#every time I see art where they have fingerless gloves on

[gingersforeverbox]

Headcanons about Nathan Bateman and a Reader who likes to crochet

A/n: Ok, I know this is niche/ self-indulgent as fuck, but I just took up crocheting about a month ago (loving it too) and I can’t stop imagining what Nathan with a reader who likes to crochet would look like, So have some headcanons!

Crochet is tricky to get the hang of, but I feel like your determination to keep trying and to keep learning would definitely interest Nathan. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I still think Nathan would laugh and call it a “grandma hobby”, but he is secretly relieved that you’ve found something to keep you occupied out in the middle of nowhere with him.

Nathan’s grocery lists slowly begins to add regular shipments of various yarns over time for you, resulting in a room in the facility becoming devoted to your craft as a sort of art studio, equipped with custom crochet hooks that take your hands and preferences into account. You’ve looked many times, but you can never find where they came from or who made them (Nathan made them for you specifically but will deny it to your face).

If you like working on your crochet around others, I can absolutely see Nathan either working in the lab while you work on the futon behind his desk  or even him just flopping down on the couch next to you after a long day with a beer.

The one thing about the crocheting that Nathan does not enjoy is finding the little scraps of yarn around the facility, and he will not hesitate to get on the overcoms to tell you to remove a piece of scrap he found in his lab. Every now and then you think that he takes a piece of scrap from your pile just to put it in the lab as an excuse to make you come and see him (he does).

Working on your first big piece? He will watch your internet history fill up with tutorials and advice from crocheting websites and social media, and he will offer a small compliment on a specific pattern of stitch you use throughout your piece.

Nathan would absolutely ask you to replace a beanie he uses for when he goes hiking up the glacier.

you can't TELL me that he wouldn't nag you about taking care of your hands.

"Your hands are gonna be crippled in a week if you don't take a break every now and then honey." "Use these. They're fingerless compression gloves specifically for people who use yarn. Don't look at me like that, I just don't want to have to listen to you whine about it later."

idk I'm just imagining Nathan just watching Reader descend into crocheting madness

[shatterinseconds]

Hoverbike

Inspired by @froopa-coopa’s art from a few months ago

After three years stuck in space, and another two roaming the galaxy leading the Blade of Marmora on relief missions, Keith’s hoverbike fell into major disrepair. The hot desert air and sand gunked the machine enough for it to spit black fumes when Keith tried to kickstart it again. That had been a week ago, where after visiting Lance’s family in Cuba for a month they decided to head to Keith’s shack for some needed alone time, but the new parts finally arrived, and Lance was unfortunately jostled awake way too early in the morning to “help.”

He sits cross legged on top of the hoverbike while Keith works underneath. They trade short conversations back and forth, mostly Lance guiding them. But a large part is spent in silence, knowing that the other is there in close range being enough for them. Lance doesn’t mind. He gets to enjoy the warm sun on face and think of his family and realize how glad he is to be back on Earth for an indefinite stay this time. 

Keith slides out with grease smeared on his cheek and hair bunched up from welding goggles. It’s a super cute look. Too bad Lance’s phone is charging inside. Keith stretches up his hand above, waving it around a bit, wordlessly.

“What do you want, Mullet?” Lance leans forward, bracing his hands on the leather seat so he doesn’t fall off accidentally.

“Over there. Tool box,” Keith finally uses his words, a bit exasperated, which causes Lance to roll his eyes. It’s not Lance’s fault they never met an alien race that could grant them mind reading powers—which would have been so cool.

Instead, he mumbles, “I don’t speak mechanic.” But he still digs around in the tool box, having a vague idea after watching Hunk for years and Keith more recently. A note of triumph echoes in the back of his throat as he finds the potential tool. “This?” he asks as he leans over the bike, Spiderman style, staring at Keith upside down. He holds out what he thinks is a screwdriver but with an odd shaped head. 

“Yeah.” Keith grabs the screwdriver without so much as an ounce of gratitude but Lance doesn’t care. He huffs a laugh until Keith pops back out, remembering himself. “Thanks.”

Lance grins and taps his lips. “You forgot something else.”

“I smell like motor oil. You don’t want a kiss.”

“I always want a kiss, Mullet,” Lance says with ease. His smile grows, almost starting to stretch wide enough to hurt. “If I can soldier through your bad morning breath, I can handle this.”

Keith grumbles something unintelligible but sits up enough that he and Lance are mere inches away now. “You have the bad morning breath,” he mumbles as he pulls Lance towards him. A grimy hand gently cups his face. The smell of sweat, hard work, and engine grease scratch the inside of Lance’s nose. And yet, it’s in his top five of Keith kisses—right up there with their first kiss, their post-sex kisses, and that time Keith caught him by surprise during a Coalition banquet because jealousy had started to get the better of him.

Lance digs his hands into Keith’s tangled hair, pushing back the goggles, and deepens the kiss. Keith’s free hand slides to Lance’s waist, stabilizing him so they don’t both crash to the ground. Every place Keith touches buzzes from the warm contact. Those fingerless gloves brush over a smooth patch of skin, exposed by his shirt falling forward and catching under his armpits. Keith pulls on his lower lip before separating, biting down in a way that causes Lance to mutter a curse and for Keith to break out into a pleased grin.

“See,” Lance says as he knocks his forehead against Keith’s. His chest heaves from the lack of air. Keith always makes him breathless, quite literally most of the time. “You almost missed out on that.”

Shaking his head, Keith laughs. “I’m glad I didn’t.” He pecks Lance’s lips one more time before he disappears under the bike again and Lance returns to lying on top, very content.

[nerd-chocolate]

The Bourgeois Family’s and Zoé Lee’s colors symbolize, civilian and akuma analysis:

Okay, hear me out on this one! It will be real quick I promise. So let’s get started, shall we? Also sorry for not having more of a better introduction to this post, I’ll be better next time I promise.

The Akuma Designs:

After looking at all of the akuma designs that the bourgeois family and Zoé Lee had including their concept art, especially Sole Crusher’s first design, I concluded. They all share common colors. They are black and yellow, you could also say red as well since both Heart Hunter and Antibug share that color between them. But the only design that doesn’t have yellow and black is Sole Crusher’s concept art where she is all blue vs her final design and why I begin this up it all makes sense you see. You can see this with all the akuma designs in the show shown here.

Why Colors are so important:

You want to know why these mean something because it shows how connected they are and mainly means Chloé, André, and Audrey. I get to Zoé a bit but right now let’s focus on these three first.

Okay, Chloé’s first akuma which was Antibug had primarily red and black which doesn’t mean anything in season one since André didn’t akumatized in season one and Audrey didn’t even show up in that season but surprisingly red does come back in Malediktator and Heart Hunter’s designs (I’m not counting when scarlet moth akumatized them since every akuma was red in those episodes because Scarlet Moth himself by the way) so red does show up in two of Chloé’s akumas in season 4 it doesn’t have that big of an impact, unlike the blacks and yellows in their designs.

Because they all have yellow and black in them, Antibug’s all-black suit with the red polkas, Style Queens having the blacks on her weird hair thing and black edges on her suit, Malediktator having the black stripes on his shoulder pads Queen Wasp also having a all black-suit with yellow stripes since she just Queen Bee Akuma but her colors flipped, Queen Banana having black stripes on her design like hair, dress, weapon, mask, and shoes/legs, finally Penalteam having black jersey, black fingerless gloves, her having black on her boots, and her sunglasses having black shades. They all use black as an accent color well except Queen Wasp (and Miracle Queen but I didn’t mention her since she is the same design as Queen Wasp but has a crown and armor on her) but it is worth noting that they all have black and more importantly yellow on their designs especially after Style Queen started it in season and the other designs expect Heart Hunter, Sole Destroyer, and Mayor Chloé in season five (if anyone actually cares but I don’t) which is honestly kinda fits since black is symbolic for evil and power which makes sense for all these akumas, their motivations, and more importantly what the crew thinks of their character since the very beginning, they were also seen as bad by everyone in the show and the crew. They all made a person sad or mad enough to get akumatized even to each other most importantly Audrey, who caused Queen Bee to get akumatized and André (addition Chloé as well) to get akumatized in the same season and the Queen’s battle arc. But these characters’ akuma all want some sort of power or control over someone. Malediktator is self-explanatory I mean it’s in the name, Style Queen wanted to fire anyone that she thought was unexceptional or disrespectful to her in her opinion, and Chloé’s akumas always share this broad goal of power (wanting to be the only hero and prove to her mother, wanted to play a soccer in her way so she can win, want to change a movie because her sister is in it, and again wanted to prove that she a hero to her used to be idol, Ladybug) so yeah the black works knowing what black is symbolism most of the time. But now what does yellow have to do with this?

A whole lot and I’m not even gonna go in depth where the yellow is placed on all of these designs except the ones I mentioned that didn’t have the yellow so I just said what yellow is symbolic for. Yellow in a negative way is used for cowardice, impatience, betrayal, and egotism and that last one is fitting since the bourgeois family all have big egos even if they are not an akuma especially Audrey since she is never shown to be insecure about something on the screen where it noticeably unlike André and Chloé. Cowardice makes sense only for André and Chloé especially André, let’s face it the biggest coward in the whole show is next to Damocles and while Chloé can act brave, she can be cowardly especially if she is the one getting chased by an akuma which she caused which mostly happened in the first season but it never really went away. Betrayal is something I noticed when comes to these akuma’s actions, like Style Queen betray her daughter when Chloé was helping Ladybug, Malediktator did brainwash his wife to be more obey and later trying to do the same thing with Chloé in the same episode, and Chloé betrays Ladybug’s trust in Miracle Queen and turns on Sabrina when she presents during her akumas and didn’t care when she was Queen Banana and Sole Destroyer. But where they all share something in common is impatience. Their impatience where either wearing thin or just nonexistent most of the time, the most being Style Queen since she just fired anyone that didn’t do what she said immediately, Malediktator was wearing his thin when Chloé kept running away from him each time, and Chloé’s akuma kinda flipped flopped while some of akumas can have patience, they quickly become nonexistent when they get angry like Queen Banana and Antibug. So when they all lose patience it is when they’re losing to Ladybug and Chat Noir so patience becomes nonexistent when things don’t go their way especially Chloé’s. So yeah after breaking all of their designs down and how the blacks and yellow mean in their designs and characters where does Sole Crusher and her concept design stand? Well, I’m glad you asked since it leads to my next point.

Why Sole Crusher’s current one doesn’t work at all:

Okay I know I said “I don’t think Sole Crusher’s design in the show is that bad and it was her poorly-written personality that made the akuma bad” Well I lied since it was Zoé’s debut episode and I love Zoé since I have to admit she one of my comfort characters but doesn’t mean her akuma or debut get a free pass and both of them that made the akuma design pretty bad because aside the fact that it doesn’t feel like, look, or even hints to Zoé at all, it just cluttered mess. Sole Crusher has no reason to have horns on her back or shoes since they don’t even do or help the design whatsoever. She has way too many horns on her head, two or heck even four would be enough not fucking eight! The diamonds all over her don’t help at all, instead, they just make it look like a cluttered mess since she has diamonds on her forehead and the top of her eyebrows and don't even function as eyebrows since she still has them so what’s even the point? Because of this, her concept one looks so much cleaner and less cluttered than her canon one, there are some things I may not like but at least there isn’t as much as her canon character I found. And I know I sound dumb when saying this but the concept feels like Zoé to me than her current one ever did since it doesn’t feel like a Chloé or any of the Bourgeois family because of her color palette and I’ll explain that in the next paragraph. Overall I hate this design and this just makes me long for her concept even if it has its problems I have. It's just a cleaner design but that's beside the point and let’s talk about their color schemes, the concept art, and the canon one.

Sole Crusher’s color scheme in canon doesn’t make any sense since her personality didn’t fit what personality Sole Crusher was barely given. Since she isn’t cowardly, she never betrays anyone that we know of, she doesn’t have an ego, and most importantly she does have patience since she decided to wait for Ladybug and Chat Noir to get to the hotel rather than going after them immediately or throwing a tantrum. Which to me doesn’t fit with Sole Crusher’s or Zoé’s personality at all

since yellow was always portrayed as bad in this show since a few of our ‘good’ characters wore yellow in their actual designs you could say, I’m overthinking it but I’m not since I went to check and all the akuma class doesn’t wear yellow except Nino but he just wears a yellow bracelet. So why in the world put yellow on the girl if she isn’t even close to her family except for one member and it is the one that is a coward? And this is why I said light blue would work better for Sole Crusher’s design than yellow because it would show how she isn’t like them and is disconnected from them which isn’t a bad thing since let’s be honest who even wants to be related to the Bourgeois family. After all, I surely don’t. And light blue could work for her personality if she had any because she doesn’t have one that truly defines her. And yes I know maybe that was the point of her personality and writers probably thought that but I don’t think that executed well or not even at all and we’re giving these writers too much credit because these writers made Simpleman which is a dumb episode.

Anyway back to my point, Sole Crusher being all blue like her concept art would work better since it symbolizes how she isn’t a Bourgeois, and deep down she doesn’t want to be like any of them, she is a Lee, and knows it. Also light blue/blue color symbolizes unfriendliness, sadness, impersonal, passive, and emotionally unstable when it comes to personality, which does fit Malediktator and André and Chloé and her akumas pretty well I will admit but that would also fit with Sole Crusher since before getting akumatized Zoé was passive towards Chloé’s behavior and let her walk all over her and broke down into tears when she was alone and you could say Sole Crusher was trying to match Chloé’s unfriendliness and her lack of personality also helps but I don’t think that last one is a good idea for someone’s debut episode and Sole Crusher being impersonal could honestly work. There are not many examples for Sole Crusher where I could say for blue color works on her when it comes to personality when I try to think of one, unlike the Bourgeois family akumas I mentioned before since she doesn’t have one where is more defined like other akumas and that’s biggest problem with her akuma as a whole and that shouldn’t be fair to Zoé since this her only akuma she got ever since her debut episode. So why does she get the short end of the stick here? That isn’t fair even if that was to point to her personality, it just doesn’t work, I’m sorry it just doesn’t. But I should give these colors a more positive light since there are some positive meanings to these colors and which ones fit the Bourgeois Family and Zoé.

The Positive Meanings of Black, Yellow, and Blue:

I have been negative about these colors huh? Well, change that shall we? I can tell you now blue more positive meanings are a bit more fitting for Sole Crusher and Zoé.

Okay let’s start with the black meanings, black usually means elegance and sophistication which does fit with Audrey, André, and Chloé since they either are that way or they think they are that. But for Zoé those don’t fit her or Sole Crusher and since I forgot to mention this I feel someone will eventually do so might as well say it. Yes, Sole Crusher does black in her design but just like Queen Banana and Penalteam with their red eyes, it doesn’t matter and it is only on her eyelashes and pupils. But the black on Zoé’s leather jacket is worth mentioning and while elegant and sophisticated may not be that important to her rebellion which symbolizes honesty fits her since goes against Audrey’s and Chloé’s standards of being a Bourgeois. Another thing to note is that black is used to symbolize mystery which does fit Audrey and Zoé since no one knew who they were until meeting them in canon respectively in their debut episodes.

Okay the only thing yellow in a positive light when it comes to the Bourgeois family is probably happiness for Chloé since let’s be honest, she takes pleasure from bullying her peers and you said the same happens to Audrey and André when she is impressed by someone and him when he with his daughter or having his hotel be habitat by celebrities. But as for Zoé when it comes to yellow, it was harder for me when she can be happy with the people who truly care about her and friendship where she gets a lot of them (even though we see them on screen as much as I want) when she in Paris but even then yellow isn’t that fitting for her as much as the other Bourgeois family members. So sorry this isn’t a lot but I think the blue one would be interesting and heard me out on that one.

Blue symbolizes calm, reliability, patience, and bravery in a more positive light. And while Chloé does show some bravery when she becomes a superhero for a brief time during seasons 2-3 and André tries being calm and patient with his wife and daughter when they want something. They don’t show it as much and backtrack them more often than not, especially André since he is quick to panic and quick to make his wife and daughter happy even if someone suffers for it to make it happen as much as possible. And as for Chloé…. Well, she does have some bravery but I think that more of having a big ego and stupid writing in the later seasons (Yes I know that Audrey has blue eyes but so does the rest family and they are not as prominent as the others since she always wearing sunglasses in her appearances and while she does show calm and bravery, it reads more like she doesn’t give a shit about some situations most of the time, just wanted to mention that). But enough about them, these traits fit Zoé a lot more than the yellow did for her. Patience and calm are not only present in Zoé but in Sole Crusher as well since she decided to wait and get powerful before chasing after the heroes immediately and she looked pretty calm and sly when the heroes left to go to the hotel. Yeah, Zoé being associated with the color blue makes sense since she is a reliable friend when she shows up, is brave to stand up to her sister in Queen Banana (which I know isn’t much but still), she very patient when putting up with her family, and she has this calm demeanor in her character when she does show up. I know it doesn’t seem much to you but to me, it does even if I didn’t have that many examples of the things I was talking about and I still wanted to mention them.

My Personal Opinion/Conclusion:

In my opinion, Zoé should be associated with the color blue rather than yellow. I’m not saying get rid of the yellow entirely but make yellow a bit more of an accent color like Chloé having blue eyes and blue eyeshadow or André having the blue striped on his sash. Just make the yellow on Zoé’s design an accent rather than her main color heck just change the color of her pants to blue then just have her shoes have the yellow on them already. And I know what you guys going to say but shouldn’t she try to look connected to her family in some way while might be right about that, I say that her being disconnected from her family makes sense since she isn’t like them like I said before she is a Lee not a Bourgeois and that fine. Getting rid of the yellow entirely doesn’t make sense, making it her main color doesn’t either since yellow has been portrayed as a bad thing in this show rather than a good thing and she doesn’t fit in the yellow symbolism I mentioned.

Overall, the crew just didn’t care about Zoé and just wanted to create a replacement for Chloé so the fandom could stop complaining about her failed and probably nonexistent redemption arc but decided to be lazy and just rush Zoé out. This causes discourse in the fandom with some Chloé fans (the toxic ones not all of them but some) hating on Zoé even though it is not her fault for being this way it was the miraculous crew’s fault for this, not the character. This also caused a lot of potential not only with Zoé but with Chloé as well. And I don’t even like Chloé as much as other fans but even I think we missed an interesting dynamic with the two in multiple ways. So that is what I’m planning to do in my rewrite of Sole Crusher so maybe I can give Zoé some justice because she deserves better than what she gave from not only the crew but also some of the fandom (not salting anyone that doesn’t use Zoé, you do you my guy and I get it, just feel like people just kinda give up on Zoé and just uses her for Chloé’s development which can be frustrating to me). Please don’t take that to heart and I just want to let you know my opinion at the end of the day. So I hope you enjoy this post and are having a lovely day or night when you're reading or seeing this post, bye!!

[morgueofstories]

This story was inspired by this piece of fanart done by LuciidKatt on Twitter. Go check them out as their art is fantastic.

Tattoo on wrist.

Tattoo on back.

TW: mentions of torture

Edit: I forgot to put this in the story, but the reason why Farafadox speaks fluent English is because he studied the English language after becoming acquaintances and then Dreams boyfriend. The same is applied to Dream who is fluent in Spanish due to dating Farafadox.

***

Farfadox was curious about Dreams tattoos. 

He first noticed them when Dream had shown up at a parkour event wearing a black short sleeve shirt, showcasing the tattoos on his left arm. The black snake intertwining between the black roses looked mysterious yet alluring to Farfadox. 

As Farfadox hung out around his boyfriend, he noticed other miscellaneous tattoos decorating the dirty blonde's skin. A snake tattoo was intricately wrapped around Dream’s left wrist when he took off his fingerless gloves to adjust them one time in front of Farfadox, he had another rose tattoo on his left shoulder when the two went to the beach with their friends and Dream was wearing a no sleeved shirt. 

The most prominent tattoo he had was the one on his back. The tattoo was an assortment of flowers in different shapes and sizes that went from the back of his neck to his tailbone. Farfadox only knew of that tattoo when he accidentally walked into their bedroom one morning and Dream was taking off his shirt. The flustered and panicked look on his boyfriend's face caused Farfadox to quickly leave the room out of respect for his partner’s privacy. 

Since then, Dream always changed in the bathroom.

Now, Farfadox would consider himself patient and generally would mind his own business. But the way Dream hid his tattoos and even seemed anxious when they would show through his clothes made Farfadox decide to pop the question one night when the two were preparing for bed. 

“Why do you hide your tattoos?” He asked, his eyes watching as Dream tensed up. Anxiety emanated from the dirty blonde's body before he responded with a nervous laugh. 

“You’ve never asked me this before,” Dream tried to smile, but it looked forced and even nervous to Farfadox. “Why now?”

“Because…” Farfadox paused, trying to think of how to word what he was going to say before deciding that it was probably for the better to just say it as it is. “I’ve noticed that you always try to cover them, even when you are around your friends and family. It’s as if you see them as nothing but ugly reminders.” 

He walked towards Dream, noticing how the dirty blonde seemed to be shaking, and proceeded to wrap him in a hug. “I….if there is a reason why you have them, I would like to know. And no matter what, I would like to help you through whatever it is your tattoos remind you of; because I had promised that no matter what, I would be there for you every step of the way.” 

A heavy silence filled the room, the only sound Farfadox could hear was his boyfriends’ breathing before Dream soon spoke.

“Do you know about the Dream SMP?” 

He hummed in response because he knew what the dirty blonde was talking about. The little web series that Dream and his friends had done on Dream's server years ago. How it first started as a petty fight between friends before they decided to turn it into a fleshed-out story filled with lore that each member of the Dream SMP came up with. 

He knew that in that web series, Dream played the bad guy who was set trying to unite the server as one big happy family no matter the cost and how many people were hurt by his actions. Even though the Dream he knew and loved would never do those things, some people could not differentiate acting from real people. 

“During the part of the series where Quackity was torturing my character. Some people who were obsessed with the series kidnapped me when I had left my server to go see Techno at his Hypixel island.”

“They did not know the entire thing was fake and believed that I hurt a lot of people. So, they decided to take it upon themselves to finish what Quackity ‘started’.” 

“I don’t know how long I was down there,” Dream whispered, Farfadox started to feel something wet form on his shirt and realized that Dream was crying. “Getting beaten, branded, starved, they thought they were doing the right thing. Taking care of the tyrant of the Dream SMP.” 

“You know I started to believe that everything I did in the series me and my friends came up with was true,” Dream laughed quietly while ice filled Farfadox’s veins. The thought alone that the torture and gaslighting his boyfriend's abusers did to make him believe that he was his fictional character sickened him. 

“My friends found me before I was about to bleed to death. They tried their best but not all the scars and brands faded from healing potions and medical treatment.” 

“I hated looking at myself in the mirror, seeing all the scars and marks on my body only made me remember what I went through. I wore clothes that covered everything no matter what the weather was like. I just hated what they did to me.” A hiss escaped from Dream's lips at that last sentence, anger seething into his words. 

“I hated how they cut me up like I was nothing but a piece of meat, I hated how they laughed at my misery while I choked on my blood, I hated how some of them touched and rough handled me like I wasn’t a person. I hated it all.”

Dream weakly laughed into Farfadox’s chest, clinging onto his boyfriend like he was the only thing keeping the dirty blonde up. All the anger and sadness out of Dream’s body only to make him exhausted in return. 

“Quackity didn’t like what happened, how those sickos hurt me because of his character. One day, he took me to the main hub and to a tattoo shop he knew personally. He told me that I could try and see if covering up a scar with a tattoo would help me, and if it did, he could take me again to cover up any more scars I did not want to see anymore.”

“I got this one first,” Dream raised his left wrist to show off the snake tattoo. “And the moment I got it, a small part of me felt better that the scar was covered; that the damage was hidden and I didn’t need to be reminded of what happened.” 

“The rest came afterward, and the nightmares of that incident slowly faded away and I got better because of my tattoos.” 

“I still have trouble showing them, because a small part of my brain panics and doesn’t remember the tattoos covering the scars and I am thrown back into the fearful state I was in when I was first rescued. Sometimes I look at my tattoos and I love them, other times I hate them because it feels like I decided not to acknowledge what happened and just covered it up.”

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” Dream whispered through his tears. “I ran away from my trauma by trying to cover them up with ink and cannot acknowledge that the only reason why I am like this is that I am a terrible per-”

“You are not a terrible person, nor are you pathetic,” Farfadox cut him off gently, exiting the hug to look Dream in the eyes. “You are the most selfless, caring, lovable man that I know. You are not whatever those bastards said, and you never will be.”

“You are a person, you are not meant to be perfect and if you feel like you are just running away from your trauma, that is okay. Everyone doesn’t heal the same. Some heal slower than others and vice versa; healing from a traumatic experience is never a race and there is no distinct pattern when it comes to healing. Everyone copes with trauma differently, but that does not make you pathetic.” 

“Let me ask you something. When you first got your tattoo, what did you think of it?” Farfadox watched his boyfriend look at him, confused. 

“I…thought it was pretty.” 

“Did you then think that it covered up your scar well?”

“No, not until Quackity mentioned it after we left the shop. I then noticed it covered up the scar.”

Dream still looked confused at what Farfadox was trying to tell him. But Farfadox still wanted to confirm one more thing before giving his answer.

“Did you want to get more tattoos because you thought they would look nice on you?”

“Yes, I guess I did-Farfadox what are you trying to tell me?” 

“You got your other tattoos because they looked pretty, because they made you look beautiful. Your scars were an afterthought when you went to get your tattoos, but you slowly started to think that because you had tattoos that covered up your scars, that was why you kept getting them. You started to hate the one thing that was making you feel confident in yourself, that made you start to heal and get over your trauma.”

“Dream, you are beautiful with those tattoos; and you are beautiful with your scars. You are beautiful to me, and I will say this to you every single day until you start to realize that you are beautiful just the way you are right now.” 

Silence filled the room once again as Farfadox started to catch his breath after going on his spiel. Dream had his head down and wasn’t saying anything, which made Farfadox worried that he scared his boyfriend and only made things worse.

That was until...

“Say that again, please?” Dream whispered. He lifted his head to look at his boyfriend with glassy eyes that looked…hopeful.

“You are beautiful,” Farfadox said softly, wiping away Dreams tears that started to cascade down the dirty blonde's cheeks at Farfadoxs heartfelt words. “Gorgeous, stunning, irresistible in my eyes. You are all I need, and I will love you no matter what happens in the years to come. I will be with you every step of the way because you are worth it.”

They spent the rest of the night cuddling in bed with Farfadox whispering soft words of comfort and saying how beautiful Dream was to him. 

And if a couple of months later, Farfadox noticed that Dream was starting to wear clothes that showed his tattoos. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he just smiled.

[collarbonekissesandasylumwitches]

hello hi, hope y'all are doing ok :)

this is just my take on this aesthetic, my personal brand if you will, so please don't come at me if it isn't completely accurate

(i do not know where a few quotes are from so if you do, please lemme know so that i can list them)

poetcore // chaotic academia // downtown girl

vibes: grocery stores, existential poetry, psychology/english major, iced caramel lattes, old bookstores, anatomical heart emoji, thunderstorms, wired earphones, art museums, dyed hair and a nose ring, vintage posters stuck on bedroom walls, blue hour, ink stained hands, latin curses, 3 am showers, voice notes, smudged eyeliner, cocoa lotion, choco chip cookies, silver rings that clink against ceramic cups, native language nicknames, annotated books, commentary videos on youtube, forehead kisses, candles, love letters, lullabies, sunlight through curtains, libraries at night, homoeroticism, angry girl music, pressed flowers, coffee cake and coffee eclairs, glitter pens, lipbalm, dog cuddles, super specific playlists, daily outfit pictures

fashion: small shirt big pants black nailpaint mismatched earrings signature perfume hair sticks black turtlenecks cardigans fingerless gloves nose rings high waisted jeans linen shorts lipgloss cotton dresses waist jewelry heart shaped locket moss coloured bralettes bandanas tank tops crystal necklaces white eyeliner oversized earth toned sweaters cargo pants vintage band tshirts charm bracelets and anklets crop tops smudged eyeliner harem pants claw clips fairy earrings tote bags doc martens with everything lots of antique rings

songs:

ribs - lorde

coffee breath - sofia mills

movies - conan gray

how long - hadestown

sunflower - post malone, swae lee

i want you to want me - letters to cleo

bookstore girl - charlie burg

sappho - frankie cosmos

achilles come down - gang of youths

girl from the bookstore - jack jones

poet - bastille

all too well 10 minute version taylor's version - taylor swift

artists: mother mother, bon iver, girl in red, arctic monkeys, daughter, florence + the machine, hozier, the neighborhood, taylor swift [folklore and evermore in particular]

movies: shutter island, dead poets society, lady bird, 10 things i hate about you, five feet apart, potrait of a lady on fire, kill your darlings, fleabag, perks of being a wallflower, all the bright places, loving vincent, call me by your name, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

books:

crush - richard siken

a little life - hanya yanagihara

the song of achilles - madeline miller

ode to aphrodite - sappho

the bell jar - sylvia plath

and then there were none - agatha christie

envelope poems - emily dickinson

the secret history - donna tartt

the picture of dorian gray - oscar wilde

a room of one's own - virginia woolf

the robber wife - margaret atwood

the yellow wallpaper - sam vaseghi gilman

quotes:

what we love, we mention. - Marie-Helene Bertino

you said i killed you. haunt me then. - Emily Bronte

loneliness is still time spent with the world.- Ocean Vuong

let me stay tender hearted, despite despite despite.

that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. - Walt Whitman

i love you. i can't tell you. the sun on your face will do it for me. - tumblr user tturing

i will love you if i never see you again, and i will love you if i see you every tuesday. - Lemony Snicket

someone has to leave first. this is a very old story. there is no other version of this story. - Richard Siken

nothing ends poetically. it ends and we turn it into poetry. all that blood was never once beautiful. it was always just red. - Kait Rokowski

love is real. i saw it once outside my window and it stopped to look at me but kept on walking and i thought it'd come back but in the end maybe it was just passing through.

in ten years' time, i want to live in a house with big windows, i want the house to be large enough to have a kitchen table with four chairs but not too roomy to ever feel the depth of my aloneness. because i'll probably be alone. but i think aloneness won't feel so all-consuming with windows that protect me from the world but still let me watch it. - Maeve Wiley, Sex Education

male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it's all a male fantasy: that you're strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. even pretending you aren't catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you're unseen, pretending you have a life of vour own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. you are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. you are your own voyeur. - Margaret Atwood

take care, love love >3

[breaking-circles]

[Image Description: Marian Churchland's Dragon Age OC template filled out with Denton "Dent" Hawke, a mage Champion of Kirkwall. Dent is shown from the hips up, looking warily over his left shoulder at something behind him. His right hand is holding an intricately carved wooden staff topped with a purple gem. His left hand is pushing the sleeve on his right arm up to his elbow. Blood is streaming out of his right arm in thin rivulets from a collection of cuts. The rivulets merge together into thicker strands that curl around his staff and end in a spiral above the top of the staff. He is wearing leather armor that covers his torso. On his right shoulder, he is wearing a spiked dark metal pauldron. Around his shoulders, he has a gray fur wrap that is latched to his dark metal gorget. He is wearing purplish leather fingerless gloves. On his right hand, fresh pale scars are visible across his fingers. Under his leather armor, he is wearing a blue form-fitting cloth shirt, the sleeves of which reach his wrists. Around his hips, the top of his leather belt can be seen, which is lined with gray fur. He has a smear of blood across his nose. His blonde hair is tucked behind his ears. He has a full equally blonde beard. His eyes are narrowed and one of his brows is raised like he's curious. He is frowning slightly. In the background, faint blue blood splashes. Next to his head are the words "Foul and corrupt are you / Who have taken My gift / And turned it against My children" Below the quote is an attribution to "-Transfigurations 18:10". Below the drawing, several traits are listed with a line between them to mark where the character falls between the two. Between cautious and reckless, Dent is more cautious; between selfless and self-serving, he is slightly more self-serving; between emotion-driven and logic-driven, he is very emotion-driven; between forthright and dissembling, he is more forthright; between friendly and unfriendly, he is more friendly; between devout and questioning he is more devout; and between trusting and suspicious he is more suspicious. Below the traits is a list of his main party: Anders, Varric, and Carver or Fenris. Below that, there are a series of symbols that indicate which choices he made throughout the game. The first three indicate he is a mage, who chose the blog magic specialization, and romanced Anders. The next row of five indicates he is diplomatic, Carver joined the Gray Wardens, the Arishok was killed, he sided with the mages, and spared Anders. End of Image Description]

Woo! Finals finished up so I finally got to draw again :] Here's my boy Denton "Dent" Hawke, do not be fooled by his battle-ready expression he is a wet rag of a man who usually gets his ass kicked. He is a huge supporter of mage rights but even more so mage wrongs.

Fun fact! The quote here is from the codex entry "Blood Magic: The Forbidden School". Because he's a blood mage. If you couldn't tell.

Here's the flat version!

[Image Description: The same drawing as in the first image, though this time without the background or shading, making the colors easier to pick out. End Description.]

Relevant stuff in the replies! My Inquisitor art is scheduled to post tomorrow

A reblog would be very appreciated! I'm limiting how many people are gonna see this because of the blood so every boost helps :]

[teddytoroa]

where would I start watching joe hills stuff? seeing your posts makes me kind of want to get into his videos

HELLO and WELCOME

Joe Hills is on youtube HERE.

I recommend watching his Hermitcraft season 9 videos since they're the most recent (and I'm watching them at the moment and they're a lot of fun!!). You don't really need to know any of the other folks on the server to enjoy them and you'll just kind of pick up the broader context through episodes. Unlike a lot of other smps theres not a huge amount of roleplaying or ~deep lore~ so it's easier to get into imo (though I'd advice watching the episodes chronologically anyway).

Joe is easily one of the funniest people I've ever seen anywhere in my life, a kind and thoughtful member of the community AND a talented and brilliant builder (they're building a massive scale model of a working pinball machine in survival minecraft based on the James Webb telescope images and it's insanely cool). They write haikus and share them at the end of their Hermitcraft episodes as patreon rewards. They dress as Beetlejuice on stream (the Beetlejhost) and every time they hit a tip milestone they make their facecam bigger. They pay their discord mods a living wage. They make puns and portmanteaus all the damn time and they're usually good. They're from Nashville, Tennessee. They're willing to kill for the LGBT+ community. They wear lime green cat eye prescription glasses and lime green fishnet fingerless gloves. They don't believe in monarchies. They do typography irl and also in Minecraft, and they're REALLY GOOD AT IT, which is impressive because typography in Minecraft is HARD. One time they spent many hours transporting four TMNT-themed frogs through all three Minecraft dimensions and it was the scariest most stressful thing I've watched in years.

They also stream twice(?) a week on youtube and twitch, one Minecraft stream where they make things on the Hermitcraft server and one arts n crafts stream where they make things in the irl fleshrealm real world, both with ZombieCleo (another minecraft youtuber I also love and highly recommend <3).

They also have a tumblr and a twitter where they are hilarious and brilliant in text form and reblog lots of neat fanart and such.

I also really like the unaffiliated tumblr account @joe-hills-said, which collects his many many many wonderful things he has said in videos and streams.

There's also this decade-old video of them doing minecraft 'cooking' based on the My Drunk Kitchen youtube series and it brings me much joy.

Hope this helps!! Vote Joe Hills for MCYT Sexyman!!!

[princesscolumbia]

So it's been long enough and I'm expecting to come back to it, but my oldest popular fanfic, Fission, is now up on AO3. If you're not aware, I started penning this work back in 2006 as Ranma 1/2 was starting to lose relevance in anime pop culture. Inu Yasha was taking its place as young women were becoming an anime watching demographic in the USA and, as gender-fluid (literally) as Ranma's core audience is, "Dog-demon-boy hearts girl" had greater appeal to the wider young women demographic than "boy-who-understands-how-important-an-emergency-tampon-is hearts girl".

It also was released in the age of After Fuku Fic (AFF). During the Fuku fic era, there was clone after clone after clone of the core idea of "what if Ranma were to become a senshi?" Every member of the Ranma cast got shoved into a seifuku, it seemed, and any characters on either the Sailor Moon or Ranma parts of the equation that didn't fit just so were often discarded. This isn't to say the sub-sub-sub-genre is bad (I'm writing for it, so clearly I don't think so) but people just got tired of it.

And I dropped Fission in the middle of that and found myself in the rare company of people who wrote a fuku fic that even people who'd been completely burned out on the idea still wanted to read it.

Life happened, and I wound up reading (and writing) MLP-centric fics, then She-ra, and lately dabbling in The Locked Tomb. And yet I still keep drifting back to this oldy but goodie because I've just got so many stories in that sandbox I want to tell.

So without further ado, I present to you...

Fission

A Ranma 1/2 & Sailor Moon fanfic

by Princess Celestia

Ranma is having A Day. The usual wacky relationship hijinks wind up with him tripping while running from his self-declared love interests (it has to do with martial arts, several foreign laws, and an okonomiyaki cart...long story) and falling off a roof (...again, long story) to pass through a stream of water from a broken pipe, triggering the magic that cursed him to turn into a girl with a splash of cold water. But today the wacky cranked right up into the weird when he DIDN'T collide with the other person who also happens to be standing in the spray of water. Usagi is having a pleasant day, actually. She's spending time with her boyfriend, taking in parts of Tokyo she doesn't normally get to, and in all enjoying herself when she gets a call about a monster attack. She ducks into an alley and starts to transform into Sailor Moon when a pipe bursts and sprays her with water right as someone...doesn't collide with her falling from the roof above. The destiny of both Ranma and Usagi has been altered by a random accident that nobody could have planned for or anticipated. Nobody around them is even remotely prepared.

Konatsu pulled his wooden sword and bounced a few more paces away from the youma, "Where are you going, Ranma-sama?"

Ranma was already pelting out of the room, "To get body armor!" he snapped back.

He darted into the next room and leapt into the pool. Body armor, body armor, body armor... ran through his head as he felt the water cover his form. He felt, for the first time, a surge of magic accompanying his transformation, then for no reason that she could at first figure out suddenly shouted out under water, "MOON... AQUA... POWER... ACTIVATE!"

Konatsu had backed far enough away from the monster while goading it onward that he was able to see what Ranma was doing in the next room. Suddenly, both he and the monster recoiled as water blasted from the pool, light and sound sweeping the room.

Ranma was caught up in a strange transformation like she had never experienced before. She somehow knew it was distinct from her usual Jesenkyo curse. She felt her clothes dissolve into magical mist, then felt ribbons brushing her form. She felt the fingerless gloves, the panties and bra, the fuku, the boots, everything form up on her body. She was even more intently aware of something even stranger going on just in front of her chest. She felt magic streaming out of her, but somehow leaving her even more replenished than if she had just taken a nap. Whatever was going on, it was additive, not subtractive. Two distinct colors flowed from her, one white, the other black. It began swirling together, forming the yin/yang symbol that was familiar to any martial artist, but most especially to her thanks to it's unique meaning for her life. It suddenly hardened into what looked like a crystal, then attached itself to her uniform at the join where her sailor sash met just below her neckline.

This all took place in under three seconds and was completely unseen by Konatsu or the monster thanks to the light show. What Konatsu did see was that, launching up from the explosion of water, light, and sound, was Ranma-sama, but not as the ninja had ever seen her before. He gasped in ecstatic surprise, tinged with a hint of girlish jealousy, "Sailor..."

"MOON..." shouted out an enraged Ranma, "CHESTNUT..." her boots slammed down in front of the youma, "STRIKE!" Ranma-ne-Moon's arms became a magically enhanced blur as she began raining blow after blow against the youma. Incredibly, the youma was blocking or deflecting the punches. Sailor Moon bounced away, and the monster lashed out with an unnaturally long reach against both martial artists.

To catch the whole thing before I write the next chapter, check it out on Archive of Our Own.

[itstheclaud]

I wish all

Deltarune fan-artists who draw Lightworld Kris wearing fingerless gloves

A very pleasant

You make me love a character I already relate to even more, because I have Chilblains and have to wear gloves, just casually, even in the summer sometimes.

[redhoodedangel]

Scars That Last (Arkham!Jason Todd X Scarlet Witch! Reader) {Route B} Pt.2-Rescue (Preview #2)

A/N: All I really do was take out the part with Harley and the thugs since it felt like too much before the Reader finds Jason.

⚠️Warning⚠️: Themes of physical and psychological torture/abuse, heavy topics such as mental health and abandonment and a protective and angry Reader with powers ( or Joker’s finna due…)

~~~~~~~~~~

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

Unfortunately, several months had passed after your first attempt to find Jason and nothing new was coming out. All that came to you was new scars and bruises. Barbara felt bad for not having much to tell about her end of the search as Batgirl. Your father, Batman and Nightwing were any better, either. Hell, Batman even gave the Robin mantle to a young detective named Tim Drake, despite Jason still bearing it during his absence.

Honestly, what the fuck was he thinking?

Your own attempts weren’t any better. Every time you tried to use your powers, you only ended up hurting yourself and probably Jason. You had to find a way to connect to him without causing pain to both of you.

Now, you were truly getting desperate, and albeit, into a realm of strange and maybe metaphysical. You started looking at books on magic and mania, trying to find anything noteworthy. You went through everything, from witchcraft and arcane arts to crazy science and psychological conspiracy theories. Anything that would be remotely helpful or useful...

That's when you came across a passage on astral projection...

“‘Astral projection can be done while one is asleep. While in your astral form, no one can hear or see you, unless they are trying to contact you via the Astral Plane. It is possible to hear voices from the other side or the thoughts of those far away in the physical world…’ This is it…” you read the passage out to yourself.

You then hopped into your bed and laid down, taking deep breaths in order to ease the anxiety keeping you up. After some time, your eyes drooped and you fall asleep... only to wake up, floating over your limp body. It worked... it really worked...

Now in your astral form, you then raised your arms over your head, concentrating your powers on one thought... one person...

Jason...

Where he was now...

Where he could be...

Where his mind was on...

Suddenly, you heard a voice, the voice of a boy, one unfamiliar to you, but you knew instantly who it was...

'Somebody... help! Please!'

You then saw flashes of a building... a building you knew all too well. It was Arkham Asylum, which had been reopened when the Joker first made his debut in Gotham's criminal underworld. No doubt there were a few corrupt guards or workers on payroll, who allowed the Joker access to one of the abandoned wings or areas of the asylum to torture and hold Jason hostage.

You then saw a flash of a poorly-boarded passageway that appeared to be going underground. A place where no one would look or even go into. That Joker thinks he's so crafty... he hasn't clearly met you yet, no matter how many times he probably mentioned your name to Jason.

With these images ingrained into your mind, your astral form returned to your body and you start preparing. You grabbed a red leather corseted top with a matching trench coat and fingerless gloves, along with a black domino mask from an old Halloween costume. You then put the makeshift costume on, still in the leather pants and boots you put on earlier.

You then decided to use another ability, teleportation, in order to get into the asylum. It would be stupid to just walk in, asking for the location of someone that ninety-five percent of the staff knew nothing about. It was better to just disappear to keep suspicions low.

You disappeared in a cloud of red smoke and reappeared the same way inside the undergrounds of Arkham. The barely blocked corridor let out a cold draft that make your shiver. However, you swallowed your fear and walked inside the dark and ruined catacombs.

As you moved through the hall, the air became heavier and thicker. You felt like you were running for your life, even though you were technically running for someone else's life.

[4dtk]

hello my honey bunch UMM IM NOT SURE IF IM SUPPOSED TO CHOOSE EACH ONE??? BUT IM GONNA DO IT ANW

can i request 3 from the hand holding, 16 from the hugging, 26 from the kissing and 3 from the touching with jaehyun!!!!

FUCK IDK IF I DID RIGHT I HOPE THIS IS OKAY <333

yes you did it right, dont worry! hope u enjoy this angel!! and welcome back <333 (ps holy crap this is long AHASHDHDH)

hand-holding, 3: cold hands in warm hands

hugs, 16: ‘not wanting to let go’ hugs

kisses, 26: giggling while kissing

touching, 3: hiding face in neck

“c’mon! you’re gonna miss the sunrise,” you drag jaehyun along the mountains, a clear path etched into the ground that visitors always took whenever they wanted to view the sunrise. the both of you got lucky today, being the only two people who got up early enough to catch the night sky turn into yellows and oranges, before it rests in the usual sky blue you’d see up in the sky.

well… one of you was. “do we really need to see the sunrise again, baby? i was perfectly content cuddling with you…” your husband knew better than to argue with you when you have your eyes set on something, especially with something like a sunrise. it was a by-product of why you selected this B&B atop of a mountain where you’d be freezing your asses off, but jaehyun could hardly reject your suggestion when he saw how excited you were.

“oh, i’ve always wanted to go back to a mountainside hostel! i remember the last one, ’twas so good, whatdya say?” jaehyun remembers every detail you’ve told him: from the countless cats, to the stunning trail to where you watched the sunrise with your family, the edible flower they cooked up for you. he can’t say no when your eyes are lit up like that, and so, he hauled himself out of bed to put on a simple outfit, relying on your hand to guide him.

you know he doesn’t mean it, but you pout either way, both at his words and the time on your watch. it’s dangerously close to when the staff said the sun would rise. the thought alone of missing the sky drives you to take quicker steps, struggling against the thin air the higher and higher you went.

“hah… finally,” you mumble to yourself, perching yourself near a field of crops that belonged to those living nearby. you were careful not to crush any of the sprouts, patting the space beside you as you waited for the show to start. jaehyun takes your hand wordlessly, letting out a gasp at how cold your hands were; it showed you appreciated the warmth with the way your fingers curled around his, it was natural instinct, both a result of your body reacting to warmth and to the love of your significant other.

“you’re freezing, angel,” jaehyun laughs, “maybe you made a mistake wearing fingerless gloves this morning. c’mon, take ‘em out.”

“it was dark!” you glare at him, “and no, you want me to have a frozen hand when i touch your face later?”

“i’ll warm it up for you, c’mon.” you grumble but comply either way, removing the sad excuse of protection from the cold, fingers instantly curling into your husband’s. he blows onto it, conversation falling silent as your keep your eyes trained on the sight in front of you.

it’s slow, the minutes pass, the sky barely changing. the sun decides to stop the teasing, unleashing its brilliant lights that prompt the both of you to squint. it becomes more bearable to longer you look at it, welcoming the painting of warm colours you never tire of seeing. it mixed like an impromptu painting, unknowingly presenting a magnificent piece of art despite the messiness among the clouds and skyline.

jaehyun has moved behind you by then, engulfing you in his arms while he continued to warm your hands. jokingly, he wedges his hand in between your neck, surprising you slightly with his ice cold lips that were slowly cracking.

as the colours thicken and blend, you can feel the other snuggle more into the crook of your neck, gentle and careful to not shock you again. his body fits with yours perfectly, body warmth gradually shared the more and longer you embrace. with a shift of your butt, you’re moving to stand up, but immediately gets pulled down by his strong arms.

“not yet…” he mumbles, fighting against sleepiness for you. there’s a stammer in his voice as he struggles to find the words he wants to say. you attempt to stand up a second time and this time, jaehyun lets you, ready to follow you with an arm around your waist. “why’d you wanna stand up?”

you say nothing as you place your hands on his cheeks, cold to the touch. there’s time for you to admire his face later, so you dive in to fit your lips to his. it moves without trouble, having done this countless times like how jaehyun’s arms fit around your middle. his body is pressed flush against your own, able to feeling every muscle that’s reacting to your kiss that it leaves him hungry for more.

it makes you woozy, dizzy, dopey, the way jaehyun is fondling you, lips moving in tandem with the squeezing hands on your sides. a bit of warmth creeps up from the side, signifying the last bits of the sunrise. it makes the other smile, but you’re not sure why.

you pull away curiously, mouth only an inch from his as you impatiently waited for his answer. “no… just… funny how you brought me up here to watch the sky change colours and instead you’re locking lips with me.” he says with a smirk.

“oh my god, shut up,” you’re giggling like a schoolgirl, taken back to when you’d laugh shamelessly backstage as the members teased you; including the time when the two of you were interviewed for one of korea’s slice-of-life magazines with a suggestive answer on jaehyun’s part… and also of the time when you almost slipped on cake batter that you dropped on the floor.

each day you spend with your boyfriend-turned-husband is guaranteed to be filled with laughter, and now is just one more memory to store away. jaehyun hovers over your lips this time, unifying your smiles with miscalculated kisses that never quite land. you’re struggling to contain it now, breaking contact to stretch your lips into a grin that is reciprocated by the other.

“will your cute ass stop giggling?” he wants to fake his anger, but it backfires as his own laugh fills your ears. it feels like a warm hug after a rainy day, and you give him just that while your arms encircle around his neck. you can’t care much for the colours blooming in the sky now, rather admiring the crimson appearing on his cheeks even after the many years you’ve been together. you bury your face in his chest.

“thank you, jae. for loving me,” your confession is whispered so soft that the other is convinced he wouldn’t hear it. but he does, and the softening of his eyes is something you don’t catch.

“i’m happy to do it. everyday, baby, it’s everyday that i fall deeper and deeper. i hope it’ll never end,” you’re silent, but the words make your heart and cheeks flare up and it’s a minute before you find the courage to say your part.

“likewise, jaehyun. i love you.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

red+white, m | kth, jjk

pairing(s): taehyung x reader x jungkook

summary: On Christmas Eve, you take Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook out on a date and they’re surprised to find out that... it’s actually a real date. At least, until you decide to pull up your dress right in front of them. You are a horny little seductress after all.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, semi-public sex in the back of a car; intense smut (fem reader, threesome, nipple play, fingering, vibrator use, f-receiving oral, multiple orgasms, overstimulation); fluff; non-idol!AU; noona!reader gets all the attention this time, so sweet of them!

other parts of this series: just kidding + part ii, car ride.

--

You massaged the base of your right thumb, sucking in a tight breath at the pain.

You shouldn’t have played so many League of Legends games last night, but there was an event pass and you had to grind games. Well, you didn’t have to, but you wanted to. League of Legends was probably your longest commitment in your entire life. And it gave you carpal tunnel.

Like all your interests, it was making your life complicated.

You pulled the sleeve of your fur coat over your wrist brace. When you played a lot, you kept it on all the time. It wasn’t the sexiest thing, but you needed your hands after all. For various reasons.

“Excuse me?”

You grinned to yourself before turning around, waving at the smooth, baritone voice of Kim Taehyung.

“Hey, Taehyung!”

Taehyung made his way through the crowd in the busy outdoor mall to stop right in front of you. It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve, when everyone was getting off work, sunny but cold. He looked you up and down, narrowing his dark brown eyes. “What is this?”

White faux fur coat that barely covered your ass, black thigh-high heeled boots, and the outfit completed with a large red fabric bow tied around your neck. You had nabbed it from a package of Christmas cookies you received earlier in the day. Your hair was pinned up, leaving a few strands framing your face. In comparison, Taehyung was wearing a biscuit-brown corduroy jacket with a forest green sweater and white dress shirt underneath, collar poking out. Dark brown hair a bit pushed back, but with most of it falling onto his forehead. Coffee-colored slacks, pointed oxfords.

“But you haven’t seen the best part, Tae!” you quipped, far too cheerful for the suspicious eye Taehyung was giving you. You unsnapped the buttons of your fur coat, revealing the tight, slinky, red silk mini-dress underneath. It clung to your every curve, molding perfectly to your breasts and hips.

Taehyung’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. He grabbed the sides of your coat and yanked them shut, breath frosting in your face.

“What the FUCK?” he hissed under his breath. “You can’t wear that!”

You blinked at him. “Why not?”

“That’s the kind of clothes you would wear to a club! Not a date!”

“But I don’t go to clubs anymore. I think it’s better to wear what you already own than to buy new ones.”

The look you were giving Taehyung was innocent, but he knew better.

“At least tell me you’re wearing underwear.”

You grinned. “Maaaaaaaybe…”

“Noona,” he growled low in his throat, making you wet already.

“Alright, alright, yes I am.”

Taehyung buttoned your coat, frowning. “Just wait until Jungkook sees you. He’ll be pissed.”

“Pissed about what?”

Jeon Jungkook’s bouncy, energetic voice popped up behind you. You turned around to see him in a big black parka and black jeans with chunky black boots. He grinned, waving a hand, his long black hair half-slicked back as usual. He was wearing leather fingerless gloves. You bit your lower lip, grinning back. Jungkook’s smile faltered, suddenly apprehensive once he saw your expression.

“What’d she do?” Jungkook asked, eyes flickering to Taehyung.

“She–”

“Jungkook,” you cut Taehyung off jovially. “I wore something nice for you two!”

And you popped your coat open once again, ruining Taehyung’s good work of trying to keep you covered. Taehyung threw up his hands as Jungkook’s eyes widened, jaw dropping at the sight of your sinful body wrapped in red silk.

“Noona!” Jungkook scolded, yanking the sides of your coat closed, pressing his body against you. “You can’t wear that!”

“Why not?” you purred, licking your lips. “It’s nearly Christmas.” You pointed to the large red bow on your neck. “I’m festive!”

Jungkook looked aghast, clenching his jaw. “T-That’s not…” He hurriedly re-snapped the buttons on your white fur coat. “You’re going to be cold.”

You shook your head. “This coat is super warm. Plus, I’m wearing panties!”

Jungkook shot Taehyung a pained look. “I’m proud of you…”

“We’re going to be late! Let’s go!”

You grabbed their hands as Taehyung and Jungkook sighed at each other, smiling despite knowing they were already in big trouble.

-

“A… mug café?”

You pointed to the menu. “Not just any mug café, Jungkook. See, you pick a style of mug and then you decorate it with paint. Once you’re done, they cure it for you and then you can eat some snacks as you wait for it to be finished.”

Taehyung tilted his head, reading the instructions. “Looks like you have to make an appointment.”

“I did. It’s almost time,” you said cheerfully. “Look at all these different ceramic colors and paints. I thought it would be fun to do together.”

Taehyung and Jungkook exchanged a look. “You mean… this is an actual date, noona?”

You turned away from the window to frown at them. “Of course, it is. I booked a time and everything!”

Jungkook shifted his eyes. “Uh, well… usually you’re interested in doing other things with us…”

You blinked at them. “What?”

Taehyung clapped a hand over Jungkook’s mouth. “Never mind, never mind. Let’s go in.”

-

“Ah! I’m done!”

You turned your extra-large pale blue mug around, revealing the fluffy white Poro you painted, complete with a tasty cinnamon-bun-looking Poro-Snax biscuit in its mouth. Tiny white and yellow sparkles circled its head like a starry sky.

Taehyung smiled, shaking his head. “Your League of Legends obsession is a little extreme.”

“Oi, Poros are cute. I like cute things. That’s why I like you.”

Taehyung’s tan cheeks turned bright pink as you turned your attention to Jungkook’s masterpiece. He was painting a nighttime forest of evergreen trees on a black mug, with a small cabin and white dotted stars. He had three plates of different colored paints and at least ten small paintbrushes next to him. His pink tongue was in between his lips, holding his breath as he added small details to the trees in different shades of green.

“Wow, that’s intricate,” you admired, scooting your chair closer to him. Your sleeves were rolled up, but you were still bundled in your coat. Somehow, no paint got on the white fur. “You’re so talented, Jungkook.”

He finished the tree he was working on and pulled it back, frowning slightly. “Ah, I don’t know…”

“What are you talking about? That’s the coolest mug I’ve ever seen. I would totally buy that if I saw it at the store,” you protested.

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, picking up another paintbrush covered in white. “Really?”

“Of course. Especially since the artist is so handsome,” you added with a wink.

Jungkook’s ears turned red as you shuffled back to Taehyung to look at his mug. He was painting a small brown bear with a red Santa hat next to a wildly decorated Christmas tree on a light green mug.

“Should I add snow?” Taehyung wondered out loud.

“Maybe on the ground? But I think the tree should be the focus,” you mused. “Will the bear have a little coat?”

Taehyung puffed his cheeks. “Ah, I forgot!”

You scraped your chair back, holding your own Poro masterpiece. “I’m going to have them cure mine first. Be right back,” you chirped cheerfully, walking up to the counter where the jolly-looking man was waiting.

Jungkook watched you go, pursing his lips. “Kind of surprised she hasn’t tried to do anything crazy yet.”

Taehyung squirted out way too much red paint and made a disgruntled noise. “Well, she isn’t a horny seductress all the time. Just most of the time. Also, we’re in public.”

Jungkook went back to his mug as you chatted with the owner. 

“It’s nice, just like this.”

Taehyung paused mid-stroke of red. His eyes flickered to Jungkook’s lowered head, back to being focused and working carefully. Taehyung thought about adding to the conversation, but kept his mouth shut, rubbing his chin instead. Then he went back to the bear and adding the red Santa coat.

You came back with a muffin and hot chocolate.

“Ah, the owner was so nice. He gave me the last blackberry muffin. He said they’re really popular.”

“Oh, can I try some–” Jungkook raised his head as you turned around to place your white fur jacket on your chair. His eyes widened, voice turning into a tight hiss. “Noona!”

You settled back in your seat, facing him as you popped some more muffin in your mouth. “Mmm?”

“Your dress is backless!”

“IT’S WHAT?” Taehyung whispered shrilly, nearly dropping his work of art.

You chewed. “Yeah… so?”

Jungkook jabbed his paintbrush in the air angrily. “So? SO?”

Taehyung craned his head and his jaw dropped. “That’s nearly to your ass!”

You took a sip of hot chocolate. “Yeah… so?”

Jungkook got up suddenly. “I’m going to have my mug cured.”

You blinked at him. “Are you done?”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you. “As done as I have focus for.” He walked stiffly to the counter.

You blinked. “What’s his problem?”

Taehyung scraped his chair back loudly, startling you. “I’m also finished.” He also began to shuffle awkwardly to the counter. You tilted your head and went back to your muffin, eating happily. Maybe a little too happily.

Well.

Definitely smugly, that’s for sure.

-

“Ah, should I just put them on the floor like this? Or like this?”

Jungkook and Taehyung were standing behind you as you struggled arranging the nicely wrapped, hand-painted mugs you all had made in the backseat of Taehyung’s car. Meaning that the backseat door was open and you were on your knees, bending down to the floor to arrange said boxes, your thigh-high black boots sticking out, white fur coat riding up your ass and your equally short red dress slowly hiking up your thighs.

Taehyung and Jungkook stood behind your legs, staring at your increasingly exposed butt in the parking lot and blocking the view from passersby.

“You are doing this on purpose,” Taehyung muttered.

“No, I’m not,” you shot back. “I don’t want someone to look in your car and want to steal your Christmas presents. I paid a lot for that appointment!”

You yelped and fell to your elbows, the hem of your dress shooting up your ass and popping against your waist, leaving your thin red thong out in the open. 

“What the fuck?” Taehyung grumbled indignantly, stomping around to the other side of the backseat.

Jungkook rubbed his temples, already expecting it, but still unprepared.

You grinned to yourself, unsurprised as Taehyung ripped the car door open.

“You,” he growled, sliding into the seat and shutting the door sharply. “Are a horny seductress.”

You smiled innocently at him. “Who, me?”

He took the three boxes from you and placed them in the front passenger seat firmly.

“Hey, be careful with those–”

Taehyung grabbed your face and kissed you, pressing his warm lips into yours, silencing your words. You sighed happily, opening your mouth and moaning, enticing him. You felt Jungkook’s fingers on your cold, exposed skin, snapping the string of your thong into your ass and making you whine against Taehyung’s lips. Jungkook grasped your panties and pulled up hard, burying them into your rapidly dripping slit. You bucked, wiggling your hips as Taehyung rubbed his tongue against yours.

“Fuck, noona,” Jungkook breathed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

He pushed your legs in, forcing you to sit in the center seat and slipped inside, shutting the door.

It was cold outside, but inside the car was so very hot now.

Taehyung broke the kiss, glaring at you. You loved how dark his eyes became, so demanding and lustful, annoyed but also amused with your antics.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he muttered. “But you make me want to fuck you anyway.”

He pushed you into Jungkook’s waiting arms, forcefully turning your head. Your stared into Jungkook’s piercing gaze, his long black hair covering his left eye. He smirked at you, bringing you close to his face as Taehyung unsnapped your coat.

“Can’t even wait until we’re home to cause trouble, can you?” he whispered against your lips.

You tried to kiss him, but Jungkook dodged you, roguish expression on his face. You frowned and grabbed his head, crashing your lips into his as he infuriatingly smiled against them, catching your lower lip in between his teeth and sucking on it. You moaned softly as Taehyung ran his large hands up your hips, all the way up to your breasts. Jungkook’s fingers tangled into your hair, pulling your head back as a needy whine escaped your lips. He shook a finger at you, scooting his body closer, pushing you into Taehyung.

“No, no,” he chided, shushing you. “You want to be so bad and get us into trouble, then you’ll have to face the consequences.”

He placed his leather-covered palm on your cheek, forcing you to face Taehyung as he lowered the shoulders of your coat, exposing the thin straps of your silk dress. Taehyung sucked in a breath, looking down at you hungrily.

“So jealous that someone must have taken you home in this,” he murmured.

You winced a little, biting you lip. “Um… maybe many someones?”

Taehyung’s eyes flickered up to you, dark and dangerous. “You’re insatiable.”

He took one strap and Jungkook took the other, sliding them down your shoulders. Your breasts swelled against the red silk before popping out, black x-shaped pasties covering your nipples. They didn’t need to help you take them off. You reached up with some difficulty and peeled them off yourself, nipples hardening in the cold air.

A part of you was aware that some bystander might witness this and the same part was quite satisfied about that.

Jungkook leaned forward to press his lips against your ear, right hand coming up to knead your right breast. He had removed his gloves, his bare palm rubbing against your hard nipple. Shivers ran through you at his touch.

“Someone’s going to see how naughty you are, noona,” he purred, licking your earlobe. “Someone’s going to watch you get toyed with by Taehyung and I and probably jack off to it tonight.”

You exhaled deeply, feeling Taehyung’s left hand on your left breast, pinching your nipple as he shifted a little to cover your body, leaning his forehead against your temple. You should have been cold, being mostly naked, but you were scorching hot with arousal and the bodies of the two men pressed against you.

“Let them watch,” was your reply, moaning against Taehyung’s lips.

Taehyung scoffed. “Jungkook would probably fuck you out in the open like an animal.”

Jungkook grinned mischievously. “I would.” He sucked on your ear, flicking your nipple as you kissed Taehyung. “And she would be begging for it.”

You spread your legs, whimpering, but they ignored it, Taehyung working his free hand into your hair, ruining all the hairpins, kissing you hard and possessively. You inhaled his heavy, spiced cologne, intoxicated. He released your nipple and reached up to the one end of the red bow, Jungkook playing with the other end.

“I know you said the mug-painting class was our Christmas gift,” Jungkook began, twisting his fingers around the ribbon.

Taehyung broke the kiss, licking your lips lightly as he spoke into your panting mouth.

“But we would have been satisfied with unwrapping just this one.”

And then they both pulled on the red fabric ribbon, slowly untying it, ruining the perfect bow and your common sense, tipping your head as you arched your back. The ends brushed against your chest as Jungkook hooked a finger in the center, fully undoing the tie and exposing your neck. It fell against your elbows, your arms still trapped in your large fur coat.

“Fuck, noona,” Taehyung breathed against your skin. “You’re so pretty, just like this.”

He kissed down your neck, licking down your quivering throat. You had no time to watch though, because Jungkook immediately kissed you, thrusting his tongue into your mouth, making you moan as Taehyung’s lips found your nipples, licking and sucking them while Jungkook sank his fingers into your thigh.

Your panties were drenched, sticking to your folds, leaking down, the strong scent of your arousal filling the car. You suddenly felt Taehyung’s long fingers grip the top of your thong and pull up. You gasped into Jungkook’s mouth and he grinned, fingers trailing up your thigh, so close but so far.

“You want to be touched?” Jungkook taunted, tapping your inner thigh.

“J-Jungkook, please…”

He hummed cheerfully. “I will if hyung lets me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Jungkook grinned cheekily back, dark eyes flashing, black hair obscuring his left eye. It was clear that all he wanted to do was deny you, because Jeon Jungkook was a relentless tease.

Well, you had that in common.

Your conversation with Jungkook had distracted you from the fact that Taehyung had removed himself from your chest, reaching into his coat. You jumped as you felt something cold and hard press against your clothed, but still throbbing, wet clit. You whipped your head to Taehyung, who licked his lips, devilish spark in his brown eyes.

“Present for my good girl.”

And then he turned on the bullet vibrator, assaulting your clit.

Your cried out and Jungkook slapped a hand over your mouth, grunting as he held down one leg, preventing you from squirming away as Taehyung pinned the other to the seat, sending intense vibrations straight to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You whined around Jungkook’s palm and he lowered his face to your right breast, taking your nipple into his mouth. Taehyung followed suit with the other.

It was a cramped space, and yet you were already in ecstasy, head forced back, both your nipples being licked and sucked as Taehyung coaxed you to orgasm. Your whole body jerked as you came quickly, unable to cope with the initial harsh, intense vibrations and the sensation of two tongues on you at the same time. Your clit flared with stimulation, thighs trembling. And still Taehyung held you there, barreling you through your first orgasm and pushing for the next, making you scream behind Jungkook’s strong hand, eyes squeezing shut as the wave crashed down again, hips shuddering and spasming with pleasure.

Taehyung removed the vibrator to press it against your wet nipple. You shuddered, clit aching, still wanting more. Jungkook removed his hand and Taehyung kissed you, breathing in your euphoric exhale. You moaned into his mouth, eyes half-lidded, staring into his beautiful lashes, his soft hair brushing against your forehead. You whined and Taehyung broke the kiss, your name floating from his lips, turning off the vibrator for a moment. You wanted to reach up and touch him, slip your hand under his sweater and shirt, but your hands were pinned in place from your jacket.

“Sorry, noona,” he purred in his soul-shakingly deep voice. “Only one of us is getting naked here, and it’s you.”

“B-but, Tae…”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating in his chest. “That’s what you get for teasing us with your sexy body.” He turned away from you, tapping Jungkook who was lazily pushing your nipple around in circles with his tongue, steady pleasure that graced you through your afterglow. Jungkook raised his eyebrows.

“Hm?”

Taehyung pointed to your thong. “Rip it off.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I still want those?” you interrupted, amused.

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow. “I have to convince you to keep clothes on in general.”

You nodded knowingly as Jungkook’s fingers danced down your stomach. “You’re right.”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

Jungkook made eye contact with you, lower lip trapped in his teeth. Your lips parted, feeling his fingers close in on the top of your panties. He was smirking playfully, aware of his power over you, watching your eyes tick between his face and his hands. His nail traced your slit, smirk widening as you moaned at his light touch.

“I would let you be naked as much as you want,” Jungkook drawled, slipping a finger under the soaked red fabric, prying it out of your folds. You whimpered softly, lost in his dark brown eyes and his sinful words, his knuckles brushing against your heat as he grasped your thong with his two hands.

“And that’s why I have to wrangle you two,” Taehyung muttered, eyes flickering to the outside world, hoping the owners of the two cars next to you were not going to come back anytime soon. “Otherwise, both of you would be arrested for indecent exposure.”

Jungkook grinned. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Don’t you ‘hyung’ me.”

You gasped as Jungkook ripped your thong apart, turning it into useless scraps of wet red fabric. The strings on the sides snapped as well and it fell off your body. Jungkook swept the shreds from the seat onto the car floor.

Taehyung glared at him. “And I’m supposed to explain that to the car cleaners, how?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Tell them you had a very horny woman you needed to please.”

Taehyung looked up at the sky, exasperated, mouthing silent words before he addressed him again. “I’m first, then you. Then we’ll switch again.”

The younger man grinned. “Okay.”

You blinked as Taehyung handed Jungkook the silver bullet vibrator. “Excuse me,” you said quietly, “I would like to know exactly what you mean by–”

You were abruptly cut off by Taehyung shoving two fingers into you, your words turning into a sharp yelp as your drenched hole was suddenly filled, all the way up to his knuckles. Jungkook lifted you slightly, perching your leg on his so your hips were raised, giving Taehyung a better angle. You felt Taehyung’s lips against your ear as he slowly slid his fingers out, whispering your name.

“We’re going to make you cum so much you can’t stand,” he growled. “And then we’re going to take you home and stuff you so full of cock that you’ll think twice before teasing us like this again.”

Jungkook chuckled, appearing in your vision, speaking in Taehyung’s ear.

“She’s going to take it as encouragement to do more dangerous things.”

Taehyung sighed knowingly, forcefully jamming his fingers back into you. You gasped, pressing yourself against Jungkook’s hard body so you could raise your hips as Taehyung began to pump his fingers into your dripping pussy, wet sloppy squelches accompanying his movement. You could barely register the sound of the vibrator turning on again, but you felt it, sliding down your stomach, skin tingling as you panted.

“D-don’t…” you whimpered, already knowing it was falling onto deaf ears. You were clenching so tightly around Taehyung’s fingers that there was absolutely no way you meant it.

Taehyung smirked. “Jungkook’s allowed to do whatever he wants while I finger you.”

The pulsating vibrations attacked your clit, shooting bolts of pleasure up your torso, hips shaking as Taehyung’s fingers repeatedly rammed into you. Your eyes slid closed, a moan tearing from your lips, Jungkook’s snicker above you, his free hand pinching and rubbing your nipple as he massaged your clit with the bullet vibrator.

“Noona, you’re so fucking hot,” Jungkook praised, breath heavy against your skin. “The most perfectly fuckable body I’ve ever touched.”

You bit your lip hard, pleading noises in your throat, getting wetter at Jungkook’s words, one of your hands clutching Taehyung’s thigh, digging your nails into his pants, indicating you were close. Jungkook changed the setting, increasing the vibrations, and your hips bucked violently, burying your face into Taehyung’s shoulder as you came, screaming into his brown coat.

“A-ah, Taehyung, Jungkook!”

You gasped sharply as Taehyung removed his fingers, moaning as they touched his tongue.

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

Jungkook’s lips pressed against your ear, teasing you. “My turn.”

And then his two fingers slid in, slightly different from Taehyung’s, but just as good, filling you up. He scissored them in you and you lifted your head from Taehyung’s shoulder, panting, watching Jungkook and his sharp jawline, pupils so dilated that his eyes looked black. He seemed to feel your gaze and he turned his head to look at you, the tiny mole underneath his lips flashing as he grinned.

“Who’s a good girl?” Jungkook hummed, tilting his head, pink tongue darting out.

“I-I am…” you breathed, whimpering as you saw his tongue. “I am, Jungkook…”

He cocked his head as the vibrator sounded again, Taehyung pressing it against your swollen nipple, smearing your orgasm all over your tits. You moaned wantonly, leaning back into Taehyung as Jungkook began to finger you roughly, a bruising pace, sliding you up the seat a little with his force.

“What do you think, Taehyung?” Jungkook purred. “Do you agree with her?”

Taehyung chuckled into your hair. “Maybe if she cums for us a few more times, I’ll be convinced.”

He slid the vibrator down, down and you were there again, drowning in copious, sinful pleasure as Taehyung assaulted your sensitive bundle of nerves with relentless vibration and Jungkook fucked you hard and fast with his fingers, your juices sliding down his palm, probably sticking to the seat and your coat, but none of you cared, all three of you chasing your next orgasm, pushing you to the edge, going, going, gone.

It came fast and it came hard, ricocheting through you, so hot, so intense, clit and pussy throbbing together, sucking in Jungkook’s fingers, moaning their names deeply as you rocked your own hips through your orgasm, extending it. You shuddered when Jungkook pulled his fingers out, licking them off noisily as Taehyung pressed the bullet vibrator against your puffy, soaked pussy lips, watching your erotic expression, mouth open, tongue lolling.

“We’re not done, noona.”

Taehyung’s deep voice, warning you, but you couldn’t think, couldn’t believe there was more, more. He turned off the vibrator and switched it for his fingers again, dipping them in, the feeling of his joints and calluses rubbing against your walls, and then he added a third finger. You gasped, throat dry from all your noises as you opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s head lower, pushing your hips down so your knees hit the backs of the front seats, uncomfortably spread wide, ass half-hanging off but feeling so good that you didn’t notice. Didn’t notice until Jungkook’s tongue was on your swollen clit.

Your eyes rolled back into your head.

So fucking good.

Taehyung shoved his fingers into you, fucking you hard and deep as Jungkook lapped at your raw clit, teasing it, nipping at it. It throbbed against the tip of his soft tongue, so sensitive you were a whimpering, moaning mess, even more so as Taehyung’s and Jungkook’s free hands played with your nipples, pinching them as they drove you crazy, ruining you with fingers, lips, and tongue. Your name, coaxing you in heart-shaking baritone, telling you to come in Jungkook’s mouth and all over his hand.

“Aren’t you Taehyungie’s good girl?”

“F-fuck, yes, fuck, Tae, I’m your good girl, oh, fuck–”

Your words tumbled together in a hoarse hiss, hips rutting into Jungkook’s face as you came, liquid gushing everywhere, walls spasming and clamping around Taehyung’s fingers, one of your hands pulling out of your coat and grabbing Jungkook’s head, forcing him down as you rode your high into his mouth, messing up his long hair. Jungkook gave you a muffled groan, twisting your nipple slightly.

Your core was aching with pleasure and overstimulation, never before having been pushed this far, intoxicated by the feeling. You loved every second of Taehyung and Jungkook having their way with you, drunk on the feeling of back-to-back orgasms. Your hand slipped and Jungkook resurfaced, lips shiny with your juices, licking them off slowly as Taehyung sucked on his fingers.

Then Jungkook flexed his right hand at you, tattoos dancing as he did so.

“Round two.”

And then the positions changed, Taehyung’s lips on your inflamed clit, Jungkook’s three fingers knuckle-deep inside you, except Jungkook craned his body to place his lips on your abused right nipple, sucking on it as Taehyung pressed the slippery bullet vibrator against your other nipple, vibrations jarring you right to your heart. Taehyung’s tongue was gentle and firm, still too much as it was paired with Jungkook’s wet muscle teasing you as his fingers thrust into your pussy, slow, deep, hitting your favorite spot. You completely forgot you were in Taehyung’s car in some random parking lot, partly out in the open, lost in the ecstasy and elation.

It took them no time at all since you were already so sensitive that you were the one holding back, trying not to give in, trying to prolong the pleasure, but eventually you lost and the taut coil in your stomach snapped.

“O-oh, Jungkook, Taehyung…”

Your hips jerked into Taehyung’s face, your orgasm leaking onto the floor of his car, fingers curling into his hair, so lovely and soft, wild torrents of pleasure soaring through you. So very, very good. Dirty, deviant, and glorious. Taehyung removed the vibrator from your nipple, turning it off. You moaned softly, coming down from your high, clutching Taehyung’s head, your fingers massaging his scalp as he continued licking you gently. You gazed into Jungkook’s eyes as he slowly removed his lips from your nipple, glassy eyes locking with his.

“You taste so good,” Jungkook murmured, face centimeters from yours. “Smell so good, look so good, feel so good, sound so fucking sexy.” He kissed you, your taste still on his tongue, breathing your name like a caress.

Taehyung finally untangled his head from your hand, panting softly. He came up to your face too, and Jungkook moved to make space, tenderly kissing your cheek and ear.

“Noona,” Taehyung mumbled, smearing your own orgasm onto your chin as he placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

Your voice was raspy and gravelly from all your noises. “W-what?”

“You’re going to spend Christmas with us, right?”

Your lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “Well, I was going to slide down your chimney and–”

Taehyung prodded you as Jungkook laughed heartily. “We don’t have a chimney.”

You shrugged. “Same idea, break in and fuck you both.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Santa doesn’t do that.”

“All I’m saying is that Mrs. Claus definitely gets some–”

Taehyung shut you up by kissing you once again.

-

part ii: gold light

--

masterpost

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 1

Part One | Part Two

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,400

Warnings: racial slurs, some gore 

Summary: You catch Marko’s eye while he’s waiting on an order. (Since my blatant favoritism towards Dwayne was called out, I’m trying something new!) 

“Nin hao ma,” Marko called out as he entered the small restaurant.

The familiar scents of garlic, rice vinegar, and sesame oil wafted out from the kitchen in the back. Marko personally preferred the take-out joint down the block but it was David’s night to choose so he didn’t complain. Much.

The older woman at the counter bowed her head slightly with a smile. He wasn’t a regular but he was there enough that she recognized him. “Hao, hao.”

Mandarin was fluent but these owners spoke Cantonese which he wasn’t as familiar with. He supposed he could take time to learn but he’d been occupied with spray painting and the birds for the past few years. That didn’t leave much time, or desire, to pick up something else. Pleasantries out of the way, he switched back to English. His

“Let me get three orders of the sweet and sour pork, one sweet and sour shrimp, four chow mein, one lo mein, and one fried rice.” After a second of thought he added, “Oh, and some egg rolls.”

The owner wrote it all down quickly and waved the paper slip in between her fingers. “Wait here.”

She disappeared to the kitchen, leaving Marko by himself to admire the scrolls of art that hung on the wall.

In the back, she calmly walked over to where you were hunched over an open textbook, frantically taking notes. It was noisy in the kitchen so you didn’t notice her until she cuffed you on the back of the head.

“Oww!”

“Time to work. Keep an eye on the customer out front,” she nagged in Cantonese.

“Fine, fine. I’m going.” You held your hands up in surrender. But you snagged you stuff when she wasn’t looking and hoofed it to the register before she could chastise you again.

You stood at the register and it was impossible to miss the customer. He had a riotous mass of blonde curls pulled back into a ponytail and wore a patched-up jacket that was simultaneously too busy to look at and too interesting to look away from. He must have felt your gaze because he suddenly shifted his focus from the calligraphy on the walls and stared you straight in the eye.

You held your breath and after a few seconds, his face relaxed and he smiled at you. The smile only added to his attractiveness but you instinctively knew that he wasn’t as sweet as it would lead you to believe.

“You’re new,” he commented.

“Y-yeah. I mean, no,” you sputtered. That was embarrassing. You’d never struggled to speak with a customer before. The fact that he stared without blinking made it worse.

He merely hid his smile behind the fingerless gloves and stuck a thumb in his mouth. A possible oral fixation—? You stopped that thought dead in it’s tracks. It was highly inappropriate to think of a paying customer that way. His actions were none of your business.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to start over. “Actually, my family has known the owners forever. But yes, I’ve only been working here for a few months.”  

“I don’t remember seeing you,” he said crowding you despite the fact that there was a register between the two of you. “What’s your name?”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt the need to defend yourself to him. Which was ridiculous. You talked with chatty customers all the time, no problem.

“My name is Y/N. I always take the busy shifts since my English is better. This is the first time I’ve stayed later than the dinner rush.”

That answer must’ve settled something for him because he took at thumb out of his mouth and gave you the first genuine smile you’d seen thus far. In turn, you smiled back and the mood in the room calmed.

His attention went back to the calligraphy and you opened your textbook to the spot you left off at. Everything was quiet. “So…you like calligraphy?” he questioned.

The next fifteen minutes passed quickly as he got you talking about the restaurant’s décor. He was especially absorbed by the painting of a fiery-scaled eastern dragon, which you also liked. But your favorite was the Chinese phoenix on the opposite wall.

“Did you know the fenghuang is a lucky omen? They’re the bird of all birds in traditional mythology.”

That seemed to intrigue him. “The bird of all birds, huh?”

You latched on to the tone in his voice. “Do you like birds?”

He toed the tip of his worn boot into the linoleum floor. Laughed a little. “Yeah. You could say that.”

He opened his mouth to say more but at that moment you were called to bag up his order. A little reluctant, you excused yourself and went to kitchen. The food was already portioned into their respective white cartons, the top flaps folded in neatly.

Opening up the plastic bag, you quickly arranged the cartons inside and tied a with a small, snug knot at the top. Stapling the receipt to the bag, you drew a smiley face on it with a blue-ink pen. The smile came out a little lopsided but you left it alone, afraid it might turn out worse if you tried to fix it.

You lingered near the door, twisting the plastic in your hands. For some reason, you would be disappointed to see him leave. Which was crazy as you’d only talked for a few brief minutes. Judging by the size of the order, the poor guy probably needed to leave so he could bring other people their dinner too.

Resigned, and uncomfortable with that feeling, you went back out to the register. You made sure to use your most polite voice as you rang him up. The exchange happened normally and he dug a wad of dollars bills from his back pocket. It made you cringe to see the money so wrinkled and spotted with an unknown stain, but you kept your reaction to yourself.  

“Have a nice night,” you wished him as you tried to hand him his change.

He waved it off with a shake of his head that sent his curls bouncing. “Nah, keep it.”

And that was it. He turned to leave, swinging the plastic bag at his side with every step. There was no hesitation on his part and you sighed. Clearly, your interest was one-sided.

Logically, you knew shouldn’t take it personal, but emotionally, you couldn’t shake the feeling of rejection. Remembering that you were in the middle of reading, you went to open your notes again. You flipped through the pages slowly, your heart not in it.

Outside of the small restaurant, the red neon open sign casted hazy lighting on the cracked cement sidewalk. Marko hovered just far enough from the door that you couldn’t see him. He snickered.

Your disappointed sighs had followed him as soon as he turned his back on you to leave and he had to be honest—it delighted him. Good to know that you were attracted to him. He certainly liked you.

Santa Carla was full of interesting people, alive, undead, or otherwise, so it was hard to catch his attention. But as soon as you started spouting off about mythical Chinese phoenixes, he was hooked. Yes, he was into birds, screw you, but he’d never heard that story before.

He supposed you could’ve been talking out of your ass but he didn’t get that vibe from what he had seen. Your eyes lit up when you talked about the image so he bet that you truly did admire it. Your voice was steady for the first time in the encounter, meaning that you were comfortable saying those things, had probably told them to other ears dozens of times.

So, yes, you could be making it up. If you were, he’d be the first to admire your skills. But you seemed too straight and narrow for that. After all, you were actually studying at work. What kind of person did that?

The tantalizing combination of authenticity and passion for your Eastern mythology made him want to talk to you again. That way he could pick your brains more and maybe, if he was lucky, make you stutter again. Still, he wasn’t going to walk back in there like a sap. Not after he just left.  

“Hey!”

His ears twitched and he finally got a look at the guy he’d been watching stagger down the sidewalk the entire time he’d been outside. He chose not to saying anything figuring the human would keep talking anyway, which he did.

“You get that food from here?” The human pointed to the restaurant with his thumb.

Marko nodded, biting on his thumb.

“These chinks, or japs, or whatever any good?”

Marko’s eyes that had been taking in the guy’s appearance the entire time paused in the bird pin he had on his cap. It was yellow orange. Similar shade to the fenghuang’s wings. He took his thumb out of his mouth, his slick fangs descending to bite into his bottom lip.  

The ass hadn’t even noticed, still talking and seemingly some kind of inebriated. Fine by Marko. He liked surprising people.

His clawed hand shot out faster than the human eye could track and plunged into the guy’s chest. A hole was torn clean through. The blood and heart organ felt warm and wet as it stuck to his fingers. “I don’t think you need to worry about that you prick.”

The hole was much more pronounced and blood began spilling out. In the light of the moon, the blood looked black instead of red. The about-to-be-dead offender’s jacket absorbed some of the liquid but the rate at which it poured out was too much for the fabric to soak it all up.  It wouldn’t be long until he was officially dead.

The shock registered late and by the time the human looked down, Marko had already pulled his hand out and was sucking at the blood. He laughed at the other’s confused expression. The last thing the guy saw was Marko giggling and playfully waving his fingers.

The corpse sagged to the ground and Marko wrenched it up by one of the arms. He must’ve used too much force because he heard the shoulder pop off out of its socket.

He shrugged, not really bothered. No one else was out on the streets at this time. Especially not during a weekday. Getting rid of the body would be easy. Strengthening his hold, he flew into the night sky to dump the body where it would never be found.

When he came back, the white bag of Chinese take-out was sitting exactly where he left it. Excellent. Bending down to rip off the receipt, he pinned his new yellow orange bird pin to it. There was a small speck of blood on the glossed paint near the small bird’s wing that he licked clean.

He didn’t mind scarring you, but he didn’t want you so freaked out that you went to the cops. That would make things a little messy and make David pissy.

Following his nose, he wandered over the car that smelled of you. A quick glance through the driver’s window showed a stack of other notebooks and…a ridiculously bedazzled charm dangling from the rear-view mirror. It made him raise his brow, but he decided he liked it.

Mythological creatures, bedazzled charms…he couldn’t wait to find out more about you.

He arranged the paper backed pin under the windshield wiper to keep it from falling or blowing away. Marko prided himself on giving gifts and he wished he could be there to see you find it, but he’d been gone long enough. The boys were already going to give him hell for it. And he was getting hungry, too.

Besides, he knew where you worked. He’d find you again when he had more time.

Revving the bike, he raced down the road, the plastic bag quivering where it hung from his handle bars.

---XXX---

“See you later, Auntie,” you called out. A bell jingled as you pushed the front door open. You weren’t used to working this late and were long past due for sleep.

“Bye bye, drive home safe,” she said in Cantonese, the gruffness failing to mask her fondness for you.

Being in the restaurant all night, the crisp air outside was a nice reprieve. You loved the food, you really did, but oil could be headache inducing after a while. There was a slight breeze, too, that refreshed you with its invisible caress.

Most of the other businesses in this area were closed by now, leaving the streets dim and vacant. Luckily, there was a streetlight by your car so you didn’t have to walk in the dark. There was no such thing as being too safe in Santa Carla.

You shifted your things so you could get the keys and stopped in your tracks when you noticed a small piece of paper on the windshield. You looked around, not seeing anything else out of the ordinary. Still, you couldn’t shake the wariness.

Was it a ticket? A threat? A piece of trash that just blew into the window?

Creeping forward, you recognized the smiley face you had drawn earlier. What the—? When you were close enough to snatch it, you realized there was something weighing down the corner of the flimsy paper. A pin.

You angled it toward the streetlight, unsure what it was. An orange, no, golden orange bird gleamed in the light. Its wings spread wide and were smooth under the pads of your fingers.

Warmth spread through your chest. There wasn’t a message on the receipt, but the smiley face gave it away. This could only have been from that customer with the curls and jacket. Had he been wearing it inside? You couldn’t remember.

Clutching the pin, you sat in the driver’s seat. The car ran idle for a bit and you fiddled with the back of the pin. There was plenty of space on your bare jacket to place it wherever you wished. With the delicate gift attached securely to the jacket, you backed out of the parking spot, a smile on your face the entire way home.

Hopefully, he stopped by again soon.

_______________

My first time writing for Marko! Thumbs up or thumbs down? 

Regardless, East Asian (and any) racism isn’t cool peeps. Let’s do better :) 

[direnightshade]

Inferno

Warnings: Violence / Gun Violence, Post-Apocalyptic Themes, Angst, Unhappy Ending, Death / Major Character Death, Pandemic, Major Injury Word Count: 6,705

As always, you can find this over on AO3.

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

An arid landscape stretches as far as the eye can see. The familiar rows of brownstones and businesses of Brooklyn have long since vanished, replaced by a sun-baked desert. On the horizon, two figures stand facing one another, their muscles tensed and their focus solely on the other. Neither notices Sackler’s advance toward them.

The leather palm of the fingerless glove that the gunslinger wears creaks with the brief flex of fingers. You are itching to reach for the weapon holstered at your hip, eager to pull the warm steel from its confines to unleash the fury that you’ve been waiting to deliver for years now. But now, you know, is not the time. You will not be the first to make the move. No, this is dependent upon him , the man dressed in all black who stands opposite you with a look of smug determination.

The rough terrain crunches beneath Adam’s shoes and the dust that kicks up clings to them with each step forward that he takes, but as he draws nearer he notes how the sky grows increasingly darker. Large, grey clouds, swollen with an impending storm darken the sky and blot out the sun until a familiar rumble in the distance can be heard. It isn’t long until the first bolt of lightning strikes, effectively halting his steps. The electric current crackles and sizzles on its path downward and it’s then that Sackler realizes the strangest thing: the bolt does not disappear into the ground but rather into the fingertips of the man in black who now holds his hands upwards towards the sky.

Adam’s gaze shifts to where you stand. Your hand has since migrated to the gun at your hip and your thumb has lifted the leather snap of the holster, making for a quicker, easier draw of the weapon. It’s like slow motion, watching the scene unfold before him as your head swivels while your hand grips the gun and lifts in one fluid motion. With a squeeze of the trigger, a bullet rips through the air, the bang of the gun mirroring the echo of the thunder that accompanies a second bolt of lightning that careens down towards the parched Earth.

The moment that the bullet nears the man in black, it’s as if someone has flicked a switch and time has resumed its correct rate of movement once more as the man lowers his hands and faces his palms out towards you, both deflecting the bullet and sending a stream of electric current in your direction. Your eyes widen and just as the current reaches you...

The familiar blare of an alarm clock startles Sackler awake, immediately causing his eyelids to part to now take in the sight of the stark white ceiling above him. Gone is the dry landscape of some foreign desert; he has found his way back to the comfort of home. A large hand settles atop his chest and he takes a moment to puff out his cheeks and exhale a long breath whilst he feels the steady rhythm of his beating heart beneath his touch. This is not the first that he has dreamt of you and the man in black, nor does he suspect that it will be the last, but this time, he realizes, was different. This time the man in black had seemed to have the upper hand, something in which he’d never managed to in dreams prior.

Sackler had never believed much in astrology or dream meanings and the like, but the brevity and the sheer vividness of each one chipped away at his stance little by little until finally he’d found himself up and out of bed, pouring over page after page of varying dream meanings. From the cracked, barren wasteland of the desert to the storm that raged above, every meaning—if Sackler looked close enough— could feasibly be tied back to one problem or another in his life. But even with the research and the meanings loosely tied to reality, he still found the tiniest seed of doubt sprouting in his gut—a little flutter of worry that something just wasn’t quite right .

The scrape of a wooden chair across the linoleum floor sounds out into the small apartment when he rises up from his spot at the table, suppressing the unease for the time being. Sackler grabs his backpack and slings a strap over his shoulder before making the short stroll across the space to retrieve his bike. He’d forget about this for now, chalking it up to nothing more than a dream. Because that’s all it could possibly be...couldn’t it?

***

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Shoshana stands beside Adam, her hand gently swirling the wooden stirrer to mix her cream into the coffee that she holds.

The noncommittal hum that she receives in response isn’t to her liking, however. She huffs and nudges Adam’s ribs with her elbow, careful to not waste a single precious drop of the still piping hot liquid.

When Adam turns his head to look at her, she speaks up again. “You have to come! Marnie already said you’d told her you’d be there.”

“Yeaaaah, yeah. I’ll be there,” he replies, eyeing the board overhead that contains a multitude of hand-written items available to order. A brief moment of silence follows and then: “Wait, what time does it start?”

“Adam!”

A pinch is delivered to his side, eliciting a dramatic yelp in response to minimal pain. “Wh— ow! What?!”

“It’s six o’clock. And don’t be late,” Shoshana says, pausing momentarily to blow gingerly across the heated surface of her coffee before taking a long, thoughtful sip. “You know how Marnie gets.”

Sackler’s lips purse, thumbs hooking around the straps of his backpack while his eyes continue to peruse the board overhead. Another moment passes before he feels a nudge, this time another elbow, in his side. “Why bother, just get it black like you always do.”

He huffs out an amused breath and smiles down at Shoshana who mirrors the expression prior to excusing herself and pivoting on her heels to make her exit. He watches as she steps out of the door, the bell overhead ringing to signal her vacation of the premises; when the familiar blonde head of hair disappears among the crowd on the other side of the exterior wall’s windows, Adam’s gaze slides over to the clock that adorns the nearby wall. One thirty.

With a sigh, he turns back to face Ray who is already in the process of sliding him the usual: one black coffee in a plain off-white insulated cup complete with lid. Tossing down enough money to cover both the coffee and tip, Adam flashes Ray a grin and turns to follow Shoshana’s path back out onto the street.

***

The unassuming brick building that sits on Willoughby is lit by a pair of skyward pointing spotlights, illuminating the red brick against the dark backdrop of nightfall. Inside, the stark white of the walls and grey concrete floors reflect the blinding fluorescents overhead. Art is dotted sparsely along the walls, ranging from geometric abstraction to realism. Hushed tones fill the space as would-be patrons, guests, and painters alike all speak to one another among the art.

The soles of a pair of scuffed tan leather boots carry Adam further into the gallery while his gaze sweeps the area, roaming from one piece to another. The hands that are shoved deep into his one good pair of pants flex within the stiff material of his pockets as he stops in front of a painting by someone with a name he doesn’t recognize. Like nearly every other piece of art in this place that he’s laid eyes upon, this one is loud; bold, bright colors are splashed across the canvas in such a way that it almost appears angry, as if someone had been in the throes of being upset when making this. Though, what the fuck does he know about art?

Adam snorts to himself and pivots, stepping away from this piece and moving on, one after another until…

“Hooooly shiiiiiit,” he murmurs quietly to himself.

“It’s a masterpiece isn’t it,” says a familiar voice abruptly to his right. “I’d say it’s my best work yet.”

Sackler’s gaze slides over to the nameplate that sits beneath the painting, though he doesn’t have to. He knows precisely this belongs to by their voice alone.

“I call it The Duality of Life and Death,” says Booth with an air of smugness. “You see, the Gunslinger, they’re the embodiment of life; all light and warm tones, whereas Death here is in all black, being kept at bay by the Gunslinger’s trusty weapon.”

He cannot believe what he is seeing. In fact, he is so focused on the painting before him that Sackler fails to register any and all words that leave Booth’s mouth. It is as if this artwork has been pulled straight from his most recent dream. Everything, right down to the bolts of lightning, tinged purple by the storm, is an accurate portrayal of the vividness of the dream he’d lived through the night prior. Impossible. And yet…

“Shut up,” Sackler mumbles just loud enough for Booth to hear.

“Excuse me?” Booth balks at the audacity of Adam’s sudden intrusion upon his well-rehearsed pitch and not so modest boasting about his talents.

“How much?”

The conversation lapses, and for a moment, all that can be heard is the sound of the murmurs of the other patrons. Booth huffs out a laugh, unsure of whether or not this is a genuine inquiry.

“Too much for you.”

“How much,” Adam asks again, this time more forcefully. His head turns and, for the first time since Booth’s arrival, he directs his full attention to the man beside him.

Another brief silence follows. “Fifteen hundred.”

“I’ll give you seven,” Adam counters.

A scoff follows the attempted negotiation. “Absolutely not. Fifteen hundred and not a penny less.”

Sackler’s jaw twitches in irritation and he knows without a shadow of a doubt in his mind that Booth is taking him for a ride with the price, but he simply cannot walk away from this. Not when the coincidence is far too great for him to ignore.

“Fine. You have yourself a deal.”

***

Hours later, Adam finds himself back in his apartment fifteen hundred dollars lighter and one painting in hand. Having disrobed down to the grey pair of boxers he still dons, he settles his weight heavily onto the edge of his mattress, his eyes fixated on the acquired painting that now hangs on the wall directly opposite of where he sits.

It’s uncanny, he thinks to himself, unable to shake the familiarity of it. Just as in his dream, the Gunslinger— you —are looking at him, and from even this great distance, your stare seems to pierce right through him. He stares and he stares and he stares until finally,  sleep begins to wrap its tendrils around him, pulling him further down into a groggy state until he gives in and lies back against the mattress.

His eyes slowly slide closed, thoughts still on the painting, on his dream, on you . In the distance, an impending storm rumbles.

***

‘As many of you in the city have noticed, there has been a rather unusual weather pattern that’s settled over us, bringing with it an unsettling amount of rain and near hurricane level winds. Our storm tracker seems to indicate that this weather pattern is swirling in place, only delivering more debilitating rain that’s quickly turned to flash flooding in the area. The Hudson and East Rivers have both begun to breach their respective banks. But this isn’t the only unusual thing to come from the storm. There have also been strange electromagnetic pul—’

The nearby lamp flickers and then shuts off just as the television screen turns black, cutting off the meteorologist mid forecast. This has been, provided Sackler’s been keeping count accurately, the twelfth time this morning that the power has cut out. If this time is like the others, he can expect it to come back within the next five minutes.

He puffs his cheeks out prior to exhaling a deep breath, his eyes casting downward towards the phone in his hand—the very one he’d only just allowed himself to be talked into purchasing a mere three days ago. A large thumb taps the darkened glass screen to bring it to life. Twenty-eight percent, reads the small battery icon at the upper righthand corner. He sighs, opting not to waste more of the battery life by calling anyone. There’s no use, he knows. Instead, he tosses the device to the side, watching as it bounces against the worn cushions of the couch he sits on.

Outside, the storm rages on.

Rising up from his spot on the couch, the old wooden floorboards creaking beneath his weight, he crosses the small space of his living room to approach the window that gives him the perfect vantage point of the street below. Rain batters against the window, blurring his view, but below he spots a figure striding with purpose down the street.

Behind him, the microwave beeps and the light of his lamp clicks back on with the sudden return of electricity. Static sounds from the direction of the television and then:

‘In other parts of the world we’re seeing an emergence of a previously unknown virus. To date, there are no cases that we are aware of within the United States, but the CDC is urging anyone with the following symptoms to make a report—’

The story fades into the background as the figure draws closer and grows more visible even through the streaks of water that continue to distort the view from the glass in front of him. His eyes widen in recognition of the long, brown leather duster that hangs down nearly to the pavement. The holster isn’t visible beneath it, but the gun held firmly in hand is a dead giveaway.

“You,” he murmurs to himself in complete disbelief.

Without hesitation, and without allowing his mind to catch up with the actions he now takes, he pushes himself away from the window and makes a break for the apartment’s door, leaving behind the nearly dead phone on the couch.

***

ONE YEAR LATER

Plants of varying nature have long since begun to sprout through the cracks in sidewalks and pavement alike, their tendrils crawling up brick exteriors of buildings and brownstone homes. The hustle and bustle that the city is known for has quieted to a deafening degree; where once there were horns and shouts, now there is nothing more than the occasional whipping of the wind and, if one were so lucky, the rare sound of another survivor’s voice.

The illness that had swept across the globe crippled economies and decimated nations, including this very one. Businesses shuddered, families suffered, and in the end, no hope for a cure had been found.

Except for you, that is.

Ever since your arrival to the city where the man in black has taken up residence, it has been claimed by you that you are the only one who can put a stop to the man who’d brought a near end to civilization as Sackler knows it. Back in the realm from whence you have emerged, you have failed to stop him once, but this time, you vow, you will not falter in your mission.

The unmistakable metallic sound of a can being opened can be heard nearby. Sackler turns his head to look over at where you sit, your body curled over the pot that sits atop the lit tabletop burner. His face scrunches in distaste when he watches you dump the tin of beans unceremoniously into the empty pot in order to heat them up. It is the involuntary sound of displeasure that emanates from the back of his throat that captures your attention.

“What,” you ask as your head lifts to look in his direction.

He huffs out a breath and rolls his shoulders into a nonchalant shrug just as his attention shifts to the window of the apartment you find yourselves in currently. His head shakes once, twice, and then: “I don’t think I have it in me to eat another can of fuckin’ beans. At this point I think my blood’s made of it.”

The soft snort that emanates from where you stand pulls his attention back to you. He hadn’t heard you pick up the wooden spoon that you now hold, but he watches as you gently stir the warming beans, bringing them up to the desired temperature.

“It’s not like we have many options these days.”

Sackler notes how you refrain from looking in his direction, and instead direct your reply downward towards the soon to be meal. He grits his teeth together, jaw muscles ticking in visible agitation at the remark. It’s been one year, three hundred and sixty-five days, since the man in black’s arrival to Earth and only you, or so you’ve claimed, are the one that can stop him—only you can stop the sickness that he’s wrought on the planet and its people, and yet here you stand in his shitty apartment’s kitchen of all places, cooking some fucking beans.

It’s enough to drive him mad.

“We might not have options, but you sure as shit do,” he snaps, now having lost his patience. “That man, or whatever the fuck he is,” he says, pointing a finger in the direction of the window, “is out there. We know where he is, where he’s been for the last year and still you haven’t done shit about it!”

The wooden spoon once held in your hand now clatters against the side of the pot, the beans forgotten as Adam watches you twist off the flame and turn to face him with a sneer.

“I told you, it isn’t that simple. He’s dangerous , and he’s stronger than he’s ever been. And in case you haven’t noticed—”

“All the more reason to get it done, Kid! No use standing around here wasting time.”

“—I’m the last one of my kind left!”

Silence fills the space when your respective outbursts subside, and it isn’t until then that Sackler notices that you’ve taken steps to bring yourself closer to him. He wonders if you’ve noticed it too. Adam watches as your lips press together into a thin line, evidence of your displeasure with him and the situation the two of you find yourself in.

In a moment of seemingly perfectly choreographed movements, the two of you reach for one another, hands grasping at fabric, skin, anything and everything that you can reach. A groan of satisfaction tumbles from Sackler’s mouth the moment that he draws your body closer until you are firmly pressed against him, the sound greedily inhaled by you amidst a clashing of lips.

***

Hours later, when the light sheen of sweat covering your bodies has cooled, and the warmth of your skin is pressed against his, Adam turns his head and deposits a kiss to the crown of your own. In immediate response, you exhale a barely audible sigh.

There is a palpable energy that fills the space now; it is not the same explosive kind from earlier, the very one that led the two of you to the mattress you currently find yourselves on, no… This time it is different, uncomfortable. Sackler’s lips press together briefly, his jaw working in the familiar way you’ve come to notice in the short span of time that you’ve known him.

“I can practically hear the gears grinding in that head of yours, Kid,” he murmurs.

In reply you hum, though a moment of silence elapses before you respond. “We can’t,” you begin, the two words spoken with a quietness to rival your earlier sigh. Quickly, you lapse into more soundless thought.

Sackler’s arm tightens around your form, holding you closer to him; it is a wordless response that speaks volumes. Don’t , it says. Let us have this one moment of peace before the inevitable storm comes raging in and one of us finds ourselves swept away .

“Adam…” His name is a whisper, spoken so softly that if there were any other remaining souls in this building, not one would hear.

“Don’t,” he exclaims more forcefully than he’d intended. The words that follow are quieter, mournful, even. “Just don’t…” A shaky breath is inhaled and Sackler closes his eyes, an all too familiar ache beginning to make its home in the depths of his chest.

Beside him, bedsheets rustle as you lift yourself up out of the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Slowly, Adam’s eyelids part to look up only to find that you have propped yourself up by your elbow to peer down at him with a pained expression etched onto your features. A hand lifts and his eyes flutter closed once more when the sensation of your fingertips delicately tracing his cheek can be felt.

Such a tender touch only seems to feed the ache.

“We can’t be together.” The pain that he feels seems to be echoed in your own statement. It is a realization that drives the proverbial knife deeper and then twists. Your fingertips skim along his lips which now quiver with unshed sobs for a love that has died before it has even had a chance to bloom. “It’s too dangerous.”

A large hand wraps around your wrist, keeping you in place so that he may press kiss after kiss into your open palm in what feels like a desperate bid to prevent this moment from fading from existence. Adam shakes his head and slides your hand over to rest against his cheek, nuzzling into the touch before opening his eyes once more. This time when he looks up at you, he can see the tears that have gathered at your waterline, threatening to spill over onto your cheeks at any moment.

You exhale a trembling breath and when you close your eyes, the tears fall freely. Sackler lifts his hands, thumbs wicking away the moisture from your face as best he can. With a gentle hush, he guides you down to lay against him again, this time with your cheek pressed against his chest.

“You understand that, right,” you ask through the sobs that now begin to rack your body.

In response, Adam wraps an arm around your back, his other hand now cradling your head as you rest against him. “Yeah, Kid… I do,” he whispers in reply, his own tears now blurring his vision.

***

A rustling of wrappers can be heard, followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper. When Adam cracks one eye open, it’s to find that the light of an early dawn has begun to creep its way through the sheer curtain draped across his window, spilling in to illuminate your form as you work to close his backpack. He groans and lifts a hand to rub his palm against one eye, working the grogginess from it whilst he begins to sit upright.

“Whasssgoin’on,” he slurs, voice still thick with sleep.

He’s met by the thump of the backpack as it lands against his chest, and coughing out a breath, he wraps his arms around the material in immediate reaction.

“Get up,” you say, now turning your attention to your own gear, ensuring that you have everything that you need. “Get dressed and make sure you take that with you. We’re heading out.”

“Out?” The sleep that had laced his voice has dissipated entirely, now replaced with a brief bout of confusion. “Out where?”

Sliding your gun into its holster, you pivot simultaneously, the soles of your boots scuffing the old worn hardwood floor. “We have a stop to make. I need more ammunition and then we’re headed into Manhattan.”

It takes him a moment, but when the weight of your words hit him with full force, it’s impossible for you to miss the look of recognition that passes across his face. He scrambles from the bed, momentarily discarding the backpack in order to grab his clothes from the pile he’d discarded on the floor just a day earlier. At long last, after everything he has endured over the course of the last year, after everything that you have endured, as well as the two of you together, the day has finally arrived. And yet…

There is a small seed of hesitation that has sewn itself into the depths of his belly, sprouting up into worry.

***

Brooklyn remains as quiet as it has been for this past year; a gentle breeze cuts through a brownstone-lined street, rustling Sackler’s hair and causing the near floor-length duster that you wear to billow in its wake. The soles of your boots scuff along the pavement, kicking up pebbles that have torn up from the once heavily-traveled road. Beside you, Sackler adjusts the strap of the backpack that dangles precariously from his shoulder.

“You know you aren’t going to find any ammunition in any of the stores around here.” The words leave him matter-of-factly, as if he knows this to be true.

Your head swivels to look over at him and your eyes squint slightly as if to ask for further elaboration on the subject at hand. In automatic response, his hands lift, palms facing outward as if in defense though the two of you carry on walking alongside one another.

“Gun laws,” he says. “They’re super strict here.”

You huff out a grunt in reply and mutter a barely audible ‘that’s fine’ in return to which Adam quickly follows with: “T-that’s fine? What do you mean that’s fine? Hey! Hey , where are you going?!”

Stunned into momentary silence, Adam watches as you veer off course and make a beeline for one of the passing brownstones that sits vacant. “I don’t need a store,” you call out from over your shoulder.

With a swift, solid kick of your boot to the center of the door, you manage to dislodge the lock and allow yourself entry. The interior of the home is dark in spite of the sun that hangs high overhead just outside—a byproduct of city living. Upon further investigation, the home looks tidy, orderly, as if whomever used to live here locked up and left long before the sickness that swept the nation one year ago was able to settle in and take hold of the building’s occupants.

“Up here,” Adam says, the sudden boom of his voice cutting through your thoughts.

He is already halfway up the wooden staircase that leads to the second floor by the time you look over, taking the steps two at a time to reach the landing. It isn’t long until you are close behind, following him into one of the spacious bedrooms. Sackler’s backpack falls to the floor with a light thump just as he all but dives to the floor, his lean body stretching out as he peers beneath the bed. A hand reaches under, retrieving a small black case along with two boxes.

“Check these.” He rises up from his spot on the floor and immediately pivots to make his way into the large walk-in closet.

The sound of hangers sliding along metal rods can be heard as he pushes row after row of clothes aside in order to hunt down what he suspects will be a second weapon. By the time that he re-emerges, it is to find that you have scattered the boxes of ammunition from beneath the bed on top of the duvet. Beside the discarded ammo sits the black box, now opened to reveal Glock.

“This isn’t what I need,” you reply before turning your head to look over at where he stands at the threshold of the closet. “But that is.”

Just as you nod your head to the boxes of ammunition belonging to the very same revolver that sits on your hip, you stride across the expanse of the bedroom to approach him. Sackler hands the boxes to you without hesitation, watching as you squirrel the individual bullets away in the bandolier that sits snugly around your waist.

When the last of the ammunition has been tucked away, you lift your gaze to find Sackler staring back at you with an expression that you can’t quite pin down. There is an air of wistfulness about it and something else you cannot put your finger on.

“Ready,” you ask, lacing the question with an enthusiasm that is so manufactured that it feels bitter and foreign in your mouth.

Sackler nods but does not respond verbally. Instead, he turns and makes his way out of the bedroom first with you following close behind. Back by the bed, still lying on the floor, remains the backpack that Sackler had brought with him on the first leg of your journey.

***

Even from the Brooklyn Bridge, it is impossible to miss how the tallest residential building in the whole of the city looms above all else. But here, now, standing just beneath it on Park Avenue, makes all other vantage points pale in comparison. The front wall of the building that once housed luxury accommodations is all glass, pure and pristine—not a single pane disturbed or broken, unlike the remainder of the buildings that have gone neglected since the planet’s downfall.

“This is the one.”

“Yeeeeah.” Adam’s head tips back, eyes squinting to peer up at the sheer size of the building. “I figured.” When he rights his stance, head turning now to look over at you, he rolls a shoulder into a shrug. “Nothing says ‘the villain’s in here’ like the only untouched building in all of New York, and my guess, the world.”

You hum out an unintelligible reply—a grunt of sorts, something that requires no retort from Sackler, but receives one nonetheless.

“Hey,” he calls out, a hand snapping out to grasp your upper arm just as you begin to take steps towards the building’s front door. Only when you turn to face him again does he ease his grasp and then release it entirely. “Whatever happens in there—”

“Adam…”

“—whatever happens in there…” Sackler pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows harshly, eyes searching your own. “That son of a bitch is dead, yeah?”

He watches as your head nods, albeit a bit more slowly than he’d like. When he says nothing, you nod again, this time with more conviction. “Yes.”

In turn, Sackler nods and utters a ‘ good ’ before following you through the front door. The lobby of the building is just as the outside stands: untouched and in good condition just as the day that it had been prior to the man in black’s arrival to the city. Despite the lack of people in the space—security or otherwise—it’s impossible to miss the hum of anticipation that shoots through the air like electricity. Every hair on the back of Adam’s neck seems to rise with the feeling, and his eyes dart around the room whilst he continues to follow your lead to the nearby staircase.

“Woah, hold on,” he whispers as the stairwell’s door clicks shut softly behind him, his hand once again reaching to grasp your arm to effectively stop your advance towards the stairs.

“What?!” The words that you hiss out in reply echo slightly against the concrete walls and floor alike.

A gentle tug pulls you closer, and though you don’t resist, it isn’t lost on Adam how your eyes narrow ever so slightly at the abrupt halt of your plans. “Something’s... off … It,” he starts, sighing and releasing his hold on you to run a hand through his hair in exasperation. “It feels wrong.”

When your brows crease in momentary confusion, he elaborates.

“You don’t think it’s weird that no one’s here? There’s no, I don’t fucking know, evil henchmen or some shit to stop us?”

A huff of air is expelled just as you turn your gaze upward as if to look to the floors above where you will undoubtedly find the man at long last. Adam watches as your lips press together momentarily before you look back to him and whisper once more. “Does it really matter? He’s here,” you insist, your own hand reaching to grasp his forearm. “You feel it. I know you do.”

When silence fills the space between you, Adam nods once in affirmation to your statement. He does feel him, it’s impossible not to. The crackle of electricity in the air has only grown more intense even only having moved a few hundred feet upon entry into the building.

“Come on,” you say, loosening yourself from his hold just as your hand slips from his arm simultaneously. “Let’s finish this.”

***

Thunder rumbles beyond the panes of glass that makeup the exterior walls by the time the two of you reach your destination and the final floor of the eighty-five story building. The door staircase’s door leads to a small hall that in turn leads to a solid black door complete with a tiny peep hole that the former occupants undoubtedly used to peer out at any visitors. Sackler surmises that now such a peep hole is useless and unused.

The feeling of unease that has settled into the depths of his stomach only seems to grow when you reach for the handle, turning it without resistance and finding that the door is unlocked. It’s a trap, he wants to call out, but that—he knows—would only serve to verbalize the obvious. You are just as aware as he, and yet…

The two of you push onward, stepping into the penthouse apartment that overlooks the entirety of Manhattan. Beyond the panes of glass that makeup the living area, Central Park stands empty, bathed in the purple light of the rapidly impending storm. To your left, movement captures both yours and Sackler’s attention and when your heads collectively turn to find the source, a sweeping sense of dread drapes over Adam like the heaviest of blankets.

“I see you’ve finally found me.” The soles of the boots the man in black wears, land heavily against the cool marble tile that covers the floor where he walks. “It only took you, oh,” he pauses briefly, pretending to check his watch, “a little over a year now. I thought your tracking skills were far superior than that, Gunslinger. Perhaps I give you too much credit.”

“You don’t give them enough,” Adam sneers, taking his place beside you.

The man’s gaze slides from you to Sackler and back again. There is a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth before his lips part, stretching wide across his face in a toothy grin. Laughter fills the space as his head is thrown back momentarily. Though the sound fades, the amused grin remains when the man’s attention is turned to you, effectively dismissing Sackler.

“Who is this? Is this the reason you’ve taken your sweet old time?” The man tuts in disapproval, his gaze flitting to where Adam stands, sizing him up with a single sweep down and then back up again. “You always did have a weak heart,” he mocks. “It’s a wonder you are the last one of your kind standing.”

The clouds that roll in now block the sun entirely, casting a dark shadow over the city that spills over into the living room and draping itself across the three of you. Outside, lightning strikes nearby as thunder rolls ominously overhead. The hand that rests at your side twitches in eager anticipation of the quick draw that will undoubtedly occur sooner rather than later.

“You’re wrong.”

The man’s gaze once again slides over to where Adam stands, hands balled into fists as if in preparation for the fight to come. The charged air seems to thicken to an uncomfortable degree and for a fleeting moment, Sackler wonders if this sullen energy is radiating from the man himself.

Another strike of lightning illuminates the space, followed rapidly by another that seems to pass through the nearby floor to ceiling length windowpane. With a wave of an outstretched hand, the man sends the bolt in your direction, seeking to put an end to this before it can even begin. Your hand lifts to retrieve the gun from your holster, but quick of a draw as you are, not even you are quick enough for the event that unfolds before your very eyes.

Whilst the bolt comes careening towards you, a large body steps in front at the last possible moment, absorbing the blow.

“No!” You cry out in disbelief, pulling the gun free and firing off three shots in rapid succession, two of which hit their intended target.

As the man in black clutches at his torso, stumbling back behind a nearby piece of furniture for cover, you collapse down onto your knees beside a wounded Sackler.

“No, no, no, no, no, Adam.” The gun in your hand clatters to the floor heavily whilst your hands now roam over his body frantically. You know that there is nothing you can do, the blow has been dealt and the damage has been done. No amount of wishing can save him now.

Sackler chokes, splutters, and wheezes as he struggles to catch what little breath he can. “Kid,” he manages to gasp through labored breaths.

An anguished sob sounds from the back of your throat upon hearing him. Tears begin to fill your vision, spilling over onto your cheeks as your head tips forward to rest your forehead against his shirt near the blackened edges where the lightning bolt made contact with his chest.

“Kid,” he rasps again.

A large hand settles at the back of your head when you lift it just enough to peer down at him. He’s gone impossibly pale, and the realization makes your heart shatter into the smallest pieces imaginable. He is, you know, on the verge of death.

“I—”

“No, Adam. Don’t,” you hush softly, bringing your own hand to his hair, brushing it back from his clammy forehead. “Just rest, you’re going to be okay.” The words taste bitter in your mouth, like ash after a fire has decimated everything in its wake.

There is a slight shake of his head, and the hand at the back of your own presses just enough pressure for you to follow his lead, allowing him to draw you closer. Weakly, he lifts his head up from the ground to meet you on your descent. The tears come effortlessly now when your lips meet, and the hands that once roamed his form now hold his face as you kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

“Kid, I—” A series of coughs wrack his body as you help to lower his head back down to the ground. “I. Kid.” Sackler’s eyes roll as he inhales an arduous breath. “I lov—”

The breath leaves his body in a rush, chest stilling and body falling limp.

The golden rays of the setting sun part through the black clouds and cast themselves upon the scene as if to highlight the tragedy that’s just unfolded. But now is not the time for mourning; there will be a time and a place for this later, though every fiber of your being screams for you to stay with him now.

Rapidly you blink, seeking to dispel the tears from your eyes and rid yourself of your blurred vision. Slowly, you push yourself up and onto your feet, grabbing your gun as you go, your gaze still focused on the now lifeless body that lies in front of you. This mission, the one you’d been on solely for yourself and the realm from whence you have traveled from, is now a quest for the man you’d come to love so completely. For him you will do this. For him you will see to it that the man in black will be no more, that order will be restored to Adam’s world once more and that things will revert to the way they once were.

This will be his legacy.

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

Tagging my fellow Sackler lovers!

@livelongdolan @daydreamsofren @crimsoncounties @caillea @candycanes19 @gurl-ly @duty-isnt-always-honour @exit-goat @little-laamb @themuseic @kylosbitch @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @desiraypark @mariesackler @millenialcatlady @mazeltovcocktail555 @historyandfandoms50 @leatherboundbirate @fathersonandhouseofgucci @xxcatrenxx @alpha-lobito @cornmousequeen @tashastrange89 @10blurredsmoke10

If you'd like to be tagged on works going forward, give me a shout!

[river-bottom-nightmare]

tim could hear the pounding bass coming from under his feet. the ceiling of the club wasn’t exactly soundproof, and the steady hum of people was a constant background noise. tim crept along the roof, aware of where he was. he tended to melt into the shadows on instinct, but he was taking extra care to remain hidden this time, given his decidedly not weapon-filled and bulletproof clothing.

peering over the edge of the building, he scanned the alley for a certain figure. there was a nondescript couple pressed against one of the walls, and a grimy man at the head of the alley watching them, but not what tim was looking for. letting out the quietest of frustrated sounds, tim slipped away from the edge of the roof, scurrying over to the center again. 

near another edge, there was a wall of concrete, probably where the boiler was. it was there that tim leaned against the hard surface, head tipped back, just breathing in the air. he was trying not to be impatient, he really was. 

then, a voice from behind. “looks like someone’s a little restless.” it was low, but with an undercurrent of teasing that made tim shiver. he whipped around just in time to see kon land on the roof with a sort of graceful ease tim didn’t think he got nearly enough credit for. hut just as he was about to stride up to the man, probably to smack him for making him wait, but kon stalked forward instead, backing tim against the concrete. “changed my mind,” kon’s eyes raked down tim. “you don’t look restless, you look darling.” 

that brought a flush to tim’s cheeks, because he himself was scanning every inch of kon, and kon looked the furthest thing from darling one could possibly imagine. the bodysuit and leather jacket were an easy familiarity. the jeans he had on top were tight, the chains looped around kon’s belt clinking. tim was the one who’d dared kon to buy those chains a couple months ago, laughing. he wasn’t exactly laughing now. kon’s hair was windswept, his piercings were glinting, his eyeliner was dark, and as he pressed close to tim, the fingerless gloves that tilted his chin up were rough.

“look at you,” kon whispered, which tim thought was unfair. he wanted to argue back look at me? no, look at you kon, but somehow his attention wandered to tracing kon’s lips with his eyes instead. robin could pull a confident and reckless smirk easy, it coming to tim as second nature as he pulled superboy down to meet his lips. even to tim drake, dressed in ratty old t-shirts he thought looked cool and winking at girls he knew looked cool. but tonight, comfortable with his best friend and boyfriend, he couldn’t bring his classic cheekiness up to the surface. instead, as kon moved closer and closer, tim found himself unconsciously tilting his head up, lips parting, baring his throat.

still, he wasn’t just going to roll over, so his hands came up to tug the zipper on kon’s sleeve, and he managed a snort. “i’m not darling.”

kon’s chuckle vibrated through him. “yes you are. you’re wearing a sweater vest and your hair is adorable and you blush so pretty, rob.” well. that just made tim turn red even more. “and you’re wearing glasses.” kon’s fingers came up to trace the rims, but instead of pulling away, that large hand cradled his jaw rough and forced it up. 

he kissed tim fierce, just the way tim had been imagining since he saw kon that night. his other hand went to tim’s hip in a bruising grip, which the fucker took as invitation to slip his tongue into tim’s mouth. for a second, tim poised to fight back, to tangle their tongues together in the messy way tim knew kon loved, to move out of kon’s hold and push him hard against the wall, to put some bite into the kiss. 

then, kon sucked on his tongue, and tim decided nah, fuck that, instead practically melting into the his boyfriend in front of him. just as tim let out a soft noise at the feeling of metal on the roof of his mouth, kon pulled back. the boy raised his eyebrows in a confused little expression, surprised at how docile tim was acting.

tim just shrugged in response.

“alright then,” kon said, his gaze switching back to hunger so fast it made tim wonder whether or not he was really surprised. “i don’t wanna spend our entire night on this stupid roof. let’s have a little fun first.”

“oh yeah? got any ideas?”

kon raised an eyebrow, then looked pointedly at the ceiling they were standing on. “we could always go downstairs.” the beat of the song had changed, but it was no less deep, no less pounding. the vibrations made their way through the concrete and tim, who was still leaning against the wall, shuddered. 

kon’s voice was as deep as the bass when he held out his hand and asked tim, “well?” it wasn’t like he was subtle, he was giving tim a choice. kon could either fly tim to wherever struck their fancy that night, and have it be another one of their lovely little dates. tim took a second to remember how kon would always tangle their feet together, his eyes mischievous yet soft as he looked at tim. then he thought about tonight, how much fun it was to have kon pinning him against something, how the way kon was acting tonight took his breath away.

tim reached out to grab the outstretched hand and tucked himself against his boyfriend’s side. he pushed himself up to his toes and whispered in kon’s ear, “i’m game. let’s go downstairs.”

This fic was inspired by those two amazing works of art up there. Tim’s by @hains-mae , and Kon’s by @daddyschlongleg  and i love their works of art an unhealthy amount. ​

[angermango]

Magax (Neopets) redesign

Got inspired again after the Gilly redesign from before for another fun take on an existing character. Here’s the original edgy old cat who was woefully neglected by TNT in terms of character potential given he had a whole ~mysterious dark past~ and a documented rivalry with a fairly popular villain.

I was doing something more on the consolidation of designs path as Magax has had a load of designs over the years (and/or TNT was inconsistent in their art and designs sometimes...) so I tried to keep the elements of his core look while adding little embellishments or flairs. I like to think of Magax as a weary old soul who lives in a graveyard hunting ghosts and monsters every night so he looks kind of mangy and mean from years spent out alone in the deep Haunted Woods - but I’m sure it’s just his face, he’s probably an okay guy.

So yeah I kept most of Magax’s iconic features like his earring, eye scar, and goatee seeing as those seem to be staples in his look

Since I made him scarred all over I tried to make Magax’s famous eye scar stand out more so it’s a bigger, more raw-looking mark rather than just a thin line. I like to think that he got it when he fought Hubrid Nox for the first time after he turned his back on the way of evil, and during the battle Nox nailed him in the face with something that later became a trademark of his look.

Added on more scars and a chewed up ear to up the Edge on the look and show off that he’s a fighter, the old grizzled lone warrior type

The scarf is a nod to one of his prehistoric designs where he had a red cape and totally different armour - maybe it’s the same cape, worn with age and repurposed to keep his neck from getting chilly without his mane now

Clawsss

Does Magax wear manacles? Gloves? Neither? The NeoTeam artists can’t seem to decide, so why not all at once in a fingerless-glove-with-braces combo?

Magax has always worn this kind of vest thingy in some form and it’s changed colours from grey to black to green so i settled for a dull near-black green since green seems to be a part of his thing. He also kind of just wears it as one layer without anything else underneath, which I mean fair enough when you’re a magical warrior you probably don’t worry about that stuff. I put a kind of singlet underneath you can barely see just so he can say he’s got some layers

The belt combines his old design buckle and new design where he has a random bag on it but i figure a guy’s allowed to have somewhere to hide his... whatever is meant to be in there

His green magic is just rendered like that because I was having fun with layer blending modes and filters. The Flash-era effects don’t really give his magic powers much in way of visual flair nor are they that consistent: They look more or less like solid green bars and orbs in his games, while in other official art it’s rendered either like flames or lightning (plus his Neopets TGC card had him down as a Fire element alignment). I did a bit of both because Rule of Cool but I imagine that his magic is unique in that it manifests pretty much however he wants as a kind of pure raw energy magic.

His trusty Darklight Axe I gave it a little bit of a makeover too with a heavy battleaxe design and engravings on the head just because it looks sick. I assume it’s made out of the same green magic he wields so it’s kind of like a solid power construct or something (like Green Lantern? idk) I find it weird that his axe is only shown in art and alluded to in his Neopedia article as if it’s a normal if not staple part of his arsenal - heck, even his name suggests it’s like his signature weapon of choice, yet he doesn’t actually use it in his games to fight and instead just uses shooty beam spam

Bonus: OG Magaxes for comparing -