkle. The diamond is set in a delicate, platinum band that gently curves upward, accentuating the stone’s radiant glow. Surrounding the central diamond is a halo of smaller, perfectly matched gemstones, each reflecting light and enhancing the ring's celestial allure.

The band itself is adorned with intricate filigree work and tiny, pavé-set diamonds that catch the light from every angle. The design features a pattern reminiscent of a starry night sky, adding a touch of whimsy and romance.

Y/n's eyes welled up with tears as she looked back at her mate to see him also tearing up while holding her close by the waist.

"Remember the surprise I had mentioned? Yeah well, it was initially meant to be a bracelet but I thought it was better to turn those broken pieces into a ring instead. And....well, y/n, will you make me the happiest mate in the world by marrying me? Because I never want to experience this life without you right beside me ever again."

Y/n let a few of her tears slip as she smiled and nodded her head, quickly tugging Ruhn down by the collar of his shirt to kiss him.

"I would love nothing more than to experience life beside you, Ruhn."

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

A/n: Well, I hope you guys enjoyed this! Thank you so much for reading<33

Tags: @mirandasidefics

[kat-of-seventy-seven-roses]

Homestuck Mythical Creature au / Cryptid Au

Very tempted to make an ask blop :p need to see if anyones inch rested

thought processes under the cut (bc some choices are wild)

Johns a pooka, an irish fae trickster who shapeshifts into animals. his favorite form is the bunny. john and jane are both fae, so their pranks range from harmless to mentally scaring to life altering. absolute chaos grimlins. dirk is also an irish myth, so he knows them well and is often trying to get them to not ruin the local population of humans. so they do pranks on him insted. john loves to steal dirks head and hide it places.

rose speaks to the eldritch horrors and is slowly becoming one herself. she wants to become a litch.

Dave is a harpy! a very chill one who doesn't tend to sing with his full chest, so people dont start crashing into his doorstep. dave dies in some magic accident that caused davesprite to rise up from the ashes. but dave harpy is ALSO fine no ones really sure how. may have been roses doing.

Jade is a werewolf obv. but shes also a witch and has formed a coven with rose and roxy.

Jane is ur avrage fae faerie/sprite. her favorite fae rule to get people to break is "dont eat their food."

Roxy is both a cat who is also a wizard i need not elaborate

Dirk is a headless horseman. not to be confused with THE headless horse man. thats another dullhan with a well paying halloween gig. dirk is often subject to losing his head, so he made a magic pumpkin to pilot the body when this happens. he does have a very large and scary but beautiful horse.

Jake is the bigfoot. and one of the most well hunted (and well travled) cryptids. thus, his friends often make jokes of not ever seeing him except in blurry images. its not his fault hes very large and loves to travel! and is also not very photogenic...

Aradia is a monthra!!! however she made a deal with a devil and became a ghost... not sure WHY yet or why it kills her. but it does. its all in her plan or smth, but that doesnt stop sollux from being very upset that hes the one that has to take and keep her soul. she is reserected later by the coven, still soulless but it doesnt matter bc her soul is in good hands and thus she still feels it. shes much happier now.

Tavros is a minotar self explanatory he is a small minotar, tho. a mini minotar if u will.

Sollux is ur run of the mill soul for potato chip demon. an excuse to give him twin tails and horns. him an kitkat gave me the most trouble! but then i went with a solkat devil angel motifi and im kinda attached t9 it now. even if its sorta a cop out. i simply couldnt find twin creatures that werent gods or children of gods. nor any crab creatures...

Karkat is an angel. he WAS human notably he was human for awhile even good friends with kanaya before he died. he never found love but helped so many with theres that he became an angel that was a lot like cupid. thus he was a small angel incharge of match making and also likened to a baby and hes very much NOT happy about this. it pisses him off, solluxs often gives him a hard time. about it. (extra angst is that kitkats also really fucked up about never knowing what love felt like but having to give it to others. and he has it in his head that that means he never will know, bc no ones matchmaking the matchmaker. but theres a song he hears everyonece anwhile by a stray harpy that makes him feel a lot lighter.)

Nepeta is my go to cat creature a nekomata. a two tailed cat yokai.

Kanaya is a vampire. obviously.

Terezi is a dragon! still blind! still licks. but can now transform and has wings, very scary. shes basiclly just her lusus lmao.

Vriska is a spider lady. i have arachne here bc its similar, but shes not arachne the myth proper. shes just a spider with the top part of a woman at the head. A Jorogumo a spider lady yokai and is basically actually what im picturing.

Equius is a centar and fuck if i ever have to draw him....

Gamzee is a clowwwn, just a clown, just a silly lil guy. What do you MEAN clowns arnt mythical creatures??? what do u mean u saw him under ur bed when you were a child? u must be mistaken. as a nod to ICPs boogieman. when gamzee is not high as a kite and is just a clown, he is one of the most terrifying and unkillable creatures known to children kind.

Eridan is a selkie. basiclly a mermaid but part seal. personally, I'd like to make him part seahorse. but not in the hippocampus way. i chose this bc he can shapeshift, thus he pretends to be a high elf sorcerer, yes he does get dunked on about this.

And finally, Feferi is a siren! who happens to be able to become very VERY **VERY** BIG. she doesnt lure people to drown them but she DOES love to keep live captives in cages :)