#eh whatever main tag go

[gelarshiesprofruitboarder]

thinking about them makesmy head hurt. ow

[lem0nn-juice]

Ciel's ability to attract fruity blond people needs to be studied

[chronologically-challenged]

idk if it's funny, but going to make it a running gag that Nille is the ONLY one to refer to Siffrin's cloak as a poncho. She's like, that's a crabbing poncho not a cloak.

Siffrin calls it a cloak because it's cooler sounding than poncho. The others follow suit. Mirabelle and Bonnie bc they don't know any better. Mirabelle also in general would find the term cloak much more fitting than poncho anyway for Siffrin's mystique~. Odile bc tbh, she thinks Siffrin forgot the word for poncho and cloak is close enough that she will not correct them. Isabeau doesn't want to reveal that he knows the difference, and Siffrin is correct, a "cloak" is cooler sounding, so he lets it go.

Nille has none of these reasons, and thus will continually call it a poncho. Siffrin doesn't really mind, per say, but it becomes the center of a hot "debate" between the two of them. Or Siffrin messing with Nille and Nille messing with them right back.

[whatudottu]

Something about Altered Loyalties CYLAS just really makes me want to include him in the first place but also makes me really really REALLY think that with the more supernatural elements of AL based off of the original TFP pilot (or just first episode/s?) that CYLAS as a ‘dead man walking’ would actually let him stay around longer AND also be a very significant contributing factor to Megatron’s downfall in Decepticon favour!

Of course it’s not as if I have the pieces of the TFP rewrite au firmly put into place, CYLAS in canon shows up just over halfway into season 2, and many of my most established changes occur in the first like… including all the parts of ‘Darkness Rising’ 8 episodes of season one; I have no idea if the environment CYLAS presents himself in is the same one canon CYLAS does.

But with the dubiousity between s1 e8 all the way to s2 e19, I’ll establish the basic context… I think in story mode maybe…

Looking at the general timeline for the Aligned Continuity, it says that the first contact of cybertronians on Earth is dated to about 500 years before the show, give or take a decade. I’ve been listing Skyquake’s little EHP pitstop to have existed at least 50 years before the war reached our planet, but what if I pushed it all the way back to 500; if a vorn is 83 years, that’d be about 6 years on an entirely different planet not knowing truly if your twin is going to make it, a planet which by the way presently has no established radio systems that it’s horrifically quiet for a terrestrial environment.

That means that Skyquake’s EHP Comms Array has been transmitting a signal long before humans had developed radio, which also means that what might’ve been blatantly an anomaly in the system if discovered 50 odd years previous to 2012 (which would’ve been in the 60s give or take which would not have been good in the literal middle of the cold war era) has been going for centuries because it had always been there, there is no anomaly because it is a signal that has existed ever since humans were able to manipulate radiowaves into sending messages and translate them into detectable noise. It helps that cybertronian language and code (both code lang and like literal programming code) is a system unknown to humans developing their own language.

And you may be asking, why did I divert this post from talking about CYLAS and how he’d outlast his canon alternate to radio shit? Well, if you were a paramilitary organisation who is pretty good at erasing signals and you discovered a signal that has been actively running for the entirety of human radio has suddenly been silenced, what would you begin to suspect at that?

Aliens may potentially be a stretch but MECH didn’t just name themselves after the cybertronians fighting war on their planet, and once the cybertronian conflict touched down on Earth, the Decepticons hadn’t a need for an intergalactic communications array and in fact was specifically instructed to switch it off in an effort to prevent the Autobots from using it. That would’ve been about maybe 6 years ago for the show (wow just enough equivalent time to match what Skyquake felt he spent grounded to one radio tower look at that) and though MECH would not encounter their first cybertronian until ‘Convoy’ (haha wait that’s s1 e9 the next ep to cover - if necessary - for Altered Loyalties lmao), they would’ve had 6 years to find that missing signal and stumble across some very definitely alien technology.

That is one of the reasons why the rewrite of ‘Masters and Students’ which is less masters and students focused - rather the point is Skyquake, a team of Nemesis stationed vehcions and Starscream investigate the comms array and set it up manually - why the radio tower wasn’t switching on from a remote position.

The other reason was because the Guardian unit stationed at the comms array - the very ones that had accompanied Skyquake all those stellar cycles ago - had gone missing. Why?

Because of Megatron’s flagrant use of Dark Energon.

Points 1 and 2 listed above leads to the explosion of the comms array, the death of Skyquake, and MECH either being alerted to the point of alien contact or just in general going to the site for more study only to find a dead specimen. After the discovery of the Autobots with the body of Skyquake, MECH begins their initial study and dissection of cybertronian physiology, though without a live subject they couldn’t exactly see what parts function in what way, especially the t-cog.

The discovery of Skyquake led to the discovery of terrorcons which lead to the discovery of how to take down a cybertron and how to take it apart without it screaming. MECH would learn the programming of a cybertronian through vehicon terrorcons since, even with DE corruption, their processors are still somewhat being maintained. While probably not able to access memories (they are fickle things, memory centres, easy to damage storage or to corrupt files) there are still systems responsible for pain and other more processor based responsibilities that aren’t centred in a physical organ that reads in fine print it’s function.

Breakdown being MECH’s first fully functional living mecha for their study is so exciting for them (even if Breakdown is very much less enthused) because they can put what knowledge they’ve pieced together to be far more efficient with their time and focus on the elements they could not decipher from either corpse or zombie and potentially try and prod at Breakdown’s brain for some cohesive coding. Good think Bulkhead still shows up when he does even with Breakdown walking away with the dreadful thought of ‘how the hell do these fleshies already know so much’ boring into his head… mainly through the optic that was still drilled out-

Whether or not MECH needs to get another living cybertronian to get caught up in their understanding of the biomechanics of them (aka would 'Operation: Bumblebee' take place as it does) or they skip right onto making a remote control Prime having gotten a headstart on their knowledge and scaring the scrap out of any bot unlucky enough to be unconscious around them, eventually Silas gets smooshed and MECH scientists are reliant on their alien dissections to get the human puree back to the land of the living.

I'd assume that this was the case in the original since if Silas' biomatter was able to be collected from a pile of robot drone induced rubble the RC truck would've been able to be recovered as well, but MECH discovers that using Nemesis Prime as a lifesupport system does not work given all it's functionality is focused on visually replicating another cybertronian, rather than using it to create life. There's a lot of parts and systems to a cybertronian's biological ecology that wasn't put into consideration for a mimic toy that prove detrimental to creating a suitable ah... skin suit essentially for Silas' blood pudding, but MECH has an abundance of corpses ready and raring to be used just so long as they piece them back together again.

Amid MECH's collection would no doubt be a mass of vehicon bodies - some untouched by energon others taken down explicitly by MECH because they were terrorcons - some terrorcons made up from the bodies of the previous conflict pre-show (and not just a hypothetical ancient war, but explicitly the conflict that culled a lot of Autobot and Decepticon officers amid the show expected vehicon death), and the very first cybertronian sample they started studying, Skyquake himself! Being at the origin of the blast at the EHP Comms Array he wasn't kept in perfect condition for one, the arm he loses as a terrorcon in the Shadowzone is still lost - it's been buried under rubble after being severed with radio tower pieces - and the monochromatic glass over his optics has long since been shattered so you can see the 'pupil' aka sensor, but seeing as how CYLAS makes Breakdown's corpse somehow look worse than what Airachnid left it as MECH probably has to suture that fucker back up because there's not way his organs have been left untouched!

And once CYLAS has been successfully integrated into his new cybertronian shell (some sort of arm, either being a loaner from another corpse or straight up just one MECH invented, it could even be a copy of the missing arm but where's the fun in that) instead of getting all high and mighty about 'being of a superior species' Silas actually bloody thinks on MECH's plans going forward. With a literal army of paramilitary personnel, from the scientists that melded human flesh with cybertronian wires to the average grunt soldier fighting between the battles of iron giants, CYLAS has something that Megatron (at least the Altered Loyalties Megatron I have written previously) has wanted from the start of the series...

An undying force.

For as large as cybertronians physically are their numbers can never match the scale of humanity, I can't remember if the books mentioned only thousands of the dead or up to a million over the course of like... a long fucking time but, that's not even the number of the human population if you're caught up with the number (nearly 8 billion alive today). And with the dead of previous battles already roaming the Earth, in a world where Megatron still being only like one dude can't command a planet wide population of zombies, the only reason he doesn't turn his blade to the weakest denominators of his forces in his plagued state is because their conscious decision to serve him is worth more than mindless servitude.

CYLAS introducing himself and MECH as a solution to this issue, and providing a show of bountiful body horror, makes not even the Decepticon high command quite as safe as they had been; not that it's been proven to be safe standing by Megatron's side given his track record of wanting his SiCs beaten or killed but...

The fact that CYLAS just so happened to have given and then promptly brutalised Dreadwing's hope that Skyquake may have been actually alive, just severely damaged (and, bond weakened from distance and prior injury, clinging to the last shreds of 'my spark didn't kill me with him' reasoning) and broke him out of the spell of blind loyalty to his once great leader.

CYLAS in this version has a little bit more longevity to his existence within the Decepticon forces, not actually a Decepticon soldier as the canon CYLAS pledged himself as but 'The Human Factor' the episode so calls itself akin to the way the American government and the human children are to the Autobots, but being able to physically go toe-to-toe with cybertronians. Megatron might be a little tired of dealing with independents after Airachnid's escapade (I do intend to make her more into a poacher/torturer type character than another Starscream so she might act out a little differently), but Silas isn't one for licking boots anytime soon and as CYLAS, Megatron is no different; you'd think he wouldn't have even done that in the first place given he's already an ex-military 'take-no-nonsense' bitch, but the Breakdown in him probably made him a lapdog...

Anyway that's a whole big post about Altered Loyalties CYLAS... or at least the in depth reasoning behind why he could still integrate himself into the story and why he'd probably have more opportunity to lasting- i prommy it's not bc i like torturing skyquake likers *wink*

I guess this is now a canon event or at least I'll try to make it canon ;)

[waywardsalt]

every so often i have doubts abt making bellum x linebeck like. a good relationship at the end of the day like they like each other and care abt each other. but it is for me and i do enjoy bellum being wrangled like an angry cat into situations where he HAS to be nice and HAS to refrain to killing everyone and in the middle of that development realizes he feels differently about linebeck than anyone else

[stimstar-of-stimclan]

sorry for the danganronpa gif spam, tbh i didnt know if i wanted to gif dr stuff rn but i had so many tabs open i felt like i might aswell X_X

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 26

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know

A.N: I'm sorry for the delay. Unfortunately life gets in the way of these things!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17 • Part 18 • Part 19 • Part 20 • Part 21 • Part 22 • Part 23 • Part 24 • Part 25

• ··········· • ············ •

Thanks to whatever gods were now in charge of watching your endeavors, you made your way quickly and easily through the aqueduct. A mix of Viktor’s knowledge of the place and your ability to unlock doors and create distractions meant you didn’t need to go through the rocky riverbed.

Once on the other side of the river, you both made your way silently toward the main city, and when you arrived back at the park, the sun was already low on the horizon.

Viktor paused next to the small bench you had met by that morning, scratching the back of his neck and biting on his cheek, and you frowned.

“Spit it.” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow when he looked up at you, but then his gaze drifted away.

“I have a…suggestion to give you, but I’m afraid of what you might think of me after.”

Your frown got deeper as his cheeks got redder.

“Go on.” 

“My apartment is closer to the aqueduct than the penthouse, so…” He cleared his throat. “I think it would be beneficial…and far less exhausting… if…youspendthenightatmyhouse.”

The last part of the sentence came out as fast as the hex claw laser. You got 'spend' and 'house'…ah…

…

“You don’t have to; it is completely up to you, and even if you say yes and then change your mind, you can go! And the walls are really paper-thin, so if you are worried that I do anything to you… I mean you do have magic and I'm not exactly the strongest man in Piltover…once…Jayce gently pushed me away from an experiment, and I toppled over… Embarrassing, really… Why am I telling you this?”

You blinked a couple of times. At first I'm shocked that he had actually asked you to spend time at his place, especially after the day you both had. And then at his comically dramatic rant, a smile appeared on your face as he kept going.

“Alright, sounds like a good plan.”

“Besides, your mother isn’t here yet, and you’d be alone and…wait, what?” He finally stopped to look at you.

“It’s a good idea. We’ll be able to squeeze a few more hours of sleep in and do some planning.”

Viktor started to nod slowly at first and then enthusiastically. His face opened up with a nervous but bright smile.

“You want to go get takeout at Voltaire’s? I’m sure I can convince him to get you some tart…” He announced as he passed you by, waiting for you to follow him.

“No need.” He adjusted his cane, and you could have sworn he had a little more pep in his step. “Jayce came over the other day; his mother usually makes him bring me food. I fear she thinks I can’t feed myself.”

“Eh…pastries and dessert don’t count as a balanced meal plan, Vik.” You joked, and he gave an ‘I don’t care’ type shrug. “I’m just happy you're eating.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” You shifted your backpack’s straps, realizing what you had blurted out.

“Well, work…”

“I can eat and work! That is why I have two hands…” He made a gesture of screwing a bolt and grabbing something to eat.

“Wow…efficient.” He made an agreeing sound with his throat, and you laughed.

“Keep doing it! As much as people would kill for those cheekbones, gaunt wouldn’t look good on you.” You winked at him and laughed when he touched the reddening apple of his cheeks. 

Viktor joined your amusement as you both walked towards the Artist Quarters on your way to Engineering Street. 

The small apartment Viktor had inhabited was, in fact, closer to the aqueduct, between the riverbed and the Academy. Most of the people working in the Academy had housing there. Mostly because the rents were low for them and proximity. It was a step up from dorms, but not really an upgrade in luxury.

And while Engineering Street was quiet throughout the day and night, you’d even say a bit boring, the Artist Quarters were a lively and colorful place, becoming more energetic at night.

The buildings were smaller, with a maximum of 3 floors, but bright with small shops on the floor levels. Bakeries, art shops, music stores. The cobblestone streets were filled with chalk drawings on the ground, and the streetlights had string lights hanging in between them. 

The colors seemed to become brighter in these streets with the number of flowers and small trees and the strewn artists painting on the streets or people drinking and eating on the restaurant’s patio.

You passed by an art supply shop, and someone inside shouted Viktor’s name and waved at him. Viktor did the same, warmly greeting the elderly man storing a display of watercolors on a shelf, and you became curious.

“Mr. Felton sells me the pencils and chalks the council hates so much.” Viktor explained when he saw your expression.

“Have you ever tried drawing?”

“Oh no! Jayce is the artist of the two of us. He’s in charge of doing the initial designs and sketches…I’m good with a ruler, though!”

You were chuckling at his pride and confidence when he suddenly veered right and started to fish something out of his satchel. He took out a key and shoved it into the intricate front door to a beautiful blue-tiled building.

When he noticed you weren’t following him, he turned back and mentioned for you to come.

Viktor, head scientist and co-creator of Hextech, did not live on Engineering Street… Viktor, the color-coding aficionado, lived in the Artists Quarters. And you knew, in your heart of hearts…in the depths of your soul…there was nothing that made more sense than this.

His never-stopping mind didn’t need the monotony of the academy-assigned living quarters. It needs the bustle and the bustle and the colors of this place. You wondered if anything would have been different if the other Viktor had had this thought.

…

The building was beautiful outside and in.

On the outside, the light blue tiled walls were decorated with white columns and stone windows. There were three floors, with the two higher ones having a small veranda on them, just big enough to have two chairs on them. The ivy that crept up on the walls broke the symmetric façade of the building, clinging to the columns and tiles like veiny tendrils of bright green. What really got your attention at first was the front door, a white wood double door with intricate carvings and colorful glass panes, finished with a beautifully curved glass canopy.

The inside of the building was just as wonderful, with pastel brown painted walls and various little plants scattered on corners; the well-used wooden floors gave the inside a cozy feeling. In the middle back of the foyer was an old, small elevator that Viktor quickly made his way to, only stopping at the metal mailboxes to see if anything had been left to him. Nothing.

When you got to the elevator, you noticed Viktor’s hand tapping on the handle of his crutch. He was biting his cheek and slightly frowning, breathing in and out deeply at points.

“Are you alright?” You asked, leaning against the cage of the elevator.

“Mmm?” You nodded to his fingers on the handle, and he stopped, clutching the handle tighter. “Sorry…I--”

“Remember when you said I could change my mind and go? The same applies to you. I can just go.” You made sure your tone wasn’t disappointed or angry or any unintentional emotion that would make him feel bad when there was absolutely nothing to feel bad about. You’d respect his decision the same way you know he’d respect yours.

“No…” he quickly interjected. “I…this is not because I don’t want you here. It is because I do. I’m afraid I may do something that will scare you off…”

“I don’t scare easily.” You want to add, ‘I once spit in the face of a god,’ but then he would start asking questions. So you just touched his hand and smiled. 

The elevator stopped with a mechanical groan, and Viktor nodded, more to himself than to you, and walked out to the second-floor foyer. He opened the door and walked inside with you close behind. However, you couldn’t make it past the door frame without gasping wide-eyed while your mind blanked.

Something about butterflies and wings came to mind, though.

The inside of his apartment was the exact same floor plan as the other dimension. A small kitchenette to the left with a window on top of the sink, and the rest was open space. The glass and wood door to the balcony was on a diagonal corner in front of the main door; next to it was a small arrangement of windows with curved lines going through them, giving them a delicate design. There was a room to the side, which you guessed was the bedroom, and another room at the end of the open space, the bathroom. It wasn’t cramped, but it was small.

You knew this floor plan like the back of your hand; you could close your eyes and go from here to the bathroom without bumping into the wall.

What changed, though, made the entire home feel different. The decorations and the colors. The lived-in details of the furniture.

The walls had been painted a deep forest green, instead of the neutral gray of the other dimension. There were decorations on the walls, diplomas, and schematics displayed proudly. The wooden floors were shiny and covered with rugs here and there.

The small table that served as a divider between the kitchen and the living space had a napkin holder and a wooden straw table mat. There were pans on top of the fridge and plates on the dish rack. There were two mugs on the sink, one of them with ‘man of progress printed on it. 

It contrasted with the table that only served to hold books, boxes, and schematics. On the other timeline, glasses and plates were stored so as not to catch dust from not being used.

The living room had three bookcases filled with trinkets, books, vinyl records, and their player. 

The books weren’t just academic, like the other apartment’s shelves, but also biographies and fantasy, architecture, and philosophy.

You could see the collector's edition of your mother’s saga neatly tucked into a shelf with small ceramic figures of the main characters in front of them. 

There were photos of him, Jayce, Sky, and even your mom and Willah. Noticeably he didn’t look particularly comfortable in any of them, but it was a stark difference from the single photo of Jayce and Viktor at the inauguration of the hexgate and the framed newspaper clipping of the hex crystal discovery. 

The couch was a light dusty pink color with decorative pillows and two folded blankets on the back of it. It was a sharp difference from the leather-bound couch with blankets thrown about and his bed pillow shoved into a corner.

Behind a clothed divider, a desk and some scientific material were completely thrown around, but the mess was enclosed there. Near a big window, you saw the single-seat, twin version of the couch your mother sent to the lab. Tucked in a nook surrounded by plants and books. 

There were shoes on the shoe rack and coats on the coat hanger. There was an open book with a cover-up on the end table near the couch. There were tea stains on the dinner table. There was a life being lived here.

As you walked around the home, with Viktor trailing in front of you explaining and adding commentary to the million new things you were finding in the familiar house, you found yourself wondering why the Viktor you knew from before couldn’t have been gifted this…why was this Viktor standing in front of you smiling and being a generally happy human while his cosmic twin coughed himself to death? It made you sad and happy and angry and relieved.

“Are you alright?” Viktor tapped your shoulder, something he had now started to use to catch your attention instead of grabbing you.

You took a deep breath and mentioned the couch, silently asking permission to sit. Quickly he nodded and grabbed some pillows to make space for you. 

When you fell onto the leathery furniture, he took the place next to you, looking concerned.

“V…I…need to--”

“Meow”

Your speech was interrupted by a long, muffled meow by the front door, accompanied by small scratches on the wood.

“Oh…No, no… I’m sorry…Give me a moment…” Viktor gave an apologetic smile and got up, while you looked on intrigued by this.

He walked towards the bathroom door and opened it and then went back to the front door and did the same. The blackest of black cats intertwined itself on Viktor's legs, giving out small greeting squeaks and purrs.

“Go. Go on. Yes, I know.” Viktor said, smiling softly at the cat, talking back to them as if he could understand. 

The scientist softly nudged the cat with his foot, making the furry critter understand the big human wanted to move.

The cat finally acknowledged you and walked slowly towards where you sat, sitting gracefully in front of you and staring. Their blue eyes looked at you, and you swore that if all of the lights in Piltover were to turn off, the cat's eyes would be the only thing beaming.

“You have a cat.” You stated more than asked.

“Eehhh…Technically, the building has a cat. She just heard me first.” He limped back towards the couch and sat down.

“What's her name?” 

“Noir…Nono for short.” 

The cat leaped to the couch and smelled the hand you gave her. After a while, she deemed you worthy of her time and pushed her head into her hand, while Viktor stroked her body.

“Nono.” You called, and she looked at you. You presented her with your name, and she meowed.

When she was sick of the attention, she jumped down and walked to the bathroom, where you heard the telltale signs of her munching on her food.

“What were you saying?”

Viktor’s face was the definition of relaxed, the concern from before being replaced with a soft gaze and smile. 

Was the need to come clean to him about his cosmic twin attempting to end the world worth him losing his peace? Would the information you were about to vomit change what he has so carefully built?

“I…think I just need to eat.” You gave him a bright smile, and he laughed quietly.

“Very well.” He got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen counter, and you followed him. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You already were, the familiar floor plan making you feel at home. You sat at the dinner table watching him open his fridge and take out some glass containers with food and place them in the oven to heat up. 

Viktor sat on a chair next to you and slowly took off his leg brace, sighing in release.

“If you want to, you can shower. I can go ask Madame Theroux, my neighbor, if she can let me borrow one of her kid's old clothes… I think she might have something that fits you.” 

“Oh no…That’s too much of a bother.”

“Nonsense.” He got up and grabbed a discarded cane that was hooked on the divider and walked towards his bedroom. 

After a while, he came out holding two fluffy towels and handed them to you. “She probably already heard I have company; might as well come clean sooner than later; otherwise she’ll be knocking on my door to snoop.”

“Sounds like a charm.” You grabbed the towels.

“She is actually. She’s very protective of us…the people in the building.” He smiled and mentioned the bathroom door. “If you could just leave the door ajar so Nono can come in and out…otherwise she will throw a tantrum.”

The black cat, now curled up on the couch, meowed at hearing her name. You nodded and walked to the bathroom while Viktor made his way to his neighbor's door.

“Oh…you can use whatever you need from there.” He opened the door and paused again. “There’s a robe on the back of the door if you need it.”

The door clicked shut, and you looked at Nono, who looked up at you and blinked slowly.

The bathroom was big, and while in the other dimension, it was just a well, normal bathroom; this one had been enhanced to help Viktor with his disability.

There were grab rails next to the slightly raised toilet and in the shower nook. All of the towel racks were sturdy enough to assist if he needed.

The floor had several thin anti-slip rugs, and the shower also had one that looked like wood. 

There was also a stool inside the shower that you assumed he would use when needed.

You and Viktor in your timeline had once talked about this, making his house accessible for when he needed it, but his answer had been dismissive. A shrug and an ‘I spend more time in the lab anyway.’ Maybe you should have insisted; maybe you should have been more enthused about making it easier for him. Maybe if you had, he would have seen you in a better light after he had gotten the news.

It frustrated you that ‘maybes’ were all you had now. Even if you went back to your dimension, those things would still be in a maybe and if pile.

You heard the door close and started your shower quickly. You heard a knock on the door.

“There is a chair outside the door, in arm's reach for you to take. Madame Theroux said she threw in some undergarments…I didn’t check.” 

“Thank you.” 

You finished the shower and grabbed the clothes. Some red cotton checkered bottoms, a matching shirt, a white undershirt, and undergarments. It looked cozy, and it did fit you perfectly. This brought up the question of how Viktor had described you to the neighbor for her to get accurate measurements.

Walking out of the bathroom intent on joking about it with him, you stopped when you saw him haul a blanket and what you assume was a pillow to the couch.

“Oh. You are done.” He smiled, grabbed some clothes from the back of the couch, and walked towards you. “I think the food will be done soon. I am going to take a shower too, and then we eat, yes?”

You were still looking at the pillow and the sheet that was already tucked into the sofa. 

“This for me?” You blurted it out before he passed you, and he shook his head.

“No. You’re my guest. You sleep on the bed.” He sounded proud of himself. “May I?”

Viktor pointed to the door of the bathroom, and you noticed you had been blocking his path. You took a step forward, and he smiled, walked inside, and pushed the door almost closed.

The ruffling of clothes snapped you out of your stupor, and you walked towards the kitchen, throwing daggers at the couch.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @kitewa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies @iamfandomnerd @jazzypop-op @jojo-at-heart @deceivethedreamer

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Leader of the Pack 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: On a night out at the bar, you're promoted from wing woman to main star.

Characters: James Conrad, short!reader

Note: it’s hump dayyyy.

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"Go grab us a pool table," Martyna demands as she leans on the bar. 

"Oh, sure," you turn to search the bar. There's only one table and it's taken. You frown. "Someone's already on it." 

"So what? Go put a stack of quarters on it," she says, "I can't. I gotta get my drink." 

"Right, er," you teeter on your feet and look back at the table, one man lining up his shot as the other watches, his thick hands around his cue.  

The shooter snaps the stick and the clack of balls is sharp and strong. You near nervously, pulling out change as you keep just outside their perimeter as the second man considers his turn with a suck of his teeth. Where he's burly, with a shaggy dark beard, and faded ball cap, the other man has blonde hair and is lithe. They are both tall, though the slimmer man has at least an inch on the other. 

You step forward as the man aims from the other corner. You set down four quarters in a stack, just enough to feed the table for another round. The thicker man pauses as he pulls back the cue and narrows his eyes. 

"Eh, you're gonna mess me up," he barks. 

"Oh, sorry," you recoil and fold your hands over your chest, "I was only..." 

You quiet as he grumbles and shakes his head, eyes pinpointing on the felt. You shake your head and back up as the other man tisks. 

"Syverson, don't have to be so rude, the lady is merely claiming her turn," the slender man intones, just a foot from you as he twirls the cue, it's butt set to the floor. "Don't fret over my companion," he girds in his peculiar accent, "he's a sore loser." 

"Heh, what's that about..." the other man hits the cue ball and sends a striped one into the pocket, "losing?" 

You're quiet, nodding as you try to think of the proper response. No one's ever called you a lady. Most people don't notice you. It's why Martyna prefers you as her wing woman, you keep her company until she finds someone fun. 

"Rather, you set me up finely," the first man retorts. 

You cross your arms protectively and back up, making sure you're out of the broader man as he stalks around to place his next shot. His friend watches calmly, unbothered as he knocks another ball in, then lines up for the third. That one's a miss. 

"Shit," the man in the ball cap stands straight and sends you a look. You're not even close to the trim. 

"Oh, don't even try to blame her," the blond reprimands, "that's not very valiant, is it?" 

"Whatever," the other grumbles as he plants his feet and watches the other. 

The slimmer man puts his first shot easily in the corner, the next he sends two balls into opposite pockets, and the next sees him with only the eight ball left to sink. His opponent huffs and shakes his head. You rock back and forth, you hope he wins if only to clear the table. 

"Finally," Martyna nudges you as she comes up beside you, "they didn't have Corona, you believe that?" 

"Oh, that's crummy," you say, watching the mam measure his shot. 

"Mmph, I know you don't give a crap," she scoffs, "why didn't you grab a ginger ale?" 

"I'm fine, just had that iced coffee," you shrug. 

She hums again. She knows you don't drink, that this isn't your scene, that you're not exactly a social butterfly, so why does she act so disappointed. She invited you. It's always her idea, never yours. You just go along, otherwise you'd have nothing to do and no friends.  

"Kinda cute," she leans over to whisper, "look at his shoulders..." 

You lower your brow as your cheeks burn. You hadn't really thought of that. Then, you wonder, which one she's talking about. They both have nice shoulders and muscular arms. 

They're strangers! You shouldn't think of that. You uncross your arms and once more clasp your hands together. 

The man finally shoots, calling left pocket. He calls it true. The ball rolls in and his buddy sighs and swears. 

"Nice," Martyna pops her lips off her bottle of flavoured vodka, "our turn." 

She steps and grabs the quarters. The bearded man tilts his head at her and fixes his camouflage cap. His cheek dimples as the other man rounds the table and pats his shoulder, "better luck next time, chap." 

"Isn't luck," the burly one utters and rolls his eyes, "hustler..." 

"And yet you keep falling for it," the other snickers, "come on, I'll buy you a celebratory pint, eh?" The blond turns and strides toward you. "Miss, you're up." 

He offers the cue and your lashes flick. You couldn't see his eyes before. They're so blue. You gulp and accept the wooden stick. 

"Thank you," you squeak. 

Martyna chuckles and grabs the triangle frame from the slot and sets it out. The blond leads away his second, the man with the beard sending a glance at Martyna as she loads the quarters to release the balls. You wait for her to set up, standing back with the cue in hand. You can still feel the warmth of its previous holder's grip. 

Martyna swigs from her bottle and sets it back on the trim. She fluffs her black curls and makes a pouty face. She's not doing that for you. 

You glance behind her, those men are watching. The blond nods cordially and returns his attention to the bar. The beard one continues to leer in Martyna's direction. You spin back. 

"You wanna break?" You ask. 

"Sure, whatevs," she turns to the table. 

You wait patiently as she scatters the balls. She sinks two solids. She's always been better at this than you. You don't mind losing. It doesn't make much of a difference. 

She sinks two more before your turn comes. You regret not grabbing a soda as you mouth grows dry. Martyna is sure to loudly tell you about this guy she works with and how much he wants her. You just humour her with smiles and mhmms. It isn't you she wants to hear her. You know her tricks. 

You sink a stripe, then a solid. Back to Martyna. You aren't very good at the game. Your arm's are too short. Maybe if you could get on the table you'd have a chance but that's not proper. 

She narrows the solids down to two plus the eight ball. You try your hand again. Scratch. But she misses her shot and you get another go. You sink two before you're done. Still, you're behind. 

She empties her bottle, a dramatic gulp that extends her whole body. She outshines you in all aspects; her hair, her looks, her height, her clothes... 

She wiggles her but as she bends to clean up. One ball, then two, then she lines up for the final blow. The eight. She calls the corner. She bounces it easily into the pocket and squees and hops, her shirt doing little to contain her amped up excitement. 

You lean the cue against your arm and give a clap, "good job, Mart," you say. Genuinely. It was fun enough.  

"Aw, you did good," she preens, "how about a rematch? Got any more change?" 

"Ahem," a voice interrupts as you grab your purse. The jangle of change comes from behind you and a shadow steps forward, "perhaps you might want to make it interesting? Fancy a round of pairs?" 

You glance over at the man with blond hair and lilted accent. Well, you look at his sleeve and follow it up. His profile is well-forged. If you had a type, he might be it. You never considered many men, they never considered you either. 

"Pairs?" Martyna toys with proposal coyly and eyes the bearded man as he comes up beside his friend, "I guess it makes sense. But girls vs boys?" 

"No fun," the blond agrees, "we might mix it up, eh?" He grins, "James," he touches his chest, "this is--" 

"Sy," the other man, who you called Syverson, speaks up, "ladies." 

"Martyna," your friend rolls out. 

You offer your name in a pitchy stammer. You already feel like the odd one out. The tension is thick enough to choke you. 

"Sy, fetch us some cues," James demands, "I'll claim a partner," he looks over at you, "do you mind?" 

"Oh, er, yeah, but um, I'm not very good," you say, certain he must have been able to see as much from across the room. 

"I'm certain we'll work fabulously together," he assures. 

"Here," Sy returns with two sticks, nearly jabbing the James with the spare.  

You cling to your cue and fidget. You have no idea what to do now. Someone has to begin. 

"I'll break," Sy insists. 

"Of course, loser's first," James quips. 

He gets an arch of the thick brow in return before Sy bends to aim between two fingers. You dig your nail into the wood of the cue in your hand. James sidles closer, crowding you as you catch a hint of something citrus. 

Sy bends and pulls back the cue. He hits the ball and sends it zooming fast enough to crack the triangle on the other end. The stripes and solids scatter, bouncing all around. James chuckles and leans towards you. 

“You’ll see he’s about strength, he doesn’t realise the significance of precision,” he intones, “I can show you. It isn’t about how hard you hit but the exact angle,” he tilts his hand to demonstrate as the balls still but non fall into the pockets. “Ladies first.” 

You don’t move right away. At first, you don’t get his meaning. You lift the cue and approach the table. You look around. It’s your choice; stripes or solids. Whatever you can get, as usual. 

That number four is hovering right at the side pocket. It’s an easy score. You’ll take it. 

You position yourself, overly aware of your audience. It feels like the whole bare is watching. You blow out your breath and set your sights. You pull back and snap forward. The cue ball wobbles in its path but hits true, knocking the four into the hole. 

It isn’t exactly precise. You stand straight and let out and oomph as your back meets an unexpected wall. James brings his arms up and puts his hands around yours. His proximity is suffocating. 

“You’ve got an easy in on the five,” he advises, guiding you to bend with him as he directs your stick. “Loose,” he wiggles your front hand and squeezes your back hand. “Keep it like this, not too high.” 

He holds you like that for a moment then draws back. He steps to the side and crosses his arms. You focus on the ball, your skin speckling with heat. His scent lingers, perhaps a touch of orange in his cologne. You keep your hold loose and grip tight the butt of the cue. You shoot and the white ball clacks off the red solid, sending it neatly into the corner. 

Martyna giggles and you look up. She’s not laughing at you. Sy is muttering something to her. You blink and stands straight, glancing over at James. You understand what this is but you’re the placeholder, the wing woman, you just keep the friend busy while she has her fun. You know how this ends. 

“You’ve got another go,” James says. 

You nod dumbly and face the table again. You search for your best hope and shift around to the other side. You nearly cross your eyes in your efforts to bounce the ball from one wall into the opposite pocket. You just miss. You cringe and back away. 

Your gaze meets James’ as you find him watching you still. Martyna moves to line up her shot, giggling over her shoulder as she does. As you edge away from her, that man’s eyes follow you. They’re so blue. So, intense. 

You look at the tip of the cue and tap your thumb to the side. You’re in your head. He’s not really staring. When you peek up again, he hasn’t looked away. Not even as you hear the balls hit. He winks and your chest pounds in disbelief.

This can’t be real. 

[flamemittens]

56. playing with their hair

Ask Me No More

Pairing: F!Rogue Trader x Jae Heydari Rating: M Word Count: 1.5K Tags: Alcohol, Smoking, Implied/Referenced Sex A/N: Thank you for the prompt (from this list here)! I got a little carried away, but the 'playing with hair' is in there, I promise :) Also: Efreeti is quite similar to Persian, so I've used an extra Persian phrase in this which is translated at the bottom. Fic is on AO3 too if you prefer.

If her brother could see her now, Nora thinks, he would have two main things to say.

The first, arms flung out as wide as the grin on his face, would be ‘void take me, look at you now, you mad woman’—or bitch, if he’s feeling edgier—and the second? The second would be slid over to her more quiet-like with a slow whistle and a knowing head tilt towards her present companion: ‘what’s going on here, eh sis?’’.

And she would smile, say ‘I don’t know’ and then ‘can you drop it’, and they would laugh and move on to the next thing. There always was something for them to do together, to keep their partnership exciting, and, most importantly, profitable. Until there wasn’t. Until Atti was crushed under the weight of circumstance and betrayal, and she was left to pick up the pieces—of herself, mostly—and move on without him.

Now, she is here. Surrounded by people and wealth and opportunities, the extent of which she has never known the like, levels of which she could not even dream of back when she and Atti—well, before.

Of course, she’s accustomed to constantly being around people, being a lynchpin for those in need of such a thing, living on the edge. That was the life, and she reveled in it as much as she longed for some peace. But in those moments on the Patient Fortune, when the most pressing duties are done, when she retires to her private deck alone and rattles around this opulent, expansive Lord Captain’s suite like a lone lasgun in an empty cargo bay—she feels…an absence of something.

Perhaps that is why she finds herself inviting her current company to her quarters more often than is perhaps prudent. Incidentally, that is an assessment she has heard Abelard make, complete with van Calox’s answering barb that made the old seneschal’s jaw clench so hard she feared it might crumble.

Jae Heydari sits to Nora’s right, legs curled underneath her, one knee resting on Nora’s thigh. Her coat and gloves are discarded over a chair, her boots abandoned somewhere nearby. The belt with its aquila buckle and chains is gone too, cast off with a huff somewhere after the first mouthful of the second glass of high-grade amasec. Tonight is a decidedly more sedate occasion than the last however—the last of course being a regicide match with shots in lieu of pieces, and Nora, in possession of a high tolerance for such things, declared the eventual winner after Jae had to admit defeat and excuse herself.

However new this……friendship—yes, she thinks that is the right descriptor, or at least it will do for now—of theirs is, it is one that gives Nora more than she cares to admit. A thread back to the past, a low lumen light washing over a memory. A space between filled, for a time at least.

She watches as Jae brings the lho stick elegantly balanced between her index and middle fingers to her lips, and takes a long drag.

“Tell me something about Efreet” Nora says, to dispel whatever she is feeling, to not have to follow it back to the source.

For a moment, she thinks the other woman may not answer, but then she is graced with an exhalation and a sly smile. “Are your intellect and memory, famed throughout the Expanse, failing you?” Jae teases. “Have you forgotten everything I have told you so soon, shereen?”

Jae takes another drag, shifts in her seat and leans forward until they are but inches apart. She cups Nora’s chin in one hand with a faint ‘clink’ sound, that of metal against metal as Jae’s fingers come into contact with the augmetics on her jawline. Instinctively, Nora parts her lips, and lets Jae slowly exhale the smoke into her open mouth.

The moment hangs, and Nora’s pulse starts to thud.

And then, through the scent of sweet smoke and florals and warm sand, Nora sees Jae’s dark eyes widen a little as she says, “Jae Amira Fathreen Tameri ash Efreet: humour me. Please.” And the intended meaning slid underneath it—my memory is perfectly fine.

“What is there to tell that you do not already know, shereen?” Jae replies, letting her go and sitting back in the chair. “It is dry, dusty and hot. In places, barren as an Administratum official’s sense of humour. Barely anywhere at all.”

It is a deflection, but in that moment Nora realises she is too relaxed to care, too relaxed to mount a challenge—so she sighs and drops her head back until it rests on the back of the chair. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpses Jae studying her, and somewhere in the back of her mind ponders what this Cold Trader, this consummate dealmaker, sees and what calculations she is making this time. What she will ask for. What Nora knows she can—will—give her, because now, it is all just a drop in the ocean. Even a colony, she thinks, with a smirk. A smart suggestion from Danrok, and one she had to give the man due credit for.

Jae reaches over and deposits what is left of the lho into the ashtray, then turns back, her gaze sweeping over Nora’s form. She takes the closest of Nora’s long braids into her hands, and, with fingers mechanical and flesh, begins to deftly unwind it, twist by twist.

“Exalted One knows, I would much rather learn more about you” she says, voice velvety and low. “An infinitely more interesting topic, by far.”

Nora listens to the soft rustle of fabric, of Jae’s shirt sleeve as it slides against the cushions while she works. The question feels loaded, but Nora asks it anyway. “Very well. What would you ask of me?”

“Perhaps….” Jae pauses, and Nora wonders if she is thinking of something genuinely new to ask or if she is pulling forward a topic already measured for usefulness and stored for the right time. “….perhaps about the world you, the Koronus Expanse’s newest mighty warpstrider, grew up on.”

“Scintilla?”

Jae’s laugh is rich and warm. “Oh shereen, I know all about that world.”

“Baraspine, then? Cogitator cells and pottery, ceramic matter storms that sheer flesh from bone in seconds?”

“Ha! I know more than a few azhi who would benefit from a visit to a place such as that” Jae says, pursing her lips. She finishes the first braid and reaches for the second, and Nora finds herself putting down her glass of amasec and turning slightly to make it easier. The movement brings Jae’s knee to nudge up against the apex of her thighs.

Jae makes it halfway through before she continues. “Is that where you developed your iron stomach for swill and local moonshine alike?”

“Hmmm?”

“They talk of you in Adeptus Amasecus, shereen” she half-whispers, scandalized and conspiratorial, as if she is imparting a salacious secret of some noble house and not the results of a very minor taste test in Footfall’s notorious bar. “The second person to hold down the ‘octane blend’, and not only that, but to not even react!”

“Ah, that. Scintilla and all its charms has the claim there” Nora says.

Braids unwound at last, Jae threads her fingers through the loose strands a few times, skimming the open edge of Nora’s shirt. She slides a hand around the back of Nora’s neck, over her cervical spine augmetic, and, after a brief pause, starts to rake her nails up onto Nora’s scalp with just the perfect amount of pressure.

Nora can’t help the sound that escapes her lips, then—a ceded middle ground between a sigh and a groan. It’s cut off though, swallowed when Jae closes the gap between them and kisses her. She tastes of sweetness and smoke.

“Answer me this, yeki talayi [¹]” Jae says next, after pulling back. “Nora, Nora….Nora.” The way the name rolls smoothly around and off the other woman’s tongue stokes the heat that has been quietly simmering in her belly for the last half-hour—one that has very little to do with the alcohol. “Is that short for something?”

“Yes” Nora replies with feigned indifference, leaving it just there for Jae to pick up the trail.

It works.

“Well?” Jae says, after only a few seconds have slipped by. “Do not keep me in suspense.”

“Yes” Nora repeats, She clears her throat and gestures with a level of whimsical theatrics that she knows Jae will appreciate: “It’s short for ‘Lord Captain Nora Von Valancius’.”

A deflection of her own.

Jae throws her head back and laughs. “Do not think I will never get it out of you, shereen. And in the meantime, we will have so much fun together!”

Later, in her too-large Lord Captain’s bed, when at last Jae draws the flat of her tongue along the seam of her cunt, Nora thinks that she can agree with the sentiment for now.

****

Translation: [1] 'yeki talayi' = 'golden one' (Persian)

[ficnation]

Chapter 5

Series: The Cockroach

Word count: 1,5k+

Pairings: Negan Smith x Female! Reader; Lucille Smith x Female! Reader; Negan Smith x Lucille Smith

Warnings: injuries, usual twd themes

A/n: It's all getting a little bit complicated...

If you're not on the taglist but would like to be tagged, let me know!

Main Masterlist || "The Cockroach" Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

You woke up feeling like absolute shit.

Not just the regular, run-of-the-mill “I didn’t sleep well” kind of shit. No, this was a special kind of misery—the kind that made you feel like you’d either been hit by a truck or had the worst night of your life in the city, drinking cheap whiskey and making terrible decisions. Except, in this case, the whiskey was your own tears, and the bad decision was apparently existing.

For one blissfully dumb second, in your half-conscious state, you thought, Maybe it was just a bad dream.

Then you shifted.

Pain exploded through your ribs like a goddamn firecracker, and you let out a noise that could only be described as a dying cat attempting opera.

Negan’s voice came from across the room. “Well, good fuckin’ morning to you too, sunshine. You sound like a goddamn feral possum.”

You cracked one eye open, vision still blurry. “I thought it was more like a dying cat.”

Negan took a slow sip from a steaming mug, his smirk evident even with half his face buried behind it. “Eh. Tomato, tomahto. Either way, you sound like something that needs to be put outta its misery.”

You scowled at him but didn’t have the energy to argue. Not when the pain was this bad. Instead, your gaze flickered to the mug in his hands. You expected the rich aroma of coffee, but instead, it smelled like burnt dirt water.

Figures. He would drink black coffee that tastes like despair.

“Don’t be mean,” Lucille scolded as she stirred something in a bowl nearby. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly, and your stomach clenched in response. It had been… what? A few days since you’d eaten anything? Maybe longer?

Negan huffed, leaning back in his chair. “I ain’t bein’ mean, I’m bein’ observant. Like a motherfuckin’ scientist. And science tells me our girl here got her ass handed to her.”

You grumbled as you attempted to sit up. Every muscle in your body immediately filed a formal complaint. “Pretty sure I got hit by a truck.”

Negan smirked. “Yeah, well, you sure as hell look like you did, sweetheart. Some sadistic asshole had a vendetta against your face.”

Your stomach twisted. Murphy.

You had to find him.

Lucille must have noticed the panic creeping in because she was at your side in an instant, pressing a warm hand against your arm. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here. You don’t have to talk yet, but we do need to know—who did this to you?”

Negan, ever the subtle one, added, “’Cause if you tell us, I got some spare time today to go introduce their skulls to a baseball bat.”

Lucille shot him a glare. “Negan.”

“What?” he shrugged, looking unbothered. “I’m just sayin’, if someone’s out there treatin’ her like a damn punching bag, it’d be real rude of me not to return the favor.”

Despite everything—the bruises, the pain, the overwhelming weight of it all—you let out a weak chuckle. Because, really, what kind of world was this where murder threats were comforting?

Lucille sighed, rubbing your back gently. “Ignore him. He has all the emotional sensitivity of a brick.”

Negan scoffed, placing a hand over his chest. “I am deeply offended by that, Lucille. I have layers. Like an onion. A very charming, profanity-ridden onion.”

“You’re making her laugh at a very inappropriate time,” Lucille muttered, though her voice held undeniable fondness.

Negan grinned. “I call it trauma bonding. It’s a service I provide free of charge.”

Despite everything, despite the pain and fear still clinging to you, you smiled. It was small, fleeting, but it was real. The weight of what happened hadn’t gone away, but at least, for now, you weren’t alone.

Lucille handed you a bowl of whatever concoction she’d been making. “Eat first. Then we’ll figure things out.”

You hesitated for just a moment before taking the spoon. You had a long way to go, but for the first time since you’d run here, you felt like you could breathe.

And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t entirely broken yet.

You woke up groggy and sore, your body still a battlefield of aches, but at least the pain had dulled to a constant throb instead of the full-blown rebellion it had been before. The scent of something warm and familiar filled the room, coaxing you into awareness.

Slowly, you sat up, wincing as your ribs protested. Your surroundings came into focus—Lucille at the portable camping stove, stirring something in a dented pot, her movements slow but practiced. Across from her, Negan sat at the table, idly flipping through a battered deck of cards, shuffling and cutting them like he had all the time in the world.

For a moment, it was almost peaceful. Almost.

Then Negan opened his goddamn mouth.

Without even looking up, he drawled, “Well, look who finally decided to rejoin the land of the fuckin’ living.”

You blinked, still shaking off the last bits of sleep. Apparently, a simple good morning wasn’t part of Negan’s vocabulary.

“How long was I out?” you rasped, your throat dry and voice hoarse.

Lucille turned, offering you a gentle smile. There was warmth in her gaze, something soft that eased the sharp edges of your discomfort. “A couple of days,” she said. “You had a fever for a bit. Your body wasn’t handling all this stress and the injuries too well.”

Negan, never one to let a moment of tenderness breathe, added, “Yeah. Lotta moanin’. Lotta tossin’ and turnin’. Real dramatic shit. Thought we had a goddamn soap opera star in our bed.”

The flick of his cards echoed in the quiet, and you rubbed your face, too drained to fire back just yet.

Lucille, ever patient, ladled some soup into a bowl and set it beside you. “Eat. You need it.”

You hesitated, stomach tight with knots, but the smell was too good to ignore. Your fingers curled around the bowl’s warmth.

Negan’s gaze was on you before you even took a bite, his tone light but edged. “You allergic to soup, or just plannin’ to sit there starin’ at it all day?”

You shot him a glare but finally picked up the spoon. The first sip was scalding, but it was rich, full of flavor—comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. The warmth settled into your bones, easing something inside you that had been clenched tight for too long.

“Didn’t realize hospitality came with a time limit,” you muttered, mostly to spite him.

Negan snorted. “Ain’t got much of it to begin with, sweetheart. But you can thank my wife for that.” He gestured toward Lucille. “She’s the nice one. And apparently, she likes your annoying ass far too much.”

“Negan.” Lucille’s voice carried a quiet warning.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “What? Just makin’ an observation. Like a scientist.”

You ignored him and kept eating, but you weren’t the only one noticing things.

The way Negan shifted in his seat. The way his fingers drummed against the table. The way his eyes flicked to you, then away, like you were an eyesore he was forcing himself not to acknowledge too much.

Finally, he exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering something under his breath before speaking up again.

“So. What’s the plan, then?”

You frowned, mid-spoonful. “What plan?”

Negan gestured vaguely at you. “Your grand fuckin’ plan. You gonna stay here forever? Set up shop in my goddamn bed?”

The bite in his tone was subtle, but it was there.

Your grip on the spoon tightened. “Didn’t realize I had an eviction notice already.”

Negan shrugged. “Ain’t about that. It’s just—I got enough shit on my plate, alright?”

Lucille looked between you both before settling on Negan, her tone even but firm. “She’s staying. We’re not throwing her out, and you know it.”

Negan let out a long-suffering groan. “Jesus Christ. End of the world, and I still can’t win an argument.”

With a grumble, he pushed up from the table, snatching up his cards as he headed for the door.

“Two of you naggin’ me. Just my goddamn luck,” he muttered before disappearing outside.

Silence lingered before you turned to Lucille.

“He’s a real joy to be around.”

She smiled tiredly. “He’s… complicated.”

“That’s one word for it.”

@whiskeypowder @hopefulatrocity @witheringblooddemon @humanmistakes @yttricuz @twdeadlysins @donttelltheelff @spidergirla5 @sexyseabass @sweetpotatospock @witchygagirl @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @theoraekenslover @thatlebronchick @acezeyez @timeladyrikaofgallifrey

[dragonagegayz]

🤲🏻WIP WHENEVA🤲🏻

Thank you to the incredibly talented @woundedsoul12 for the tag🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Is anyone surprised I’m working on another Modern AU of Aren ( @whispersleo ‘s Rook that makes me feral) and Oz prompt fill? :) I’m in brain rot hell and imma have to be dragged out by my ankles

Very unedited cause it’s meeeee

Oz looked stunning.

He really did, even under the yellowing lights of the old motel the two found themselves in, standing in the main office waiting for the manager to get back. They had gone a few towns over, Aren hadn’t been kidding when he said he wanted to get Oz something nice from his race winnings nearly a week ago and so they ended up going to one of the fanicer stores to get a coat. Sure, they got a ton of stares while in the store, Oz wasn’t ever one to tone himself down so to say they stood out was only the surface. Their looks didn’t help, them being qunari definitely didn’t help and when one of the clerks came by to see if they needed any help, Aren could feel her sneer from the few feet they stood apart. If it hadn’t been for Oz’s warm hand in his jacket pocket, fingers laced together, it could have ended very bad for the sour faced bitch.

But once he saw Oz getting to play drewss up, the younger man flaunting around in different articles of clothing until finally they came to this luxious, fur lather coat. It was long, even on the tall qunari, with tufts of fur at the sleeves a collar, the squeaking sound of leather everytime the man moved much to his amusement. It was tight too, showing off Oz’s curves in just the right place, the places where Aren found his hands always wished to settle on when he could touch. The younger man had looked at him, there had been a true sprakle in his eyes.

“This is the one,” He had the widest grin on his face, the slightest dimple of the left side showing as he smiled. Aren had nodded, smiling back. “WHatever you want pretty boy,”

They had checked out (WIth that same sour faced bitch who gave them both the widest eyes when Aren pulled out the cash, counting it obniously slow just to rub it in her face) and something about Oz int eh coat, it started to drive Aren a little feral. They two had climbed back on his motorcycle, Oz’s car was in the shop again, Oz lacing his finger around the other’s stomach and reaching up to place a kiss to the ebase of his neck. “Thank you baby,” He had whispered, breath playing against the skin under his lips. It took everything in Aren not to turn around and bend the man over right there and then, Oz knew exactly what the act he was putting on would lead to, probably was doing it on purpose.

As the two started to drive home, ready for the 3 hour journey back a set of rain clouds had rumbled by, much to Oz’s displeasure and he let his whines be known. Being the priness he was, Oz hated driving in the rain and would insist they stop and wait it out or get a place for the night so they don’t risk it at all. Aren always thought of it as him being a baby, once showing that water must melt Oz musch to the younger man’s screaming annoyance. The redhead realized ealirer on that the fight that would break out between the two about driving in the rain was never one he would win so usually he would stop and do whatever it was the other man wanted, never wanting to fight over something so stupid.

So that was how they found themselves in some run down motel, standing in the office waiting for that damn manager. Somewho, someway, the younger qunair still looked absolutely stunning, maybe it was the coat, maybe it was the few raindrops that clung to his hair, maybe it was just the man in general but whatever it was he was gorgeous. And damn if Aren didn’t want to just bend him over right there, to grind their hips together and feel the heat come off of the other’s body. There was a stash of toys hidden in one of his bags on his bike, he could always get one and push into Oz without much fanfare, just take him over this stanragers desk and see how long it would take for her to come back, to see what they were doing. WOuld they manage to finish up just in time for her to come in and they would have rumbpled clothes, red cheeks, heavy breathing? His skin itched to touch, and just as he was reaching out for his boyfriend, the sound of the motel door opening came and Aren dropped his hand away staring at the lady who just walked in.

[sobbingscripter]

hey pookie💗

I’ve been tryna get into writing and was hoping maybe you could provide tips on how to make your blog look aesthetic and how to make the banners and headers for your fixs look cute instead of boring??

Idk why but I love this question so much. Just makes me feel so helpful.

So, I'm guessing your pinned post is gonna go like,

'welcome to my blog' (or a variation)

Then like, a few stuff about you and your blog.

Then it spreads off into:

'masterlists'

And like eh

Eh

Eh

Eh

Etc.

The 'eh's are fandoms btw.

So, if it's like, according to that (I'm using my own pinned post as a template btw), then like, okay, we can work it well.

Apps you'll need is like, Tumblr (obvs); PicArt (I swear up and down on this) and Pinterest

⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.

⊹🌷♡ pinned post ♡🌷⊹

This is like, the only part where you get your creativity like... Mad crazy.

So, the main part with this is you need to pick a colour or two. Like, mine currently, is pink. I don't even like pink, ngl. But it's cute and it's growing on me.

So like, for each of my wordy things, is like... I go into PicsArt and select a blank background. And then, I go crazy. Pick a gradient, or a colour or if you wanna be fancy, you can get a picture on Pinterest and use that as a textured background from your gallery.

Then, you use the brushes option to add like, sparkles and shit. And like, if they don't have a charm-y thing, you can always add one using the sticker option.

But like, that's for all the word parts.

Your pfp and the background picture thingy, idk what it's called, but they need to be of a similar palette. Like, looking at your pfp now, it looks like dark neutrals. Like, a deep maroon would go so crazy.

But like, I think you get that part. You'd need whatever type of section-er you think you would.

Like, 'welcome to my blog', 'about me', 'about my blog' (which would basically be rules), 'masterlists'.

⊹🌷♡ dividers ♡🌷⊹

These can either match with your pinned post aesthetic, or with the fic itself. Personally, mine are pink to match with my pinned post. Because its a little tedious to make a new divider to match with EACH and EVERY fic.

They're simple to make. And I usually just use the brush tool on PicsArt. Although, you can use the text tool like:

This one (above) is with the texting tool. And I added the bows with the brush tool. (Added bows from the sticker adding function)

The flowers, (below) are the brush tool. Very simple and cute.

⊹🌷♡ posts ♡🌷⊹

*sharp inhale*

So, there are like... A few ways of how I stylised my posts.

But I only really found my way (omg, so dramatic) but I only found my pattern around like, when I wrote my Nanami fic (my literal baby, it's my bedtime story).

But like, the process of making the banner is:

pick an icon of the character

go into PicsArt and pick a blank background, crop it (I use the Twitter header size)

use the colour dropper, pick one of the colours from the icon that you wanna use and colour it in (with the draw tool).

Then, basically just plot the picture somewhere and go crazy with the decorating.

And then, usually, I come up with the title after I'm done with the fic.

But with the title, I use the base colour of the banner. And like, I plot the title between emojis

Like, I currently use ⋆⭒˚.⋆ this ⋆⭒˚.⋆

But for Our Turn🌼, I used 𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨ this ୧₊˚⑅⋆𓈒

But what I did was like, I go on Google and search for 'coquette emojis' and I go into the first website that pops up, and I copy and pin to my clipboard.

And my sequence is like:

Title

Banner

Tags

Divider

Fic

Divider

⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚🌸༘⋆⋆.˚

But i think that's all that I can really explain when it comes to making a cute blog. Like, I've seen some CRAZY cute blogs.

And they make me so jelly, istg.

But I vowed to only change my blog aesthetic on my birthday (as a present because I love decorating), which is why I switched from the blue to the pink.

But if you have any other questions, you can send them my way, I'm always happy to help 🩷🩷

[aquared]

ok i guess ill give you guys your one point scrap of the day . just like old times , eh ?

yeah shuffledeck . i wont be tagging this in any special way cause im just gonna use it as an info post and ill post the finished kid sprite lineup later when its done . which probably shouldnt take too long but im gonna take long anyways . shuffledeck is still on an indefinite hiatus but i thought itd be worth it to say that when i actually have stuff for it again it’ll be completely different , other than like the main swaps and stuff , but i assume thats a given . old shuffledeck was a MESS i had no idea what i was doing (except i did it just sucked) (atleast . i thought it did) . i was super inconsistent (couldnt decide one thing for bit) and i got burnt out , unhappy with how it was turning out , and eventually lost interest (but knowing my interest pattern i knew id be back eventually or atleast every now and then.) so i decided to trash the whole thing (ok not really but like mostly). while im not sure what exactly ill be doing with it in the long run i just know it’s gonna be different from whatever i had in mind initially and whenever i figure it out im gonna Stick to it lawl . new era of shuffledeck . its better this way , i promise . becasue its my au and i do what i want 🤒 . but like mostly cause i think itll be better .

im giving it a new tag too , for like new differenciation reasons the old one isnt going anywhere also it was long and annoying to type HEHAH . ill try not too wear it out too much ! i made a new blog to put new shuffledeck stuff on too , @shuffledeckmspfa , theres nothing there right now i only made it in advance ! ill try not to wear it out too much x2 !!!! ummmm . i dont know what else to say . i hope you enjoy this direction i take ? i geuss ??

i made a lineup for fun . arent they cute .

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Wish there were more people like you who were open to exploring dynamics between two characters in an alternate universe where they are not bound by familial relationship/title or whatever it's called. I get it tsams/tlaes have a lot of family things going on and a-specs things but eh what do I expect from a fandom that started the hate on sunxmoon shippers? I'll continue shipping sunxmoon, eclipsexsun, solarxmoon and solarxearth(thanks to that one anon from before for introducing me to this) not as family related, and the fandom can suck it

Honestly.

Like one person told me "Moon and Solar are brothers" once.

And?..

They're not.

That's like saying Ink and Dream or something from the Undertale Au verse are brothers cause they're alternate realities of eachother and people ship them all the time???

"but they have the same face"

So???

So does Lolbit and Funtime Foxy. They're a couple in SBshow verse.

Mickey and Minnie mouse have the same face and no one raises stink about the most classic example of same face syndrome.

They're robots and I think physical appearance matters very little to them in the grand scheme of things. But that might just be my demisexual ass talking.

On a side note, I know the VA for Earth, Aka: Kat has been very "ship and let ship" with the fandom. And I think that's why in the Solar therapy session, she clarified that she knows Solar isn't biologically related. Technically none of them are, she just wants to consider him part of the family.

I remember awhile back the fandom was so hostile to people who saw Lunar as an adult and would draw him in adult situations. (Like taxes/half joking you know what I mean)

And I believe that was the last big drama the actors like Davis was directly involved in before he took a step back from that and told the fandom to sort it out themselves. And I really don't blame him. There are people who are crazy and just feel entitled to things.

And in more recent episodes, Lunar has stated more frequently that he is an adult animatronic of sound mind who can make his own decisions, so that they can put that issue to bed with the discourse.

(I personally think that gen1/2 Lunar was very much a kid psychology and through the course of the course of the show, and due to his experiences and truama he grows up in two years and he's a young adult now. This reflects in every time he has a model change or appearance.)

See this is what I mean when I say they are robots. Robots can grow up from 13 to 24 (approximately) in the span of two years. Robots can change their mind about family dynamics and say "you know what I think that i don't feel like a cousin, as what I feel for Moon is more intense then familiar bonds. So I change my mind." And this is allowed. This is allowed. Like I would not think this way about human characters.

People in the transformers fandom are really familiar with this concept as well. At least the few people I talk to from an outsider perspective. The transformers robots change their relationships in canon to eachother all the time from what I hear.

And yes. I know tsams is focused on themes of family and found family and togetherness. Like I'm not media illiterate. I know what one of the themes are. For some reason, people think I don't know tsams is about family.

Like bruh.

This whole show took two years for them to build the family and support network they all have with eachother when before the show was a toxic family relationship with Sun and Moon only. And I think it's beautiful how it evolved and how many characters there are and how big the family is now!

It's great!

And I do separate in my brain what's going on in canon and what's going on in my shipping brain.

This doesn't mean I can have fun on the side. With silly speculations and silly headcanons.

Giggling to myself and twirling my hair about the "what ifs" and aus

Staying out of the main tags and talking to my own friends with my own company.

While also analyzing the show and leaving tsams lots of long lovely YouTube comments about what the show is actually about.

Also. Consider this.

Since the multiverse is canon in tsams, in definition, by their own rules, there is a universe where everything in tsams is the same, except your ship is canon.

Evil!Sun even said that Sun and Moon being brothers is more rare across dimensions then we initially assumed.

So they're either enemies, strangers, they killed eachother, or something else.

They only are brothers after their canon event of separating and agreeing to work together. So there are some universes where that never happened.

Meaning most likely that our Moon's portal runs on a central finite curve.

So take that as you will.

[alexawynters]

Scarlet Whispers pt. 7

Gif not mine

A/N: A first date. Ish. Also, I do not understand fashion, can't put together an outfit irl to save my life. I had to do much googling and running the descriptions by several people before I deemed it "acceptable". Again, edited while stoned. Lissen. Lissen. It helps with my seizures more than any medications ever have and now that I'm allowed to smoke again, I will be. I wrote this while in the hospital if I recall so hopefully the time I was able to dedicate to it shines through?? Eh.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Trigger warnings (let me know if I forgot to tag anything): Mentions of past child abuse, stalking, horror, dubcon, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, gaslighting, angst, smut. There will be bits of fluff tho.

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Masterlist with parts 1-6 here

When Wanda told you that morning she had a surprise planned, you weren't quite sure what to expect. As a woman with the ability to bend reality, the possibilities were endless. You inquired about the dress code, hoping for some insight into where she might be taking you. However, she left you puzzled when she said you could wear whatever you were comfortable in. When you sought clarification, expressing concerns about being under or overdressed, she delighted in flustering you. “Detka, you could wear a paper bag, and you would still be the most beautiful person in the room.”

You resisted the urge to flee the room when you saw the hungry look she gave you. Stumbling over your words, unsure of what you had said, you simply nodded and went back to your room to get ready. Soft chuckles echoed down the hall as you left, and you were thankful she couldn't see the pink dusting your cheeks. It was clear that she knew the effect she had on you, and her laughter confirmed it. It seemed like flustering you was her favorite pastime, and she had stopped pretending otherwise. Unsure of what to do with this information, you searched your closets for something suitable for the day.

Uncertain about the plan, but wanting to strike a balance between casual and dressed up, you decided to wear a dove grey short-sleeved button-up shirt. This choice exuded a casual yet polished vibe. The short sleeves provided a relaxed and laid-back appearance, while the button-up style added a touch of sophistication. Rolling up the sleeves suggested a practical and comfortable approach, perfect for a less formal setting. If Wanda were to take you somewhere slightly fancier, you could always unroll the sleeves.

For the pants, you decided to go with black slim-fit chinos. They offer adaptability, comfort, and the ability to seamlessly transition between different dress codes and occasions. You paired them with a simple black leather belt with silver accents. As for the shoes, you selected black and white Bruno Marc Rivera Oxfords. These shoes strike a balance between the formality of dress shoes and the relaxed comfort fit of sneakers.

Once you had picked out your outfit, you headed to the bathroom to get ready. Unlike witchy, you didn't have magic to speed up the process. Wanda hadn't given you a specific time limit, but it was probably better to get ready sooner rather than later. After a quick shower, you applied a simple layer of tinted moisturizer to your face. Feeling more prepared, you got dressed and made your way to the main hall to meet Wanda.

You were wholly unprepared for the sight that greeted you.

Before you stood Wanda, dressed in a red and black half turtleneck striped knitted peek-a-boo sweatshirt. The collar doesn't reach Wanda's chin, giving a tantalizing view of her neck, and the shoulder cutouts accentuate her defined muscles. She has paired the sweatshirt with faux leather dress leggings and black high-heeled booties. Her fingers are adorned with several silver rings, and you try not to imagine how they would feel if she were to touch you. As you take in her entire appearance, you gulp. Finally, your eyes meet, and Wanda grins knowingly, making you blush bright pink, and you know she has likely heard your thoughts.

“You look great, Wands.” you complimented, shyly.

The witch preens at your praise and returns it in kind. “You look pretty handsome yourself, detka. Are you ready to go?”

“Well since you won’t tell me where we’re going, I suppose so.” you tease, hoping she will relent and tell you the surprise.

Wanda simply smirks at your attempt and opens a portal behind her. Gesturing "after you," she invites you to confidently step through ahead of her. There was a time when you would have been terrified to go through any magical portal without Wanda physically by your side. However, you had seen enough of her skill to know that nothing bad would happen to you. As soon as you step through the portal, you find yourself facing a fish tank that spans an entire wall. Your heart soars with joy as you realize that Wanda has brought you to an aquarium, one of your favorite animal exhibits.

A soft hand slipped into yours and you heard the warm timbre of Wanda’s voice next to your ear. You could tell she was smiling. "Surprise."

You turned to look at the witch, your gaze filled with awe and gratitude. The only time you had ever been to the aquarium was during a school field trip, which you had managed to afford with some money you had scrounged up over the course of a few weeks. No one had ever taken the initiative to treat you to the aquarium before.

Wanda smiled warmly at you. "I know you feel anxious in large groups of people, so I rented the place just for us. You can take your time exploring any of the displays without worrying about anyone getting in your way. We have the entire day, dorogoya, and I have another surprise planned for dinner." She gently squeezed your hand and gave you a quick wink.

A gentle warmth fluttered in your chest, as if a burden had been lifted. No one had ever shown such thoughtfulness and kindness towards you. The fact that Wanda had listened attentively when you shared your fondest childhood memory of visiting the aquarium, and went out of her way to recreate that experience for you just to see you happy, made your heart feel alive like never before.

Overflowing with appreciation and joy, you couldn't help but throw yourself into the witch's arms. With her reflexes honed during her time with the Avengers, she caught you in a gentle embrace. As she felt her sweatshirt becoming damp with your tears, Wanda was about to ask what was wrong, but before she could utter a word, you whispered a quivering "thank you" while holding onto her tightly.

For Wanda, this didn't feel like the anticipated victory. Instead, her focus was solely on how perfect it felt to have you in her arms, as if that was how it should always be. She had missed you so much. While being the big spoon every night technically meant she was still holding you, it was a completely different experience for you to actively seek out her touch. Now that you were, Wanda never wanted to let you go.

She whispered comforting words to you while holding you, with one hand gently playing with your hair as you calmed down. After what felt like both an eternity and not enough time, you released yourself from her embrace and wiped away some of your tears. You apologized, feeling embarrassed. In a gesture of comfort and intimacy, Wanda's thumb wiped away the remaining tears from your face.

“You never have to apologize for your feelings, Y/N. Not to me. I am glad you trust me enough to be so vulnerable.”

You watched, dazed, as Wanda brought her thumb, the same one that had just wiped away your tears, to her mouth. While maintaining direct eye contact with you, she slowly inserted her thumb into her mouth and used her tongue to clean your tears from it.

“Uh.. Yeah. S-sure.” Ever the quick wit from you…

Pillow-like lips curved playfully. "Come on, detka, let's see what this place has to offer?" The witch extended her hand to you, and in your daze, you accepted it. She simply had to guide you to the first exhibit before your initial shock gave way to excitement for the day. Soon, you were practically bouncing from one plexiglass panel to another, enthusiastically discussing the beautiful fish you encountered. Throughout the entire experience, you never released Wanda's hand, and she was thrilled to let you hold on.

Wanda was captivated by your innocent excitement. Her laughter tinkled melodically as you narrated the fish's experiences to her, even going so far as giving them names. Your enthusiasm for your special interest, your extensive knowledge about fish surpassing her own, and your ability to provide additional details not found on the descriptive plaques, left Wanda gazing at you with love and amusement in her eyes. Of course, you were too engrossed in the beautiful fish to notice, and she happily listened to your enthusiastic info dumping.

As you explored the aquarium, you couldn't help but wonder if this feeling of joy was what children often experienced. Being able to take in the exhibits at your own pace, with Wanda attentively listening to your ramblings, made you feel carefree and happier than ever before. Never diminishing your enthusiasm; Wanda remained engaged throughout, even asking follow-up questions to your explanations. It didn't occur to you, but you hadn't let go of each other's hands almost the entire time, and it seemed that neither of you had any intention of doing so anytime soon.

The highlight of the experience was when you and Wanda turned the corner and you found yourselves in an outdoor viewing area that led to an enclosure. As you approached, your excitement grew - it was an interactive penguin encounter! A person dressed in a wetsuit entered through a door at the back of the enclosure and made their way towards you, indicating that they were ready to let you in. After opening the gate, they introduced themselves and warmly welcomed both of you. You turned to Wanda in disbelief, unable to contain your excitement about the opportunity to play with real, live penguins!

Wanda smiled tenderly at your surprise and gently nudged you to follow the trainer into the enclosure. Your hands only now separated, and you almost, almost wanted to skip the adorable birds just so you could continue holding the witch's hand. Excitement prevailed in the end though because how often does one get the chance to pet penguins?

The trainer went to get a bucket of fish and brought it over to you, demonstrating how to entice the penguins to your side. Although the semi-frozen fish felt disgusting when touched, you were willing to endure any uncomfortable texture rather than miss out on this opportunity. With bait in hand, you beckoned to a nearby penguin, waving the fish to gain its attention. Success! The penguin waddled over to you, and you tried to not to lose your shit at how adorable the bird was.

The penguins were clearly accustomed to human interaction. They showed no hesitation in getting close to you to retrieve their dinner. You had anticipated having to throw a fish or two before the penguins would come close enough to touch, but to your surprise, one of the penguins allowed you to pet it while it enjoyed it's meal.

All the while, Wanda stayed in the background, capturing countless pictures, and several videos of you cooing and awing over the birds. By now you had a waddle of penguins surrounding you, and you were thrilled to interact with each and every one of them, not wanting any to feel left out. Eventually it was time to go, but you insisted the trainer take a picture of you and Wanda crouching with the penguins, Wanda feeling overjoyed that you wanted her to be included in this memento.

At first, she stood slightly to the side, positioned to be in the photo but not to draw the focus from you. However, you weren't having any of that, wrapping your arm around her waist and pulling her gently into your side. She laughed at your enthusiasm, grateful for the gesture. While the trainer took the photo, your smile shifted from the camera to Wanda, filled with adoration for arranging such an amazing day for you. Unaware of your change in focus, the witch was too absorbed in the pleasant feeling of being pulled close to your side while the picture was taken.

At last, it was time to go, and the aquarium employee led you guys to where you could wash your hands. Throughout you were waxing poetic about how this was the best experience of your life, and you were pretty sure you were going to go to sleep that night dreaming about penguins. You couldn’t wait to print out the last picture of the two of you and frame it. You thanked the witch profusely.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, detka. I only wanted to provide you with a memorable experience.” Wanda smiled at you fondly.

“It certainly was that! I don’t think anything could ever top today!”

The witch grinned. “The day isn’t over just yet, dorogaya, we still have a little bit more.”

Your eyes widened. “More? What more could there possibly be?”

“Not much, but it is time for dinner, and why go elsewhere when the aquarium has it’s own restaurant?”

You weren’t going to lie, you had expected the restaurant to be cafeteria style, but you weren't disappointed by the idea. So, when you and Wanda walked in and saw the cozy, dimly lit restaurant, you were pleasantly surprised. In the center, there was a tube-shaped tank stretching from the floor to the ceiling, filled with some of the most vibrantly colored fish you had ever seen. The restaurant itself seemed to curve around this centerpiece as if it was made to showcase the tank. It probably had been.

There was limited seating available, with only one table already set up to host, situated right next to the tank. The table was adorned with a crisp navy linen tablecloth, plush chairs, and a small candle, creating an atmosphere of intimate seclusion. As the maître d’ guided both of you to the seating area, you couldn't help but marvel at the beautiful setting. Despite being a local attraction, this restaurant exuded a sense of luxury. Before the host could pull out your chair for you, Wanda intervened, gesturing for you to sit. Blushing, you followed her instructions, feeling pleasantly taken care of, as she carefully pushed your chair closer to the table and then took a seat herself.

The maître d’ introduced themselves and informed you that your waiter would be with you both shortly. Taking the time to get situated, Wanda asked you how you were enjoying your day so far. Naturally you launched into excited chatter about how wonderful it was, how happy you were to be here, and how thankful you were that Wanda had arranged this for you. You were practically gushing in your gratitude.

“Speaking of, witchy, how did you manage to pull this off anyway? Just out of curiosity. It can’t have been easy to get this done in such a short time frame.”

A wry grin spread across Wanda's face. "You'd be surprised what a little bit of magic and a black card can achieve." She winked, causing your stomach to flutter, and you gulped.

“Well consider me impressed. I think if I were to ever try the same thing, there would probably have a waitlist for a couple years.” You chuckled.

The pair of you settled into easy conversation, covering yours and Wanda’s favorite sights that day.

Of course, your favorite part was the penguins. How could it not be? Not only did you get to see them up close and personal, but you were also able to feed and pet them. You couldn't contain your excitement about printing out the picture, though intentionally not asking to see it on her phone because you didn't want to know what date would show, or if Wanda would even allow you to look. You didn't want to risk spoiling a perfectly good day by asking too many questions and potentially putting the witch in a bad mood.

Wanda's favorite was also the penguins, mainly because she found you incredibly adorable when you interacted with them. Witnessing your happiness, carefree nature and knowing that she had played a part in bringing that joy to you, made her immensely happy.

"I'm glad you're having a good time, detka. You know I would do anything for you," she said, her tone soft and inviting, as she took your hand in hers. Hearing the sincerity in her words, once again you felt upset with yourself for ever doubting her intentions. How could you even think she would betray you in any way? The touch of her hand on yours brought you back to the present moment, and a comforting feeling of warmth spread within you.

Just then, the waiter approached and introduced themselves, asking if you needed a moment or if you were ready to order. Anxiety immediately clouded your mind as you realized you hadn't even opened the menu yet. Before your panic could set in though, Wanda spoke up and ordered for both of you. It was interesting to you, because in past experiences you aggressively disliked when someone ordered for you without consulting you first. This time however you felt surprisingly comforted by it.

Perhaps it was because Wanda was a mind reader, or maybe she just knew you well enough to choose the perfect meal for you. Either way, you were more than content with the meal she had picked. Not to mention the warm feeling blooming in your chest at Wanda, having no doubt noticed your anxiety, had simply taken charge of the moment, so you didn't even have to think.

Once the food arrived, you realized that you were in fact ravenous. The embarrassingly loud growl from your stomach served as a reminder that neither you nor Wanda had eaten anything since breakfast. Sharing a knowing glance, you both burst into giggles. The food turned out to be even more delicious than anything you had ever expected, and you attributed it all to the witch standing before you. An immense sense of gratitude towards Wanda washed over you and you weren't sure if you could ever properly express it.

You glanced at the witch after taking your first bite and were surprised to see her thin hazel irises almost entirely eclipsed by blown pupils. Blinking, you replayed the last thirty seconds in your head to understand what had happened and realized that you might have accidentally moaned at the taste of the incredible food. Oops.

Meanwhile, Wanda's food remained on her fork, halfway to her mouth. The intensity of her gaze made you squirm, feeling as if she would prefer to devour you instead of the food currently on her fork. Your cheeks turned pink, and you coughed, feeling embarrassed.

You mumbled quietly, "The food is amazing."

Voice husky, thick with an emotion you weren’t sure you were ready to name, Wanda replied, “I’m glad you are enjoying it, lyubov moya. Eat as much as you want, if you want more, we can always order extra.” She finally took the bite which had been suspended, all the while never breaking eye contact with you. You subtly rubbed your thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure caused by the increased blood flow to your core.

You quickly redirected your attention to your dinner, trying not to wolf it down in an attempt to distract yourself from the tension. Although you weren't completely certain about the situation, it seemed a possibility that the witch was flirting with you. The atmosphere had suddenly become so tense, and you struggled to understand it. Lack of experience with romantic partners, coupled with your tendency to feel awkward when someone you liked showed even the slightest interest, made it difficult for you. It's no surprise that your social ineptitude often prevented many romantic connections from flourishing in the first place.

Sensing your unease, Wanda swiftly breezed onto another topic. There would be an opportunity to press later on, but it was important to find the right balance between pursuing you and scaring you off. Luckily, she had plenty of time to make it work. And being able to read minds certainly helped.

Grateful for the reprieve, you effortlessly transitioned to the new topic, and suddenly everything felt right again. The rest of dinner went by without any further incidents, and you could honestly say that this day was possibly the best moment of your life.

Wanda appeared to understand your desires, needs, and worries with practiced ease. You had very few friends before meeting her, but after today, you would consider her to be your favorite person. Sure, there had been a few hiccups along the way, and perhaps some concerning signs that you should probably investigate further, but overall, Wanda made you feel secure and content. That was more than enough for you to view things through some rose-tinted glasses as you found yourself yearning for more of her time and attention.

All good things must come to an end, and eventually, the waiter arrived with the check. True to her word, Wanda discreetly presented her black card for payment, aiming to do so in a subtle manner that was not ostentatious. As you both stood to leave, you subtly glanced at the bill, eyes widening at the price as well as the generous tip she left. She had not been kidding about her funds, and briefly, you wondered where the money came from. You hadn't known Wanda to have a job the entire time you had known her. Then again, perhaps the superhero gigs had paid well? You had half a mind to ask her about it later, but knowing you, it would probably be forgotten.

Once out of sight of the aquarium staff, the witch opened a portal back to your cottage. With her arm still around you, you both headed home.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

[ronearoundblindly]

Ooh ooh can we do D Y Z for Lloyd please? I absolutely love this game!

From this dirty ask game, but Z - Zones has already been answered here.

This game in general, but more specifically everything Lloyd, is MINORS DNI. Boi is nasty and rude and I hate to love himwe love to hate him.

D -Dominance

"More? You want more, you selfish bitch?" He grips your jaw harshly, fingertips digging into your cheeks. "I tell you what you need and when. I'll even give you a hint. Neither of us needs your fucking mouth right now. You'll take what I give you--" he leans so close his mustache tickles the rim of your ear "--and I will love it. Lloyd's hips snap forward, shoving you into the furniture so hard your thighs sting. "Understand?" You know he doesn't expect an answer, he told you your mouth was not required, and (whether it proves or disproves his point) he pushes two thick fingers against your tongue and holds them there until he's satisfied.

So, uh, yeah. Lloyd is a very mean dom. The type of dominant male that isn't actually a Dom because there is no safe word or system to protect you. This is not rocket science.

But...and that's a big 'but,' IF I could figure out a way to write him a repeat and consistent--the word 'lover' doesn't seem to apply here, hold up, eh, let's go with--fuck buddy, I think Lloyd would enjoy harsh pampering, someone super strict about his appearance, too, and someone brutal in their caring for him.

He would not see this as being dominated, and he would not allow it to go very far. It's not--well, I'm having trouble describing this--equal control, per se, but I think outside of sex he would appreciate someone as severe and indifferent as he is. Not a partner, bit like an appliance he finds useful, half-'sexy-butler-he-owns' and half-'a-showpiece-of-a-sextoy.' Right? That made sense. Totally articulate. For sure...

Bottomline, I hope you don't have any 'no's on your list; he'll make that his first priority of shit to do to you.

Y - Yes, Master

Lloyd.

It's not, like, a great name, is it?

Yeah, so he's good with all the power monikers--mister, master, sir, my king, my lord, whatever--and you get all the shaming ones--fatass, tubby, chubby, chubs, fuck toy, bitch, slut, whore...you get the picture.

The absolute truth is that he's...not really listening to you. He'll feed you lines of what he wants to hear, and even if you improvise things guaranteed to stroke his ego, Lloyd doesn't care. None of this is for you.

I should mention that 'daddy' is NOT on that list because it implies some sort of caring, or the requirement/expectation of care. This means something to Lloyd in the worst possible way. He hates the idea of owing you--or anyone else--anything.

If he refers to himself as 'Daddy,' if he asks you to call him 'Daddy,' FUCKING RUN.

He is in the mood to torture. He wants to feel responsible for the pain you are about to be in. For the love of all that is holy, degrading, or anywhere in between, get the fuck out of there and touch grass! You are not safe.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: how has no one kicked me out of this fandom yet??? this damn game has made me flood the poor steve smut tag, and i probably got blocked by a bunch of people sick of my shit 😭😭😭 i'm sorry!